‘Yes, I think she’s walked on her own all the way from their property so, what’s that, about four kilometres?’ She sniffled as she tugged her hanky from her sleeve. ‘Okay. Yes. Yes, I’ll keep her here.’
The phone receiver slipped in Sally’s sweaty palm as she hung up.
Alice added another book to the semi-circular tower she had built around her.
‘Alice?’
‘I’d like to take all these home, please, Sally,’ Alice said earnestly with a sweep of her arm.
Sally helped her to deconstruct her tower of books, return the dozens to their shelves, and explained twice how borrowing library books worked. Alice was dumbfounded by her limited choice. Sally checked her watch. The bright light falling through the story windows had softened to pastel shadows.
‘Shall I help you pick?’
Alice nodded gratefully. She wanted to read books about fire but didn’t feel brave enough to say so.
Sally crouched to Alice’s eye level and asked her some questions — name one of her favourite places to go — the sea — and choose a favourite story window at the library — the mermaid — then with a knowing nod, she touched her index finger to a slim book with a hard cover and bronze lettering on the spine, and slid it off the shelf.
‘I think you’ll love this one. It’s about selkies.’
‘Selkies,’ Alice repeated.
‘You’ll see,’ Sally said. ‘Women from the sea who can shed their skins to become someone and something else entirely.’ Goosebumps covered Alice’s body. She clutched the book to her chest.
‘Reading makes me hungry,’ Sally said abruptly. ‘Are you hungry, Alice? I’ve got some scones with jam, and how about a cup of tea?’
At the mention of scones, Alice thought of her mother. She was consumed by an immediate desire to be home, but it seemed that Sally expected her to stay.
‘Can I go to the toilet?’
‘Of course,’ Sally said. ‘The ladies’ is just down the hall there, on the right. Shall I come with you?’
‘No, thank you.’ Alice smiled sweetly.
‘I’ll be right here when you get back. We’ll have scones, okay?’
Alice skipped down the hallway. She pushed open the door to the bathroom. Waited a moment, then stuck her head back out to peek at Sally’s desk. It was empty. The clink of cutlery and china came from further down the hall. Alice scurried for the exit.
As she ran home through the cane fields, she felt the shape of her library card in her nightie pocket, like one of her mother’s flowers. The selkie book jostled up and down in her backpack; sunbeams bounced around inside her belly. Alice was so busy imagining how much her mother would love her library book, she didn’t realise that by the time she got home her father would be back from work.
3. Sticky everlasting
Meaning: My love will not leave you
Xerochrysum viscosum | New South Wales and Victoria
These paper-like flowers display hues of lemon, gold, and splotchy orange to fiery bronze. They can be easily cut, dried, and preserved while retaining their stunning colours.
A month after Alice discovered the library, she was playing in her room when she heard her mother’s voice calling. ‘We need to do some weeding, Bun.’
It was a tranquil afternoon. The garden was thick with orange butterflies. Her mother smiled up at her from under the brim of her floppy hat. It was the same smile she used to greet her father when he came home: Everything’s okay, everything’s all right, everything’s fine. Alice smiled back even though she noticed her mother wincing, clutching her ribs when she reached for a weed.
Things hadn’t been right since the library. Alice couldn’t sit for days after her father took to her with his belt. He snapped her library card in two and confiscated the book, but not before Alice read it in one sitting. She absorbed the stories of selkies and their magical skins into her blood like they were sugar on her tongue. Her bruises healed and her father only punished her once; Alice’s mother continued to bear his rage. A few times Alice had been woken in the night by rough noises in her parents’ bedroom. The ugly sounds paralysed her. On those nights, she stayed in bed with her hands over her ears, willing herself to escape into her dreams, mostly of running with her mother to the sea, where they’d shed their skins before diving in. Bobbing together in the ocean, they’d only look back once before turning to the deep. On shore their pelts would turn to pressed flowers, scattered among shells and seaweed.
‘Here, Alice.’ Her mother handed her another tuft of weeds, wincing again. Alice’s skin burned from her want to rid the garden of every weed, forever, so her mother could just spend her days talking to her flowers in her secret language and filling her pockets with their blooms.
‘What about this one, Mama? Is this a weed?’ Her mother didn’t answer. She was as flighty as the butterflies, her eyes darting constantly to the driveway, checking for the telltale dirt clouds.
Eventually, they appeared.
He swung out of the driver’s seat in full swagger, holding his Akubra upside down behind his back. Alice’s mother stood to greet him with dirt on her knees and a bunch of dandelions clenched in her fist. Their roots trembled as he leaned in to kiss her. Alice glanced away. Her father in a good mood had the same air about him as a rain shower falling from a sunny sky — you could never quite believe the sight. When Alice met his eye, he smiled.
‘We’ve all had a tough time since you ran away, haven’t we, Bunny,’ her father said, crouching while keeping his upside-down hat out of her view. ‘But I think you’ve learned your lesson about leaving the property.’
Alice’s stomach lurched.
‘I’ve been thinking about it,’ he said softly, ‘and I think we should get your library card back.’ She looked at him uneasily. ‘I’m willing to go to the library and pick your books out for you, if you’re willing to promise to follow our rules. And to help you keep that promise, I thought you might like some extra company at home.’ Alice’s father wasn’t looking at Alice while he spoke — his eyes were searching her mother’s face instead. She stood still and unblinking, her face stretched in a smile. Alice’s father turned to Alice, offering her his hat. Alice took it from him and lowered it into her lap.
Curled inside was a ball of black-and-white fluff. She gasped. Although the pup’s eyes were barely open, they were the same slate blue as the winter sea. He sat up and gave a sharp yap, nipping Alice’s nose. She squealed in delight; he was her first friend. The puppy licked her face.
‘What will you call him, Bun?’ her father asked, rocking back on his heels to stand. Alice couldn’t read his face.
‘Tobias,’ she decided. ‘But I’ll call him Toby.’
Her father laughed easily. ‘Toby it is,’ he said.
‘Wanna hold him, Mama?’ Alice asked. Her mother nodded and reached for Toby.
‘Oh, he’s so young,’ she exclaimed, unable to hide the surprise in her voice. ‘Where did you get him, Clem? Are you sure he’s old enough to be weaned?’
Her father’s eyes flashed. His face darkened. ‘Of course he’s old enough,’ he said through clenched teeth, grabbing Toby by the scruff of the neck. He tossed the whimpering pup to Alice.
Later, she cowered outside among her mother’s ferns, snuggling the puppy against her heart, trying not to listen to the sounds coming from inside the house. Toby lapped at her chin where her tears gathered, while the wind blew through the sweet-scented sugar cane and out to sea.