Tales from the Tower, Volume 2 (33 page)

I guess I was thinking about what had happened to Dad and to Reine and me and Mum, and the way our dreams had fallen right through the cracks of life. This girl's constantly sweet and positive attitude to everything, even us, was driving me crazy.

We had planned to torch the lot before she got home and pretend we knew nothing about it, so when she came home early it threw us a bit. My sister was inside trying to find the matches when Ella came around the back of the house to find the pile of her precious notebooks on the lawn. When she realised what we had planned, her face went white.

I held one folder up in front of her. ‘Why do you write this crap over your stuff?' I sneered.

‘What do you mean? Why are you doing this?' she cried.

‘Haven't you worked out
anything
yet?' I yelled, dropping the book with the sticker on top of the pile. Reine watched this from the back step, a broad smile on her face, then she came out with the matches.

Ella was more upset than I'd ever seen her. So
this
was her raw nerve. I felt glad we'd hit it, but another part of me was on some kind of ride that I couldn't seem to get off, and it was going faster and faster.
Why were we doing it?

Ella lunged forward to snatch some of the books and I soon forgot about any misgivings and became incensed all over again. This time she didn't give up so easily, but kept trying to save her journals – even managed to grab a few in spite of my best efforts to shove her back. We always got them away from her, and in the end Reine and I were shrieking and screaming and chucking them back and forth like frisbees, the pages flying out in the breeze as she raced between us sobbing. She was outmanoeuvred as well as outnumbered.

‘No one gets to live their dream, and if you don't believe me, then here's the proof!' Reine had her in a tight grip and she threw the box of matches at me. ‘Go on! Do it!'

With fumbling fingers I pulled one out, struck it and set it to some newspaper we'd scrunched up beneath the pile. The flames flared in the wind, quickly spreading from one notebook to the next. They didn't immediately catch, but it didn't take long. After a while Reine let her go and she just stood there staring at her smoking journals, tears running down her face.

Live Your Dreams
.

Then the three of us stood around watching the flames take hold. It was late afternoon at the end of winter, still cold. Reine and I were laughing meanly as we kicked in the books around the edges, making sure the fire got everything.

‘Oh, poor little Ellie!' Reine crowed. ‘She won't know what to do with herself now.'

‘All her lovely journals,' I joined in. ‘She'll have to save up and buy herself some
special
ones now.'

‘Maybe she wants to jump on there with them!' Reine suddenly grabbed one elbow and motioned for me to take the other. Ella struggled against us but didn't scream, and we soon had her.

‘One, two, three!' We shoved her towards the flames, but although she stumbled and fell onto some burning ash, she got away before any real harm was done and ran for the back fence. Reine was all for dragging her back for a proper burn, but the ferocity in my sister's eyes frightened me a little.

‘No,' I muttered and Reine acquiesced, although she seemed disappointed.

Without actually speaking about it, we must have agreed to keep our hands off her at that point. Apart from a slap or two along the way, that was probably the most physical we ever got. We didn't want to end up in jail!

After it was all gone she edged back to the smouldering remnants of the fire, squatted down and hid her face in her hands. We smirked as we watched her from the back window. Reine nudged me and pointed at the bird enclosure. There was a dark shape moving up and down against the wire. I went out onto the back porch for a better look and felt a slight shiver down my spine when I saw it was the big bird, his eyes gleaming yellow in the dim light, clawing the wire to get out.

Two hours later she was still outside sitting by the remains of her books, poking through the ashes as though looking for something. When she came in again she had ash all over her hands and face.

‘Hi Cinders,' I said breezily, laughing at her mucky face. She said nothing, just passed us on her way to the bathroom. ‘Hey, that can be your new name,' I said.

‘Yeah, Cinders,' said Reine. ‘And don't use our bathroom, thank you. You've got your own.'

{4}

Invitations to parties with our old crowd were few and far between. In fact, just about everyone we knew had forgotten us, or pretended they had, so when we got Joshua Hogan's invitation Reine and I were excited. It was a big glossy black-and-red number, the details printed in scrawling silver letters. His parents wanted to celebrate their son finishing university, or some such crap, with a big party. It was to be a night of
ultimate fun
and
mystery
,
with everyone in masks and dressed as their favourite character from history.

The thing about Josh was that in spite of his being born into a famous family – his father was a film producer and his mother had been a well-known actress who now ran the most prestigious acting agency in the country – 
and
in spite of him being very clever and handsome, he was actually a genuinely nice guy. Amazing, isn't it?

I'll never forget his reaction the day Dad's face was plastered across the front of every paper in the country. Reine and I had cleared off into the city to see a film, just to get away from it all, and quite unexpectedly we'd run into him outside the cinema. Eyes downcast with shame, we mumbled hello and walked passed quickly, assuming he'd be loath to be seen with us like everyone else we knew. Not so. He deliberately came after us and tapped me on the shoulder and made me turn around.

‘Hey, you two!' he said. ‘I'm really sorry that things are so tough for you at the moment.' There was real sympathy and kindness in his voice and eyes. We just stood there staring at him, not knowing how to respond. ‘Things will get better,' he added seriously and then he grinned, put his arms around both of us briefly and said, ‘You always think they won't, but they do. I'll bet you anything!'

‘Thanks.' We both managed to smile.

‘Got to go now,' he said, ‘but I'll be in touch.' Then he actually got out his phone and punched in our numbers! With that he was off, but that minute-long exchange meant so much to us. We talked about it for weeks afterwards. And, true to his word, Joshua occasionally sent us a funny text message or a bit of news about someone we knew. Once he rang us to see if we were interested in coming to Bali with a group of the old gang for a couple of weeks. Of course we couldn't – there was no money – but it felt good to be asked. Hardly anyone else had called, much less asked us anywhere, after we'd had to move out of our house in Toorak.

Anyway, I stupidly stuck the invitation on the fridge. Sometimes I wonder if any of what transpired would have happened if we'd kept the invitation to ourselves.

Unfortunately Joshua had scrawled a little note along the bottom of the invitation.

I'm expecting to see you both here – dressed up to within an inch of your lives! Josh.

P.S. Someone told me that your mum has remarried and you have a stepsister. Be sure to tell her that she is welcome too. In fact, tell her I'm expecting her. Three fantastically adorned chicks from your house will be just what my party needs!

That night Mum had gone through the motions of making a pissy little salad, but Cinders had made the bulk of the meal as usual. We were sitting at the table waiting for her to bring us the knives and forks when my mother snapped, ‘Why don't you set the table
before
we sit down, Ella.'

‘Iced water!' Reine demanded as she served herself some of the delicious-smelling lasagne. (Did I mention that along with everything else, the girl was an excellent cook?)

Cinders went back to the kitchen and saw the invitation on the fridge. She stopped to read it and looked at us, her eyes shining.

‘So I'm invited too,' she said in her deep, soft voice.

Reine snorted. ‘No!' she snarled. ‘You're not.'

‘But it says . . .'

‘You don't even know the guy.'

‘But he says he wants me to come.'

Reine and I snickered and rolled our eyes.
As if!

‘He was being nice!' I said, faking a sweetness I didn't feel. My God! As though we'd want
her
there!

‘Why would he say it if he didn't mean it?'

‘And why would you want to go to a party where you know no one?' I snapped.

‘Because it might be fun,' she said with a touch of vehemence in her voice that I'd never heard before. ‘I love fancy dress. It's my favourite thing.' Reine and I looked at each other and burst into a fit of giggles.

‘Have your own party here then!' I waved my arm dismissively around the humble little kitchen. ‘It's such a great venue.'

Suddenly we heard her father whistling in the hall. The door opened and he said jovially, ‘How are all my gorgeous girls?'

I have to say that I wondered sometimes if Jack was a full-on mental retard. He was certainly thick, no question about it. No one answered, of course. We didn't even look up from the table. He threw his bag down and put his arm around his wife,
our mother,
who deigned at the last minute to offer him a cold upturned cheek. Then he kissed the top of his daughter's head.

‘Any tucker left?' He was almost shouting. ‘Smells good!' Maybe he
had
picked up on the vibe. His jovial tone might have been an attempt to break through the unpleasant fog that was hovering over that table. Cinders went to get him a plate, and of course Reine and I assumed the whole matter was over. But no.

‘I really want to come,' she said, turning those incredible bright eyes from one of us to the other. Mostly we kept things sweet in front of him – it was his house, after all. I almost burst out laughing as I watched Reine switch on her concerned expression and nice warm voice.

‘But everyone will be older than you, Ella,' she said sweetly, helping herself to another serve of the delicious lasagne.

‘I don't care,' Ella said stubbornly and then went to the fridge, plucked the invitation off and handed it to her father. ‘I'm invited too and it would be such fun to go.' She looked around at us challengingly. ‘I haven't had any fun for ages,' she said doggedly.

‘Forget it,' I said icily. I was almost reeling from her absolute cheek. If her father hadn't have been there I would have screamed at her or slapped her face. As it was, everyone's eyes were on their plates. We were shovelling food into our mouths at a great rate, but I was aware of the glistening in Cinders's eyes and the determined set of her mouth. Finally Jack looked up from reading the invitation.

‘Why can't she go?' he asked quietly, looking around at the rest of us. ‘She's been invited.' He did a small thing then that seemed extraordinary at the time. At least it did to me. He leaned across the table and touched his daughter's face briefly with one finger and smiled. I saw one bright tear spill out and roll down her cheek. His gesture was like a sudden sharp jab in my guts; it took my breath away. I had a moment of the most terrible shame, piercing my chest like a poisoned arrow and then seeping slowly out into my head and arms and legs.
He loves her. He really loves her.
But the insight didn't last long. It soon turned to contempt. So how come this fool had no idea? Were men so stupid that they couldn't pick up the most obvious dynamics of a household?
All my girls indeed!

We turned to our mother. Something had to be done . . . 
now.
Mum would know what was best.

‘Jack, I think this is something that the girls have to work out between themselves,' she said sweetly. ‘You know what girls are like.' She giggled and ran one painted fingernail up from the inside of his wrist to his elbow. Her ridiculous simpering usually melted him immediately, but this time he looked up at her with the strangest expression. Almost as though he'd never seen her before in his life. He shrugged unhappily before turning back to his food.

‘I just don't understand,' he said quietly.

Mum waited a couple of moments, then said blandly, ‘Well, girls, please keep an open mind about it. It
might
be entirely appropriate for Ella to attend.'

Jack nodded seriously, as though satisfied, and bent his head over his plate, and Mum gave us a quick wink. It was all I could do not to laugh.
Nice one, Mum!

{5}

At last the day arrived and I have to say that Reine and I ended up looking pretty fantastic even if we broke the sucker's bank doing it. Mum managed to wangle her way into his special savings account on the pretext that, as his wife, she should have access to
all
his money in case of an
emergency. Of course, up to this point she'd been spending every cent of his wages, but this account was set aside for his little princess's tertiary education and for the bungalow he planned to build in the backyard. Mum understood how important it was to do the party right. She knew that if we were a success at Joshua's then it could put us back on the social map with the people who mattered.

Reine and I dismissed all the obvious costumes – nuns, queens, witches, cowgirls. This was our chance to really shine. Sure we would dress up as
characters
, but sexy and glamorous characters. We wanted to look
hot.

So while Jack was at work we spent his money. After much ringing around we ended up heading out to the other side of town by taxi to a really classy costume-hire place. The picking and choosing and trying on of outfits took one whole day. The manicures and pedicures and hairdressers and makeup took another. Reine, who has nice full tits thanks to the boob job, and a decent waist, went as Scarlett O'Hara. Her cleavage was stunning and the big, hooped skirt hid her heavy bum and solid legs. I went as a Greek goddess in a long, simple red dress that disguised my bum and thick waist. It was held at one shoulder with a gold brooch, showing off my nice olive skin. We hired good hair pieces to enhance our outfits – mine was a thick dark plait which I planned to adorn with a string of tiny white flowers, with the help of a hairdresser who we'd booked, along with a makeup artist, to help bring it all together on the day.