Finch, page 6
“You have to understand how it was,” Finch said. “Things weren’t too good for us when we were living here. My dad was out of work for a while, so when a mate offered him a job at the abattoirs, of course he had to take it. That’s why the family moved away.”
“So why didn’t you go with them?” Audrey asked. She felt braver now. In for a penny, in for a pound – that’s what Mum would have said. And it seemed that Finch wanted to talk, or needed to.
“By then I was working for Uncle Bill. He said he’d look after me, and he’d let me keep Snowy. We all agreed to it. So Mum and Dad and the kids left, and I stayed. That’s it.”
“But … your job didn’t work out?”
“No. Best I don’t talk about that, though.”
“Why?”
“Uncle Bill is my mum’s brother.”
“So?”
“I don’t want Mum to be upset. You know how things get around.”
“I wouldn’t tell anyone. I won’t tell anyone. Cross my heart.”
There was a long silence before Finch began to speak again. “Uncle Bill wasn’t … well, he wasn’t what we thought he was,” he said. “One of my jobs was looking after his pigs. I don’t mind looking after pigs – you can get quite fond of a pig – but my uncle fed those pigs better than he fed me. Then he started belting me. Not all the time, but when he’d had a few drinks he’d go crook at me for the smallest thing.
“One day he put the boot into Snowy, and that was it. No one hurts my dog. What happened was, Snowy thought he’d try and stop Uncle Bill from bashing me. He’s a game little bloke – barked his head off, bit my uncle in the leg and got a good kicking as a reward. He could’ve got himself killed. I wouldn’t put anything past Uncle Bill when he’s red-eyed mean. So I decided that Snowy and I had better get out of there fast. The only problem was, I had no money.”
“Why? Didn’t your uncle pay you?”
“You don’t pay family, according to Uncle Bill. I got my board and lodging. More or less.”
“That’s just wrong,” said Audrey. “Why didn’t you–”
“It was my problem, right? So it was up to me to sort it out. I reckoned the best thing I could do was disappear for a bit. I’ve always known about this cave, it’s on old Frank Blix’s property, but he’s ninety not out and he wouldn’t have been here in years. So one night I got my things together and walked out. I left a note for Uncle Bill telling him I was going back to my family.”
“What if your uncle talks to your mum? If they talk to each other they’ll soon find out you aren’t where you’re supposed to be.”
“It’s not that likely. They don’t get in touch too often.”
“All right, but there must be better places to live than a cave,” Audrey persisted. “There’s the Salvos, for a start. They have hostels where you can stay, don’t they? Or else, I know you don’t want to go to the police, but they’d help, I know they would–”
“The police? Not on your life.” Finch sounded annoyed now. “Look, I’m fine. I don’t need the cops sticking their noses in, or anyone else. And I promise you I’m not going back to Uncle Bill.”
“Sorry,” Audrey said humbly. “I didn’t mean to interfere. I only wanted to help.”
“I appreciate that. Thanks.” Finch picked up the little wooden bird and began to work on it again. After a while he said, “You know, there’s something about this place. I reckon there’s been plenty of other people living here before me, Aboriginal people and that. It feels as if … as if people have always found shelter here, over hundreds or maybe thousands of years. Sometimes I can feel them all around me – at night, mostly. It’s hard to explain, but I know they’re there.”
Audrey shivered. “That’s so weird. What are they like? Are they spooky or friendly?”
“They’re pretty friendly. Well, they’ve looked after me so far.”
“I don’t think I’d like being with people I couldn’t see. And I’d hate not having a bathroom, or a proper bed, or any windows … and don’t you get lonely? I’d be so lonely!”
“I’m not lonely – I’ve got Snowy. He’s as good a mate as you could wish for.” He bent forward to stroke the little dog. “And as for not having a bathroom, there’s a waterhole not too far away, plenty of water for me to have a wash and fill the billy. If you go down there around sunrise, the place is filled with birds. It’s magic.” He turned towards her, his face barely visible in the candle’s glow. “Hey, you like birds. You should come to the waterhole with me one morning.”
Audrey felt her heart thump, and then beat faster. “Really?”
“Why not?”
“I might do that. I mean, yes, I’d like to. Thanks.”
There was a glint of teeth in the darkness as Finch smiled. “And you can stop worrying about me. You’d be surprised how easy it is to live rough. The truth is, this is a special place. I like it here. I feel safe.”
CHAPTER 11
“Mr Scardino?”
“Yes, Audrey?”
“Can I ask you something? Sorry, I know it’s nearly time for class–”
“Don’t worry about that. Fire away.”
“Mr Scardino, were there ever Aboriginal people living around here? You know, before white people took over?’
“Took over is right, Audrey. A tragic business, as we now know, although at the time the settlers felt differently. But yes, at one time I believe there were many Indigenous people in this district.”
“It’s just – I mean, there’s this cave, and a friend of mine says he thinks people might have lived in it ages ago. Aboriginal people.”
Mr Scardino raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Where is this cave?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t actually seen it.” Liar.
“I understand there are one or two caves in the area, but I can’t be sure they were ever inhabited by Indigenous people. Mostly they made bark shelters and the like. They used hollow gum trees as shelters, too. But I suppose a cave, if it was big enough, could have made a suitable home.”
“Oh.” I wish I could tell him about Finch. I want to tell someone so badly. “Mr Scardino?”
“Audrey.”
“Would it be safe to live in a cave?”
“It would depend. Not the warmest or most comfortable of places, I’d say, particularly in winter. And I suppose there could be hazards like rockfalls, or floods, depending on what sort of cave it was and where it was situated.” He glanced at his watch. “Why the sudden interest in caves?”
“Oh, no reason. Except I just met this person who, um, knew about this cave and thought Aboriginal people might have lived there once. That’s all.”
“I see.”
“Mr Scardino, how old do you have to be before you can leave school?”
Mr Scardino looked startled. “I hope you’re not asking for yourself, Audrey. I would expect you to stay at school until Year Twelve, and then–”
“Sorry, no, it’s not about me. I’m asking for my friend, he’s the same friend who, um, knows about the cave.”
“Well, in this state you are legally required to continue your school education until you are sixteen, and if you leave school at sixteen you must complete your education by enrolling in some other form of training until you are seventeen.”
“So you can’t leave school until you’re sixteen? Do people ever leave when they’re younger than that?”
“Sometimes, I suppose, if there’s a very good reason, but these days people generally appreciate the need to complete their education.” Mr Scardino looked up as the siren went for the start of classes. “Why don’t you take your seat, Audrey? The hordes will descend any minute. Get your maths books out.”
Audrey went to her desk, feeling elated because she’d managed to sort of talk about Finch without actually mentioning him. Sharing him even the tiniest bit with Mr Scardino made him seem more real. Whenever she thought about him, which was nearly all the time, he seemed further and further away from her. She had to keep trying to grab him back.
Was Finch really sixteen? Audrey was surprised. He didn’t look that old, although it was hard to tell with boys. One boy she knew at St Cuthbert’s had looked about nine when he was actually twelve, while another boy, hardly any older, was already shaving.
All through the lesson she tried to concentrate on maths, but kept coming back to what Finch had said yesterday. She couldn’t quite remember his exact tone of voice. You must come to the waterhole with me one morning. (Was that it? Was it “must” or “should”?) He hadn’t actually said which morning, but Audrey had already worked out that Sunday, very early, would be the best time to go. Chloe would be sleeping over at Emma’s, and Mum and Dad usually got up late on Sunday. Would it be a totally dumb thing to take Finch up on the invitation? Did he really mean it? What if he was only being polite?
She wished she could make his life easier, but he seemed terribly independent. In a way – and this thought shocked her a little – he reminded her of Mavis. It must be that country thing.
She couldn’t wait to see him again.
*
All through the week the weather grew hotter. An Indian summer, Mum called it, because it was actually autumn now and it should have been getting cooler. The farmhouse wasn’t air conditioned, and although there was a ceiling fan in the living room, all it did was push the warm air around. To make things worse, it was very humid, but it didn’t rain. Mum refused to cook, and just put out cold meat and salad for dinner. Mavis’s cucumbers had found a natural home on the compost heap. Freddy lost all interest in food and flopped wherever he could find a cool place.
Audrey and Chloe went to school, came home, and mooched around the house, moaning that they were too hot to do anything. (“So much for those fantastic thick walls, Dad,” Chloe said.)
“It’s climate change,” Dad said. “We’re going to get more and more of this weather. My grapes are almost ready to be picked, and the whole crop could be ruined. The birds are having a field day already.”
Mum frowned. “Ian, I thought the hawk scarecrows you’d rigged up were solving that problem?”
“Not entirely,” Dad said. “Those starlings are cunning little devils, and now the lorikeets are having a feast as well. I’ve only got four hawks up, and I need more for the size of the vineyard. Next year I’ll go for the gun scarer.”
“You’ll have to get help for the picking,” said Mum. “You know I can’t do anything, not with my back. And before you suggest it, I’m not having either of the girls skip school.”
“I don’t mind missing school,” Audrey said. “A day or two won’t hurt.”
“No,” said Mum. “No, no and no.”
Audrey didn’t argue. She was still having doubts about her plan to go to the waterhole at dawn on Sunday. It could be the worst idea ever. Finch seemed friendly enough, but he was a boy. What did she really know about him? What if (horrible thought) he thought she was interested in him? She’d overheard older boys at St Cuthbert’s talking about girls, usually less pretty girls, who came on to boys – sluts, they called them. Audrey hated the ugly sound of it. Would Finch think she was a slut?
Finch isn’t like that, she told herself. He’s nice. He’s … respectful. (He’d said, “I beg your pardon.”) And going out so early in the morning would be an adventure. She’d never seen the sun rise before.
What did she have to lose? It wasn’t like she was going on a date, for heaven’s sake.
*
On Saturday, Chloe was all ready for her sleepover hours early, and then changed her clothes at least half-a-dozen times before she was satisfied. She’d braided her hair with ribbons, and she was wearing a jangle of thin coloured bracelets on each arm. Emma’s parents came to pick her up in their Land Rover. Emma’s mum was tall and elegant, and she was wearing white jeans and a pair of embroidered flat shoes with sparkly bits. Audrey could see that Chloe was impressed. She took fashion very seriously.
Chloe and Emma vanished into Chloe’s bedroom while Mum and Dad sat with Emma’s parents at the table on the back verandah and shared a bottle of white wine. Audrey sat with them for a while, but she soon grew tired of listening to their conversation about chefs and menus, and Mum had only put out a small bowl of olives, so there wasn’t even anything good to eat. As soon as she could, she got up and went over to the birdcage to check on her finches.
The little birds seemed unusually quiet. It must be this hot weather, Audrey thought. Then she saw a bundle of pale feathers lying very still in a corner of the cage.
As soon as she opened the hatch, there was a panicked flurry of fluttering and loud cheeping. She reached inside, picked Gummo up and held him gently. His body was so light she could barely feel it in her hand. The bright red beak was still now, the eyes closed, the tiny claws limp. One wing had lost half its pinion feathers.
Audrey felt a great wave of sadness. Poor Gummo. What had been the point of his life? He’d been in prison since the moment he was hatched. Because he was at the bottom of the pecking order he’d been constantly bullied. In the animal world he hadn’t served any important or necessary function. He’d just been alive – no more.
Now that his body had been removed, his four cage mates were cheeping and flitting about as if nothing had happened. He mattered no more to them than a single millet seed in their feed bowl.
“But he did matter,” Audrey said to herself. “I cared about him.”
She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Then she went to the shed, found a spade and buried Gummo in the front garden, near to where she’d seen Snowy all those nights ago.
*
Dinner that night was quiet without Chloe. Nobody talked much. Dad made some comment about how well Goosey Gander must be doing, but he said it in a way that meant he was really envious, and felt that Emma’s parents hadn’t worked hard enough, or maybe suffered enough, to deserve it. After that he seemed depressed, even though there was mango for dessert – his favourite.
Audrey said goodnight to Mum and Dad at nine o’clock, her usual bedtime, and then lay on her bed and read. She’d set her alarm for six o’clock. That would give her plenty of time to get to the cave. It was still daylight saving, which meant that the sun would rise at about seven o’clock – she’d googled that on her laptop to make sure. At the same time she couldn’t resist logging on to Instagram to see what Jaz was up to. Already Jaz seemed to her like a character in a book, someone from a different world. And there she was, another selfie in a cafe, but this time she was with somebody. A boy! They had their heads together, cheek to cheek, and they were sharing a drink with two straws. Audrey sat back in her chair, surprised. Although really there was no need to be surprised: Jaz had always talked about wanting to have a boyfriend. Me and Charlie & a COOOOL ice coffee, read the caption. It was followed by two emojis, a smiley face and a heart. Twenty-three people “liked” the post, and there were two comments: Are you 2 in luv? and your so cooool Jaz xx with a rose emoji.
She shut down the laptop and picked up her book again, but she couldn’t concentrate. Instead she started to worry about what she was wearing. Should she choose something more girly, a bit prettier? Would Finch even notice? In the end she decided on her butterfly T-shirt rather than the plain white one, and her new jeans. She’d already secretly borrowed one of Chloe’s sequined headbands.
She stared at herself in the mirror and dabbed concealer on her pimple, which seemed bigger than ever. She combed her hair, put on Chloe’s headband and took it off again. It didn’t look right after all – her hair was too short. If only Chloe was there to tell her what to do! Chloe always knew what worked and what didn’t. It was a gift, Mum said: something you were born with. Audrey knew it was a gift she didn’t have.
She couldn’t stop thinking about Jaz and that boy, Charlie. She didn’t think he went to St Cuthbert’s, unless he was new there. Jaz had probably met him when she was on holidays or something. They must know each other really well to be sharing a drink like that.
At ten o’clock she lay down on her bed, fully dressed apart from her sneakers, and switched off her bedside lamp. Mum and Dad were in bed now: she could hear them talking quietly, and their bedroom light showed in a bright line beneath her closed door. After a few minutes the light disappeared. Soon Dad started to snore.
Audrey didn’t sleep. She couldn’t. When the glowing red figures of her alarm clock moved to 6.00, she got up and put on her sneakers. She walked softly down the hallway, not even stopping to stroke Freddy, who had wandered out of the kitchen to see what was going on.
She opened the back door carefully, slipped outside and closed the door with the tiniest of clicks.
The moon was low on the horizon, but the sky was still dense with stars. All the daytime colours had drained away: the grass was grey, the vineyard black. The trees were motionless, their dark leaves hanging.
As she walked down the hill paddock, Audrey felt a bubble of excitement rising in her chest.
CHAPTER 12
A quarter of an hour later, she was standing outside the entrance to the cave. But night had changed the personality of the place. Now it was cold, brooding.
Audrey hugged herself, wishing she’d worn a jumper. Suddenly she remembered Gummo, the stillness of his tiny body, all that life gone.
Don’t think about it.
“Finch?” she called.
A tiny wind gusted, blowing grit against her legs. The air lifted and sank, and in that fraction of a moment she heard stone chinking against stone. She raised her eyes to the sound. And there on a steep rock, silhouetted against the starry sky, were the black shapes of a boy and a dog.
The shapes disappeared, and a few seconds later Audrey saw Finch walking towards her down the dry creek bed. Beside him, his white feet twinkling over the stones, was Snowy.
“Finch!” Relief made Audrey speak more loudly than usual. “It’s me!”
Finch sounded cool and distant. “G’day! What are you doing here?”
Audrey’s stomach contracted. He’s forgotten. He doesn’t want to see me. “Sorry. I should’ve told you. You asked me if I wanted to go to the waterhole with you, so … here I am.” She took a couple of steps forward, and then stopped. She didn’t want to look like an overeager little kid.
