Ben Bloom arrived home, just after the chicken burial. He’d spied Ada still in the garden with PJ, Louis and May, solemnly showing them the chicken grave. Ben went over and heard the grim news. He said, ‘Poor old chickens!’
Ada cocked her head at him, squinting queerly, as if checking that he spoke sincerely. He shook off her gaze and headed inside. He did feel a fleeting moment of pity for the chickens, but not enough for Ada. He certainly wasn’t going to let it darken his day. He’d snuck out earlier with twenty-five bucks in his back pocket and a handful of coins he’d nicked from Martha’s purse and gone to Jimmy’s house to score a gram of pot. He then went to the shop and bought some milk, and walked into the kitchen, planning to put it in the fridge in front of Martha so that not only would he have a cover for where he’d been, but she would even thank him for being so thoughtful. But no one was in the kitchen to witness his good deed and this was a shame. Now he’d have to explain it instead, which was trickier to pull off. It would have to to slip out casually. He could hear voices coming from the bedroom, and he tiptoed down the hall to listen.
Martha was in there with Tilly. Tilly was copping it. Ben listened eagerly.
‘Well if you’ve got money to buy yourself a new dress,’ Martha said, ‘then you can start paying for your own shampoo too. It’s about time you made a contribution and stopped just thinking about yourself. Where did you go anyway? I’ve told you, you’re not to leave the house without telling me where you are going.’
Tilly didn’t reply straightaway. There was a long sigh, then, ‘Mum, the dress cost two bucks. It’s from the Salvos.’
‘Well that’s two dollars that could have gone into something else.’
‘Okay,’ Tilly shouted.
Again it was quiet. Ben began to tiptoe back, but Martha started again, her voice still tense. She hadn’t finished yet. ‘Where were you this morning?’
Old Sherlock, thought Ben. Martha had to know everything.
‘I went for a piano lesson, with Daisy Cavallo.’ Tilly didn’t hesitate this time. She would have known this would upset Martha.
‘Piano.’ Martha sounded disconcerted but made a quick comeback. ‘Well, how on earth are you going to pay for that? I hope you’re not expecting us to pay?’
‘No. I’m not.’
‘Well?’
‘I work.’ Tilly’s voice was full of accusation.
Ben chuckled to himself. There was a pause before Martha gathered herself again.
‘Well, I didn’t even know she taught piano.’
‘She does, and she says I’ve got a good ear.’
‘Of course, she says that. She wants you to think that so you’ll come for lessons. She wants the money. She would say that to any potential student.’ Martha said it as if she was trying to be kind, to save Tilly from humiliation. ‘You’ll be wasting your hard-earned money in my opinion. But you never listen to me anyway.’ She was angry again. But Ben could tell she was winding up. Self-pity was her favourite note to end on.
He crept back up the hall and then reapproached the room, knocking as he entered.
‘Hi.’ He breezed in. Tilly sat petulantly on her bed, with a notebook on her knees. She hardly returned his smile, but just made a weary face at the fact of his entry. Ben examined the dress she was wearing. She looked nice in it. Why had Martha made such a fuss about it? It wasn’t even short.
Martha stood at the window. Her smile radiated back at him. ‘Hello, darling. Did Ada tell you about the chooks?’
‘They were all killed,’ said Tilly flatly.
Martha looked at Ben gently. ‘A fox got into the coop last night. I’ve had an awful morning. It’s been so upsetting. I took Bolshie to the vet but he had to put her down. Don’t tell your father. He won’t like me wasting the money.’
‘Where were you?’ Tilly demanded.
‘Just went down the shops for milk,’
Martha’s face broke into a smile.
Sometimes it was too easy. Ben rolled along without even a creak. Poor Tilly always went in the wrong direction. She slammed right up against Martha.
‘Where’s Bolshie? I’ll bury her,’ he said, just to add one final stroke to the image of perfection he’d created. Martha looked at him with such aching gratitude. Ben knew this pattern well. Taking out the rubbish got him in the good books for a whole week, whereas Tilly could do the dishes every night and still not get close. Ben thanked himself for his own good luck. He felt sorry for Tilly sometimes, but it was just bad luck to be born a girl, really. But they made up for it. By holding out. That was how they got even. They wouldn’t let themselves be touched unless you acted just like they wanted you to. You had to show an interest in their feelings. Tilly would do that to some guy one day. She would make him take out her rubbish and talk to her about love.
He went outside and buried Bolshie. Then he went back into Tilly’s room. He was vaguely curious about Tilly’s piano lessons with Raff’s mum. He would wangle the full story out of her without letting on that he’d eavesdropped.
‘So, where did you get to this morning?’ he said.
Tilly scowled. ‘Why do you care?’
Ben was affronted. ‘Why are you so shitty? I didn’t do anything.’
This was true. He hadn’t done anything to Tilly, but she always treated him as if he had. She looked at him in the same way Ada had, with confused suspicion, as if she was sure he had done something.
‘I just don’t feel like talking,’ she said. She was scribbling frenetically with her pen in a notebook. She was probably writing something secret in her diary. Ben wanted to find it out. He was bored.
‘Mum said you’re having piano lessons from Mrs Cavallo,’ he said.
Tilly frowned. She stopped drawing and let out a long sigh. ‘Mum thinks I’m wasting my money.’
‘Mum’s just jealous.’ Ben hadn’t formed this idea before. It just arrived exactly when he needed it. He silently congratulated himself. It was an insight after all. Not only would Tilly appreciate him encouraging her, he was confident he had stumbled onto a real truth; women were like this.
Tilly looked at him properly for the first time, astonished.
‘Me? Why would she be jealous of me?’
‘Maybe she wishes she’d learned piano.’ Ben shrugged. He wasn’t interested in examining the matter, but now that he had Tilly’s attention he could go where he had wanted to in the first place. ‘Anyway, who was there at the Cavallos’? There’s usually someone interesting hanging about. Did you see Raff? He missed the game on Saturday.’
Tilly rolled her eyes. ‘Probably because he’s got better things to do. He’s got a girlfriend. She stayed the night.’
This was what he was looking for. He had suspected something. Now it was his turn to feel envious. ‘Imagine Mum letting that happen,’ he said.
So Raff Cavallo had an older girlfriend. Anyone else who had an older girlfriend would be boasting about it. Raff neither hid things nor showed them. He talked a lot, but always about something else, an opinion he had about a song, a news item he’d heard on the radio. He didn’t really talk about himself. Now, not only did he have an older girlfriend, but she had stayed the night. Ben knew what this meant. It meant Raff was going the whole way with a girl. And he wasn’t even bragging about it. Ben hadn’t yet had such luck, though he had gone further than Jimmy had, with Candy Newton, who had squeezed her legs tightly together but let him touch her everywhere else.
‘His mum’s pretty relaxed about all that stuff,’ he said, as if he was too.
‘I like his mum,’ Tilly said. Her voice was clipped, and she’d returned her gaze to her diary, shutting Ben out again. He couldn’t be bothered pressing any further. But as he turned to leave, he noticed that she was frowning and that there was a strange effort in the frown, as if a great wave of feeling would rush forward and break right through it. Was he meant to ask her if she was all right? He didn’t want anything to break now. Better to just leave her alone. Girls were not meant to be understood, just as nature couldn’t be beaten and Rubik’s cubes were not meant to be got out, unless you were a nerd.