Act of Grace Read online

‘I just need some space,’ he said, his voice muffled, and he walked through the house, out the front door.

  An hour later he came back, carrying four icypoles. They all sat on the front step eating them, and quietly Claire said that maybe he should talk to the Year Nines about his culture. ‘You could tell them about Christmas Day with Grace and Greg,’ she said. Danny smiled.

  ‘Huh?’ Robbie said. ‘Tell me about Christmas Day with Grace and . . . who?’

  ‘Greg,’ Danny responded. ‘Remember? My dad – not my real dad, but the dad I knew.’

  ‘Remember, Rob?’ Claire said, looking at her and Otis. ‘We told you two about Dad’s parents, how they weren’t his real parents but they brought him up.’

  Robbie nodded. ‘Oh yeah.’ She sat there thinking, licking the icypole from the bottom up. Then the last chunk of Otis’s fell off the stick and into the dirt. ‘Fucking,’ he said, testing it out. Robbie glanced quickly at their parents but they’d looked away. They didn’t say anything, but their bodies were shaking and Robbie knew they were laughing.

  *

  It was Nik’s mother who opened the door to his visitors. She was a small woman with a worn-out look, her shoulders always wrapped in shawls that may have been beautiful once but were now dull. She spoke little English. At least that’s what Nik said. When Robbie asked him what his mum thought of all of them coming and going, he grinned. ‘She thinks I’m really popular,’ he said, after doing a cone. ‘She doesn’t mind.’ He said it confidently, like he’d discussed it with her. ‘I’m still playing the violin,’ he added.

  He played for Robbie in his bathroom sometimes, where the tiles made for the best acoustics. They’d lock the door and Robbie would lie in the empty tub listening to him. Though it was also the Babushka’s bathroom, she never gave that too much thought.

  It wasn’t that Robbie, or any of Nik’s friends, treated her outright badly – they politely chimed, ‘Hello, Mrs Kowalski’ when she opened the door, took their shoes off at the foot of the stairs, said, ‘May I speak to Nik, please?’ when they called on the landline – it was just that they didn’t give her any thought at all. Everything they had been taught about adults, about rules in other people’s houses, none of it seemed to apply to the Babushka. That’s what Robbie took to calling her, and like ‘the Messiah’, it caught on. Even so, Robbie wasn’t deluded like Nik’s friend Pete. ‘Nik’s mum is awesome,’ he’d enthuse to the mates he kept bringing to meet the Messiah, his dreadlocks tinkling with the tiny pixie bells his girlfriend had threaded in. ‘She’s totally cool with everything.’

  Pete was a dickhead. The Babushka was clearly far from awesome. But still, when Robbie locked the bathroom door, she never thought, what if Mrs Kowalski needs to come in? When she undressed and lay naked in the tub, listening to Nik play the violin, the pads of his fingers pressing on the frets, the horsehair bending in low, svelte notes, and she beckoned him to join her in the tub afterwards, where the two of them fucked, their thighs rubbing against the porcelain, she never considered, what if Mrs Kowalski needs to pee?

  *

  Robbie was in Grade Six when things started to go wrong for Danny. It was the hottest February on record, and at school the ceiling fans were on full bore. Whenever a teacher stepped out of the room, the class threw dusters at the spinning blades, shrieking as clouds of chalk billowed down, dusters spasming against the walls. They’d had enough. At recess and lunch, they hung around the fence, as close to the edges as possible, talking to strangers walking past, learning how to lure them in. Robbie was sent home with several notes, but Danny signed them without appearing to care. At first it was cool, but there were other things that weren’t so cool. He kept hiding stuff – his wallet and Claire’s purse, his work keys, both sets of house keys. There were times they couldn’t go anywhere because they couldn’t find them, turning everything in the house upside down, inside out. Nothing.

  Often Danny tried to help with the search, but he got agitated. He kept hitting the side of his head. ‘I can’t remember what they look like,’ he’d say. ‘Is that strange?’ He’d stare at Claire, scared. He wanted her to say it was normal, but she didn’t. She was scared too. Otis would usually be the one who found the keys and the wallets; once Danny had placed them carefully inside the fuse box and no one except Otis had thought to look in such an unlikely spot.

  It would happen in spells and then Danny would be normal again, but each spell lasted a little longer.

  It was around this time Robbie started to want the older kids at Danny’s school to notice her. She’d stretch her legs out on the concrete steps, hitching up her dress so the hem was just a breadth from the pouch of her undies. She’d begun to shave, using her mother’s razor, and rubbed in olive oil to make her legs shine. More often than not the boys would just trip over her, their boxy bags banging her on the head. Sometimes the mothers scowled at her from their cars – ‘Hi Benjamin, hi Michael, hi James,’ they sang, electric windows sliding down – but Robbie kept doing it, fuelled by the odd blush and mumbled ‘sorry’, into which she read all manner of destinies.

  In winter she changed tack. She sat huddled on the step, rubbing her hands together dramatically for warmth, like the little match girl. The plan was for one of them to feel sorry for her, and then to fall in love. Previously she’d ignored Otis, pretending not to know him when he came past dribbling his basketball, but now she called to him in a motherly way, hoping to indicate to whomever was watching that they were two orphan children. The boys continued to trip over her. It had never occurred to Robbie that she might be ugly to them, or at least weird-looking. Her teeth were too big for her face, her dark hair flat on top with squiggly curls at the bottom, like a kid’s drawing.

  Then one afternoon a teacher clicked through the gates towards her and Otis. Bony and primped, she walked like a hen, her neck bobbing, high heels splayed. Her nails were painted mauve. Her eyes turned bright when she found out who they were. ‘Danny’s kids,’ she said.

  She motioned for them to follow her, taking them inside the school and up two sets of stairs to the staffroom. On the table was a tray of biscuits. ‘Go on,’ she said, and Robbie took one, Otis three. Robbie scowled at him, but Otis ignored her. The woman looked at them appraisingly as they ate. ‘You’re skinny as strays.’ She shook her head, clicked her tongue. ‘Poor Danny.’

  Robbie choked, crumbs flying out of her mouth. What did she mean, poor Danny? The woman darted over to pat Robbie on the back. ‘You eat like a stray too,’ she chided.

  It’s Mrs Eckersley, Robbie realised. It’s Mrs Fucking Eckersley. She started to panic as Mrs Fucking Eckersley rubbed her back. She couldn’t control her coughing.

  ‘I’ll get you some milk,’ Mrs Fucking Eckersley said.

  ‘No, thank y—’ Robbie tried to say, while Otis nodded happily.

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ The teacher was at the fridge already, pouring milk into two glasses. She set both down in front of them. ‘Here, drink up.’ Robbie glanced at her face. It was thick with make-up, wrinkles cracking the clay-like surface around her puckered mouth. Her eyes were small, lashes gooped together with purple mascara. She pulled out the chair and sat down. Robbie could feel her staring. Then Mrs Eckersley leapt up. ‘I’ve an idea,’ she said. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

  She disappeared out the door. ‘Otis,’ Robbie hissed, ‘it’s Mrs Eckersley.’ Otis stared back at her blankly, his mouth full of biscuit. ‘She’s Mrs Eckersley,’ Robbie hissed again. ‘Dad is going to kill us.’

  Then the woman was back, pushing the door open with her hip, carrying a basket of clothes. ‘Lost property,’ she said, winking at them. ‘You need proper coats.’ She put the basket on the floor and went through it, pulling out a couple of dark blue jackets. ‘These are very good,’ she said, rolling up a sleeve to show them the fleece inside. ‘Very warm. Waterproof, too.’ She pulled out a few more and checked their labels, shaking them out so she could get a good look. ‘Try these ones on.’ She indicated t
o Robbie to stand up, and it was as if the woman had cast a spell, Robbie holding out her arms as Mrs Eckersley started to thread the sleeves over her wrists.

  When the teacher paused, peering at the inside of her left arm, it took Robbie a while to realise what Mrs Eckersley was thinking. At school Robbie and Tash had been doing smileys on each other using a lighter Robbie had nicked. They’d burn the flame for a minute and then quickly press the hot metal to their skin, holding it there for as long as they could take before lifting it off to reveal a smiley face. She had about seven of them on the inside of her arm, welts varying in size and redness. ‘Is everything okay at home, dear?’ Mrs Eckersley said carefully, eyes like searchlights.

  It was one of those mismatched moments – tears sprang to Robbie’s eyes from the fury of being examined so closely and yet so desperately misunderstood. Mrs Eckersley returned the jacket to the pile and pulled a chair in close. ‘It’s okay,’ she said gently, as Robbie gasped for air and clarity.

  ‘Our dad,’ she stammered. ‘He might be finished. He might be trying to find us.’

  ‘Of course,’ Mrs Eckersley said. ‘I’ll go fetch him, if you two feel okay with that?’

  Why wouldn’t we be okay with that? Robbie wanted to retort, but instead she nodded feebly. Mrs Eckersley stood, still looking at Robbie. ‘Try these on,’ she continued, pointing to the jackets on the table.

  When she left, all Robbie could think of was their father’s face as Mrs Eckersley clicked her way to him. Mrs Fucking Eckersley. Otis understood by then, and was staring at Robbie for a plan. We could run, thought Robbie, or hide. She looked around the staffroom, but neither the brown vinyl chairs nor the long table was really an option, so instead she just stared at the door, waiting for it to open. Otis got off his chair and stood beside her, his hand hovering near hers, not taking it, and he too watched the door.

  When it opened, Danny came in first. ‘Here they are,’ Mrs Eckersley said breathily behind him, and for a moment the teacher receded, barely existed, as she locked eyes with her father. A tremor came off Danny’s skin, a barely perceptible fury. Then Mrs Eckersley clicked in front and waved at the jackets still on the table. ‘You haven’t tried them on yet?’

  Robbie shook her head, staring at her father. Otis looked at the carpet.

  ‘It’s cold outside, Danny,’ Mrs Eckersley said. ‘Your daughter doesn’t have a proper coat. I thought she could have one of these.’ She held up a jacket.

  Danny shook his head. ‘No, thank you, Mrs Eckersley. Robbie has lots of coats, she just refuses to wear them.’

  Robbie nodded her head vigorously. ‘It’s true.’

  Danny gestured to them. ‘We have to get going, you two. Your mother will be getting worried. Say thank you to Mrs Eckersley.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Eckersley,’ chimed Otis, but something came over Robbie. She was scared, yes, of her father’s anger, knew the walk home would be awful – but there was no way she was going to thank Mrs Fucking Eckersley. She looked at her sneakers, lilac fake Converse, her fists clenched.

  ‘Robbie?’ Danny said.

  She was silent.

  ‘Robbie,’ he said again. ‘I said, “Say thank you.”’

  She stared harder at her sneakers, stared so hard her shoelaces blurred and came to life – she could see every speck of dirt on them.

  ‘Robbie.’

  ‘It’s okay, Danny,’ Mrs Eckersley said. ‘She’s shy. I understand.’

  Robbie snapped her head up then, furious, but Danny stopped her with a look. ‘C’mon,’ he said, and they followed him, down the stairs, out the gate, up the street and around the corner, where he turned and whacked Robbie on the head.

  Otis tried to defend his sister. ‘We didn’t do anything,’ he said. ‘She just came out and got us.’

  But Danny and Robbie looked at each other, both knowing that there’d been a deception, a trick of pity and skin. Finally Danny spoke, and it was a warning. ‘Don’t you do that ever again,’ he said.

  *

  After that, they waited for Danny at the park across the road. From the swing, Robbie could see the lights turn off at the end of his shift. She liked to hang upside down, her hair brushing against the tanbark, watching each window gasp into the dark. Goodnight, rich fish, she’d think. Sometimes she’d help Otis practise his passes, but mostly he’d just bounce his basketball off the play equipment by himself, while Robbie hung on the swing, blood rushing to her head.

  It was nice at the playground. For a stint, they got to be young again. After the lights were all out, Danny would come and push Robbie on the swing. He’d play defence against Otis, crouched and crab-like, and on the way home he’d put his fingers in Robbie’s hair and pick out the bits of bark.

  But the forgetting kept happening. He’d have his arms around them, firm and knowing, and then suddenly he’d go limp. Halfway into the hug, he’d forget who they were. There were times when Claire put dinner on the table and he’d thank her formally, as though she were a waitress. They went to doctors and then the hospital for tests, Otis and Robbie exploring the corridors, following the coloured lines, seeing broken bodies and faces they couldn’t un-see, hearing shrieks and moans they couldn’t un-hear. The doctors put him on medication and for a time it worked, but then it wore off, like sticky tape that lost its adhesive.

  One evening at the playground, Robbie and Otis were waiting for the lights to be turned off when Danny appeared, and walked right past them.

  It was strange to watch your father see you and not register. Otis ran to catch up with him. ‘Dad!’ he yelled, and Robbie didn’t move from the swing, only watched as Danny stopped and stared at Otis, not comprehending. She always felt bad about that, not rescuing Otis from that moment, for she’d heard the collapse of her little brother’s voice. ‘Dad? Daddy? Dad?’ Seen his hands grabbing and Danny recoiling. Robbie could sense him flicking desperately through the files in his head, trying to find a match for this kid with imploring eyes.

  He was put on indefinite leave a week after that. The principal of the school phoned Claire to say they were very sorry and hoped Danny could come back soon. Mrs Eckersley, they learned, had been instrumental in convincing the school to keep Danny on as long as they had.

  Grade Six finished, and at assembly they threw their legionnaires hats into the air, and for a time the doctors seemed to work out the right dose of medication and Danny’s symptoms eased. The four of them spent the last few days of the summer holidays at Half Moon Bay in Black Rock, Danny and Robbie swimming out to the wreck of the Cerberus. Looking down from the rusted hulk, they could see a carpet of stingrays lying flat on the bottom of the bay.

  Danny pried a limpet off the wreck and tossed it towards a ray, startling it. Both of them watched as the ray lifted its fleshy wings and swam low, over the others, to a spare patch of bay. Robbie gazed, already drawing them in her head so she could sketch them at home in her special drawing book.

  ‘Hey, Robbie?’ Danny said, breaking her lines. She looked over at him. He was sitting on the metal, resting his elbows on his knees. He was thin from all the drugs but still the dad she recognised, tall and gangly, which Robbie thought was gorgeous in a man – less so in a girl, like her. Water ran down his hair and chest, and gathered at the hems of his boardshorts, dripping diamonds.

  ‘Yeah, Dad?’

  ‘I love you,’ he said. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

  Robbie nodded. She sat next to him and put her head on his arm, careful not to look him in the eyes for fear he would stop talking.

  ‘I know I’m hard on you,’ he continued, ‘harder than I am on Otis. But I have my reasons, Robbie. Don’t tell your mother I said this.’ He paused. ‘But it’s none of people’s business, okay?’

  Robbie stole a look at him. He was staring out at the water, his eyes dark. ‘What isn’t?’

  He put his arm next to Robbie’s. Glistening with seawater, they both shone brown. ‘If anyone asks, tell them you’re Italian.’

&nb
sp; It was a funny feeling, the way her insides tilted when he said that. He could see it, too. ‘It’s not worth it, Robbie. Trust me.’

  Robbie stared at their arms, side by side, then gave him a little nod.

  Danny kissed the top of her head. ‘I can’t believe you’re going to high school. You nervous?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Robbie said with a shrug. ‘Maybe a little.’

  ‘You’ll be fine. You’re ready, I reckon, Robbie.’ He sat back so he could look at her properly, tilting her face towards his, his hand under her chin. ‘I’m sorry about this,’ he said, tapping his head, ‘this trouble in here. I keep thinking that if I didn’t box, this wouldn’t be happening – but then if I didn’t box, I wouldn’t have met your mother and we wouldn’t have had you and Otis. But I’ll beat it, okay? I won’t forget you, I promise.’

  On the shore, Claire was waving them in, Otis holding a parcel of fish and chips high above his head for them to see. The sun was going down and the cliffs behind them were a burnt orange, as if on fire. Danny grinned. ‘Let’s go,’ he said, giving Robbie a squeeze. Together they perched on the edge of the wreck. ‘One, two, three!’

  Robbie held her nose and jumped, Danny pausing to make sure she landed okay, then following. Beneath them, the rays startled, lifting their grey wings, undulating, and flew a little to the right.

  But he did forget them. The medication stopped working. The doctors changed it, but they couldn’t stop the decline – that’s what they called it. It got so bad that Claire had to start locking him inside. Too many times they’d be distracted for twenty minutes, half an hour, and he’d be gone. The three of them would set out to find him and eventually they would spot him, walking with a kind of ragged purpose, crossing streets without looking for cars. Robbie couldn’t stop thinking about the time she found the neighbour’s cat on the nature strip one morning, rigid and wet with dew. It got in her head that the same would happen to Danny, that he’d be hit and left on the side of the road for his owners to find.