‘Is he coming?’ asked Manny.
He flicked off the stove and gave the small pan of dark sauce a final quick stir. ‘Dinner is about to be served.’
‘I think so.’ I hesitated. ‘He was drawing ... it was really good, but he didn’t seem real happy that I’d seen it–’
Manny pursed his lips. ‘A lot of artists are funny about showing their works-in-progress.’ He poured the sauce into a small jug. ‘I feel the same way about early drafts of my own work.’ He winked at me. ‘Don’t worry too much about anything he says–’
‘He didn’t sayanything. He just looks at me like he hates me–’
‘He doesn’t hate you, Henry–’ He tossed the hot pan, sizzling, into the sink, gave it an efficient wash, then added it to the draining rack. ‘If anything, he hates himself ... Ever heard of the term “Art as therapy”?’
I shook my head.
‘Well, it could have been termed for our Anders–’
A door clicked shut behind me and a jovial note forced its way into Manny’s voice. ‘Ah, here he is, our wandering artiste–’
Anders stood in the doorway, arms hanging, fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. I wasn’t sure what his problem was, but edged closer to Manny, just to be on the safe side.
‘You planning to wash those filthy mitts before you eat, Anders?’
Manny’s hearty voice jerked him into action. He stared at his charcoal-stained hands as though he didn’t recognise them, then made straight for the sink.
Manny passed me three plates and nodded at the cutlery laid out on the kitchen bench. ‘We’ll eat in here, seeing there’s just the three of us.’
I sat down on the stool closest to Manny, and kept a wary eye on Anders, scrubbing at his hands with soap and a kitchen scourer at the sink.
‘Where are Caleb and Vee?’
‘They’re in the zone,’ Manny said, sprinkling toasted pine nuts over the top of a huge platter of roasted meat and veg. ‘They’ll come out when they’re hungry.’
He must have seen my blank look. ‘They’re both writing like mad things. When they get in the zone, sometimes I don’t see them for days. I only know they’ve been out of their rooms by what’s missing from the fridge.’
He patted me on the shoulder. ‘You did good, getting Caleb out of himself. He had a real breakthrough at the pool the other day and he’s been powering ever since.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Vee’s positively manic. She sleeps most of the day, but at night she hasn’t stopped. Three nights setting up her room, getting herself organised, and every night since, working like a demon to meet next month’s deadline for her latest romance. Don’t worry, I’ve kept them some food. They won’t miss out.’
He nodded towards Anders at the sink. ‘There’s another one who gets in the zone. Disappears for weeks on end, then turns up like a half-starved mutt, all eyes and ribs.’
He grinned at Anders, who squeezed out a sliver of a smile as he reached for the handtowel hanging on a loop below the sink.
Manny drizzled the sauce across the top of more roast than I had seen in one place in my life, then poked two huge serving spoons into the side and pushed the platter towards me. ‘Here, dig in.’
I didn’t need to be told twice. ‘I thought you said we were having salad.’
All I could see was a stack of roast meat mixed into piles of crispy potato and sweet potato chips, with toasted pine nuts sprinkled over the top. ‘Not that I’m complaining,’ I added hastily. ‘It looks fantastic.’
‘What does this look like?’ He pointed his knife at the scattering of cherry tomatoes and green leafy things that added colour to the dish. ‘A ham sandwich?’
Anders slid onto a stool beside me and poured himself a glass of iced water from the jug on the bench. He tilted it questioningly in my direction.
I nodded and he filled my glass. There was still a fine line of charcoal embedded under his nails. ‘Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome.’ His voice sounded rusty, like it needed a good oiling, or maybe, just to be used a bit more often.
I shovelled a forkful of meat and potato into my mouth so I wouldn’t have to make conversation. As soon as it hit my tastebuds, a little moan slipped out.
‘Good, huh?’ Manny tucked into his plate of food with gusto. ‘I think the secret’s in the balsamic jus, but the caramelised onion adds that little something, don’t you think?’
‘Mmm–’ I thought the secret was in the sheer volume of meat and potatoes on my plate that was now making its way into my stomach. But I kept the thought to myself. I was happy to let Manny to do the talking. I had better things to do with my mouth. I was in the zone, stuck in a delirious cycle of chewing, swallowing and shovelling.
Roast meat and potatoes was always good, but whatever Manny had done to it had boosted the dish to all-time status.
Anders, on the other hand, seemed hardly to notice the food. Maybe that’s what kept him so thin. He ate slowly and methodically, occasionally sipping at his water.
I could sense his eyes on me the whole time I ate, but each time I glanced his way, they would slide away from me and focus on something else: his next mouthful, Manny’s running commentary, the clock on the wall, ticking away the time till Mum came home.
The thought of my mum, running around for twelve hours straight, put a dampener on my appetite. I put down my fork.
‘Did you talk to Mum tonight, Manny?’
He nodded. ‘She’s going to be late, so I said you could hang here if you wanted. Says she’s this close–’ a stubby finger and thumb pinched at the air, ‘–to making some big sale.’
I wouldn’t get my hopes up. We’d been on this real-estate rollercoaster before, me and Mum. I knew what she’d be doing: desperately trying to sell that dump on the river for more than anyone in their right mind would want to pay, but for less than the owner would want to accept.
She was the piggy in the middle; the one forced to watch the golden ball sailing over her head, from one set of hands to another. Always just out of her reach.
This little piggy had roast beef...
This little piggy had none...
I lined up my fork and knife together on my plate and pushed it away.
‘Had enough?’ Manny looked round at the clock that I’d been staring at. It really was getting late.
He patted my arm with his scarred paw. ‘The bears didn’t turn up, so there’s heaps left over. I can give you a plate to take home with you for your mum, if you like.’
I shot him a grateful look. ‘That’d be great. Thanks.’
The trill of a mobile vibrated on a corner of the kitchen bench. He went over and picked it up. ‘Caleb’s phone, Manfred speaking.’
His grin faded as he listened to the voice on the other end. His eyes met mine and clouded. He turned his back, and after a moment walked out of the kitchen, still listening hard to the voice on the other end of the phone.
I started clearing up, just for something to do. Apart from the dishes we had just used, Manny’s kitchen was spotless. He had cleaned up as he cooked, so there was practically no washing up left to do at all.
Anders had reached the sink ahead of me and was running the hot water. He squirted in some dishwashing liquid, the corded muscles in his arms standing out as he plunged in both hands and started scrubbing.
I picked up a tea towel. ‘That should get rid of the last of the charcoal,’ I said.
He glanced down at me, the intensity of his gaze softening, his lips twitching in what might have been a smile. It gave me the courage to ask the question that had been nagging at me during dinner.
‘Are all your drawings that sad?’
His hands stopped moving, tiny bubbles of detergent foam popping in the hairs on the back of his wrists. His whole body had gone still, as though the question had caught him between breaths, between heartbeats. He raised his head and stared out into the gaping blackness beyond the kitchen window. Somewhere in the street, a lonely dog howled.
I didn’t think he was going to answer my question, but finally he nodded.
‘Why?’ My voice cracked on the question.
He reached for another dish and swished his washcloth across it, front and back.
‘Life can be sad,’ he said quietly.
I wanted to argue with him, tell him he was wrong. That maybe his life was, but that it wasn’t like that for other people. But it seemed cruel to say it out loud, to rub it in that his life wasn’t happy.
Instead I took the dish from his hand and started wiping it dry. ‘Not always,’ I said. ‘It can be good too, if you let it.’
He turned and nodded slowly, as if trying to work out what he wanted to say next. ‘Caleb and Vee and Manny are good people to have on your side. Good people to have living next door–’
I wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything, but I had to agree with him. ‘Yeah, I guess it was lucky you found them this house.’
He hesitated, as if about to say something more, then looked over my shoulder, his face changing as he focused on the doorway behind me.
It was Manny, with Caleb and Vee in tow.
Caleb’s face was even paler than usual, his eyes troubled. There was no trace of Vee’s usual amused look. Manny’s crooked face had sagged into haggard lines. He walked over, cupped a heavy hand on the back of my neck, and gently squeezed.
He took a deep breath and that’s when I knew.
‘What’s wrong? Something’s happened, hasn’t it?’
He hesitated, opening up a huge gaping hole in my gut.
‘It’s Mum, isn’t it? That phone call – Where is she? What’s happened?’
I grabbed the grinning devil’s face on the front of his ridiculous shirt.
‘Tell me,’ I demanded wildly. ‘What’s happened to my mum?’