Nine Letters Long (22 page)

Across the word ‘Proprietor' her fingers run until they hit the letter ‘I'. She opens her eyes.

‘Seb?' He is standing behind her, his breath hot on her neck. ‘You count. I'll call the letters. You ready?'

‘I,' she whispers.

‘One,' he echoes.

‘A.'

‘Two.'

‘N.'

‘Three.'

‘P.'

‘Four.'

‘S.'

‘Five.'

‘T.'

‘Six.'

‘A.'

‘Seven.'

‘C.'

‘Eight.'

‘H,' Evie murmurs.

‘Nine,' Seb gasps. ‘Nine letters.'

‘Nine letters long. His name is nine letters long, just as we thought.'

Together they stare at the glass. At the name ‘Ian P. Stach'.

‘But that's not the name on his card,' Seb says.

‘He changed it.' Evie and Seb turn around. Paris is standing there.

‘He wanted an Australian-sounding name. So he went
out and got one.'

They say nothing in return. Regardless of their silence, Paris continues. ‘I don't want to hang around out here. They're looking for me. They've already come by twice this morning. And he came around in the middle of the night. But I was ready. I hid over there.' Her skinny arm points to an alcove of bins. ‘He never would've looked for me there. He can't stand getting dirty, getting smelly. He says it reminds him of the camp when he first came here. That's where he met my parents.'

‘Paris.' Finally, Evie is able to make her mouth work. Seb's still staring, his mouth open. ‘Paris, I wanted to get to you but …'

Paris lifts her narrow shoulders. Her eyes dart backwards and forwards along the road. ‘It's not your fault, Evie. I didn't understand until I got your letter. Then I realised my sister does speak to you. You see, they told me you were some weirdo and that I must keep away from you. I've been waiting for you like you told me to. I nearly thought you weren't going to come.'

‘Oh, Paris …' Evie falters. ‘I'm so sorry. I don't know … what to say.'

Paris shrugs, then her eyes settle on Seb.

‘This is Seb.' Evie introduces them. ‘You can trust him. Caz asked him to help.'

‘I've seen you before with Dana's boyfriend. He's your friend too, isn't he?'

Seb nods.

‘No offence but I don't like him. Dana says he's not her
boyfriend. She says she's just been using him.' Paris stops and looks at Seb for what seems forever. ‘If Evie says I can trust you, then I believe her.'

‘Seb?' Evie frowns. ‘Who's Dana's … what?'

‘Zac,' he murmurs in reply.

‘Zac? Hang on. What's the story?'

‘I said he was a prick.'

‘His dad's not going to give her the money,' Paris says, watching both their faces. ‘So he won't be her lover for much longer.'

‘But Seb, what about … Alex?'

‘I said to tell her to get rid of him.'

‘But, but …' Evie is trying to piece it together in her head. The things Seb said on the bus; the words Paris Cuza just threw into the ring; Dana's laugh and smooth brown skin; Alex's eyes and the hurt that has waited behind them.

‘I can't hang around here, Evie. It's too dangerous.' Paris grabs Evie's elbow, bringing her back to the here and now. ‘We've got to go. They'll be back soon. Come on.'

Paris walks fast. Her legs as thin as sticks stride down the street, way in front of Evie and Seb. Evie can barely make her legs work. Seb grabs her hand to stop her from lagging.

‘Evie, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about Alex.'

Evie shakes her head. ‘I can't … believe it. And yet, it was happening. Of course, it was happening. There was … deception – everywhere. I smelt it. I'm an idiot.'

‘Are you going to tell her?'

‘I don't know what to do.'

Her mind is spinning. Her world and now the other
world – the world whose simplicity she envies – feel like they've just collided. What's real; what's not? What matters; what doesn't? Nothing is making sense. How could she have missed the very thing that was under her nose.

Paris's walk speeds up to a jog. ‘I think that's his car down there. Quick!'

‘There's no car,' Seb says. But they quicken their pace and follow her into a petrol station's convenience store.

‘What are we doing, Paris?' Seb asks.

‘Hiding.'

‘But there's no –'

Then, just like that, Paris begins to laugh. It starts out as a slow chuckle then ascends into a high-pitched giggle. ‘Your top,' she squeals. ‘I just noticed it!'

Seb and Evie frown at one another. ‘My top?' Evie says, covering the sparkling word with her hands.

‘Yeah. Angel.' As she points, her bony arm shakes with her laughter. ‘Angel.'

‘Yeah – angel.'

‘Do you know what the Romanian word for angel is?'

‘N-no.'

‘
Inger
.' The hysterical laughter stops, followed by a second of silence. ‘That's why we have to call him Ingy.' Paris's mouth starts to quiver and twitch. She whispers, ‘He's our angel. He saved our family. Took care of us after our father died. We must be forever grateful to him.'

Then, covering her face with her hands, her body crumples into itself, her arched back shaking with the pain. Evie goes to her. They stand there, face to face. There's a second of
hesitation before Evie wraps her arms around Paris's tiny frame. Paris's cheek falls onto Evie's shoulder. ‘I'm so scared,' she murmurs. ‘Can you really help me?'

The shoppers in the store are staring. Seb shrugs and tells them her dog died. It seems to satisfy their curiosity.

Paris breaks out of Evie's hold. ‘Did she tell you where it is?' she asks. ‘Did she tell you where it's hidden?'

‘What's hidden?'

‘Her diary. My sister's diary,' Paris answers. ‘That's when I knew you were for real. When you gave me those names in the envelope. The names Caz gave you. I thought she probably told you where her diary was too.'

‘No. She didn't.'

Seb leads the girls behind the shop to a vacant lot littered with the rusted shells of what once were cars. ‘We'll be safe here,' he tells them. Paris's eyes scan her surroundings before she sits on the wall next to them.

‘The names. The names Evie gave you.' Seb's voice is gentle. ‘What did they mean?'

‘They're Dad's family,' she answers. ‘Cosmin, Petar and Nistor were his brothers. Uncle Cosmin came and lived with us after Dad died.' Paris stares at her feet and smiles. ‘He was so wonderful to us. He made me laugh when I didn't think I'd ever be able to laugh again after Dad died. I really loved him.'

‘Is he …'

‘He had to go back to Bucharest. Ingy said he could arrange for him to stay in Australia but I don't think he ever did anything about it. Caz and I cried for days after he left. Then,
then …' Paris stares at her feet again. ‘Then everything went … bad.'

Evie feels herself swallow.

‘And the others?' Seb asks.

‘Irina was one of his sisters. He had a big family. He wanted them all to come to Australia.'

‘Maybe the others were in the letters we couldn't work out,' Seb says to Evie.

‘Yeah. What were they? A-N-D –'

‘Andra,' Paris tells them. ‘Andra and Anca were the two names you didn't give me.'

‘Seb, that's what they were – Andra and Anca!'

‘Our Romanian's not very good,' he smiles at Paris. She looks the other way. ‘Say something,' he mouths to Evie. But she doesn't have to. Paris has started speaking. Speaking as though they're not there.

‘Andra, Anca, Cosmin, Petar, Irina, Nistor,' she sings. ‘Breakfast.' She starts to whistle. ‘Come on, little ones. Paris is with me today to help. No pecking her, Cosmin. All of you be gentle with my Paris.'

Seb raises his eyebrows at Evie. She shrugs back.

‘It's nearly time to take Irina out,' Paris croons. ‘She's going to have babies soon. We'll have to put her in the special cage. The having-a-baby cage. In the little wooden –'

‘Cage?' Evie's mouth spits out the word before her mind has absorbed it. ‘Cage!'

Paris stops and looks at her almost as though she's forgotten Evie existed.

‘The … aviary.' She almost looks startled. ‘My dad's birds.'

‘Birds?' Seb blurts.

‘Parrots. He called his parrots after his brothers and sisters.' Paris smiles. It's just for herself. ‘Cosmin was the one who protected the others. Anca was shy and affectionate. Dad used to say Anca was just like –'

‘Paris! Stop!' Evie has begun to walk around in circles. ‘Did he keep them in cages? Like cages that were –'

‘They were beautiful cages. He made them himself. It wasn't like –'

‘The drawing!' Seb jumps off the wall.

‘Paris, listen,' Evie says. ‘The cages, were they like boxes? Like … like cubes all stacked up on each other?'

‘Sort of, I s'pose. There was a special one just for –'

‘And bars? Just vertical bars?'

‘Yeah. How did …' Paris turns to Seb now. ‘How did she know?'

‘And Caz kept a diary?' Evie holds her head. What she wasn't sure of is beginning to fall into place – the smell of feathers on her fingers, the random sketch of cubes, the beating of wings at the end of a séance – it's like the shapes of a puzzle finding the right holes. She can almost hear them clicking together. ‘The diary. Was there something in it? Did she tell you about it?'

‘Yes.'

‘What was it? Was it something she wanted you to know, or you to have, or you to –?'

‘Yes.' It's something about the way Paris says the single word that makes Evie stop and look at her. Paris's head is hanging, her eyes are screwed tightly shut and her fingers
are pulling and twisting at each other. And just like that, the final piece of the jigsaw drops. ‘Clink.' Evie understands what's in the diary and why it has to be found.

‘Paris?' Her words are slow and careful. ‘Are the parrots still …'

‘They died. All of them.'

‘And … the cages?'

‘They're still there.'

She turns to Seb. ‘I think I know where the diary is.'

‘In the aviary?'

‘Paris, we need to go to your place. I think the diary is in one of the cages.'

‘How?' she answers. ‘It … it can't be there. They're so old and rotting. It's too risky going to my house … We can't, we can't –'

‘Paris. You've got to trust me. Please.'

‘We'll be so careful,' Seb tells her. ‘I'll be on the look-out. We'll make a plan. Trust us. Okay? Evie knows what she's doing.'

‘We'll get a taxi.' Evie's going through her wallet. ‘Where's your place?'

‘Just around from Canada Bay.'

‘I've got enough money,' Evie counts. ‘Seb, you go and find a taxi. Paris and I'll wait here.'

‘If you see a dark blue Saab convertible, that's them,' Paris says to Seb. ‘Don't let them follow you. He saw Evie yesterday. He's on the look-out.'

 

Soon they are in the taxi, the three of them, heading for Canada Bay. Paris leans forward, her head in her lap, hiding. Evie rubs her back and thinks of the right things to say. ‘It's okay, Paris. Nothing will happen. We'll be so careful.'

Paris hides low in the seat, directing them into the heart of the suburbs. ‘Right. Next left. Left at the next roundabout.' Silently the driver obeys.

Evie's mobile rings and all three of them sit up with fright.

‘It's my oldies.' Evie answers the phone. ‘Hi.'

‘It's been an hour, Evie!' It's her father.

‘Sorry, Dad. I was about to ring.'

‘Where are you?'

‘I'm actually just in the city with Seb.' Evie screws up her face and bites her top lip. She doesn't want to lie but, if they know where she's really going, they'll flip. ‘Everything's fine. I'm fine.'

‘Well, you ring us in an hour. That'll make it five to one.'

‘Yes, Dad. Bye.'

‘Five to one,' he repeats. ‘On the dot.'

‘Yes, Dad! Bye.'

Evie switches the mobile off and puffs out her cheeks. ‘Poor Mum and Dad.'

‘They'll be right,' Seb answers.

Taking a peek out the window, Paris instructs the driver to turn left and stop at the next corner. ‘We're here,' she says. ‘My place is a couple down from here.'

Evie pays while Seb follows Paris, who's scrambling under an overgrown hedge. Evie joins them, pointing at the nearest
house. ‘An old man lives here,' Paris tells them, pointing at the nearest house. ‘He never comes out. I've hidden here before.'

‘So which one's your place?' Seb asks.

‘Number six,' Paris replies. ‘The third house up. It's dark brick with a porch at the front.'

‘And where are the cages?' Evie whispers.

‘Out the back. There's a side passage we can go down.'

‘Okay, Seb.'

Seb nods. ‘I'll go and see if anyone's home.' The ground snaps and rustles as he scampers out from the bushes and darts around the corner.

Crouching down, the tops of their heads hidden, Paris and Evie wait. Around their feet, slaters and ants crawl out of the dirt they've just disturbed. Evie watches them busily getting on with their business, oblivious to the situation they've found themselves amidst.

The sound of her heart pounds in her ears. At least Evie thinks it's her heartbeat, but maybe it's Paris's, maybe it's Caz's. For there are really three girls hiding behind this hedge.

Seb's back, breathing hard. ‘No one there,' he pants. ‘The carport's empty and I checked right around the house. The front door's locked. All the windows are closed. No sign of life. I'm positive.'