Near the seesaw and the roundabout children ran squealing. They played tag and tossed pieces of bark at one another. It looked sweaty and dusty and free. It reminded Sam of the prickling sensation he used to feel across his skin whenever he ran on the soccer field, his fingers dirty, his knees scuffed. He could imagine the itch of the grass in their hair and the metallic smell on their hands from the chains of the swing. He was sitting under the tallest tree in the park, bathed in shadow. Dettie had him swaddled in a blanket, hidden beneath her large pair of sunglasses and a straw hat. Watching the children, he was heavy and hot, and as he tugged handfuls of grass from the ground he rubbed the coarse sensation of each blade into his palm, enjoyed the lush stain it left on his fingertips.
Katie picked at her potato and gravy with a fork. Her shoes and socks lay beside her and she stretched her toes out in the sun. Dettie shooed the flies away from their plates and wrapped the last of the roast chicken back into its bag.
‘Are you kids done with this?’ she asked, standing up with the rubbish.
Katie nodded slowly. Sam was full and still had the taste of salad vinegar around his mouth.
Dettie crossed the park to the bins. She stretched and dusted the crumbs off herself. When Katie and Sam were looking in her direction she waved and pointed to the toilets.
Katie watched her go, and when Dettie was out of sight she exhaled and put her plate aside. ‘Is Aunty Dettie angry with me?’
Sam shook his head, shrugged and picked again at the ground.
‘She keeps yelling at me,’ Katie said. ‘All the time.’
The sounds of the other children playing swam in the air.
‘I wish we could have gone with Mummy.’ Katie’s eyes watered. There was a wobble in her voice. She whispered, ‘I don’t want to go to Perth.’
Sam wanted to agree. He wanted to say, Me neither. So he squeezed her arm and nodded.
He was surprised Katie hadn’t yet mentioned all the friends she was leaving behind. The girl in their street she would always go with to the swimming pool. The two blonde girls from her gymnastics class. Or her schoolfriend Sarah who had the same birthday. Sam hadn’t had as many close friends since he was diagnosed, but even he wondered when, or if, he would see his friend Paul again. He wouldn’t be able to call him on the phone, but he could write a letter saying goodbye when they got to Perth. In all the shock of the move, with the speed at which it was happening, the reality didn’t seem to have hit Katie yet.
The last two days had certainly been a rush, which had made it hard to think of much beyond the journey ahead. Between the giddy surprise of their mother’s phone call, and the flurry to get packed into the car; with the thought of their father, longing to see them after a year away, and the mysterious promise of Perth waiting on the horizon, there’d been little room for anything else. Sam had barely given a thought to how much work their mother must have to do back at home, packing everything up. Indeed, he realised suddenly, they had been in such a rush that he wasn’t even sure if they’d locked the back door of the house when they left. But now, finally on motionless ground, the chatter and squawk of other children scrambling over each other in the fresh air, the enormity of the move started to press in.
They were in Mildura now, as the nearby railway station informed him. According to a sign advertising the local Lions and Apex clubs, the play area was called Jaycee Park. In one direction, lime green trees puffed up like towering mushrooms, in the other, willows almost kissed the grass, and in the midst of both, children, squealing with joy, were climbing all over a black steam engine, now inert on a block of concrete.
There was a whip of laughter. Somebody called out, ‘Jump!’ There was a squeal, then a soft thud emptied the air of noise. Sam turned to look across the lawn. Children were gathered by the biggest wheel of the train. A choked moan sounded from somewhere in the group, and two girls who’d been standing back watching started to scream.
Katie stood and wiped her eyes. ‘What happened?’
Sam took Dettie’s sunglasses off and sat up.
The crowd was milling around, pushing in tighter. They only parted when Dettie ran over, pushing through, to kneel at the edge of the concrete. Sam hadn’t noticed her returning from the bins, but as the group moved in closer he unwrapped himself from the blanket, pushed their things into a pile, and together he and Katie ran over.
The other children were gathered around a thin boy with freckles. He was bleeding from a gash over his top lip and Dettie was cradling him, rocking his body, with a handkerchief in her hand. She hushed him and stroked his red hair.
‘You’re okay. Shhh…You’re being very brave.’
The boy hiccoughed and rolled around in her arms. Dettie held him and caught his hands so he wouldn’t touch his mouth. She noticed Katie and Sam standing quietly behind the others, staring.
‘Katie, darling, can you do me a favour?’ she said. ‘Can you be a big strong girl and run to the car? On the floor in the back there’s a little red box. A first-aid kit. Could you go and get that for me?’
Katie nodded, and when Dettie smiled at her, she ran off.
‘And Sammy?’ Dettie said. ‘Can you go get a cup and pour some water into it from the tap? Then bring it over here for us, please.’
The blood was shiny as it slid down the boy’s chin, a rich, wet red with tiny bubbles winking at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t like in the comic; it wasn’t spurting. And it hadn’t yet dried into the dark brown colour that had stained the kangaroo.
‘Sammy?’ Dettie called.
He nodded and hurried back over to their plates, holding the hat to his head. He pulled a plastic cup from a bag and filled it under the tap. When he returned, the injured boy was clutching Dettie’s hand close to his chest. His lip had swollen, and Sam could see through the blood that his two front teeth were chipped, one almost a triangle.
Dettie saw Sam and waved him closer. Thanking him, she dipped her handkerchief in the water.
‘Now, honey,’ she whispered in the boy’s ear, ‘I know you’re hurt, but I’m just going to clean you up. I promise I’ll be very careful.’
The boy whined and twisted away, but as she held him closer she touched the cloth so lightly to his face that he settled down. The blood was almost cleaned from his chin by the time Katie returned with the kit, and children had started pushing closer to see his broken teeth. They whispered to each other as Dettie disinfected the wound and dried the cut.
When the boy’s parents finally appeared, a parcel of fish and chips tucked under the father’s arm, they crouched beside her, leaving their son in Dettie’s lap and thanking her again and again. While she spoke to them, calming down the boy’s mother who had started to cry, Dettie sent Sam and Katie to clean up the rest of the food and wait by the car. They nodded, and wandered back to the tree, Sam rolling up their blanket, and Katie throwing the plastic plates and spoons into the bin.
Beside the car Katie sat down and pulled her socks on slowly. She was staring through the crowd to where Dettie was still rocking the boy and comforting his parents. Slowly, the other children were gathered up by their families and led away, and eventually Dettie helped carry the boy to his family’s van. He held on to her hand, scarcely breaking eye contact until the door slid shut. The boy’s mother kept pushing her hair nervously from her face as she talked, and leant over to give Dettie a hug. It was impossible to hear what they said, but the woman smiled and Dettie nodded, and as they drove off, she waved them all goodbye.
‘How are we, kids? Are you all right?’ Dettie asked when she returned to the car. Adjusting the bandaid on her ring finger, she reached into the glove box and pulled out a cigarette.
Katie rocked on her feet. ‘How is the boy?’
‘Oh, he’s fine, sweetie.’ Dettie sparked the lighter. ‘Thank you for your help.’
Katie rubbed the hem of her new floral dress.
Dettie blew smoke straight up in the air and checked her watch. ‘I’m going to wash off,’ she said. ‘You kids be ready to go when I get back.’