It’s morning.
I’ve made it through a night at my father’s house unscathed.
I have to say, this place is incredible in its own way. It’s not my thing, all the fake turrets and marble and mismatched finery. I prefer simple. But the woods go on forever – miles of them.
As I climb out of bed, Skywalker whines and gives a few short barks, meaning nature is calling. I dress, pinning my smiley face badge to my denim jacket and making sure it’s the right way up.
‘This is the most important fashion statement I’ve ever made,’ I tell Skywalker, patting the badge.
Skywalker looks at me like, ‘What are you talking about, Willis?’
I smile. ‘I know you don’t get fashion. I’ll take you out, okay?’
But when I try the door handle, it feels … stuck.
‘It can’t be,’ I tell Skywalker. ‘That’s stupid. I’m being paranoid.’
I try it again. But it really is stuck.
‘Hey,’ I shout, pulling. ‘HEY!’ I twist the rattling metal handle back and forth.
Skywalker barks beside me, jumping about between my legs. He thinks this is a game, but the door won’t budge.
‘Skywalker, sit,’ I say. ‘Stay there.’
I’m preparing for a shoulder run when I hear a scrabbling sound at the door. Like witch fingernails dragging over wood.
I pause.
‘Um … hello?’
No one answers.
I watch a lot of Asian horror movies and right now I feel like I’m in one. The Johnny Rotten decal watches me from over the fake fireplace and the shadowy green trees whisper ‘all alone’ through the arched window.
I glance at the window, wondering if I can climb out. I’m a good climber.
The scrabbling gets louder, and I pick up a chair, wielding it like a weapon.
‘Skywalker, heel.’
Doggie comes to my leg, one clawed paw standing shakily on my DM boot. He’s trying his best to be a tough guy.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
It’s just the weirdest noise.
Okay. Okay, ready to charge the door …
But suddenly the door flies open, light pouring in, dust clouds swirling up from the wooden floor.
‘Oh my goodness.’ Diane holds a palm to her chest and sounds out of breath. ‘You’re not going to whack me with that chair, are you?’
Diane wears navy blue cotton pyjamas with stars on them and her brown hair twists and flicks messily around her chin. Without make-up she looks old and tired, with large grey bags under her eyes.
I lower the chair. ‘There were weird noises outside. Like … scratching. I watch a lot of horror movies. I thought you were … I don’t know, a Japanese girl with stringy hair over her face, crawling up the stairs to get me.’
Diane laughs. ‘This door.’ She rattles the handle. ‘It gets stuck sometimes from the inside. I just woke up in a cold sweat, thinking Jesus – what if the door sticks, and Liberty thinks we’ve locked her in. She’ll start believing Lorna and all her big bad wolf stories. You’re up early.’
‘I like early mornings.’
Skywalker sniffs at Diane’s pyjamas and she strokes his head. ‘Was he okay sleeping up here?’
‘Yeah. Well, sort of.’ I push hair out of my face, grab my denim jacket and pull Skywalker to the door. ‘He needs to get outside, though. For his early-morning run-around. And toilet.’
‘Of course,’ says Diane. ‘Listen, I’ve put some breakfast out for you downstairs. Do you like eggs?’
‘Um … I’m vegan. Remember?’
‘Right. Sorry. Okay. Wowsers. Can you give me some vegan breakfast ideas? What’s left without eggs and toast with butter?’
‘Mushrooms. And cereal with almond milk or oat milk.’
‘I’ll see what I can rustle up.’
‘Thanks. Is Michael awake yet?’
‘Not yet. He had a bit of a late one last night. He’s feeling it today. Come on. Let’s go downstairs and you can let your dog out for a run-around.’
Skywalker and I take a long time walking around Michael’s woodlands. The way I’m doing things, we explore methodically, kind of breaking the land up into chunks.
Skywalker, of course, wants to hare around in all directions.
‘Come on, dogface.’ I tug at his collar. ‘We don’t have forever. The longer we stay here, the closer Mum is to having a nervous breakdown.’
After an hour, Skywalker is done exploring the woods, so we head back for breakfast. On the path back to the house, Skywalker finds some old shotgun shells and picks up the gunpowder scent. I follow him to a hunting shed full of shotguns.
‘Well, Mum was right about one thing,’ I tell Skywalker, as he bounds inside the shed and sits perkily by the rack of hunting rifles. ‘He does keep guns here. That’s the countryside way.’
Skywalker is so proud of himself for finding the stash.
‘Good boy.’
I throw him another biscuit for his sniffing talents. Then I pop chewing gum into my mouth and examine the rifles, looking down the barrels, testing them out.
‘Wow.’ I stand back, looking over the gleaming metal. ‘Some of these are pretty mega. I mean, deer guns. You could kill someone with one of those.’
‘Yeah, you could.’ Michael’s growly early-morning voice makes me jump. He stands in the cabin doorway, wearing green wellies, black jeans, a grey hoodie and a tweedy flat cap.
‘Um … hi.’ I try for a smile. ‘Just checking out your rifle collection.’
‘Careful with those now, little one,’ says Michael. ‘They’re dangerous things. You know better than to play around with them, don’t you?’
‘I know,’ I say, eyes gliding over the rack.
‘Let’s come away from these things, now. They’re not toys. It’s good to see you up and awake.’ Michael gives me a clap on the shoulder. ‘Did your doggy like the woods? Diane told me you were walking him.’
‘Oh, yeah. He loved it.’
‘I thought you’d got lost out here. I came to find you.’
‘The walk took longer than I thought it would,’ I say. ‘These woodlands are huge.’
‘Listen, you really shouldn’t be in a gun shed like this on your own. No one should be messing around with guns unless they’ve had proper, safe instruction.’
‘You think because I’m vegan I haven’t handled a gun before? My mother has rifles.’
Michael laughs. ‘Silly me. Lorna’s armed to the teeth, no doubt. For the great war that’s never coming.’
‘Something like that. They’re hunting rifles, but … yeah. She doesn’t hunt anything.’ My hand wanders absentmindedly to the smiley face badge on my jacket, feeling to make sure it’s the right way up. Fashion is all about getting the right look at all times, after all.
‘What’s that?’ Michael notices my badge. ‘The old acid house smiley face. That’s a pretty big badge, isn’t it? I’ve never seen a button that big. Is that the fashion among you kids today? I hope you’re not into that whole scene. Drugs and all that.’
‘It’s just an emoji. A smiley face. Looking out on everything. A view on the world. You know?’
Michael nods, but I can tell he doesn’t really get it. He’s not supposed to – he’s old.
‘Listen,’ Michael says. ‘I was wondering if you wanted to see my little music studio today. Before you leave.’
‘What I really want to do is talk,’ I say. ‘Really talk. About my mother and all the things she hasn’t told me.’
‘Yes, Liberty. A talk is long overdue. But promise me one thing. If you don’t get to see the studio today, you’ll bring your band up here sometime.’
I nod and nod. ‘I’d love to. They’d love to. We’d all love to. Thanks.’ I hesitate. ‘Dad.’
Michael gives me a gentle smile. ‘Come on, daughter of mine, let’s go have breakfast. And I’ll start making my peace with you going back to Lorna today, if that’s what you want. God, it’s going to be tough. Like losing you all over again.’
‘I’ll come back,’ I say. ‘And if Mum won’t let me … well, I’m sixteen years old. I’m allowed to leave home. It’s sad. All these years we’ve missed. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.’
‘That we do, Liberty. That we do.’