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Snap’s standing at the gate, his shiny padded jacket reflecting the light of the streetlamp, misty clouds of breath dissipating as fast as he breathes them. I cross the road, rubbing my hands together to keep their circulation going.
‘Hi,’ I whisper.
‘Hi, yourself.’
‘Thanks for doing this.’
‘Didn’t have much choice, did I, Miss Scaredy Cat?’ He hands me a flashlight and gives my hooded head a quick rub. ‘Let’s do this.’
‘Wait. I brought some Vicks. Do you want to put some under your nose? It stinks in there. I saw them do it on CSI.’
‘Sure.’
‘And do me a favour?’
‘Depends.’
‘There’s a bedroom two doors on the right when you go in. Can you close the door?’
He doesn’t need to ask. ‘Sure, Kitten.’
Snap takes the kitchen, rifling through drawers and cabinets, looking for money, while I start in the lounge room, where there’s a bunch of paperwork stuffed into a bureau. My tension settles; Snap’s presence and confidence is comforting, but it’s slow going, sorting through old bills, medical forms and reports with one hand and holding the flashlight in the other. I glance at the fireplace. It would be easier and warmer to do this by firelight. I lay the flashlight on the carpet, screw up a pile of old utility bills to use as kindling, then head out the back to grab a few logs.
Snap calls to me. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m lighting the fire. It’s cold and I can’t see.’
‘Is that smart?’
‘I’ve got the drapes closed.’ I wait for his response, unsure.
‘Okay.’
We keep going until after midnight, and I’m wishing we’d brought a thermos with something hot and sweet. I leave the lounge and trace the glow of Snap’s light to the kitchen. He sneezes as I enter. He’s kneeling on the floor. Drawers, cake tins and boxes are open all over the place.
‘Any luck?’ I ask.
‘A hundred and sixty-four dollars. You?’
‘Nup. It’s a mess. I thought Samuel would have kept all his stuff meticulously neat.’
Snap sniffs. ‘I guess he didn’t get the order part of law and order. Maybe you should try the bedroom?’
I shake my head. It only takes him a second to realise what he’s said. He gets up and puts his hands on my shoulders. ‘Leave it to me. You take the dining room. Okay?’
‘Do you want some more Vicks?’
It takes us another half-hour of searching before Snap hits the jackpot. ‘Got it!’ he calls from the bedroom. I head towards his voice but pause in the hallway. ‘Birth certificate,’ he says, bringing it out to me. ‘And I found this too. Thought you might want it.’
He holds up an old photo. It’s Mum and Dad. My real dad. They’re standing next to a tractor. Dad has his foot perched against a wheel and his arm wrapped around Mum who’s in jeans and t-shirt, her hair in a ponytail. So young. They’re both squinting, sunlight in their eyes, happy. ‘It must be before I came along,’ I tell Snap. I point to the cattle dog sitting at their feet. ‘That’s Bundy. He died before I was born.’ I place it carefully in my jacket pocket.
Snap yawns. ‘I don’t think we’re going to find anything else. Bedtime.’
I yawn in auto response. ‘Yeah.’
He pulls the money out of his pocket. ‘Here, I found another couple of hundred in your mum’s beauty case. Told you old people forget stuff.’
‘She isn’t that old.’
‘No. Well, you hang on to it. It’s yours.’
‘Thanks. It’s not enough though, is it?’
‘It’s okay, Kitten. I’ve got plenty for both of us. We can stay in a youth hostel for a few weeks until we get jobs. We’ll be alright. You let me know when you want to leave. I’m ready when you are. You want to take Samuel’s car or my old bomb?’
I screw up my face. ‘The bomb? I know Samuel’s will be mine eventually, but I don’t want to get us charged with car theft in the meantime.’
‘Done.’
‘Thanks. Is this Sunday okay? I’m thinking while Mary and Fred are at church ...’
‘Sure.’
‘Okay. You go. I want to finish these last couple of drawers.’
Snap folds his arms across his chest. ‘I’m not leaving you here on your own.’
‘I lived here, remember? And I’m only a few steps across the road. Go. I’ll be fine.’
He’s not convinced.
‘Snap, there’s something I want to do before I leave. I want a moment alone to ... say goodbye. You know?’
‘Okay.’ He yawns again and pulls me into a big hug. ‘Be careful, Kitten.’ He wipes dust from my face. ‘Call me if you need me.’
I nod.
‘Oh, hang on,’ he says. ‘I forgot something.’
I follow him back to the kitchen where he grabs a packet of Tim Tams. ‘Waste not, want not,’ he says. He stops again and points to Samuel’s camera sitting on a sideboard. ‘That’s a nice DSLR. Should get a few hundred.’
I shake my head. He wrinkles his nose before disappearing.
I go back to the lounge and sit on the floor in front of the fire. Flames still lick at a few pieces of wood, embers glowing strong. It’s warm, and I’m satisfied knowing I got what I came for. Except for one thing.
I take the envelope from my back pocket and smooth it over my lap.
Lauren. From Samuel.
A quick rip across the top. Or a fingernail under the seal. That’s all it will take. Perhaps I will forgive. Forget. I look over to where it all happened. The floor. My pulse rises, but I’m not shaking like I thought I would be. No pictures come flying into my head, no memories scream at me. I thought this moment would be terrible, heartbreaking. But what I feel is hollowness. And as I hold Samuel’s letter, I realise something huge: I don’t have to forgive him.
The front gate creaks – Snap exiting the yard. The crappy thing is going to creak until the day it falls off its hinges. I jump up, about to chase after him, but there’s the fire. I should put it out. Should make sure it’s dampened. I stare at it for a moment, the flames reflecting the slow anger that burns at the edges of my heart. And, oh hell, an image of something terrible fills my mind. What if?
Snap is halfway down the street by the time I get outside. ‘Hey!’ I call as quietly as I can. He turns and waits while I catch up. I give him Samuel’s camera. ‘Don’t sell it. I want you to have it.’
He doesn’t say anything, just smiles and carries it away.
Back at Mary’s, I creep up to the front door, put the key in the lock and turn it as quietly as I can. The porch light flicks on. Crap. Mary opens the door. She doesn’t look happy, standing there in her dressing gown with a crossword book in her hand. She must have got up to go to the loo then checked my room. She does that sometimes. I should have packed clothes or something into my bed, made it look as if I were still there.
‘Where have you been?’
I stare, willing my brain to whizz up something believable. I’ve got nothing.
‘I’ve been worried sick. I was about to call the police. Why didn’t you tell me you were going out? And on a school night! Where did you go?’
My fist curls around the photo in my jacket pocket and an idea strikes me. I pull the picture out and show her. ‘I wanted a memento.’
She squints. ‘You were across the road? At this hour?’
I shrug. ‘I couldn’t help it. I ...’
‘You silly girl. Come here.’ She hugs me. ‘Next time, tell me. We’ll go together. Okay?’
‘Okay.’
She squeezes me again. ‘Now get to bed. I’ll bring you a hot chocolate.’
Mary’s kind of alright.
~
I’m woken by sirens and lights flashing outside my bedroom window. I push the blind aside and look out. The panic that hits my chest is a physical thump. NO. Tingles course through my body, fear running through every nerve. Two fire engines are parked across the road. Flames colour the sky red and orange while neighbours stand, hugging themselves, bathed in the fire’s glow.
Thumping footsteps sound down the hall. Mary doesn’t knock, just flings my door open. ‘Lauren! It’s your house. What did you do?’
‘I ... nothing ... I didn’t do anything.’
‘You must have. It’s burning.’
I shake my head.
‘Get dressed. Come out front.’
She leaves me and hurries to join Fred on the porch.
I grab my phone, then drop it because my hands are shaking so much. I snatch it up again and text Snap:
I screwed up. The house is burning.
I wait but there’s no response. I text again:
Snap???? Wot do I do?
My phone rings.
‘Oh god, Snap. They’re going to kill me.’
‘Calm down, Kitten. What’s happened?’
‘The house. It’s burning.’
‘Ah, shit. Does anyone know you were there?’
‘Mary. She caught me coming home.’
‘She’ll be okay, won’t she? She’s on your side?’
‘I don’t know. I told her before I didn’t care if it burned down. She thinks I did it. Oh fuck. I’m in trouble, Snap. And there’s a neighbour down the street. She saw me coming out of the house earlier today.’
Snap is silent. I wait, dying inside.
‘Pack a bag, Kitten. See you by the back fence in ten.’
He hangs up. Is he serious? I can’t. What about Mary and Fred? What about the police?
A text shoots through:
You can do it, Tiger!
