Fire Song (8 page)

She knew there was a wild cry sounding in her voice, like she was drowning and he was the one who could save her, when she’d planned to be so calm. But how could she be calm when tears were streaming down her face just hearing his voice and knowing that, at last, he was hearing hers.

‘She’ll be right, Funnyface. Our mum’s strong as a horse – you know that. Now stop your crying. She’ll be right.’

And no – he’d used his pet name for her and she just didn’t think she could stand it with Freddy at the end of the line and the awful bitchbiddy leaning over her brother, and Constable Brooks close by, when there was so much more she needed to tell him. About how Mum wanted to burn the house down and how Mum had more or less made her promise that she’d do it tonight! Because of the money and also because Daddy was in danger if he didn’t get money real fast. And what was she to do, because Mum was in hospital and it was tonight? What would darling Freddy do? She wanted him to tell her, just tell her. What should she do?

She couldn’t say a word about Mum and the house-burning plans. All she could do was picture him – probably in the hallway of that bitchbiddy’s lousy house – grown long and lean and tall and even more handsome, despite bones sticking out here and there and the trousers made of sugar bags.

Someone coughed in the background and she knew it was Charlie, standing as close to his brother as he could.

‘How’s Charlie?’ she asked.

There were whispers and then Charlie’s squeaky voice, ‘H’lo, Ingrid. Freddy and I talk about you. I go to school on a horse. Tell Pippa.’

‘That’s so good, Charlie. I can just see you on a horse. And I’ll tell her, don’t worry.’

‘Wish you could see me on the horse. Bye bye, Ingrid.’ Later she’d remember every word and the fact that he hadn’t asked about Mum, but now she just gripped the receiver hard as Freddy came back on the line.

‘Ingrid?’ His voice all thick like he was trying hard not to cry himself. And then she couldn’t help it. She burst out, despite the constable being so close to her, and the bitchbiddy probably right next to him. ‘Freddy, we need you. Pippa and I, we need you real bad. Right here. Now,’ she said, even though she knew that impossible miles separated them.

‘I know you do,’ he said. ‘Now listen here, Ingrid,’ sounding just a bit like Mum, ‘I can hear you as if you were in the next room. No, as if you and Charlie and me
were
in the same room, because we soon will be. You hear me, Funnyface? In the same room at your place.’

‘Stuff and nonsense that you go yapping about at such expense, you young fool – ‘That was the bitchbiddy, but her brother’s voice cut across her, firm and strong.

‘That’s what I want to tell you, and you tell Mum, too.’

‘I will, I promise, and I’ll –’

‘Two minutes, Miss Crowe.’ That was the constable’s voice cutting in now.

‘Goodbye – and kisses to dear little Char –’

There was a click and he was gone. And she was sobbing so hard that Constable Brooks patted her arm sympathetically
and took out his large white handkerchief for her. How could she tell him they were tears of relief, and that her brother had just told her something that no bitchbiddy and no policeman could possibly know? He’d given her a message in code, she was sure, about being in the same room as her. He was coming home right now. She knew from that awkward, snatched beautiful conversation that, come hell or high water, her big brother Freddy was coming home.

B
lackie was inside the yard the moment Ingrid opened the gate, pulling her to the bowl of water Gracie had thoughtfully put down by their door for him. He lapped noisily as if he was glad to be back, but her hands were trembling as she took off his leash and stroked his head. He flopped on the sagging wooden verandah, exhausted from their wild run along the streets. He looked at her enquiringly, when she walked back to the gate.

Ingrid dreaded coming home to the Williams’s place. For one thing, Gracie might want to play something – not Sevenies, because it was too dark for outside now, but probably
Snakes and Ladders
or
Chinese Checkers
or, worse still,
Happy Families,
and she didn’t feel in the mood for any of that. For another thing, Mrs Harry Williams would ask her all about the hospital and what her mum had said and the doctor or the nurse had said, and she didn’t want to talk about any of it just now.

She looked longingly over the fence at
Emoh Ruo
and that gave her a sharp pang, even though she was drawn to going there again, so she could be alone. She wanted time to think about her conversation with Freddy, and when he
might arrive. Time to think about what she’d promised Mum, to think about Dom and what he’d made of her strange behaviour to him and how she couldn’t really ask Dom’s dad now. Time to be with Pippa, who’d probably be scared out of her wits by being left alone at the Willams’s, and time to comfort her. Time to work out what she was going to do next. But
Emoh Ruo
meant a box of matches and some bowls of kero with twisted rags lying there ready, and she gave a hiccup of a sob at the thought.

Fire, liar, fire! Fire, liar, fire!
The chant took up in her head again. ‘Up in smoke, down to the ground!’ She willed herself to think of something else, despite the flickering flames at the base of her skull, the shower of sparks at her temple, the windy roar of a gorging inferno behind her eyes. Her hand was still on the gate.

Freddy, come quickly, she thought and then made a new song in her head. ‘We’re ready for Freddy, darling Freddy, darling Freddy. We’re ready, we’re ready, and it’s now, now, now!’ She repeated it in her head to keep the fire song at bay. She took slow deep breaths, lots of them, and in a while her heart stopped its racing. On the verandah Blackie stood, just looking at her, and then wagging his tail. Even the dog sensed something.

Despite everything, what a flood of relief, just thinking Freddy’s name brought her! She wanted to stay at the old iron gate, looking up at that arc of sky, crisp with stars and adorned with a sharp, edible slice of moon, and think of her brothers, both of them under the same night sky and both of them heading for Blackheath right now. She wanted to stay with this good thought and not go inside.

‘Stay, doggie,’ she said as she passed by him, on the side path that led to the back door. But she reached over and fondled his old head again, because a little later she knew she’d have to tether him somewhere in the Williams’s garden and he hated being tied up. ‘Stay, Blackie.’

She took another deep breath and went inside. But when she found them in the lounge room, what a surprise! She came in the back way as always, expecting to see Mrs Harry Williams in the kitchen. But there were shrieks of laughter coming from further inside. When she peered round the door of the lounge room, there was Mrs Harry Williams in front of her biggest tapestry lounge chair, down on all fours playing horsies with Pippa. There was Gracie, bent double with laughter and, as for Pippa, she was clinging onto Mrs Harry Williams’s apron strings for dear life, as Mrs Harry bucked and neighed. Pippa was pink-cheeked with excitement, throwing back her head and laughing and laughing, in a way Ingrid couldn’t remember her doing before!

Mum always said Mrs Harry Williams took herself too seriously, but if Mum could only see her now, she wouldn’t think that at all! Her face was red, her hair tousled and her eyes were merry. She gave a start when she saw Ingrid standing there and shook Pippa free, to give her a bear hug before she stood up, smoothing her hair and her apron, almost as if she were guilty.

‘How’s your poor mum?’ she asked and, before Ingrid could answer, ‘Just keeping the little one happy!’ Then a miracle happened. Pippa didn’t run to Ingrid as she usually did and bury her face deep in her dress; she gave Mrs Harry another long hug, before she came to greet her sister.

‘What a little darling,’ Mrs Harry Williams said.

‘She’s so sweet, your little sister,’ said Gracie, ‘such a sweetie!’ Her voice was full of pleasure and maybe just a little envy.

‘Mum’s all right,’ Ingrid said, her voice coming out sour and serious. There was a strange jealous feeling clouding her heart, despite all the gaiety, yet why she should feel like this when it was clearly good fun for Pippa, she didn’t know.

‘But I got to go back there,’ she lied, because it came to her that she would have to see Mum again and explain about the phone call and tell her Freddy was coming.

‘Of course you do, Ingrid. I’m sure the doctor will want to talk to you. But first have your tea and then we’ll all walk you up to the hospital, lovey.’

‘Mum can’t have too many visitors.’

‘Oh no, I didn’t mean we’d come inside. We’d wait outside for you,’ she said and looked at the kids. ‘Or there’s a waiting room, I’m pretty sure, where we could go, if it comes up too windy.’

‘It’s all right. I can take Blackie. He’ll wait outside. I tied him to the big pine tree today and he was good as gold.’

‘Whatever you think,’ Mrs Harry Williams said soothingly, ‘but come on and we’ll have tea. You must be starving, love. And so many of the neighbours have brought pies, cakes – you name it – once they heard about your mum.’ They trailed out to the kitchen, Pippa finding her hand and squeezing it – not in fright, she was sure, but in a companionable way.

The funny thing was she did feel hungry. She’d eaten no lunch and had hardly stopped for a sip of water after
Gracies drink. It had all been such a long and terrible day, and there was still more to go. The crying up at the police station and all the way home had tired her out. And now in the rosy lamplight of Mrs Harry Williams’s comfy kitchen, she felt she could stop a while and almost relax.

‘You just sit down there a mo, little Ingrid, and rest yourself, with your little sister beside you and we’ll serve you up a feast. Won’t we, now, Gracie?’

She saw that the table was set for four. And there wasn’t an extra place for Mr Harry Williams like people had said. No pathetic knife and fork, waiting for the man who never came back, would never come back at all. It was just set for the four of them who were here now.

Once she sat, Ingrid wanted to lean back in the chair and give a mighty yawn, she felt so tired. She wanted to melt into Mrs Harry’s kindness, and the generous smell of baked dinner, and not move again for a very long time. But this wouldn’t do.

‘Baked a nice leg of lamb, didn’t we, Gracie?’ Mrs Harry’s brother was a butcher and when Harry left, her brother had said loud and clear to any townsfolk who’d listen that he’d never see his sister or her child go short. And he didn’t – not as far as meat on the table went.

‘Nothing like a good feed when people have troubles, I always say.’ She was speaking kindly as Gracie helped her dish up.

‘Mum, these potatoes are cooked perfect.’

‘Thanks, love. What a good girl, serving them the way you are. Yes, Gracie, and that gravy you made looks fine, love.’ Ingrid was astonished at the stream of admiration flowing between the two of them as four plates were filled to capacity.
Why three potatoes each, even for Pippa, and a big wedge of pumpkin all browned to perfection, as Gracie had described them? A mound of peas with some mint leaves stewed through them, and beside that some skinny green beans as well – not cut in short bits like Mum did, but just topped and tailed and cooked whole. Then thick slices of lamb, three or four of them each, with a swirl of dark rich gravy, and then mint sauce for good measure. She’d never eat all that. And Pippa certainly couldn’t.

They were all sitting at the table, and Pippa’s round eyes were moving from face to face, smiling. She could smile! It was all right for her, being little, but she didn’t have to deal with -

‘You say grace, Grace!’ They both laughed as if it was an old joke between them, but then Gracie bowed her head and closed her eyes. Ingrid bowed her head, too, but she somehow couldn’t close her eyes. She clenched her hands as if this was going to be hard, sitting here in the safety and warmth of Mrs Harry Williams’s kitchen.

‘For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful,’ Gracie said simply, as if she truly meant it. They all said amen together and that was when Ingrid saw something else that was amazing. Pippa had not spoken, but for the first time in months and months, her lips silently framed a word. ‘Amen,’ they said, Ingrid was sure of it. Amen. What was happening here? She felt tears in her eyes again. In the middle of all this horror, something good was surely happening if Pippa was trying to speak.

‘Tuck in now, girls,’ Mrs Harry Williams urged them and they did.

‘My mum is the best cook,’ Gracie began as she took the first mouthful and, for once, Ingrid was not inclined to correct her.

‘Now go on with you, Gracie,’ Mrs Harry Williams said, but she sounded very pleased.

And then there was a comfortable silence broken only by the scrape of cutlery the chink of china. Between mouthfuls, and she ate heartily, Pippa stole more smiling glances. Ingrid smiled back, but suddenly she felt sick. How could she be sitting here, smiling at her little sister, and eating Mrs Harry Williams’s food like this?

‘Thank you, Mrs Williams, but I can’t eat any more. It was delicious, though.’

‘Gracie said you eat like birds over there. Well, never mind, love, long as you got some good into you.’

After tea and the washing up and just before Ingrid was ready to take off for the hospital, Mrs Harry Williams said she had an idea.

‘Before you go up town with Blackie to see your mother,’ she suggested from the sink, ‘I think we should all go into the lounge room and say a special prayer for her.’

No! As far as Ingrid was concerned, saying grace together was enough praying for one night.

‘I’d rather get going,’ she said, but weakly, because Gracie and Pippa had shot out the kitchen door and were already halfway up the hall. Mrs Harry Williams simply took Ingrid’s hand and led her into the lamplit lounge room, all inviting with its overstuffed lounges, its clutter of wickerwork side tables and its one large wooden glass-fronted book case that looked so grand.

‘Let’s all kneel down,’ she said, and knelt herself to show the way. Ingrid watched Pippa fall to her knees as if it were the most normal thing in world. And then she watched Pippa gaze adoringly at Mrs Harry Williams’s face, as she waited for her next words. She and Gracie knelt down, too.

‘Now close your eyes and think about your mother, girls. Gracie, you think about Mrs Crowe, and let’s all of us think about how God loves her and ask Him to help her recover.’

There was quiet in the room as they all knelt there on the emerald green carpet, with the grandfather clock ticking away in the hall. Mrs Harry Williams left enough time for her to think of Mum lying in hospital with her screwed up face and wonky eye and how she wanted so badly for Mum to be all right again. But she didn’t leave enough time for much else, because her voice came out soft but nice, in a specially made-up prayer for Mum.

‘Dear Lord, we need your guidance and your love. Two little girls here are facing a difficult time in their family life. Their mum lies stricken in the hospital and needs our love and our prayers for her good health to return, which we offer now.

‘We need your help for her wellbeing and cure, we need your help for this to happen. We need you also, Lord, to help us think clearly, truly and bravely, and to face whatever is to come.’

Ingrid wondered how she knew that this was exactly what she needed right now. To think clearly and truly and bravely. But she did.

‘For we trust in your divine wisdom, and that whatever may be, in this serious matter, you will be with us and you will surely guide us all through this.’

Ingrid wanted someone to guide her, because she knew she was about to do something dreadful.

‘We know we must put our trust and our love in you. Amen.’

Was that Pippa’s breathy voiced ‘Amen'? Ingrid’s eyes had been closed tight this time, but when she opened her eyes it was Gracie who was next to her.

Trust and love. She couldn’t put her trust and love in anyone, least of all in a god who Mum said didn’t hear anyone’s prayers. ‘As if he’d have time,’ Ingrid remembered her saying, as she dismissed the very thought. But she’d added something of her own, despite what Mum had said. ‘I need a miracle, please, dear Lord. A miracle!’

Mrs Harry Williams sighed as she got up, just the way Grandma Logan used do when her knees were hurting her, and she seated herself on one of the lounge chairs.

‘Good,’ she said. ‘Now we should all feel a little better after that.’ Then she smiled at Ingrid. ‘She’s going to be all right. I’m sure of it. I heard from one of the nurses this afternoon that she is doing well, your mother. It’ll just take a bit of time, and some extra special looking after, to get her right.’ And she looked at Pippa with that soft look of hers, and added, ‘For the time being, you are not to worry about a thing. You girls are welcome to stay right here. In fact, I insist on it.’

For the time being…

‘Thank you,’ Ingrid murmured, blushing at her kindness and the thought of all the terrible things she and Mum had said about Mrs Harry Williams. She was the one Mum especially liked to mock, and now this neighbour was showing real concern for all of them!

‘I have some cake in the kitchen. Why don’t you go and
get down the cake tin, Grace dear, and we can all have a slice before Ingrid goes.’

Gracie, with Pippa close behind her, raced back to the kitchen. Pippa didn’t give her sister even a backward glance. But Ingrid didn’t move. It came to her that this was the moment.