I wasn’t feeling sick anymore – I was homesick. If it hadn’t been for Mac, Teddy and Sister Monica, I don’t know what I would’ve done. I started having nightmares, the same one every night. A man wearing a dark robe walks into Mum and Dad’s bedroom, holding a knife. He leans over Mum, who is sleeping. He raises his arm, ready to stab her. I scream, a bloodcurdling scream. Mac and Teddy wake me up, slapping me on the face to snap me out of it. It’s terrifying – it seems so real. I’ve started worrying about Mum all the time.
There were two more weeks until Easter, but I didn’t think I could last that long. There must be something wrong with me, I thought, not to mention Brother Felix. There’s something seriously wrong with him. I haven’t done anything to be ashamed of, but I feel like I have. I don’t know what to do! Then it came to me in a flash: I’ll go home – just for the weekend – Mac and Teddy will cover for me. We’re blood brothers after all.
It was easy. On Friday afternoon after sport, I just walked out. I caught the ferry to Circular Quay and then the tram back to Glebe.
It was five o’clock, and I was pretty sure that Dad would still be at the pub. The front door was wide open. Mum was in the kitchen and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw me.
‘Surprise!’ I said, giving her a big hug then lifting her up and swinging her around.
‘What are you doing home?’ she asked. I tried not to make eye contact. Mum is a walking, talking lie detector.
‘This weekend is “home weekend” for all the new boys – all the new altar boys, like me!’
‘You’re an altar boy at St Bart’s? Congratulations, Joe!’ Mum kissed me hard on the cheek. My lie was working a treat. As she looked me up and down, my right eye started to quiver.
‘You’re so thin. Are you getting enough to eat? There’s a meatloaf in the oven.’ Mum was very excited to have me home.
‘You wouldn’t believe the muck they feed us – tripe at least twice a week, and more kidney, liver and brains than anything else. I give all that rubbish to Teddy to eat – he’s one of my new mates. It’s no wonder I’ve lost weight!’
‘It’s a disgrace! With the money we’re paying, they should be feeding you lamb or steak.’ Mum stood at the stove, stirring a pot. ‘When do you have to be back at school?’ she asked.
‘Sunday night,’ I replied, looking down at my shoes – they were still shiny from their morning polish. Then I set the table without being asked.
‘Where’s your bag?’ she asked, with that look on her face. The game’s just about up, I thought.
I heard the front door close, and then footsteps in the hall. ‘What are you doing home?’ Noni asked, giving me a quick peck on the cheek, looking pleased to see me.
Kit was right behind her. We did our secret handshake, finishing with an extra loud growl. ‘Mr Thompson let me take over your paper run. Doesn’t seem to mind that I’m only ten – saves him money he says. Did you hear about the crook that’s been bashing paperboys and stealing their money? If he comes near me, I’ll knock him down, kick him in the nuts—’
‘You’ll do no such thing, Christopher Riley!’
Kit ignored Mum and kept going. ‘I’ll tie his hands behind his back, then push and shove him all the way to the police station. When he falls over, I’ll lay my boot into him like this—’
‘That’s enough!’ said Mum. She needn’t have worried – Kit could only ever hurt someone in his dreams.
‘Did you hear about what happened in Church?’ Noni asked, with a twinkle in her eye.
‘Why don’t you mind your own business?’ Kit snapped.
‘If you don’t tell him, I will.’
‘Tell me what?’ I asked.
Kit rolled his eyes and sighed. ‘Father Dennis asked me to be an altar boy, a proper one like you. I was running late and in too much of a rush to notice that I’d put my robe on inside out. I followed Father Dennis up the altar steps and went one step too far. When he opened the little curtain to put the body of Christ inside, one of the other altar boys pulled the back of my robe and I nearly fell down the steps. People started laughing. Then I smelt the incense burning – it always makes me sneeze. I couldn’t stop. After Mass, Father Dennis got really angry with me. I’m not an altar boy anymore.’
I put my arm around Kit. ‘Being an altar boy isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be.’
‘Dinner’s ready!’ Mum said, putting the plates on the table.
I heard a key trying to find the lock in the front door. The door flew open, banging against the wall.
‘Well, look who’s here!’ Dad said, drunk as usual, but trying his best in front of Mum to look sober. Mum pushed past him with the plates. He lost his balance and fell against the table. ‘Is it holidays already? Time flies when you’re having fun.’ Dad pulled out his chair, just managing to sit on it without falling off. ‘Good to have you home, son.’ He tucked into his dinner straight away.
‘Joe, would you like to say grace?’ Mum asked, ignoring Dad’s bad manners.
‘For the food we are about to eat, thank you, Lord. Amen.’ I couldn’t wait to tuck in myself. We ate quietly like we always do. Dad doesn’t like talking at the dinner table – says it gives him indigestion.
As soon as Dad was finished, he pulled a newspaper out of his back pocket and studied the racing guide. Mum cleared the table and Noni started washing up. Kit and I were supposed to be wiping up, but we spent more time flicking each other with our wet tea towels. After dinner, we all sat around the kitchen table listening to the wireless. Everything was just how it should be. I went to bed happy for the first time in ages.