The Story of Tom Brennan (5 page)

'Come on, Tom, get in.'

'Aw, shit!' Snorter put his head on the steering wheel. 'I'm an idiot.'

'No kidding.'

'No, dickhead, I left my jacket back at the hall.'

'Get it tomorrow.'

'Someone'll nick it. It's my Bathurst 1000 jacket. Got all the signatures.'

'Who'd want it?' Matt scoffed. 'I hate that jacket.'

'I'm going back to get it. You getting in, Tom?'

'Nah.'

'We'll get you on the way back.'

The line of cars had gone. Snorter turned the Statesman around and drove back. I kept walking.

Kylie's school bag lay in the doorway. I kicked it out of the way and looked around: Gran's house was empty. The lights were off and the curtains drawn. It was creepy; our place in Mumbilli was so noisy and open.

The screen door in the kitchen squeaked, then slammed. It was a noise that always reminded me of school holidays here, Daniel and me running in and out of the house playing chasings, or hiding from Kylie. Gran shouting, 'I'll tan your hides if I hear that door slam again.'

Dad appeared in the hall. 'Tom, you're home.' He sounded cheery enough. Perhaps Kylie had kept our fight to herself. 'First day okay?'

I shrugged.

'I'm driving Kylie down to the pool. You want to come too?'

'Nah.' All I wanted to do was crawl back into the cave.

'She's a bit uptight. I think a swim'll help.'

'Where is everyone?' I asked him.

'Let's see. Your Mum's having a lie down at the moment.' I knew he was trying to make out she'd just gone to bed. I gave him the raised eyebrow 'don't bullshit me' look Daniel taught me in Year Seven, and for a second Dad seemed to stumble. 'Um, and, err, who else.' But I didn't want to rattle him. If Dad lost it that'd be the end of all of us. 'Yes, well, your Gran's doing the flowers at the church, and Brendan and Jonny are still working down at the sheds.' Dad followed me to the kitchen. 'So you still haven't told me, how did it go?'

'Okay.' I bit into an apple. 'Got Harvey for home room.'

'Yeah? Brendan'll be pleased about that. Hang on, why don't you go down to the sheds, see Brendan and Jonny?'

'Nah.'

'Go on,' Dad pressed. 'He'll want to know how your day went.'

And there was that tone in Dad's voice again. It whacked me right in the guts every time.

'I'm sure he's dying to hear all about it. Go on.'

'Okay,' I sighed.

'Good, good.' He smiled. 'Well, I'll be off. Kylie's waiting in the car.'

I wandered down the hall in case Mum was awake. The door to her room was open. I stood there. Maybe Dad was telling the truth, maybe she had just gone to bed and was waiting to hear how my first day went. I stepped into the doorway. A thickness in the air hung still and stale.

She didn't see me. How could she under all those covers?

'Yeah, thanks Mum,' I whispered. 'School went okay.'

Gran and Pa's place was four acres called 'Saint Marguerite Bourgeoys'. Of course The Grandmother was responsible for that. Most of Gran's earbashing sessions included a little story about Saint Marguerite, 'A very holy and good woman who taught young people how to look after the home.' How many times had I heard that! When we were kids and we'd drive through the front gate, Daniel'd say, 'Welcome to Saint Marge's Boogie.' Kylie and I'd crack up.

For the last five or six years Saint Marge's Boogie had included 'Healey's Tractor Repairs and Services', Pa's business. After he died he left it to Brendan to run. Now Jonny worked there with him.

We just referred to it as 'the sheds', 'cause three enormous sheds were built down the end of the property. The most awesome tree house and Gran's chook pens used to be there until they were flattened to make room.

Mum reckoned Gran never got over getting rid of the chooks. She never kept chooks again, which was kind of sad 'cause Gran loved her chooks. Most of them either had saints' names or names from the Bible. There was Saint Paul, or Paulie, the rooster. Mary and Bernadette were the hens, and later on she got Cain and Abel. It didn't seem to matter to Gran that the hens had boys' names. When I was a kid I thought that was the weirdest.

I never got told the whole story of why Pa moved the business from the centre of Coghill to home. It was one of the things our family never discussed, and boy, had us Brennans added a big one to that list.

Daniel told me Pa lost the family business betting on the horses. He'd know, 'cause Daniel was the only one Pa ever took to the races. Even as a kid I remember thinking how unfair it was, because our cousin Fin was the one who really loved horses. When he was eleven, Fin knew the name of almost every racehorse, their breeding, who trained them and how many starts they'd had. But that didn't seem to matter to Pa, he only ever took Daniel. At least Daniel saved the race books for Fin. Sometimes I think he felt bad about it, and that was saying something.

Suddenly I was sucked deeper into that long black tunnel, the memories of Fin and Daniel and how we once were, and the worst thing, the knowing. Knowing more than anything I'd ever know that things would never be the same.

That night, walking home from the scout hall, I'm so positive I didn't hear anything. I remember looking up at the sky, seeing the Southern Cross and the saucepan, and thinking how quiet and still the night had become. It was good to be on my own.

I was nearly at the end of the track when in the distance I could just make out the sound of a car coming my way. I thought it would be Daniel and the others, I'd been wondering when they'd come past. Dreading it.

I hadn't seen Fin come by with anyone else, so he must still be with Daniel. God, Fin spent his life copping it from Daniel then going back for seconds.

The sound of the engine was getting closer. I could hear the groan of the tyres slipping all over the dirt and the horn was blaring. It was sure to be Daniel, pissed and being an idiot. Fin should've driven, but no way would Daniel let anyone touch his car, he was over the top about that.

I contemplated ducking behind a tree. The last thing I needed was my brother in my face again. But slowly I started to realise the sound I could hear wasn't Daniel's horn. It was too clear and even tuned to be his car. It was the Statesman. The precious Statesman! That's when I turned around to see Snorter and Matt howling up the track.

Matt was hanging out the window shouting and waving like crazy.

'Tom! Tom!' He threw the door open and started running towards me. 'Dan's stacked. Fucking stacked,' he was screaming. 'Come on. They're . . . I can't . . . stuck . . . fucking hurry.'

I strode down to the sheds, trying to clear my head and find the exit door to that black tunnel. But I could never find it. I didn't want to go back there but that night was etched into the bones of my skull. What could I do? I hated the past, and yet I hated the present nearly more.

Up ahead I could see Jonny's boots sticking out from under a tractor. You couldn't mistake them.

'That you, Tom?' Jonny's voice echoed from underneath.

'Yeah.'

'How'd your day go?'

'Okay.'

'Yeah?'

'Where's Unc – Brendan?'

'Inside.'

'Do you reckon he'd mind if I checked my emails?'

'Can't see why he would.'

Brendan had built himself a cabin down by the sheds. It doubled as an office and a flat, and the thing that always amazed me was how tidy he kept it. Spick and span.

I tapped on the door. 'Brendan?' I could hear the shower going so I let myself in.

My jaw dropped. This wasn't the place I remembered. Empty bottles and cans of beer littered the table, and the plates looked like they hadn't been touched for weeks. I didn't know whether to stay, or go back out and wait till Brendan was out of the shower.

I'd spent nearly half my life here on school holidays, yet I didn't really know my only uncle. One of the other things our family never discussed, well, never discussed openly, especially in front of Gran, was Brendan and the fact he was gay.

I knew 'cause Daniel and Fin told me, but I think by the time I was about twelve or thirteen I'd figured it out anyway. You never saw Brendan bringing home a girl for Christmas lunch, or ever heard him talk about them.

There's one memory I have of Brendan with a sheila at Pa and Gran's thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. She'd been in the same year as him at Bennie's. I don't remember her name or whether she was a blonde or a brunette. What I do remember is hearing Mum and Aunty Kath whispering about it in the hallway.

Mum said, 'She seems nice.'

'She's doing us all a big favour,' Aunty Kath replied. 'She's even got her arm around him.'

'But she knows, doesn't she?'

'Tess! Of course she does.'

'Do you think Brendan will ever tell them?'

'Mum and Dad?'

'I mean, surely they'll figure it out one day?'

'I reckon Mum knows,' Aunty Kath answered. 'She doesn't let on. And she'd never ask about it. She probably just does a lot of praying for him.'

'Do you think . . .' I remember Mum starting to giggle and Kath hushing her even though she was laughing too. 'Do you think there's a patron saint for, for . . . gay sons?'

Daniel had known Brendan. They were close. Sometimes I think Brendan told him things, private things about his life. As Daniel got older he mucked around with Brendan heaps, treating me like the toxic little brother, all of nineteen months his junior. Even last Christmas, well, not exactly last Christmas (that Christmas didn't rate a mention), the one before that, I remember wondering why I couldn't hang out with them. Daniel and I always did stuff together, but when we got to Gran's he'd just piss off with Brendan and I'd be stuck at home with Kylie, knowing I was missing out on a good time.

On Brendan's desk was a photo I hadn't seen for ages. It was Mum, Brendan and Aunty Kath fishing by the river when they were kids. Mum was doing the peace sign behind her little sister's head and Brendan was pretending to choke himself. Another picture frame lay face down. I picked it up, not ready for the fist in my guts. Staring at me, their arms wrapped around each other, were Daniel and Mum.

Mum looked so happy. I'd forgotten the way her eyes could smile. She was looking at Daniel, laughing. It was taken just after she'd unwrapped a Christmas present from him, a pair of pearl stud earrings. Daniel saved up all year for them. I don't think Mum's ever taken them off, and that was thirteen months ago.

The old girl and Daniel were close, real close. It wasn't like she loved him more. It didn't feel like that. It was like she thought he couldn't look after himself, that he'd stuff up if she wasn't there doing it for him. And she'd been right.

Brendan came out with a towel around his waist. 'Tom! G'day.'

I pushed the picture away.

'That's one of my faves,' he said.

'Huh?'

'That photo of Tess and Daniel at Christmas.'

'Oh.'

'I remember Tessa chasing Joe around the house because he wouldn't tell her where he'd hidden her present.'

'Yeah,' I nodded. 'Dad got her an ice-cream maker.'

'Was a good Christmas, that one.'

'Yeah.'

The silence that followed hurt like mad. The thing about this pain was that it was always there, but these encounters sent it peaking before it settled back to a constant dull ache.

'So how was the first day at Bennie's?' Brendan looked at me hard. 'They treat you okay?'

'Yeah.'

'They're good blokes, Tom. Just give it time. You'll find that . . .'

'Hey, Brendan, can I check my emails?' I didn't want the 'time is a healer' talk. 'I'm on hotmail. I can go to the . . .'

'Yeah, course you can! Any time, mate. Make yourself at home.'

'Thanks.'

'Sorry the place is a pigsty. I've just been really busy, you know.'

'Yeah, yeah.'

'Just dial straight through, it's on a separate line. I'm going back out, help Jonny finish up.'

It was only a week ago that Kylie and I found out we were leaving Mumbilli. Four lousy days before we shifted. I'd seen Dad packing boxes but I didn't think too much about it. I guess I was so numb, I wasn't really thinking about anything. But it was obvious, of course we had to go. For the third time in a couple of weeks someone had left a message – this time on our garage door – 'NO JUSTICE'.

I don't know who wrote the stuff. The list of suspects was big, but you couldn't be sure of anyone. Some folk seemed okay and some just stared when they passed you, but in the end it got too much, waiting for someone to spit on your face. So I just stopped going to town.

Mostly I was at Matt's place. His parents worked so we had the house to ourselves. School had broken up, Daniel had gone and Mum just stopped getting out of bed. They were weird, those days. It was like they had no beginning or end; one merged into the next and the next and the next.

One night when it was too hot to sleep Kyles and I watched the video of
The Matrix
. Just before the end, Dad walked through the front door and said, 'Kids, we're moving to Coghill.' He said it just like that.

Kylie ran to her room and I sat there with my gob on my knees.

'I'm sorry, Tom, but we can't stay here,' Dad said.

I nodded. 'What about the house?'

'I'm trying to sort that.'

'What about all our stuff?'

'I've made arrangements. I need you and Kylie to pack up your rooms tomorrow.'

'When?'

'Friday. Early.'

'Shit.'

'And Tom, no one is to know. Understand.'

'But what about . . .'

'No one.'

That Thursday night I posted Matt a letter. I'd been at his house all day. It was raining, the first rain in months. Matt, Timbo, Snorter and me had the most excellent game of poker. We pissed ourselves so many times that day. Once I had to run to the loo 'cause I wasn't sure if I was laughing or crying.

So I never got to say goodbye to Matt. He'd been my best mate since grade four – eight years. He was there the night it happened. He was my buddy, the one I could talk to. Probably the only one. Snorter just shut down 'cause it was easier that way, but Matty never gave up on me or the rest of us, and that meant more than anything else.

It was a short letter. It was pretty pathetic but I didn't know what to say and I didn't want to say nothing. It felt wrong pissing off your life and your best mate with just a few sentences. It was like leaving yourself behind, and in a way I suppose I was.

Matt, we've moved. I couldn't tell you. I only found
out the other day. Email me. Good old Daniel's gone
and stuffed everything. Dad reckons we had no
choice and he's right. Say g'day to Snorter and the
boys. This sucks. Tom.

My fingers trembled and slipped along the keys. Finally
I was logging on. I watched the message blink, 'receiving
mail', my heart pumping in my throat.

Bing! – there it was.

From – Matt: Subject – What the? Received
24/1/03,10.55 pm.

Tom mate, I'm shocked, we're all
shocked. My head's spinning. I keep
standing outside your house waiting for
you to walk out. What am I going to do
with myself Australia Day? Please don't
tell me you've moved to Coghill 'cause
that'd really suck. We're speechless
mate. You're right about Daniel stuffing
everything up – he did that with
perfection. I understand why you had to
go. It sucks but maybe it'll just be for
a few months while things settle down in
the Billi.

If you see Fin say g'day to him from
us. My old girl heard he's being moved to
some rehab place soon. The Billi's still
full of rumours. I know this is short but
it feels a bit weird at the moment. Say
hi to Kyles. My sister says Becky hasn't
stopped crying. Take it easy – Matt.

I read it over and over. I wanted to eat the words, make them my sustenance for the emptiness gnawing at my guts.

I hit reply and stared at the box that waited for my words.

Good to hear from you mate. My head's
spinning too. I lost the battle about
repeating Year Eleven but who cares. I had
my first day today and it was the pits.
Yes I'm at Coghill, where else. They've
sent me to St Benedict's. The tossers who
couldn't catch a cold, well I'm one of
them now. I reckon it's the only time the
family's driven to Gran's without a fight
and that's only 'cause no one opened their
mouth the whole way. It's like your worst
nightmare, no it's worse . . .

I realised the phone was ringing. The answering machine clicked over, speaking in Brendan's voice. I sat there wondering if I should pick it up, but I heard Aunty Kath's voice and was relieved I hadn't.

'Hi, Brendan, it's me.' She sounded tired and a bit shaky. 'I'm just on my way back to the hospital. Fin's pretty down so I thought I'd spend the night with him. Hope Tom and Kyles are settling in okay. Um, what's the plan for the weekend? Let me know. Bye.'

Now Fin's face was stuck in my head and nothing mattered anymore. My grumbling looked so weak up there on the computer screen. I stared at the words I'd written to Matt, feeling ashamed. I couldn't send this. I hit delete and logged off. Maybe tomorrow I could try again.