Steal My Sunshine Part 6

My own problems felt so small and stupid in comparison. I swore I wouldn't think about those either.

The moment I was awake, I thought of Sophie. Still sleepy, I sat at my desk and opened my laptop to check the news. There was nothing, just more rehashing of the same information and some new photos: Sophie winning a cross-country race at school a few years earlier, her face more rounded and young. There was a quote from her uncle saying she would have fought back if anyone had tried to hurt her, that she was strong and fast and really fit. I wanted it to mean that her chances were better than they looked.

I closed the laptop and went back to bed. It was only 5.30 and the alert feeling I'd had when I'd first woken up was already turning into scratchy eyes and heaviness. Friday was here but I wasn't ready. Maybe I'd go to school or maybe Mum would want me here. I drifted off again. In my mind were waves of thoughts about Dad and all the conversations we'd had in the days before he'd left, when he must have known all along that he was going. What do you want on your toast, Han? (By the way, this is the last breakfast we'll ever eat as a family.) Don't forget to take that DVD back to the rental place. (I won't be here to remind you any more.) I opened my curtains and lifted the window. Sleep wasn't going to happen. And from that tiny peek of sky above the house, I could see it was going to be a stunning day but that did nothing for me. It was a slice of *Life goes on, Hannah!' and I couldn't stand that.

I heard laughter coming from outside. Was that Mum?

When I got out of bed and opened my bedroom door, a weird smell hit me straightaway. At first I thought it was Sam's trainers a" he always left them outside his bedroom door so that we had to suffer them and he didn't. But there was no sign of them. His door was ajar and he looked sound asleep, with his feet sticking out the end of the bed and one arm folded over his eyes. I closed his door. This was my chance to speak to Mum.

The smell was still strong. Was it rubbish day? Or maybe Scribble had killed something and brought it in. Cats did that a" brought you gifts you didn't want. Like loopy Margot and her lavender candle, which probably wasn't going to solve our problems. Thanks anyway, Margot.

At that moment Scribble grazed against my legs and jumped onto my bed, settling himself on my pillow. I went cautiously up the hall, looking for a bloodied rodent or half a bird.

The smell was more familiar now. I thought it might be food but there was no one cooking in the kitchen. Anyway, Mum didn't do cooked breakfasts. She was usually working before anyone got up, and if you ever asked her what there was to eat, she'd wave at some brown cardboard flakes or yoghurt that stank of damp goat hair.

There was more laughter and it came from our courtyard out the back. I suddenly remembered that smell and a voice saying, *Let's roll another one' confirmed it. I couldn't believe it. I stood by the open sliding doors and waited for them to look at me.

*Hannah! Beautiful, lovely Hannah!' Margot leaped out of one of our garden chairs and guided me into it.

*Er, Mum,' I said as I let Margot sit me down, *since when do you smoke?'

Margot and Mum giggled. Mum shrugged. The garden table was covered in tiny curls of tobacco and screwed-up pieces of rolling paper. There were some fat discarded joints lying around that were barely stuck together, spewing their contents, a near-empty packet of cigarettes and a dismantled lighter. The lavender candle was half its original size and the jug from Mum's liquidiser was filled with a greenish-brown liquid.

*What's in there?'

*Peppermint tea,' said Margot, struggling to get the words out. *This stuff makes you thirsty doesn't it, Sar?' She slapped her legs and they both burst out laughing.

*It's five in the morning,' I said.

*Uh-oh.' Mum clutched my arm and stared, wide-eyed, at different parts of my face as if I'd broken out in spots. *Looks like someone had a sense-of-humour failure.'

*Sar, stop that,' said Margot. *She's probably still in shock with all the upheaval. She's such a good girl, aren't you, Han? Hey? A good girl?'

I wanted to tell her not to call me Han and preferably not to speak to me at all but I was fixated on Mum's droopy eyelids and the way she was swaying around in her chair. *Mum, do you want me to make some coffee?'

Mum blew smoke towards me. *I tell you what.' She pointed the joint at me. *How about you make us some pizza. We're starving, aren't we, Margot? Margot? Margot!' She lurched her head around and smiled as Margot, who had moved behind her, wrapped her arms around Mum's neck. Margot nodded energetically.

*I could make toast,' I said. *It's morning.'

*No, it's not! I haven't been to bed yet so it's still Thursday. Toast with jam!' Mum got to her feet with an awkward flourish and jolted Margot, whose arms did a frantic backstroke as she fell into a giant potted yucca plant.

*Margie! Oh my G.o.d, I've killed Margie. Help me, Hannah!' Mum tried to pull her out but they couldn't stop laughing. The joint was sandwiched between Mum's lips and she had to close one eye to stop the smoke going in. I didn't want to go anywhere near them.

When they finally got Margot on her feet again, they began to dance around the garden table.

*Toast with jam! Toast with jam!' Mum sang, and the dance got more out of control. They were oblivious to the herb pots they knocked over or how much noise they were making.

Every time they pa.s.sed by and nudged me I got more and more angry. *Mum, stop it,' I said. *You're being really loud.' She wasn't listening. *Mum, where's Dad gone? Did he tell you?' I knew it was c.r.a.p timing but it all started to come out then.

She hitched up her trackies and dancer harder, no longer singing but panting.

*I said where's Dad?' I felt like I could snap, I was so tense. And suddenly I couldn't hold it in any more. *Would you just stop that and tell me where the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l Dad is!'

Mum stopped. She looked at the ground where the joint had fallen from her lips.

*Han, not now darling,' said Margot. She came towards me with her arms outstretched and I knocked them away from me, staring so hard at Mum I couldn't believe she wasn't looking back at me. My eyes were stinging.

And then her voice came deep and hoa.r.s.e. *I wouldn't have a clue.' She slumped down in a chair. Margot picked up the joint.

I stormed back inside and slammed my bedroom door. All the familiar objects of my room looked like a stage set, frozen and fake. Somewhere outside of these walls the other fragments of my life were waiting, and I had to get out there and feel part of something again.

I tried to map out my day in my head. I'd take the painting on the tram and drop it off at Essie's. I'd go to school and try to have a normal day. I wouldn't look at my phone every five minutes, wondering if Evan was going to call again. I wouldn't care about what Mum was doing or where Dad was. It'd just be me and what I needed to do.

Essie was in her dressing-gown when she came to the door, her face and hair already made up.

*What a lovely surprise,' she said, even though I'd promised to come today. *You're just in time to make my tea. You made it so nicely the other day.' She turned and beckoned me in as she walked stiffly towards the kitchen. She hadn't even mentioned the huge painting I was carrying. I propped it by the lounge and we chatted about the weather and the missing girl.

*I hope they catch him,' she said.

*We don't even know if she's been abducted yet.'

*Don't we?'

*It could be anything.'

*I doubt it, darling. But you mustn't let it stop you from going out and having fun, you hear me?'

I smiled at her and went on making the tea. Essie hadn't been outside in years. She had a doctor who did home visits, no friends, and the only people she used to speak to were those who delivered stuff like groceries. She'd phone the stores she liked and pay them to bring things to her a" they almost always did, even if the first time she asked they'd say it wasn't a service they offered. She always managed to convince them it was, until one day the deliveries stopped. Knowing Essie, she must have done something to upset them.

I wondered what Essie thought my life was like. I'd hung out with Chloe's mates a bit lately but that was all. There was nowhere to go unless you looked old enough to drink in bars or work in them, like Chloe. She seemed to have a new guy every week, while I'd had never even had a proper boyfriend or gone further than a sloppy pash. It wasn't that I thought I wasn't pretty, but no one ever noticed me.

We sat down and ate white toast and drank our strong malty teas. I felt like I'd been awake for ages.

*You found it then,' Essie said, finally nodding towards the painting.

*It was behind Mum's wardrobe. Why do you want it? What's so special about it?'

She motioned for me to hold it up. *It's me, in Sydney. I was on a journey. It was a frightening and difficult one but not half as bad as what I was trying to escape from.'

*You mean you were by yourself? Where were your parents? How old was Mum then?'

*My parents have never been to this country,' Essie said, her face sour. After a moment she brightened again. *A dear friend painted it. How is your mother, by the way? Is she coping?'

I didn't want to talk about the right-now things so I said she was fine.

*Hannah, come now.'

Part of me wanted to go for it, to tell Essie what a screwed-up version of herself Mum was being. Then I wondered if Mum might need Essie now but just didn't know how to go about it. You needed your mum in a crisis, even if you didn't get on the rest of the time. People suffered without them a" Chloe hardly went a day without dropping it into conversation, as if it defined her. And here I was, only a few days of being sidelined by Mum, and I felt like a mess.

*She's not great, Essie. I can't get near her. She just wants Sam and her idiot friend Margot who spends half her life eating goji berries and the other half getting p.i.s.sed. Mum looks like a mess and she won't tell me where Dad is and he hasn't even called once.' I felt awkward; I wasn't usually this open with Essie and I'd spoken the way I would with a friend, not my gran.

Essie's eyes looked sad and we didn't speak for a while, but then her expression changed as she became distracted by something else. *You're wearing the ring!' she said.

I smiled and held my hand up. Essie and I were connected. *Chloe asked me if I thought Dad was having an affair.'

*And do you?'

*I don't know.' I shrugged. *I guess he could be.'

*It'll be a flash in the pan, you'll see.'

*That's kind of what Chloe said.'

*She sounds very sensible.'

I laughed. *That's not really how I'd describe her.'

*Oh? Go on, how would you describe her then?'

I searched for the right words. *Brave, I think. Strong. Loud. Funny. Sometimes she might hurt your feelings but she doesn't know she's doing it. It's just that she's always tearing up the place and misses things.'

*Things you wouldn't miss.'

*Maybe. I'm not brave like her, though.'

Essie smiled and put her plate on the table in front of her. She hadn't eaten her crusts as usual. I giggled. *What is it?' she said.

*Just your crusts, Ess.'

*You didn't eat yours either.'

*I know. It's just funny.'

*They can't make us, can they?' Essie the child again. I wondered if anyone would be able to see the young me when I was as old as her.

*Nope.'

*I'd like to meet Chloe one day.'

I could feel my smile falter. *Maybe,' I said quietly, and took the cups and plates to the kitchen. I came back in determined to change the subject.

*When are you going to tell me about being in Sydney with Mum and whoever did that painting?'

*That's not the first part of the story.'

*Well, when will I get to hear it?'

Essie had that same distracted look on her face from before. *Can you hear that?' she said.

*The music?'

*The baby crying.'

*Yep. It's been doing that since I got here.'

Essie continued to stare into nothing. The ash of her cigarette was longer than what was left to smoke.

*Essie?'

*Sorry, darling, you must get to school. Look, it's late.' She stubbed out her cigarette and struggled to get up.

*Maybe I don't have to go.'

*No, thank you, I don't want to get into any more trouble with your mother.' She picked up my schoolbag and handed it to me. *You come back tomorrow and bring that nice friend of yours and we'll have a little party.'

*What for? I mean, why don't I just come on my own?'

*Are you ashamed of me?' Essie had one eyebrow raised. Her question seemed like a challenge.

*Essie! Of course not!'

*You'll come then.'

We reached the front door and she wrapped her arms around me. I couldn't remember her ever holding me that way before. She'd always seemed outspoken but I felt like there was more in that hug than she could try to say in words.

*What's your first lesson?' she said, giving me a final strong squeeze before she let me stand up straight again.

*Drama with an idiot teacher who thinks he's Chris Hemsworth.'

*Who's that?'

*A Hollywood actor, Essie.' I smiled.

*Sounds more like an odd-job man.'

I giggled. *I guess so. Anyway, I hate him. He's making us do Oklahoma and I'm Cowboy 3.'

*Who?'

*Exactly. It's not even a real part.'

*Don't mind him. I bet he lives with his mother and has never had a girlfriend.'

*Er, probably not, Ess.' Mr Inglewood probably had a skinny, tanned and blonde girlfriend. I'd bet my life on it.

*Believe me, darling. And one day the poor mother dies after tripping over the toolbox he'd left at the top of the stairs, and he chops her body into pieces and puts them in the freezer. But the police find it and he spends the rest of his life behind bars.'

*Essie! That's awful.'