‘It’s alright,’ Cassie said. ‘Not as good as being a real little kid, though.’
‘Are you glad to be back?’ Tilly asked.
‘Mostly.’
‘I’m glad you’re back,’ Tilly said. ‘Mum too.’ There was a pen stain on the pocket of her chequered school shirt, like a tiny blue swimming pool against her chest.
‘Did she say that?’ Cassie asked. The foam had started to rise above the pot. Cassie turned off the gas.
‘Yeah,’ Tilly said. ‘She said you remind her of someone from home.’
‘Who?’
‘Dad maybe,’ she said. ‘You kind of look like him.’
‘Really?’ Cassie said. ‘Mum’s never told me that.’ He smiled, picked up the jar of bottled sauce. He twisted the top, his knuckles turning white.
It was still light outside when Ian came up the driveway. We were on the verandah playing Uno. Mango was stretched on her back on the floorboards, Tilly rubbing her belly, but she darted inside when Ian parked next to the clothesline, slammed the car door shut. He strode across the yard like it was something he did every day, like he’d gone back in time, was coming home. He was wearing jeans, and a work shirt tucked into his belt. His face looked fatter than what I remembered, as though he had somehow sucked away all of Cassie’s fat and sewn it into himself, left Cassie with none.
My stomach dropped. ‘What’s he doing here?’ I said to Cassie under my breath. ‘I thought you weren’t friends anymore.’
Cassie ignored me.
When Ian reached the verandah he climbed the stairs two at a time. ‘G’day,’ he said. He still had his shorn head, and the hole in the side of his mouth when his lips curled back into a smile. Cassie stood up and they slapped their hands together. Ian pulled up a chair that was upturned near the stairs and sat down with his legs spread wide, hands on his knees. His nails were trimmed to moon slivers.
It was as though Ian didn’t even notice the three of us kids were there, like we were garden gnomes. As Ian talked Cassie nodded along, holding his hands in his lap. I tried to catch Cassie’s eye but he wouldn’t catch mine. I watched Ian’s mouth as he spoke. His lips were red as a cheerio and made a wet sound when he said certain words.
‘This old idiot tried to return a CD player, right?’ Ian said. ‘Didn’t even have a receipt.’
‘What’d you do?’ Cassie said.
‘Told him to bugger off,’ Ian said. ‘Thought he was gonna have a fit. Or piss himself.’
He kept talking at Cassie, ignoring the rest of us, but then his head quickly turned and he was looking right at me. I didn’t have a chance to look away.
Ian paused, smiled. ‘How’s little Cub been?’ he said. ‘Still up to your creepy ways?’
‘Leave her alone,’ Cassie said.
‘Just kidding,’ Ian said, squatting up from the chair and reaching into his back pocket. He pulled out a lighter and a pack of smokes.
Cassie went to the kitchen. Ian leaned back in his chair, smiling and blowing smoke towards us. I don’t know why I didn’t just get up and go inside. There was nothing keeping me there. I didn’t want him talking to Cassie but it was like I couldn’t look away. I was trying to work out how Ian and Cassie fit together. Why he kept coming back.
Cassie came through the flyscreen, handed Ian a beer.
‘Cheers, mate,’ Ian said. He dangled his smoke in his fingers and chugged the beer down. ‘Reckon Dad’ll give me the assistant manager job soon, now that Stevo’s gone back to Brisbane.’
‘Yeah?’ Cassie said.
‘He wants me to go back to school, though. No fucking way.’
‘Shit,’ Cassie said, shaking his head.
‘I’ll tell you what, there’s no way I’m going to be told what to do by a pack of knobs who don’t know shit about the real world. Fucking pansies, the lot of them.’
They drank their beers quickly, and when Cassie went to use the loo, Ian turned to Tilly. ‘I remember you,’ he said.
‘Hi,’ Tilly said.
‘You look different from last time.’
Tilly’s arms wrapped around her chest. ‘Different how?’
‘You look older.’
‘Well, I am older.’
Ian laughed, snorted. ‘This one has a sense of humour, Cubby,’ Ian said, jabbing his finger towards Tilly. ‘You could learn a few things from this one.’
I saw something flicker at the edge of the fence but nothing appeared from the grass. Cassie came back onto the verandah. He and Ian looked out to the paddock, sipped their beers at exactly the same time, like a mirror reflection. ‘Gotta go,’ Ian said, skolling the last of his beer, lobbing it into the yard. ‘Dad wants his car back, and I’m meeting Chantelle at the servo at seven.’
‘Chantelle, hey?’ Cassie said.
Ian winked at Cassie and then stood up. ‘Get off your arse and give me a cuddle,’ he said, grabbing Cassie’s shirtsleeve and yanking him up with him. Cassie stood stiff as Ian pulled him into a hug, his hand resting on the top of Cassie’s head. ‘I’ve missed you, mate,’ Ian said into Cassie’s ear. ‘Really missed you. I’m glad we’ve sorted shit out.’
‘Yeah,’ said Cassie. He waited until Ian let go and then took a step back. ‘Yeah, me too.’
‘What’s wrong?’ Ian said.
Cassie glanced towards us. ‘Nothing.’
‘They don’t know what we’re talking about,’ Ian said. ‘Look at their faces. You don’t know what we’re talking about, do you?’
I stared at my feet. I didn’t know what they were talking about, and for the first time I didn’t care. I wasn’t angry at Cassie, just tired. I didn’t understand why he let Ian come round even after he’d realised what an egg he was. If Cassie was stupid enough to want to be friends with an egg then that was his problem.
Ian thumped down the stairs and crossed the yard, stopped near the clothesline and pissed into the bushes, even though he was in plain view of all of us. I bet he wanted us to see. He got into his car, reversed towards the paddock and swung the car around, beeping his horn as he vanished down the driveway.
Cassie started picking Tilly up from school every afternoon. Helena paid him when she remembered, when she had the money. Cassie never asked for it though, and sometimes Helena went for weeks without giving him anything. But Cassie didn’t care. He said he had nothing else to do, and that Tilly had told him she was having a hard time making friends because she was the only ginger at her school and that we should all try and be nicer to her.
I hated that Tilly was spending all that time alone with Cassie. I hardly ever saw either of them since he’d been back. Some afternoons they’d pull into the driveway sucking on slushies they’d got from the servo on the drive home. One afternoon Tilly and Cassie didn’t get home until late. Cassie didn’t tell me what they’d been doing even though I tried to bug it out of him, but the next day Tilly told us that she and Cassie had driven by the Clarks to see Ian. They drove Ian home, and Cassie showed Tilly where Dermott and Mum’s room had been, where they buried their dog in the yard after it ate a toad.
When I asked Tilly what the house looked like on the inside she said everything was neat and tidy, like a hospital. When she went to use the toilet she’d opened the cabinet under the sink, and it was full of boxes of tissues, dozens of them.
‘Ian’s not that bad,’ Tilly said, winding up her yoyo. ‘I don’t know why you hate him so much.’
I didn’t understand how he had slurped Tilly in too, and so quickly. ‘I don’t hate him,’ I said.
‘You do too,’ Tilly said. ‘Ian told me your whole family hates him. Everyone except Cassie.’
‘What would you know?’ I said. ‘You’ve hardly ever spoken to him. You don’t know him.’