When the local police knocked on the front door at Thornfield, June had hidden in the pantry to take a long guzzle of whisky from her flask before answering. She let them in, thinking they’d come about one of the Flowers. Instead they removed their hats and told her that her son had been killed in a house fire, along with his wife. They were survived by their children, a newborn son and a nine-year-old daughter. Both of June’s grandchildren were receiving medical care, and she was listed as their next of kin. She should know, it was clear Clem was responsible for the serious abuse of his wife and daughter. After they left, June barely made it to the toilet in time to vomit. Her deepest fear about her son, which she’d kept at bay for years, had become reality.
Taking another sidelong look at Alice, June was nauseous again. The girl was so much like Agnes. Wild hair, thick lashes, full lips, and big eyes, deep with curiosity and yearning. They both wore vulnerability like it was a vital organ, on the outside of their body. If Alice looked like her mother, did she take after her father in her personality? Was she like Clem? June couldn’t tell yet. Alice’s silence was deeply unsettling. Selective muteness is common in children processing deep trauma, Dr Harris had reassured her. Usually it’s not permanent. With proper counselling and support, Alice will speak again when she’s ready. Until then, we won’t know how much she remembers.
June gripped the steering wheel, her bracelets tinkling. She glanced at them. Five yellow petals set in silver charms, each dangling from one of five silver bracelets. Butterfly bush flowers all had the same slightly unequal five yellow petals. A red mark appeared on the upper petal of every bloom, and at the centre of each flower were three stamens, the largest of which was shaped like a little paddle boat. June had made the bracelets for today specially. Every time they chimed on her wrists, they repeated their meaning to her like a secret prayer. Second chances. Second chances. Second chances.
Alice gasped, twitching in her sleep. Her head was bent back at a painful-looking angle. June thought about reaching out to reposition her, but after a moment Alice coughed and shifted on her own.
June focused on the road. Pressed her foot harder to the accelerator. Hoped that whatever dreams the child was wading through, they were gentle.
Late afternoon sunlight poured into the cab. Alice started. She’d fallen asleep without realising; dried tears cracked in the corners of her eyes and there was a kink in her neck. She straightened up and stretched. Harry licked her hand. She let him; she was too tired to push him away again. No longer on the highway, they were bouncing noisily along a rough dirt track. A pink bruise had formed on her knee where it had knocked against the door handle as the truck jostled over bumps and dusty pockmarks. Alice craved salty sea air.
June had her window down, one tanned elbow resting on the open sill. Her greying curls moved gently in the wind. Alice studied her profile. June didn’t look anything like her father, but felt so familiar. When she tucked a curl behind her ear, the silver bracelets jangled on her wrists. From each one a small charm dangled, with a pressed yellow petal inside. She glanced at Alice, who was too slow at acting asleep.
‘You’re awake.’
Through the blur of her pretend-sleep eyelashes, Alice saw June smile and shake the bracelets on her wrist. ‘Like them? I made these myself. All the flowers, they come from my farm.’
Alice turned her head away to look out the window.
‘Each flower is a secret language. When I wear a combination of flowers together, it’s like I’m writing my own secret code that no one else can understand unless they know my language. Today I thought I’d wear just one flower.’
A muscle twitched in Alice’s cheek. June changed down gears, the bracelets chiming in response. ‘Want to know what they mean? I’ll tell you the secret.’
Alice ignored her, focusing hard on the tinder-dry bush streaming past the window. Her stomach lurched as they drove over a cattle grid. The noise of cicadas drowned out her thoughts. June was still talking. ‘I could teach you.’ Alice glared at the strange woman beside her. For a while, June didn’t speak. Alice closed her eyes. She wanted to be left alone.
‘You just missed town. Never mind. Plenty of time for exploring later.’ June worked the truck’s pedals and gears; the engine grumbled as it slowed. ‘Here we are.’
They turned off the dirt track onto a smaller, smoother driveway. The ruckus that had filled the truck while they were on graded dirt dissolved to a hum. The air changed; it was sweet and green. Flowering grevillea bushes appeared alongside the truck. Monarch butterflies hovered — flap, flap, swoop — over wild cotton. Alice couldn’t stop herself sitting up straighter. The droning of bees came from a cluster of white hives by twisted, silver-green gums that all pointed towards the biggest house Alice had ever seen. One she realised she’d seen before.
The house was more vivid than in the old photo she’d found in her father’s shed, the photo that had shared a hiding place with a lock of hair, blue-black, tied with a faded ribbon. Alice checked June’s hair. Though it was silvered it might have been that dark once.
When they reached the end of the driveway, June swung the truck around and parked it by a garage blanketed in thick vine. Harry sat to attention, his tail beating Alice’s side in unison with her heart. The trees were dense with birdsong. At home, this was close to Alice’s favourite time of day, when the world was dusted blue by the approaching dusk, and the air was pungent with whatever the tide brought in. Here, it was different. Drier and warmer. No hint of the sea. No pelicans drifting, no call of the currawongs. Alice dug her fingers into her thighs, steadying herself. A monarch butterfly tapped at her window. It hovered, almost as if it could hear all the things Alice couldn’t say, before it fluttered away.
‘Welcome, Alice.’ June had hopped out of the truck and was standing at the top of a short stack of wooden steps that led onto the verandah. She held one hand out.
Alice stayed in the truck. Harry kept to her side, and her fingers found their way to his ears and scratched the place Toby had loved most. He groaned in appreciation. No one else had come for her at the hospital. No one but June, a stranger she’d been given away to like a lost dog. June’s smile was starting to falter. Alice closed her eyes. She was tired, so tired she felt she could go to sleep and not wake up for a hundred years. She made a bargain with herself: she’d go inside just to get to bed.
Avoiding June’s eyes, Alice climbed down out of the truck with Harry. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and trudged up the steps.
The house had a wide wraparound timber verandah, strung with glowing kerosene lanterns. Birds and crickets sang the sun down. The wind rustled through the trees, releasing the cool scent of eucalyptus. Alice followed June across the verandah, stopping when she got to the front door. The screen opened and closed behind June, without Alice. Harry stayed by her side.
‘Alice?’ June walked back to the screen door. ‘I’ve made up a room for you. I know it’s not the one you’re used to but it’s a place you can make all your own,’ she said through the screen, gently pushing it open.
Alice’s nose was running. She wiped at it with the back of her hand.
‘Why don’t you come in, wash your face, and lie down. I’ll bring you something to eat.’