Pink walls?

I didn’t know where I was when I woke up. A row of spotlights lit the room and splashed across an empty double bed beside me. I heard noises behind the closed door on the other side of the room, someone gurgling and spitting into the bathroom sink.

‘I’m hearing your KGB,’ said Davey. ‘But as far as I’m concerned they’ve got nothing on the CIA. Like, the whole JFK thing. Lies. See, what I don’t get is the distance. The shot was impossible from the Book Depository building. And a moving target, as well. Got him right in the head. And what about after? Jack Ruby taking out Lee Harvey Oswald. I mean, come on? Kind of convenient, don’t you reckon . . .? Wait a sec, I think you’ll find that’s body wash not toothpaste. Seriously, can you hitch that towel up a little?’

We’d slept in. I went back to last night, to the empty dining room and the TV news. It was pretty clear that Gordo was to blame. God knows what he’d told the police, what he’d said about Mr Romanov. I’d been unsure about the phone call last night. I’d thought that any communication might be a risk not worth taking. But now I wasn’t so sure. There’d be no shortage of residents to confirm the crazy old man stories, and maybe a quick phone call might straighten things up. If we told them we went willingly, that there was no gun, that it was me and Davey who planned the whole thing, maybe they’d understand and leave us alone.

Short hair was a bonus sometimes. After hurrying the others up, I showered quickly then threw on a pair of jeans and a loose fitting top. I packed my bag and checked the room one last time before heading outside. Like me, Davey seemed to be thinking ahead.

‘I reckon we should do a runner,’ he said. ‘What if they’ve seen the news?’

I turned my head and looked towards the office.

‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘They would’ve rung the cops if they’d seen the news. Drive the Merc out and wait for me down that side street over there. I’ll go in and pay.’

As Mr Romanov and Davey bundled into the car, I grabbed some money from my purse and peeled off three fifty-dollar notes. I tucked them into a pocket and headed along the driveway towards reception. At the top of the stairs, I stopped for a moment and watched the Merc pull out onto the road and duck down a side street. I opened the reception door and stepped inside.

A familiar voice drifted out from the room behind the front desk. It was the lady from last night.

‘I rang the police,’ she said. ‘Yeah, that’s right, the police.’

I was halfway across the room when I stopped walking. I froze, tried to turn myself around but the floorboard creaked under the weight of my right foot.

‘Settle down, Mum,’ said another voice. ‘I don’t know what the big deal is?’

‘The big deal? It was two o’clock, Melinda. And, you were drinking.’

‘So?’

‘So you’re sixteen. Your dad and I were worried sick. Where were you?’

‘It’s none of your business.’

‘Well, maybe you can explain yourself to Sergeant Acocks, then.’

‘Sergeant Acocks?’

‘That’s right. He’s calling in for breakfast. In fact, he should be here any minute.’

‘You asked Sergeant Acocks to breakfast? I hate you.’

Like Mel, I was shocked, but for a different reason. After the news last night and my conversation with Davey, bumping into a policeman was the last thing I needed. I began to panic. I held my breath and retreated towards the door behind me. I took small steps and went as quietly as I could but my feet seemed to hit the floor like a stampeding elephant.

‘Checking out?’

I was reaching for the door handle when I heard the lady’s voice.

‘Um, yeah. I . . . I thought I’d forgotten the money Grandpa gave me.’

I pulled out the fifties from my pocket and made my way back to the desk. When I got there, the lady craned her head to the room behind her.

‘Girls,’ she said. ‘God, it’s like bamboo under the fingernails sometimes.’

I went back to last night and remembered the way she looked at me the first time we met.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ I said.

The lady rolled her eyes and moved on.

‘I take it everything was all right, then?’ she asked.

‘Perfect,’ I said.

‘Good to hear. And you’ll be paying by cash?’

‘Yep.’

I dropped the fifties onto the desk and glanced over my shoulder at the door. I must have looked nervous.

‘Are you all right?’ said the lady.

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ I lied. ‘We’re in a bit of a hurry, that’s all. Grandpa’s keen to get going. I’d better go.’

‘Hang on, you’ve got some change coming.’

I stopped for a moment at the door, peered through the glass then looked back.

‘Keep it,’ I said. ‘And thanks.’

The timing couldn’t have been worse. As I made my way out onto the street, a blue and white police van motored up the road towards me. I went down on one knee as it approached and pretended to tie the laces on my right shoe. As soon as the van turned into the Golden Palms, I shot up and bolted towards the side street about ten metres further up the road. The Merc was parked against the kerb a little way down, spewing grey smoke from its rusted exhaust. When I got there I opened the front door and dived inside. Davey must have seen the panic in my face.

‘What the hell happened?’ he asked.

‘Sergeant Acocks happened,’ I said. ‘Drive, Mr Romanov.’

It felt good to be back on the trusty old Hume. According to Davey, the next big town was a town called Goulburn, about one hundred and eighty kilometres north. I tried to settle into my seat as we drove but the close call with Sergeant Acocks had me on edge. If it had been a few seconds later, he would have found me in reception and our trip would have ended right there in the Golden Palms Motor Inn, and all the kilometres would have been for nothing. Halfway there didn’t count. Three quarters didn’t count. I couldn’t bare the idea of not getting there. Even if Surfers Paradise turned out to be a shithole like Davey had said, I needed to see it for myself. Of all the places in the world I could have chosen on the map, I chose it. I chose it because of him. It was the place my father picked on the very first night we camped and I fell in love with it the second I heard its name. I fell in love with the idea of Paradise and although my father encouraged me to look further on the map, I couldn’t bring myself to go anywhere else. Surfers Paradise made things seem possible. Surfers Paradise gave me colours and it gave me space to breathe.

‘Dad was on the run, you know.’

The sound of Davey’s voice brought me back.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, after the robbery, him and this other guy took off in a car just like us. They got an extra two years for that. Maybe we should give ourselves up?’

‘Give ourselves up? We haven’t done anything wrong, Davey. Nothing illegal, anyway.’

‘Maybe, but they’re going to catch us for sure.’

‘Not if we play it smart, they won’t.’

‘But what if they send me to juvenile? I won’t last two seconds in there.’

‘They won’t send you to juvenile.’

‘They might. God, what if I get put in a cell with a tough kid who does push-ups all day. I’ve heard about juvie, there are kids in there who shave.’

‘What’s got into you, Davey?’

‘You saw the news last night.’

‘Yeah, I did. And that’s why you’re going to make the call.’

‘Me? Why can’t you make the call?’

‘Because my mum couldn’t care less, that’s why, and I don’t even know if she’ll be in a state to answer. As soon as we get to Goulburn, you’re going to call your mum on a public phone and put things straight. And I’m going shopping.’

‘Shopping?’

‘Yeah. Shopping.’

We struck gold in Goulburn.

As we drove slowly down the main street I spotted a supermarket and a second-hand store and began to write a list of the things we’d need. To avoid unwanted attention, we decided it was best not to be seen together so Mr Romanov steered the Merc into a quiet street and parked beside the kerb. I dipped into Gordo’s bumbag and peeled off some notes then joined the others on the footpath.

‘Remember, Davey, it’s a quick call,’ I said. ‘Don’t bang on about things or let on where we are. Just tell your mum that it was our idea and tell her there is no gun. Maybe get some breakfast too.’

I turned to Mr Romanov and walked over. Despite the overnighter in the Golden Palms, he seemed to be struggling.

‘Are you okay?’ I asked.

‘Yes, cowgirl. I am okay.’

‘Davey and I are heading off for a bit but I need you to stay here with the car. Can you do that?’

‘Of course.’

‘Good. We won’t be long.’

I wasn’t happy leaving Mr Romanov by himself. I would have taken him with me but pairing up seemed dangerous now. We didn’t belong in Goulburn and all it took was one person, just one person who’d seen the news last night and everything would be over.

I went to the supermarket first and headed straight for the haircare products and accessories. I scanned the shelves, plucked things I needed and tossed them into the basket I was carrying – hair dye, scissors, razors, shaving foam, eyeliner and lipstick. But the best buy of all was a cheap set of battery-operated shears on special at twenty-nine dollars. When I was done, I grabbed some batteries, a few packets of biscuits and lollies, and made my way to the line of people waiting with their baskets at the express check-out. The lady in front of me was standing side-on in the queue. She glanced down at the odd collection of things in my basket then looked back up and smiled.

‘I went blonde once,’ she said. ‘God, made an absolute mess of it, I did.’

She rolled her eyes then looked into space as if she was remembering something from long ago.

‘Danny Fitzpatrick, his name was. I thought he’d notice me if I was blonde. I thought everything would change.’

‘And did it?’ I asked.

‘No. My dad did, though. He went nuts.’

The express aisle didn’t seem to be moving. I felt the lady’s eyes on my face and wondered if she’d seen the news.

‘You’re a pretty girl,’ she said.

I never talked to strangers in the commission so a compliment was the last thing I was expecting. I looked at the floor and felt my cheeks burn.

‘Hardly,’ I said.

‘No really. But who am I to say? You should go for it if you want, dye your hair, it’s your call but I can guarantee you’ll be disappointed with the result.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Because it doesn’t change anything. All it changes is the colour of your hair.’

I tried to blend in as I walked towards the second-hand store. I slowed myself down and tried to settle into sync with the foot traffic along the way. I dipped my head whenever someone approached or got too close and after a few minutes, I was there. I pushed through the front door, nodded to the two old ladies behind the counter and headed for the clothes racks at the back of the shop. I loved the smell of second-hand stores. The varnish and mothballs, the musty, preloved seconds reminded me of my father. Every now and then, when a bit of money had landed our way, we’d do a run of stores. We’d spend hours sifting through the displays, sorting through the rubbish to find the unwanted gems. There was something about that, something about the looking that made the purchase special.

And it was no different in Goulburn. Among the bargains on offer, there were two items that grabbed my attention. I plucked them from the rack, did a quick try on and made my way back to the front of the shop.

The two ladies were classic grandma types, decked out in pastel twin-sets, green and mauve. They smiled when I put the things onto the counter.

‘Gorgeous. Isn’t it gorgeous, Mavis?’

‘It is, Vera. There’s not enough floral these days. And the boots. Red leather, if you don’t mind.’

I’d been around enough second-hand stores to know that thirty-five dollars was a bargain. The boots themselves would have cost a couple of hundred new.

Unfortunately, Mavis and Vera weren’t in the business of setting any records. Slow and steady they went, with attention to detail. I didn’t dare interrupt their train of thought and soon they had my things bagged and ready to go. After handing over the money, I said goodbye and darted quickly out the door.

The others were waiting where I’d left them. Something in Davey’s face spelled a warning.

‘How did it go?’ I asked.

‘Lexie . . .’

‘Did you clear everything up? I hope you didn’t tell her too much.’

‘Lexie . . .’

‘God, you did, didn’t you? Jesus, Davey, I gave you one job. What did you say?’

‘Lexie, stop.’

Something had happened. When I glanced at Mr Romanov, he turned his head and looked away.

‘What did you do, Davey?’ I said.

‘I didn’t do anything.’

‘Well, what’s wrong, then?’

‘It’s your mum, Lexie.’

I stiffened when I heard her name. I felt my skin crawl, the way it did when she stumbled home, when she brought the night-time into my room and lay down beside me in my bed.

‘This’ll be good,’ I said. ‘What’s she done now?’

Davey dropped his eyes for a moment, then looked back up.

‘She’s had an overdose,’ he said. ‘She’s been taken to hospital.’

Overdose. Strangely enough, the word I’d dreaded all these years didn’t hit me like I thought it would. Maybe it was because I’d lived with it for so long, prepared myself for a moment just like this.

‘Is she okay?’ I asked.

‘Okay?’

‘Yes, Davey, is she okay?’

‘Well, she’s still alive, yeah.’

‘Good.’

‘Good . . .? What, that’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?’

I didn’t answer Davey, I didn’t know how, so I turned around and walked a few steps along the footpath. As I stood there with my back to them, I looked to the south and dug at the emptiness inside me, clawed at the numbness and tried to find something to feel. I imagined my mother in the hospital bed, the white sheets, the tubes and the blinking machines but everything else came rushing back – all the nights alone, all the times when she should have been there and wasn’t. I became aware of the bags in my hand and the Merc parked on the road beside me. I walked over, opened the car door and dumped them into the front seat.

‘Let’s go,’ I said.

Davey came over and grabbed hold of my arm.

‘Lexie, did you hear what I said?’

‘I heard.’

‘Lexie . . .’

‘I said I heard.’

‘It’s over, Lexie. We have to go back.’

‘We’re not going back.’

‘But it’s your mum, Lexie. She’s in the hospital.’

‘We’ve come too far.’

‘Are you out of your mind?’

‘She’ll be all right.’

‘All right? Are you hearing yourself? It’s . . . your . . . mum . . . ’

‘So, I’m supposed to just forget everything, am I? I’m supposed to do what I’ve always done and forget about what I want. I won’t do it. Not this time.’

‘Jesus, Lexie.’

‘No, Davey. You came on this trip because you wanted to see your dad and I’m really sorry it didn’t work out, but this last bit I need for me. And who knows, maybe I’ll be disappointed. Maybe Surfers Paradise won’t be anything like I thought it would but I can’t go back, not now. And I know you think I’m heartless, I can see it in your eyes, but this is my wish, Davey. I’ve dreamed about it for as long as I can remember, so I need you to stop poo-pooing it all the time and get onboard.’

I was close to tears now. I looked at Davey and saw the corners of his mouth turn upwards and make a smile.

‘What’s so bloody funny?’ I asked.

‘Did you just say poo-pooing?’

‘Yeah, I think I did.’

‘Poo-pooing?’

‘Yes, Davey, poo-pooing. It’s not fair. It’s like now you’ve done your thing you don’t care about mine. What if Surfers Paradise was your place?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Well, what if it was? Just say I had a map and you got to choose a place, anywhere in the world you could go. Where would it be?’

‘Anywhere?’

‘Anywhere.’

Davey turned his head and looked at the rolling hills to his right.

‘Andoria,’ he said.

‘Where?’

‘Andoria, home of the Andorians.’

‘Is this Star Trek again?’

‘Basically, it’s an icy moon,’ said Davey.

‘What the hell are you going to do on an icy moon?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Okay, Andoria, it is. Pretend we’re going to Andoria. Can you do that?’

Davey seemed a little unsure. He craned his head to the north and as I followed his eyes I spotted Mr Romanov standing beside the Merc. I walked over and stood next to him.

‘Your mother,’ he said. ‘You have only one, cowgirl.’

‘I know, but I can’t go back. Not yet.’

‘This is important, yes?’

‘Yes, it is. But I totally understand if you want to pull out. You’re going to be in all sorts of trouble, you do know that?’

Mr Romanov rolled his eyes and pushed some air through his lips.

‘What can they do, cowgirl? I am an old man.’

Something moved on my right and cast a shadow across my face. It was Davey and his dopey grin.

‘And what about you, Mr Romanov?’ he asked. ‘Where would you like to go?’

‘I would like to go to the toilet,’ he said.

‘I mean, if you could go anywhere, anywhere in the world. I’ve got Andoria and Lexie’s got Surfers Paradise. Where would you go?’

‘Still toilet. I need to piss.’

‘Okay, I’ve got that but a toilet where? If you could go to a toilet anywhere in the world, where would it be?’

‘Close.’

When Davey had called his mum, he hadn’t taken enough coins. The public telephone had eaten them up a lot quicker than he’d anticipated and for the most part his mother had done the bulk of the talking. Although he hadn’t been able to tell her everything he wanted to say, he’d learnt a few things before the last coin dropped and the phone went dead.

They knew we’d stopped at Beechworth. Although the stop had only been short, there would have been a record at the prison, paperwork and written proof of Davey’s visit.

They’d be able to track us now and, if the police were doing their job, they’d know for sure about my obsession with Surfers Paradise. Even now with Davey onboard, I felt a new kind of urgency, a sense of danger that hadn’t been there before. But luckily, there were a couple of things we had in our favour.

The Merc wasn’t registered, so technically no one knew about it. More than likely, the police were looking for us on a bus or a train and while it gave us some valuable breathing space, it wouldn’t be long before someone recognised us. What’s more, there were two routes to Surfers Paradise, the coast road and the inland road. Even if they became aware of the Merc, that meant deploying police along the two roads and if there was one thing I’d learnt about living in the commission, it was that police were a little light on for resources. Even still, we had to think smart.

It made sense to keep driving. Every kilometre seemed important now, every road sign we passed brought us closer to the end. But all it took was one person and it would all be over. After fifity minutes of driving, a blue sign on our left told us that a rest stop was coming up. I pointed it out to Mr Romanov and he steered the Merc left into an empty gravel clearing then pulled up behind a cluster of trees. I grabbed the bags on the seat beside me and turned a little in my seat.

‘Take a last look at us, fellas,’ I said. ‘You’re about to be made over. Davey, you’re first.’

‘Me?’

‘Yes, Davey, you.’

‘Why me?’

‘Because you’re easy.’

‘What do you mean, I’m easy?’

‘I mean, easy as in there’s nothing to mess up with you.’

‘Oh, thanks, Lexie. You really know how to make a bloke feel special.’

Davey’s eyes shifted to Mr Romanov in the front.

‘And what about him?’ he said. ‘No offence, Mr Romanov, but you look pretty easy to me.’

Mr Romanov didn’t seem to be following. I looked his way and threw him an encouraging smile.

‘I’ve got something special in mind for Mr Romanov,’ I said.

‘Why can’t I have special?’ asked Davey.

‘Because you’re thirteen, Davey, and Mr Romanov has earned it. He needs . . . distinguished.’

‘Distinguished? I think you’re forgetting which one of us is about to appear on national television, Lexie. Seriously, it took me ages to get my hair like this.’

I turned around and looked at Davey in the back.

‘Did you, or did you not promise to get onboard, Davey?’

‘Of course, I did. And I am, one hundred percent. It’s just . . .’

Davey had nowhere to go. His voice trailed off, he tried to look away but I held his eyes and threw him a death stare.

‘Just what?’ I asked.

‘Nothing.’

We found a secluded spot behind the toilet block and after dumping the bags beside my feet, Davey brushed a hand over one of the tree-trunk seats. After stretching his legs for a bit, Mr Romanov joined us and the two of them sat themselves down a metre apart. I was itching to get back onto the road. After our brilliant start, our progress seemed to have slowed, so I wasted no time and got to work. I tore at the plastic packaging around the shears, shoved in some batteries and clicked a number-one comb over its metal teeth. I flicked a switch on its handle and the shears began to buzz. After shifting into position behind Davey, I reached forward and drove the shears from front to back through the thick mop of brown along the top of his head. Davey gasped in horror.

‘What the hell?’

‘Relax, Davey.’

‘Relax? How much are you taking off, exactly?’

‘All of it.’

‘All of it?’

‘All of it, Davey. It’s what they call an extreme makeover. How else do you think all those people stay missing? Have you got scalp issues?’

‘Huh?’

I leaned in closer and saw patches of flaky skin along the line of newly exposed scalp.

‘It’s psoriasis,’ said Davey. ‘It’s when the skin cells multiply too quickly. It’s triggered by stress.’

‘Stress?’

‘Yeah. Go figure.’

Davey’s mop of tangled hair was like a wild garden that had been left to grow for too long. The cut-price shears began to struggle as I buzzed through it, but I continued on, front to back and then up the sides. After a bit of tidying up around the ears, Davey was done. He got to his feet when I was finished, then ran a hand over his blinding white scalp.

‘I feel naked,’ he said, turning to face us. ‘How do I look?’

I tried my best to hold it in. I pursed my lips to stop it coming, but when I looked at Mr Romanov our eyes met and a high-pitched squeal forced itself out.

Davey’s shoulders slumped.

‘Oh, thanks, guys. No, really, you’re too kind.’

I couldn’t look at Davey. Every time I did, he set me off. Somehow, between fits of laughter, I managed to find some words.

‘You look fine,’ I blurted.

‘Well, stop laughing then. I did this for you, you know?’

‘And I appreciate it, Davey, I really do. It’s just . . .’

I doubled over then and the laughter poured from my mouth. Davey trudged off to the car to get a look at the new him. A door opened and I heard him roar.

‘I hate you, Lexie.’

Mr Romanov was next.

I put the shears away and retrieved the scissors from the plastic bag. He hadn’t spoken much during the last few kilometres and I worried that the driving might have taken its toll.

I got to work on his left side, gently cutting at the wisps of silver strands I threaded between my fingers.

‘Are you okay?’ I asked.

‘I am okay, cowgirl.’

‘Are you sure? You’ve driven a long way.’

‘I am fine.’

We’d only been away for a few days, but it seemed more like weeks since we’d left the commission. I’d never really thought about how Mr Romanov might fare, I’d been too busy focusing on myself, but looking at him now, he looked kind of lost.

Although the commission wasn’t the greatest place to live, maybe it was the only thing he knew. His tiny apartment, his nightly adventures were his familiar world, his routine, and I wondered now if taking him away from that might have been a mistake.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

Mr Romanov angled his head.

‘Why are you sorry, cowgirl?’

‘I never really asked if you wanted to come,’ I said. ‘I mean, I know you agreed and everything but I never actually asked.’

‘Do not be sorry, cowgirl. I wanted to come.’

‘Really? You’re not just saying that?’

Two pink galahs made a screeching sound and sprang from a tree nearby. I looked at Mr Romanov but he seemed to be someplace else.

‘It was you,’ he said.

‘What was me?’

‘You stopped me,’ he said. ‘That day on the roof, in the rain. You reminded me of Nika.’

‘I did?’

‘Yes. And now also. She used to cut my hair.’

‘You do remember.’

‘Yes. I remember her hands. They were soft, like yours.’

‘So that’s good, right?’

‘Yes, cowgirl, that’s good. An old man should have memories but with the dementia sometimes they do not come, no matter how hard I try. I think you help me remember.’

‘I do?’

‘Yes.’

I understood now why hairdressers liked to talk. It seemed a natural thing to do while cutting someone’s hair. I sliced some more grey and kept going.

‘I reckon someone made us meet, you know. Not God or anything, but someone else.’

Mr Romanov turned his head and smiled.

‘Your father, perhaps?’

‘Yeah, maybe.’

I cut another wisp of hair and gave the idea some thought.

‘Maybe he made me see you up in the clouds that day,’ I said. ‘I mean, sure, he could’ve made us bump into each other in the elevator or something, it definitely would’ve been easier but maybe that was the point. Like, I probably wouldn’t have come up and tidied your apartment if we’d met in the elevator. I wouldn’t have brought Davey up either. And that means we wouldn’t have worked on the garden and we wouldn’t have gone on this trip. Everything’s connected. Maybe it was my dad.’

I hadn’t spoken to the others about it, but ever since we’d crossed the border into New South Wales, I’d felt my father’s presence more than ever before. Sometimes, in the moments of silence, when Davey stopped talking, I could feel him so strongly it was as if there were four of us in the car and not three, and somehow him being with me made me think I was right not to turn back.

‘You have the same eyes as my father,’ I said.

Mr Romanov looked up as I moved around in front of him and started on his fringe.

‘I do?’ he said.

‘Faraway eyes,’ I said. ‘You don’t have them all the time, just every now and then. It’s like you want to go somewhere, like you want to be someplace else. And it was the same with my dad.’

‘And what about you, cowgirl?’

I cut the last bit from Mr Romanov’s fringe and lowered my hands down by my sides.

‘What about me?’ I asked.

‘Why do you want to be someplace else?’

‘Because I want to see Surfers Paradise, for myself.’

‘And what do you want to see, cowgirl?’

Something strange happened when I went to answer. The words I had ready didn’t come. Everything I’d dreamed about, the postcard above my bed and the snow dome on the dash, the beach and the sun seemed to disappear. A new set of words came from nowhere and leap-frogged the ones I had waiting in my mouth. I saw my father and I saw his eyes.

‘I want to see why he went without me . . . I want to see why Surfers Paradise was more important than me.’

Davey hadn’t returned from the car. No doubt he was coming to terms with not being Davey Goodman anymore, so I walked with Mr Romanov to the toilet block. After handing him the shaving gear, I headed into the women’s toilet and retrieved the blonde hair dye from the bag. After reading through the instructions on the pack, I donned the rubber gloves and go to work, pouring the peroxide and the developer into a small plastic container. When the two ingredients were thoroughly mixed, I wrapped a towel around my shoulders and scooped up a dollop with my fingers. I didn’t bother separating my hair into sections like it said on the instructions. With my hair cut short the way it was, I figured I’d save time and dive straight in. Nothing looked worse than a dodgy dye job so I got my fingers in and teased at the roots of my hair, working my way out to the ends. While I worked, I could hear Mr Romanov shaving in the men’s next door – the splash of water and the tink tink tink of the razor on the metal sink. It didn’t take long to apply the peroxide mix so I used up what was left in the container just to make sure. Thirty minutes was the suggested leave-in time so I wrapped the towel around my head and twisted it tight into a knot. I took a step back and when I looked up into the mirror, I saw her clear as day – it was my mother staring back.

Every minute we lingered ate into our driving time, so I tidied up quickly, dumped the dye kit and gloves into the garbage bin then headed outside. I heard a new voice as I rounded the toilet block, someone chatting to Davey near the car. I slowed myself down and when I angled my head out for a look I saw a police car, parked behind the Merc. I gripped the wooden wall hard and saw a clean-cut policeman in a smart blue uniform standing next to Davey with his back to me, between the two cars. Mr Romanov was in the back of the Merc. He looked like he was sleeping.

Despite the urge to join them, I decided it was best to stay where I was. The three of us together would raise suspicion but I worried that Davey might not be thinking the same thing. He needed to know so I inched myself out from the toilet block and raised a hand in the air. It worked. When Davey saw me he glanced away then shook his head as a warning to stay put. I breathed a sigh of relief then lifted the towel up above my ears and listened in. The policeman seemed concerned.

‘Jesus, I’m sorry to hear that, Myron. You okay?’

‘Yes and no.’ Davey lifted a hand up and ran it over his freshly shaved head. ‘The chemo knocks me around, makes me real sick but they’ve stopped it for a bit, thank God. Pops is taking me to the Gold Coast. We’re going to Sea World. Just me and him.’

The policeman angled his head towards the back seat.

‘And your Pops . . . he’s all right?’

‘Yeah, good as gold,’ said Davey. ‘He’s just taking a power nap. I wouldn’t wake him, if I were you.’

The policeman nodded then made his way to the front passenger door and peered inside. I tried to remember what I’d left on the seat, if there was anything typically girlie, but it was too late. Something caught the policeman’s eye and he turned to Davey behind him.

‘We need to talk,’ he said.

Davey took a step back and I felt my heart sink.

‘We do?’ asked Davey. ‘What about?’

‘What about? I’m not stupid, Myron.’

‘No, sir, I didn’t say you were. I’m just not sure . . .’

‘You do realise it’s a collector’s item.’

‘What is?’

‘That Worf figurine. Hell, I’ve never seen one before. Do you mind if I . . .?’

I saw Davey relax. He dropped his guard then extended a hand to the front door.

‘By all means,’ he said.

The policeman opened the door and carefully removed Worf from the dash. He lifted him up and turned him over in his hand.

‘Jesus, no, what happened to him?’

‘Unfortunately, he was involved in an accident,’ said Davey. ‘My stupid sister, Sharelle, threw him into the insinkerator.’

‘Damn.’

‘Yeah. She’s an idiot sometimes. Thank God she’s still at home in Frankston and this trip is just me and Pops. Seriously, you’d think she was the one with cancer sometimes.’

‘I hear you, mate.’

As relieved as I was, the idea that two strangers, one of them charged with upholding the law, might bond over a doll seemed kind of ridiculous.

‘You can keep him if you want,’ said Davey.

Any doubts I had about Davey’s commitment vanished right then and there. I knew how much Worf meant to him and handing him over to someone else, decapitated or not, wasn’t something he’d do lightly. Something told me the policeman knew it too.

‘Mate, no, I couldn’t,’ he said. ‘I’d feel bad, with you being sick and all.’

‘I want you to,’ said Davey. ‘Really, I’ve got Gowron at home.’

‘You do not have Gowron.’

‘I do. I’ve got him locked away where Sharelle won’t find him.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, really. Take Worf. I insist.’

All of a sudden the two-way radio in the police car crackled to life. I couldn’t hear the voice from where I was but the policeman turned his head and listened in.

‘Bugger, that’s me,’ he said.

I’m not sure how much Davey heard, but he seemed interested.

‘Anything important?’ he asked.

‘It’s probably nothing,’ said the policeman. ‘There’s some missing kids. Been a sighting, apparently.’

It was time for goodbye. The policeman shifted closer to Davey and stood directly in front of him.

‘I’m not sure I know what to say, Myron,’ he said. ‘But thank you. The people you meet, hey?’

Davey smiled then angled his head my way.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘The people you meet.’

The radio began to crackle again in short, sharp bursts and a magpie warbled a reply. Funnily enough it was Davey who extended his hand first. The policeman reached out and shook it.

‘You take care, Myron,’ he said. ‘And I hope the treatment goes well. Look after yourself, yeah?

‘I will.’

The policeman began to walk off towards his car. A few metres away he turned and looked back.

‘And by the way, Myron, I want you to pass something onto your Pops when he wakes up.’

‘Sure.’

‘Tell him the Merc needs a new set of tyres.’

As soon as the police car was out of sight I hurried over to the Merc. When I got there, Mr Romanov sat himself up in the back.

‘That was close,’ I said. ‘Way too close. Myron, you were brilliant.’

‘Wasn’t I just.’

‘And the Worf thing. You never cease to amaze me, you know?’

‘Yeah, well, I’m one hundred percent onboard, Lexie. And sometimes bribery is the only way to go.’

‘The cancer thing was a bit over-the-top, though. Kind of heartless, really.’

‘I know. It just came to me.’

‘And Mr Romanov, you were good too.’

‘Thank you, cowgirl. And now, I think it is time for us to go.’

I caught sight of the other bags I’d dumped in the foot space in front of my seat.

‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘There’s one more thing we need to do.’

After rummaging through my suitcase in the boot, I grabbed my father’s clothes and accessories I’d taken from the cardboard box at home. I sorted them into two piles and handed one to Davey and the other to Mr Romanov.

‘Change of clothes, fellas. Follow me.’

After grabbing the things I’d bought at the second-hand store, the three of us headed for the toilet block. I took myself off to the women’s again and the others went left to the men’s. I rinsed the dye out with water and dried my hair with the towel. It didn’t take long to change into the new gear. I slipped off my old plain clothes, the black top, the faded jeans and Converse and replaced them with the things I’d bought. When I was done, I shifted towards the mirror again. I moved into position and slowly reached two hands up. I whipped the towel off my head and looked up at the strange and unfamiliar girl staring back. Davey’s voice rang out close by.

‘We’re done, Sharelle. We’re waiting outside.’

I didn’t have time to make sense of the girl in the mirror, so I bundled up my old clothes and tossed them into the bin. I stopped at the door for a moment then I took a deep breath and mouthed a warning as I walked outside.

‘Don’t laugh,’ I said.

Davey must have heard my voice. When I came out he was all eyes.

‘Bloody hell . . . .’

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ I said.

‘You look . . . different,’ he said.

‘That’s kind of the idea, Davey.’

‘You’re wearing a dress. An actual dress with flowers. And red boots too.’

‘So?’

‘So? I’ve never seen you wear a dress before. You look . . . incredible. And your hair. It’s totally blonde. It’s like you’re not you.’

‘Oh thanks. So the old me wasn’t any good, is that what you’re saying?’

‘No, I’m not saying that. The old you was fine.’

‘Fine?’

‘Okay, let me rephrase that. The old you was incredible as well, I’m just saying that the new you . . .’

Mr Romanov stepped up beside Davey in my father’s black ACDC t-shirt and shorts. Besides the night in the motel when he wore pyjamas to bed, it was the first time I’d seen him without his thick grey coat. His old-man legs were bruised and battered.

‘You look like an angel, cowgirl,’ he said. ‘But then again, you always have.’

I turned to Davey and threw him a smile.

‘Thank you, Mr Romanov.’

Davey wasn’t happy.

‘Hang on, that’s not fair. I just said you looked incredible. Why does he get a thank you?’

‘Because there are ways of saying things to a girl, Davey.’

‘And what about saying things to a boy? I look like rubbish, you said. I can’t go on Brainstormers without a makeover, you said. What about that?’

‘That’s different.’

‘It is not. Hang on, this is about the angina thing, isn’t it? I already told you, Lexie, it was an honest mistake.’

I screwed up my face and as I walked off towards the car, Davey angled his head towards Mr Romanov beside him and pushed a word from the corner of his mouth.

‘Suck.’