The Secrets We Keep (9 page)

Chapter 18

It's Thursday morning and I haven't decided if I'm going to go to Ellie's mum's funeral or not. I don't actually know where it is because Tam hasn't told me and Ellie's been away all week. I know Tam's hoping I don't turn up because she hates me, but I feel like I owe Ellie. It's probably as simple as looking up the details in the paper. If I asked Dad to help me he would, but I'm still not sure.

Last night, after Dad made two long lists of everything we needed to replace, he managed to steam Bridge's mum's dumplings for dinner. We didn't have any soy sauce or sweet chilli sauce, so they weren't quite as delicious as usual, but I think Dad was happy he didn't have to make dinner again after he burnt the spag bol.

After I went to bed, I heard him crying on the couch. I think he'd had a nightmare. Maybe it was because he was so worried about me after I fell asleep at Maggie's.

Anyway, now I'm supposed to be getting ready for school, or the funeral, but instead I've spent about an hour trying to work out how the three magic rings come apart. I'm starting to think they're one of those impossible tricks. Either that or there's some special knack to getting them undone that I'll just never learn.

‘See ya, Clem,' says Dad from the doorway. His hair is upright this morning and I resist the urge to pat it down. His boss doesn't care if he has crazy hair. And the plants don't notice.

‘See ya, Dad.'

‘Let's go out for pizza tonight,' he says.

‘Did I just hear you say pizza?' I joke.

He smiles. ‘Is that a yes?'

I smile back. ‘Do you really need to ask?' Aside from roast chicken, pizza is my favourite dinner ever. I suspect that Dad shares my view. Then I realise that it's pizza in a restaurant and that costs money.

I cough. ‘Dad, can we afford it?'

He smiles and holds his wallet up. ‘That's what a credit card's for.'

He bends down and kisses me on the head and I breathe in the dirt smell on his blue jacket. It's strangely comforting.

‘I left a sandwich on the bench. Sorry, it's peanut butter again.'

I smile. ‘My favourite,' I joke. ‘Thanks, Dad.'

As he walks out, I make the decision not to go to the funeral. I barely know Ellie and I'm sure Tam will be happy I'm not there. Then maybe Tam and Ellie can get back to normal and Tam won't feel like I'm stealing her best friend. Besides, it will be a relief to go to school without Tam around. I might actually learn something for a change without being distracted by her glaring at me every second.

The classroom is quiet for the first time ever. The group of girls who had hung around Tam the other day are all away so I'm assuming they're all at the funeral, too. I try not to think about it as I slide my bag into Ellie's locker for the sixth day at my new school and make a mental note to remind my teacher Rebecca about getting my own locker.

Because so many kids are at the funeral, Rebecca tells us that we have an extra session of PE with Tom this morning to train for the athletics carnival that's coming up next week.

I win the 100-metre and 200-metre races easily without Ellie there to beat. Tom wants me to try the 400 metres, too, but I tell him it's too long for me. Besides, that's Ellie's race. I don't want to take that from her as well. A girl fills in for Ellie, and another for Tam so we can practise the relay without them. As much as I don't want to think about Ellie today, I can't help it. I keep imagining what it feels like to be her.

Running doesn't help the hole in my Converse. By the end of PE, it's grown even bigger. I try to resist, but I end up picking at it, just a bit, because I'm hoping that if it gets bad enough then Dad will have to buy me new shoes. And maybe then I can get real sneakers, so my feet won't ache after pounding the hard ground.

After a long lonely lunch under the gum tree where I barely make it through my sandwich, I walk back to my learning neighbourhood early. I can't stop thinking about the funeral and Ellie. What will Ellie be like when I see her on Monday? Will she even come back to school?

The bell goes so I take a seat in one of the red armchairs. Rebecca comes in with a cup of tea and tells us that we can have free time for the afternoon. There are a few cheers and Rebecca laughs and adds, ‘Educational free time!'

Everyone grabs their computers, but of course I don't move because I don't have one. As I start doodling on a sheet of white paper, Rebecca comes and sits opposite me.

‘How's it going, Clem?'

‘Yeah. Goo
d,
' I mumble.

‘It's pretty hard moving, isn't it?'

‘Yeah.'

‘You and Ellie looked like you were hitting it off,' she says, and smiles.

‘Yeah.'

‘So you heard about her mum?'

I nod.

‘The funeral's today.'

I nod again.

‘She's going to need lots of support over the next few weeks,' she says gently. ‘Is everything else okay?'

‘Yeah. But I need my own locker.'

She grins at me and hits her head lightly. ‘Sorry, let's do it now before I forget!'

I leave my stuff on the chair and follow her out to the lockers. She looks along the top row and then the bottom.

‘This one's free. The boy who owned it moved back to the UK.'

‘Thanks,' I say. I've always had a bottom locker. It's because I'm short. Even though the teachers pretend my size has nothing to do with it, I know it does. But I don't care. Not today. At least now I have my own.

As I grab my stuff from Ellie's locker to move it across, a piece of scrap paper flutters out. I pick it up and notice that it's actually a note addressed to me. Opening it, I find scribbled details for Ellie's mum's funeral. I realise Tam must have left it in the locker, thinking I'd find it. Now I feel really awful because it's going to look like I didn't care enough about Ellie and her mum to go.

Chapter 19

After school I walk along the footpath trying to find flowers hanging over people's fences so it's not
really
stealing. Suddenly, it all comes back: where to break the stem, what colours look good together, and how to start crafting a neat, round posy.

After Mum had me she did an apprenticeship as a florist. When I was little we used to spend afternoons together at the flower wholesalers picking out suitable stems for arrangements. There were white coolrooms full of bright flowers of every colour and sort imaginable. We'd wander in and out of each room examining all the petals and leaves before Mum would finally make up her mind. Sometimes, Mum would pluck out a rosebud and tuck it behind my ear, or present it to me like I was a princess. When we got home, Mum would help me press the flower in one of our old dictionaries. BTF I had hundreds of pressed flowers. I imagine they were one of the first things to burn.

Mum ended up running her own business, from the bathroom at home. Sometimes she'd get booked for a wedding and there would be buckets and buckets of roses and freesias crammed into the bath and the shower. The smell would be overpowering. I can remember her showing me how to pluck the pollen from the end of the stamen so the bright dust didn't drop off and ruin our clothes. Her fingers were always stained yellow from the pollen.

When I started school Mum began working full-time and the buckets of flowers disappeared from our bathroom. We never visited the wholesaler again.

By the time I've walked to Ellie's house, I have four different shades of pink garden roses, some lavender, two papery native daisies and one lonely white carnation. It's not perfect, but it will do.

I can't think about what I'm about to do. I just have to walk up and ring the bell, apologise for not going to the funeral and hand Ellie the flowers. Then I can leave.

Easy. Right?

Wrong.

Do you know how hard it is to walk up a driveway to the house of a girl you hardly know on the day of her mother's funeral?

But I can't chicken out.

So I reach up and press the doorbell. I can hear people inside. Someone's laughing. I wonder who it is and if it makes Ellie feel strange.

As I wait for the door to open, I rearrange the flowers about twenty times. Mum would be proud. I even pluck a petal from one of the roses because the tip is slightly brown.

The door finally cracks open and I see a severe-looking woman dressed in black. Her hair is tightly gathered in a bun and her neck is long like a cran
e'
s. She looks down on me. In every sense.

‘Yes?' she queries.

‘I'm a friend of Ellie's. I just wanted—'

Suddenly the door opens wider and I see Ellie. She smiles at me, then stops abruptly.

‘You're late,' she says, grabbing my arm and pulling me inside.

‘I'm sorry,' I mumble, but she doesn't seem to be listening.

There are people crammed into every corner of the house. They're talking. And laughing. I can see food spread on the table in the lounge, but nobody seems to be eating it. I wonder if they'd mind if I took home a doggy bag for Dad and me. I bet there are all sorts of yummy treats over there.

Ellie drags me past the kitchen and I spy huge bunches of white oriental lilies. I'm still clutching the tiny posy and suddenly it feels so wrong. Of course there are professionally arranged flowers everywhere. There are white flowers and people wearing black. It's a real wake and I've crashed it in my dirty, tired-looking leggings and Converse with a hole where my toe is. My schoolbag is even still on my back.

We reach the sweeping staircase that seemed so impressive the other day. Now it just feels like another level in the ‘I don't belong' game.

‘I can't stay,' I say, trying to creep backwards.

But Ellie doesn't seem to hear me. She grips my arm. ‘I knew you'd come. Tam said you wouldn't. But I knew you would. Come on.'

Reluctantly I let her lead me up the stairs because now I have no other choice. Ellie opens her bedroom door and I see Tam sitting on the bed, legs tucked up underneath her black dress. When Tam sees me, she glares.

Ellie pulls me into her room and shuts the door.

‘Hi,' I whisper, staying near the door, not wanting to get any closer to Tam and her cranky face.

‘I left you a note. The funeral was hours ago,' says Tam coldly.

I nod. ‘Yeah, I didn't find it until—'

But Ellie interrupts me, asking, ‘Did you have to do a eulogy at your mum's funeral?'

‘No.'

‘I didn't have to, but I did,' she says, plonking down on the bed next to Tam. She looks exhausted, her face pale against the collar of her black dress. The only spot of colour on her body is her green nail polish.

‘It was beautiful. You totally nailed it,' says Tam, sounding more like she was telling Ellie how great she was at running rather than speaking at her mum's funeral.

But I guess it's pretty hard to know what to say on a day like this.

Then Ellie must notice the flowers that I'm clutching because she comes over and takes them from my hand. ‘Mum loved roses,' she says, breathing them in deeply.

‘I should go,' I say, feeling like I could leave now that she had the flowers.

‘Stay. Please,' begs Ellie. ‘Tam's going soon and I don't want to be alone with all of the adults.'

‘I can stay, El,' offers Tam. ‘I don't have to go to gym.'

‘It's okay. It's the competition soon. You can't miss it.'

The three of us are quiet for a second. Talk about awkward. Nobody seems to know what to say. Then Ellie starts crying and Tam jumps up from the bed so she can hug Ellie and move her out of my reach at the same time.

Why did I come?

Tam manages to guide Ellie back to the bed. She sits down and we hear a knock on the door. A woman who looks exactly like Tam sticks her head in.

‘Tamara,' she says quietly. ‘Time to go.'

‘Oh, Mum …' Tam appears torn. She glances up from Ellie and looks straight at me.

I know she's struggling to leave me alone with her best friend. Especially now.

But Ellie straightens, wipes her eyes and manages to smile.

‘Thanks for coming, Lisa,' Ellie says to Tam's mum. ‘Mum would …' But she stops talking as Tam's mum rushes over and wraps Ellie in a motherly hug. I feel like I've walked into someone else's tragedy. I really wish I were leaving instead of Tam. Maybe I could trade.

Finally, after more hugs and more dirty looks in my direction, Tam lets her mum lead her downstairs. As soon as they're gone, Ellie kicks the door shut and falls down on her bed.

‘It's been such a weird day,' Ellie says. ‘Did you feel
like you weren't really there at your mum's funeral?'

‘Um,' I say, and then shrug. I don't want to go into this.

‘It doesn't seem real. The last few days were all about organising things and ringing people and making plans and now it's done. All done. It's just really strange. I didn't think I'd feel like this,' says Ellie. ‘How will I feel next week? Next month?'

So now I'm a death expert and a grief counsellor, when all I want to do is go home and hang out with Maggie's fish.

‘I don't know. I guess everyone's different.'

‘When was the fire?'

I shrug again, hoping that it works like a real answer.

‘Sorry, you must hate talking about this stuff. At least I got to say goodbye to my mum,' whispers Ellie.

‘Actually, do you mind if we talk about something else?'

She shrugs, as if it's catching. Then asks, ‘You hungry? There's so much cake downstairs.'

‘Yeah, I think I am.'

An hour later I have finally escaped Ellie with three doggy bags full of cake that I'm now carrying home to the flat. Ellie couldn't bear to see it all get thrown out, and she knew nobody was going to eat it, so after we sampled every single flavour she made me take half of it home. Seriously. Half! I have petite lemon tarts. Chocolate mousse. Carrot cake. Banana bread. And a sugary rainbow of coloured macaroons. Yep, I have enough cake for about fifty dogs.

As depressing as my afternoon was at the wake, I'm glad I went now, and not just because of the cake. I actually like Ellie. In a different time in a different place, I think we would be friends regardless of our mums. And Tam, well, she's a work-in-progress.

Dad is lying on the couch when I get home, his muddy boots near the kitchen on a neat square of newspaper. I smile at the sight. I always loved that he did that BTF, and now he's started it up again.

‘Hey, Clem,' he says, rolling over.

‘Hi, Dad.'

‘Been shopping?'

I carefully place the bags down next to the couch. ‘Sort of. It's dessert. For about the next four months!'

He peeps into a bag and pulls out a box of coloured macaroons.

‘Where did it all come from?'

‘Um, a wake …'

Dad sits up and I see flecks of grey in his hair. I'm sure they weren't there before. ‘Right,' he says. ‘Whose?' He looks worried so I force a smile to show it's no big deal.

‘You know that girl I told you about at school? Ellie? It was her mum's funeral. I dropped in on the way home.'

‘And came back with cake?'

‘Yep. She didn't want to throw it out.'

‘Why didn't people eat it? Are they crazy?'

‘Go on, Dad. I know you want to.'

His hand hovers over the macaroons, but then he pulls it away. ‘Nope. Pizza first. Then we can come home and gorge!'

I laugh. ‘Sounds great.'

We've never been to this pizza place before. It's nothing like the old one we used to go to with Mum BTF. That one was fancy and quiet with white tablecloths and a long menu. This one is busy and crowded and full of families and people speaking Italian. I wonder if they expect us to eat our pizza with our hands instead of cutlery. I'm pretty sure Dad wouldn't mind that. But Mum would.

‘So was your friend okay today?'

I shrug. ‘I don't know. I mean. I guess. Her mum had …'

Suddenly that metallic taste floods my mouth again so I pour a glass of water to stall.

‘Are you okay?' asks Dad.

But the pizza gods must be shining down on me because, right at that minute, the waiter places a huge margherita pizza down between us, distracting Dad from the subject entirely. It smells like rich tomato and gooey cheese and my tummy is galloping to get started.

‘So this is mine,' I say with a smile. ‘What are you having?'

Dad laughs at me. ‘I'd be happy to skip straight to the twenty kilos of cake sitting in our flat.'

‘Oh yeah, the cake. Okay, you can share the pizza with me.'

At the same time we both pick up a slice, ignoring the cutlery. Mine sags in the centre and I twirl strings of melted cheese around my finger. Even though the topping is too hot to eat yet, neither of us can wait. We blow madly, nibbling around the edges until it cools down enough to shove in the whole slice in one go.

It's only afterwards when I'm trying to go to sleep that I think back to the night of the fire and of the pizza that sat mostly uneaten in our car once we'd discovered what had happened to our house.