The kitchen smelled like grease and toilet cleaner. I could taste it in my mouth, a slick on my tongue. Clean and dirty at the same time. I tried to think of something awful to say, something to kick him in the guts with, but I couldn’t come up with anything good. ‘The man at the bar said to do your bloody job,’ I told him.
I went back into the dining room, stood by the bar. That was the one good thing about being a girl who looked like a boy; you could become invisible if you wanted to. The man serving was cleaning a glass with a Chux, rubbing the same spot of glass over and over while he stared at the screen. After a minute Cassie came out from the kitchen. He walked straight past me, went over to the men at the tables and started clearing their lunch plates. They mostly ignored him as he rattled around, kept their eyes glued to the screen, shifting back in their chairs as Cassie leaned over them to grab their mucky napkins.
One of the men lifted his hand, swept it across his plate. The knife skittered across the table. As Cassie reached over to pick up the knife, the man grabbed Cassie’s wrist. He had grey stubble that looked sharp as tacks, and his hands were muscly, as though if he squeezed hard enough Cassie’s fingers would burst right off. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ the man said.
The rest of the table went still, watched from the corners of their eyes.
‘I’m clearing,’ Cassie said, staring at his wrists.
‘Speak up.’
‘I’m just clearing plates.’
‘What are you doing with that knife, hey?’ the man said. His eyes were steel, and even though he spoke quietly his voice sliced through the room.
‘Not again, Baz,’ one of the other men said, not looking away from the screen. ‘Just leave him be.’
‘Thought they’d got rid of you.’
‘They moved me to the kitchen.’ Cassie didn’t try to get his hand away. His shoulders slumped and I could see the knife shaking in his other hand. ‘I’m just clearing the table,’ Cassie said. ‘I’m just doing my job.’
‘You have his eyes, you know,’ the man said. ‘Les’s baby blues. Bet that helps you get all the girls, doesn’t it?’
‘No,’ Cassie said.
‘How’s your mother, then?’
‘She’s fine.’
‘Heard she was down this way a couple of months ago. Surprised she has the nerve to show her face around here, after all those filthy secrets she kept.’
‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Cassie said.
‘Oh, I think you do.’
‘She didn’t know anything.’
‘Didn’t she?’ The man leaned in closer to Cassie, yanked his wrist closer. ‘You’re an expert on the matter, are you just?’
‘No,’ said Cassie.
‘You tell your slut mother Barry Leary said hello.’
Cassie stared at his wrist, didn’t look up.
‘You know who I am?’ the man said.
Cassie nodded.
‘Who am I?’
‘Barry Leary.’
‘Smart-arse,’ the man said, letting go of Cassie’s wrist. ‘Get out of here.’ He wafted his hand in the air, like the queen. ‘Can’t stand the sight of you.’
‘Wasn’t trying to be a smart-arse,’ Cassie said. He put the knife with the stack of cutlery and continued clearing the table. A few of the men laughed as his shaking hands made the plates clank together, but then one of them shushed the table for the start of a new race.
The man called Barry didn’t watch the screen. He stared at Cassie as he finished clearing the tables, watched him the whole time so that Cassie must have felt the steely eyes on him like spotlights heating him up, until he walked back towards the kitchen with the plates stacked in his arms. Barry leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands behind his head.
I stood by the door but Cassie moved right past me into the kitchen, let the plates sink into the dishwater like ships.
When I got home I told Wally about what I’d seen at the Connolly, but he didn’t care at all. He was moulding tiny animals out of the rainbow clay he’d bought from the cheap shop with his Christmas money. He’d gone without me the day before, even though he hated going into town alone. He’d made a turtle and a duck and a purple elephant that he’d put on the windowsill. They looked as good as anything you could buy from the shops, which was annoying because Wally didn’t even like drawing and painting. He didn’t even have to practise; they were good from the start.
When he ignored me I tried to grab the clay out of his hand, but he opened his mouth wide to bite me on the arm and I gave up, lay down on my bed.
When Cassie got home I didn’t get up to meet him. I heard him open the fridge, the clattering of knives and forks, the beeping of the microwave. After a while he came into our room. He was holding a plastic bag, the handle twisted around his fingers like string.
‘Got you something, Cub,’ he said, tipping the plastic bag upside down on my bed. It was full of Ghost Drops.
‘Not fair,’ Wally said, reaching over and grabbing a lolly.
Cassie stared at the walls and the shelves as though our room was filled with interesting things. He wandered around the room, running his fingers along the clay animals on the windowsill.
‘This is pretty good,’ Cassie said, picking up the turtle. ‘Did you do this?’ he asked me.
‘Why did you lie?’ I said.
‘Lie about what?’
‘Stop pretending to be stupid,’ I said. ‘You lied about your job. You’re a cleaner. You don’t work behind the bar. You’re always telling lies. Keeping secrets.’
‘I didn’t lie,’ he said. ‘I used to work behind the bar, but then they put me in the kitchen.’
‘Why?’
‘They just did.’
‘Who was that man?’ I said.
‘What man?’
I rolled my eyes. ‘The man who said those things about Mum.’
‘No one,’ Cassie said. ‘Just someone Granddad used to know.’
‘Was he mad at you?’
‘Sort of.’
‘Why?’ I said. ‘What did you do?’
‘I didn’t do anything.’
‘Then why was he mad at you?’
‘Just leave it, Cub.’
‘Tell me, or I’ll tell Dad.’
‘Just shut up, alright,’ Cassie shouted. It came out of nowhere. He grabbed me by my hair, yanked my head upwards to face him. ‘Just shut up about it.’ I was sure he was going to hit me, but he let go, sat down at the end of Wally’s bed and rubbed his hands on his knees.
I made my face go blank. I could feel prickles behind my eyes but I concentrated hard and kept them in. I looked over at Wally. He was still hunched over his animals, like he hadn’t even heard Cassie shout at me. Before, I would have thought maybe he’d gone deaf for a second, but I know he was just choosing what to care about and he didn’t care much about what happened to me.
I took a Ghost Drop, unwrapped the lolly. ‘You’re a liar,’ I said to Cassie. I didn’t care if he yelled at me again, didn’t care if he pulled my hair, ripped my whole scalp off. I pressed the hard red ball into my hand until it hurt, until it made a sugar tattoo on my palm.
I decided not to care about a lot of things. I didn’t care when Ian came over the next day. He and Cassie could do what they liked. I was done with Cassie and Ian, and Wally as well. They were dumb boys who didn’t know anything. I didn’t move from the verandah when they came up the stairs. I could sit where I liked. They couldn’t scare me off anymore. Couldn’t take up all the space and leave me with none.
‘You know,’ Ian said, poking Mango with his foot, ‘cats can tell what people are really like deep down, and that’s why Mango likes your dad. Because he doesn’t have feral blood like the rest of you.’