Caleb’s actually asked me out for a proper date. Apparently the football clubrooms at Dutton Park have a dinner dance every Friday night. He’s here early, bearing a gift. Not roses for me or chocolates, but a spare rabbit hutch from school for Hamilton to borrow. Actually it’s the sweetest thing to do and it does more for me than a dozen roses would have. (Well, almost.) Kate’s pouting again while Caleb explains to Hamilton.
‘This can be his outside run, mate. See here?’ And I watch Hamilton’s gingery head bobbing next to Caleb’s dark one. ‘We’ll put it here on the lawn and he can eat fresh grass when he feels like it.’ There’s hay already in the box where it’s closed in and there’s chicken wire on the bottom. ‘Wanna go get him? See if he likes it?’
Sher Khan is very happy. Having grass sprout up through the floor of your house must be rabbit heaven. ‘Is he okay now, mate?’
Hamilton smiles. ‘The pineapple worked. And the hay.’
‘I’ve been asking a guy out at the farm. He knows more than a vet even. He reckons Sher Khan shouldn’t get too many hairballs now.’ Hamilton gazes up at Caleb like a worshipper at a shrine. Caleb just roughs up his hair a bit while Kate stands there brooding.
The clubrooms look like any other venue in the city, like a hotel room or nightclub but without the dry ice and strobes. It’s not line dancing as I feared, but a reasonable local band is playing songs from the top singles plus a few of their own. They’re not bad. The dinner dance isn’t restricted to teenagers either — it’s nothing like a school formal. Some older people are there, ones who are interested in sport and in supporting it, I guess. One guy stops by our table and starts talking to Caleb.
‘Ready for the footy, mate?’
Caleb grins. ‘Sure thing, Mr Wilson. You umpiring again?’
‘Do horses eat hay, mate?’ And they both laugh. Mr Wilson passes on after a quick, polite nod at me.
‘The football season ready to start, is it?’ I ask.
‘Nah, not yet. But Willy likes to be sure of his players ahead of time.’
Just then Erin and Tim come and sit at our table for a while. Tim’s watching the band and makes a comment about the Celtic Festival coming up soon in the town. They must be really into it for Caleb says this band won’t be playing. I wonder how he knows.
‘Nice to see you out, Jenefer,’ Erin says. She makes it sound like I’ve been cooped up in a castle for years and have just been freed, but I get the impression being seen in the clubrooms is a good move. Though if she felt like that why didn’t she ask me to something? I catch her glancing from Caleb to me and I can’t read her expression. I wish it wasn’t so important to do what meets with everyone’s approval. If I like Caleb, isn’t that all that should matter? I sure hope it’s enough but I don’t see anyone else with someone who looks different from themselves. We are the only ones. I wonder if Caleb has noticed or if he ever thinks about it.
‘C’mon, Jen-e-fer.’ Caleb’s pulling me up and we follow Erin and Tim onto the dance floor. He says ‘Jenefer’ like it’s come from a song and I try to forget that everyone seems to be staring at us. Maybe I’m imagining it or they know I’m new to town, and I hope like hell it’s got nothing to do with Caleb. I doubt I’d make a very good Juliet. We’re dancing as a foursome, not a couple. There’s more room than in places in the city, room to get entirely breathless. Then suddenly Caleb comes closer, takes my hand and swirls me round just for fun. We start laughing and just on the next turn I see a Nunga girl with her boyfriend. What chills me is the look of dislike on her face. The image of her lip curled up at me stays with me for quite a while even when I can’t see her anymore. I don’t dare say anything to Caleb. He might think I’ve imagined it, nor do I want to cause trouble.
The time goes fast, too fast; I find I’m really enjoying Caleb. He’s got a look in his eyes that shows he’s having fun too and that it might be to do with me. He’s so funny at times, cracking stupid jokes. Ben Walker would never have been like this; he was too intent on being cool and moody to relax enough. When Caleb suggests it’s time to call it a day, I agree, wondering what will come next.
It’s after we get home that it all happens, not remotely what I had in mind either. It’s not so late for us; I’m about to ask Caleb in for coffee as he turns off the engine, and I hear it straight away. Low sobbing. Hamilton. Caleb’s out of the ute and over like a shot, kneeling beside him. Hamilton has the torch and he’s jerking it around, shining it in all the flower beds, under the bushes.
‘Mate. What is it?’ Caleb doesn’t waste time on why Hamilton isn’t in bed. Hamilton dissolves into Caleb’s shirt. ‘I — I came out to bring Sher Khan in and s-someone turned the hutch on its side and Sher Khan — got out.’ He shudders.
I think of dogs first. ‘Maybe Sher Khan has gone back to the other rabbits in the bush, Hamilton. What say you come to bed and look in the morning.’ I’m not used to Hamilton defying me but he does.
‘No.’ Quite definite. ‘He’ll be waiting for me to f-find him. He might be s-scared. I can’t leave him out here. Not all night.’ I’m hoping Caleb can think of something to get Hamilton in, but even he surprises me.
‘You’re right, mate. He’d want you to find him.’
‘Caleb —’ And I almost whisper, What if he’s not here, or worse, what if he’s dead? Do we want Hamilton to find him mauled and bloody? But Caleb moves on, helping Hamilton look. Guess he doesn’t think it was dogs, then. I can’t just stand around doing nothing, so I help too, but I feel useless without a torch. Hamilton’s calling Sher Khan. Will a rabbit come like a dog? By this time I’m getting wild. If not dogs, who else would do such a thing? Take a kid’s pet, or let it loose?
Don’t know how Caleb does it, but suddenly he’s calling Hamilton over to him, softly. He’s crouching down by the pepper tree. ‘Mate … look here.’ Then there’s Hamilton’s little cry, and a shaking Sher Khan is whisked inside. To Hamilton’s bed, I bet.
It’s too late now for coffee — we’d disturb Steffi but Caleb doesn’t mind. He’s tipping the hutch up the right way, puts it nearer the house. Then he comes back to me. I’m wondering what to say. Thanks for saving Hamilton’s mind? How do you say thanks for that? Caleb doesn’t say anything either. The yellow light from the street lamp shines through the pepper tree. I remember that bit, just as Caleb lifts a hand and runs his finger down my cheek. It makes me lift my chin so it doesn’t stop and that’s when he kisses me.
‘Thanks,’ I finally say, before he swings himself into the ute, but we both know what it’s really for.