Outside, Sam spotted Dettie standing at an open phone box near the train tracks. He walked towards her, still trying to squeeze some kind of whistle from his mouth, wondering if she was talking to his mother. Her back was turned and she was crushing a cigarette under her toe.
‘No. No, you listen.’ Her voice sounded strained. ‘I’m not the one flying off the handle—’ She was hunched over the handpiece, hissing. ‘Yes, of course I realise how far it is. That’s not the issue—’
If it was his mother, that meant that Dettie had called to check on her. To see how she was going with the movers. Which meant she hadn’t left home yet. And Dettie seemed oddly tense, shifting her weight on her feet.
‘Oh, they’re not terrified,’ she said. Sam stopped. Dettie’s back was still turned, and she stammered, ‘Don’t be so melodramatic.’ The voice on the other end of the line was obviously yelling.
‘No. No, I’m not telling you. Not until you calm down,’ Dettie said, pressing her fingers to her temples. ‘You sound crazy, Donald, honestly.’
It was his father. She was talking to his father. Sam’s body went stiff. His first thought was to run back to the car and get Katie, but as he stood in place, watching Dettie’s stilted movements, her little puffs and starts, it was obvious his father was shouting. He was shouting at Dettie.
Was there a change of plans?
Their parents had spoken to one another. They’d patched things up. Dettie had spoken to them both. Everything was fine. When Dettie called their mother at work it was like old times, Dettie had said. She’d said, ‘Old times.’ They were all going to live together in Perth. They were already on their way. Two days in. If they had to turn around now…
Sam had tried to be wary about it all at first. It had all happened so fast. So very fast. He’d wondered about Roger. He’d wondered about his mother’s job. And school. But he’d put it from his mind. They were on the road. Heading to Perth. It was happening.
Except now he found himself standing beside a railway-station toilet, frozen, feeling suddenly exposed. Had it been too much to hope for? It was just like being back in his bedroom, reading Katie their father’s farewell letter again. Or in his hospital bed, staring at the card Dettie had delivered from his father wishing him well, but apologising that he couldn’t come to visit. Was this all just another promise he was stupid enough to let himself believe? Were they going to have to turn back?
He knelt out of sight behind a bin and strained to listen.
‘How?’ Dettie was saying. ‘How, Donald? Your children were petrified. This family was being ripped apart. Strangers were coming into their house. Their mother is—’ Dettie’s voice was rising as she poked the air. ‘No, this is happening, Donald, so your children don’t grow up not knowing who their father is.’
The sun was lying on his back, but Sam was shivering. He wanted to run to the phone and yell into it. To tell them not to fight. That it was all okay. He wanted to tell his father that they were sorry—whatever was wrong. That he was sorry. That he and Katie missed him. That they couldn’t wait to see him. That Perth would be great. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t even sure what was happening. Why they were both upset. Just like the bird in the drain. He couldn’t tell what was going on. Useless. His mouth hung open and dumb. His throat tightened on his vent. He felt tears in his eyes.
‘I don’t appreciate that, Donald. I really don’t. I would not touch a hair—’ She was squeezing her lighter, tapping it on the glass.
Sam tried to look back at the car, but saw only the wall of the concrete toilet block.
‘Oh, don’t be foolish. You want these kids thinking— Donald. Donald, calm down. That language. I thought you might want to know we’re on our way, that’s all. I could just as easily turn around.’
Sam’s stomach lurched. So they were still on their way! But she was threatening to head home? Why would she do that?
There seemed to be more shouting, and Dettie shushed into the receiver. She started to turn towards the garbage bin Sam was crouched behind and he tensed. He needed to run. To grab the phone. Every muscle felt it. His whole body was clenched. But then what? What if he made it worse? The feeling went on, chewing him up. It was as if just running itself—running nowhere, even—might be enough to soothe the ache in his belly.
‘Well, fine. If that’s the way you feel—’
He thought of Katie alone in the car. Should he run to her? And do what? He felt his breath quickening. Sweat prickled on his skin. His head buzzed. A familiar darkness began closing in.
‘We’ll see you soon. Yes, I will, Donald. And you’d better be a bit more rational. I’m warning you.’
So they were still going? The trip was still on?
‘Honestly, I thought you’d be a bit more mature.’
Sam crept out and inched slowly over the dirt. The further he got away from her, the more bent and fierce Dettie seemed to become, pacing around the phone, snarling. When he had passed the toilets, he turned and sprinted.
The car doors were hanging open. Katie was cupping her hands around her lips, blowing raspberries through them. Spittle sparkled on her chin. He was out of breath, and his sunburn throbbed.
‘Did you hear my elephant call?’ Katie smiled.
He stood still, stalled by the sight of her playing happily. He wondered what to say. He wondered how to say it. And if he did tell her something, what then? Their father was waiting. Or he wasn’t. Either way, there was nothing for them to do. Their father was in Perth. Their mother was on the way. They were stuck. But they had Dettie. Like she had the boy with the broken teeth, she would take care of them. Keep them safe until their parents—one, or hopefully both of them—arrived.
The sun faded and the sound of the park sprinklers slapped the air. Sam looked up into the shadow of the tree. Its branches shook.