Don't Breathe a Word Page 2

  ‘All the same,’ said Lydia. ‘Here’s some money. Go and get yourself a snack while I’m gone. A healthy snack, that is.’

  Tahlia rolled her eyes. Lydia charged off like an army tank. I went over to the vending machine and bought a chocolate bar.

  When Lydia came back, she said, ‘Grandpa’s having his leg X-rayed to see if anything’s broken, then they’ll scan his head.’

  Exactly what I’d told her!

  When Grandpa returned to wait for his results, Lydia fussed over him, helping him into bed.

  ‘I’ve had a thought,’ she said. She was wearing her ‘I’m-going-to-tell-you-what-to-do’ look. Grandpa had on his ‘That’s-lovely-of-you-to-give-me-advicebut-I-have-no-intention-of-taking-it’ look. Tahlia had on her ‘See-Kenzie-this-is-why-I-didn’t-want-her-here’ look. I had on my ‘Yeah-well-you-didn’t-come-up-with-anyone-better-so-don’t-blameme’ look. There were so many looks going around the room, it was a wonder anyone bothered to speak.

  ‘You’re not as young as you used to be,’ said Lydia, adjusting his pillows. ‘I wonder if maybe …’

  ‘I’m not ready for the knacker’s yard yet,’ said Grandpa. He sat up in bed. ‘Kenzie, pass me that chair. Watch me lift it over my head. I’ll show you how strong I am.’

  Lydia laid a hand on his arm. Grandpa slumped back. Lying there among those pillows made him look like a pale angel floating on fluffy white clouds. He wasn’t a big man but he was strong. Normally. He had really blue eyes, too. No wonder he had so many girlfriends.

  ‘You don’t need to fuss,’ said Tahlia. ‘Grandpa’s really fit. Aren’t you, Grandpa? He walks a lot and he, um …’

  ‘He’s in the Polar Bears,’ I added.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Tahlia. ‘He swims with the Polar Bears.’ She nodded at me as if to say, ‘Good one, Kenzie.’ I liked it when it was Tahlia and me against Lydia. It was better than it being just me.

  ‘Those silly Polar Bears,’ said Lydia, peering down the corridor to see if the doctor was coming. ‘You’re sixty-nine years old, for Pete’s sake. I’m really worried about you. You and the girls.’

  Tahlia swiped a magazine off the side table and aggressively did the crossword. You might not believe a person could do a crossword aggressively. Believe me, it’s possible.

  ‘I should’ve been there,’ said Lydia, resting a hand on her huge belly. ‘This crisis has made me realise I’ve been neglecting you for too long. But no more. I’ll certainly be making up for lost time.’

  Tahlia and I looked at each other. That didn’t sound good at all.

  Lydia’s flat was too small for Tahlia and me to stay over. It could barely fit Lydia and her husband, Daniel. So Lydia came back with us to Eggins Avenue and Daniel spent the night by himself. Grandpa had to stay in hospital. It turned out he only had a sprain, but the doctors wanted to make sure he didn’t have concussion. Grandpa had a pretty nurse looking after him so he wasn’t too fussed.

  From the moment Lydia walked in our front door, she had this look on her face like she’d pulled a container of mouldy old spag bol out of the fridge. Then she went to the fridge and actually did pull out a container of mouldy old spag bol. I hadn’t thought things were that bad, but I guess we hadn’t done any dusting in a while and the bathroom was a bit grimy. The pots and pans that once hung on the wall like a row of exclamation marks were now stacked by the sink in a big heap.

  Lydia looked in the pantry and pulled out various packets. ‘Chips, noodles, hundreds and thousands. Is this all you eat?’ she asked. ‘Doesn’t Grandpa buy any healthy food?’

  Not that it was any of her business, but every fortnight, on payday, Grandpa took us to a posh restaurant like, for example, the RSL. Then he’d take us out shopping for treats. Tahlia usually bought costume material or credit for her mobile. I bought things I needed for my stunts (rope, gaffer tape, knee pads). Grandpa usually picked up a gadget or two at the hardware store.

  We often ate out the next night too, and sometimes the night after that. As the week wore on, we moved on to cheaper foods – baked beans on toast, packet soups, frozen schnitzel heated up in the microwave. At least we used to have frozen schnitzel heated up in the microwave. About a month ago, Grandpa had taken the microwave apart, looking for a radiation leak (having bought himself a radiation detector). He hadn’t got around to putting it back together again so it was packet soups and baked beans on toast every day now.

  Grandpa got paid every other week too. The government gave him money for looking after us. That got spent pretty quickly, as well. Tahlia and I had learnt to ask Grandpa for our pocket money on payday. Otherwise, we might not get it.

  Lydia put the packets back in the pantry. ‘I’ll buy you some fresh vegies tomorrow,’ she said.

  Tahlia and I made faces at each other.

  Next thing we knew, Lydia wanted to scrub the mould off the laundry tiles. Tahlia said she liked the mould where it was. Lydia said it had to come off. Tahlia said over her dead body, and so it went on until Tahlia chucked a mentactacle and there were tears all round.

  I came close to a mentactacle myself that night. Just as I was getting into my pyjamas, Lydia came into my room. (Hello! Had she not heard of knocking?) She touched the green velvet curtains that hung around my four-poster bed and sniffed them. Yes, sniffed them. ‘How about I run up some new ones for you?’ she suggested.

  ‘No, thanks,’ I politely replied. I’d found those curtains in an op shop and Grandpa had made a frame to hang them from. I liked to wake up in the morning and imagine I was a royal, being served tea and toast in bed by Giles, my private butler.

  Lydia frowned. ‘But they’re so old and tatty.’

  ‘No, they’re not.’

  ‘It’s a wonder you haven’t got asthma. They’re probably full of dust mites.’ She reached up and started fiddling with the curtain rings.

  ‘Just leave it,’ I said.

  ‘Heavens, Kenzie, I’m sure we can do better than these.’ She tried to take one of the curtains down.

  ‘Let go!’ I snapped, snatching the fabric from her. ‘I don’t want your stupid new curtains!’

  Lydia stared at me, open handed, her eyes filling with tears.

  Okay, maybe I’d been a bit rude, but she was getting up my nose. And I mean right up there. She’d practically burrowed all the way into my brain. The only way I could stop her crying was to let her vacuum my room.

  Tahlia stood in the doorway, shaking her head. ‘It’s the thin end of the wedge,’ she whispered in my ear. ‘You wait and see.’

  The next morning, Lydia hired a wheelchair and crutches, then we went to pick up Grandpa at the hospital. We found him busy talking to a lady who was visiting her brother. Her hands were covered in jewels so big it looked like barnacles had grown on her fingers.

  ‘Give us a bell some time, Lyle,’ said Barnacle Fingers.

  Grandpa winked in reply and Tahlia raised an eyebrow at me as if to say, ‘There he goes again.’

  ‘Back when Grandma was alive,’ said Lydia, ‘– before you were born, Kenzie – Grandpa was always chatting up the ladies.’

  ‘It’s this full head of hair,’ said Grandpa, smoothing down his Elvis-style waves. ‘How could any woman resist?’

  It didn’t take long to get home. As we pulled into our driveway, Lydia frowned, and I couldn’t help seeing the place as she saw it – dirty windows, an unswept path, feral hedges. Even the letterbox looked the worse for wear. Grandpa had made it in the shape of our house – a yellow square with a pointy red roof. He’d painted each of us peeking out of the windows – Tahlia, him and me, with huge grins on our faces. But now the paint was seriously peeling away. A brush of the hand and our faces would be no more than paint flakes and the mini-house would no longer be our home but a plain old box. I reminded myself a real home couldn’t be broken up like that but I still felt weird.

  We’d barely got inside when Lydia was at Grandpa to have a shower. What’s more, she wanted to be in the bathroom with him to m
ake sure he didn’t fall over.

  ‘I know you mean well, love,’ said Grandpa, ‘but there is no way on God’s green earth you’re coming into the bathroom while I’m in the nuddy.’

  Lydia had on her firm mother-to-be face so it was lucky for Grandpa that the doorbell rang.

  It was Mahesh and his mum. They’d seen the ambulance in Eggins Avenue the day before and Mrs Banerjee wanted to make sure Grandpa was okay. She’d brought a casserole too. And Grandpa’s microwave radiation detector. I cringed. How long since they’d moved into our street? Two months? And already Grandpa was showing them his gadgets.

  I didn’t know why Mahesh had tagged along. I mean, he had no real reason for being there. He and I never hung out at each other’s places. We were play-a-game-on-the-school-oval-in-a-group-type friends. Of course, he could come if he wanted to. Or not. I mean, whatever. It was a free country. My cheeks were burning for some weird reason. I must have been allergic to the cleanser Lydia made me wash my face with.

  Grandpa beamed at the Banerjees. ‘No time for a shower now,’ he said. ‘Come in, come in.’

  ‘But –’ said Lydia.

  ‘We don’t want to intrude,’ said Mrs B.

  ‘Of course you’re not intruding,’ said Grandpa, backing up his wheelchair to allow them in. ‘Kenzie, why don’t you show Mahesh our backyard?’

  I shrugged. ‘Wanna see some of my stunts?’

  Tahlia smirked but I ignored her.

  ‘Stunts?’ said Mrs Banerjee. ‘What’s this about stunts?’ You could tell she was one of those mothers who always knew exactly what her kids were up to 24/7. If she were deep-sea diving, blindfolded, with heavy metal music playing in her ears, she’d be like, ‘Kids, I know you’re watching TV. Get back to your homework!’

  ‘I’ll be careful, Mum,’ said Mahesh, giving me a wink.

  We went into the backyard. I hung upside down on one of the arms of the Hills hoist and got Mahesh to spin it around. All the blood in my body whooshed straight to my head. When I got back down, I was zinging with energy, like I was a Berocca dropped in some water, all fizzy and whizzy; a little explosion in a glass. ‘Your turn,’ I said.

  Mahesh was shorter than me so he had to stand on a garden bench to reach. He was wearing a t-shirt that was so big, he had to tuck it in before he hung upside-down or else it would have gone over his head. ‘Mum says I’ll grow into it,’ he said. ‘In, like, twelve years.’

  As I spun the Hills hoist, he was like a Berocca too. ‘This is awesome!’ he shouted, his arms waving about, his black hair sticking out like an echidna’s spines.

  After we got sick of that, we climbed the mulberry tree by the back fence. As I sat up there gazing over the garden, Mahesh looked at my arm.

  ‘That’s a huge bruise you’ve got,’ he said. ‘Did you get that doing a stunt?’

  ‘No. Climbing through the window, rescuing Grandpa yesterday,’ I said. ‘Went head first.’

  ‘Awesome,’ said Mahesh.

  ‘You should see the bruise on my other arm.’ It was purpley-black with blue and green splotchy bits.

  ‘It looks like a map of Indonesia,’ he said. He took a pen out of his pocket and drew around the edge to show me.

  ‘Is Indonesia where your parents come from?’ I asked.

  Mahesh cracked up laughing. ‘My parents come from India.’

  I could feel my face reddening. I was definitely not using cleanser ever again.

  He took my other arm and drew the outline of India. ‘See?’ Then he added some waves around the edge to show where the sea was, followed by a whale’s tail and a dolphin.

  ‘You should become a professional tattooist or something,’ I said.

  ‘Maybe I will,’ replied Mahesh, then he went red too.

  I picked some mulberries and handed them to him. As we munched away, our fingers and tongues turned pinky-purple. I was about to pick some more when the back door swung open and Lydia and Mahesh’s mum came out. They hadn’t seen us so I put a finger to my lips. Maybe they’d say something interesting.

  ‘Mum has supersonic hearing,’ whispered Mahesh, wiping mulberry juice from his chin.

  I nodded, trying to look as green as possible so they wouldn’t notice me behind the leaves.

  ‘Just look at the state of this garden,’ said Lydia, sweeping her hand along the tips of the knee-high grass. ‘Grandpa used to be so proud of his roses. Now look at them. He really has slowed down, Neelu. And then there’s this fall.’

  ‘But he’s only in his sixties, yes? He seems pretty sprightly,’ said Mrs Banerjee.

  ‘I’m worried he’s putting on an act. He may have fooled the doctors – he’s quite the charmer, you may have noticed – but I know him. He’s clearly getting too old to manage this big house and garden.’

  ‘Surely the girls can help?’ said Mrs B. ‘Kenzie seems a sensible girl.’

  Mahesh dug me in the ribs and I hid a smile.

  ‘She’s just a kid,’ said Lydia.

  ‘Doesn’t mean I’m a moron,’ I muttered.

  ‘Did you hear something?’ said Mrs B. ‘I hope those two aren’t doing any stunts.’

  ‘Supersonic hearing,’ mouthed Mahesh.

  I felt in my pocket for my lucky doorknob and made a wish that we wouldn’t be spotted.

  ‘The place is in chaos,’ said Lydia. ‘Kenzie has an unnatural aversion to washing. I mean, really, she resembled a street urchin from Oliver before I dragged her into the shower this morning. I checked her towel when she came out and it was bone dry. She’d tried the old “run-the-water-but-don’t-stand-under-the-shower” trick. I had to make her go back in and wash properly.’

  Jeez, what was all the fuss about? In England, they only bathed once a week. That was what Vida, one of Grandpa’s lady-friends, told me.

  ‘As for Tahlia,’ continued Lydia, pulling out a handful of weeds, ‘you saw how surly she was. I peeked in her homework diary last night and she’s way behind. I suspect she’s putting all her energy into her dancing. Grandpa should be on top of this sort of thing but he’s not. And then there are other things that only a woman can help with, like buying a training bra for Kenzie.’

  She wanted to buy me a what? Mahesh suddenly became extremely interested in a butterfly fluttering near his head. I wished my lucky doorknob had the power to transport me to another country. I didn’t need a training thing! I was only a kid!

  ‘I didn’t realise things were that bad,’ said Mrs B.

  They’re not! I thought.

  ‘The truth is,’ continued Lydia, ‘if Grandpa keeps going downhill, steps will need to be taken.’

  ‘You mean putting him in a home?’

  ‘Maybe. Here, we’d better go back in. Grandpa will be wondering what’s become of us.’

  They headed inside and I leant against the tree trunk for support.

  ‘What does she mean by a home?’ said Mahesh. ‘Will you be able to live there too?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said, my heart thudding.

  Mrs Banerjee was a legend. She’d convinced Lydia to go home to Daniel by promising that Tahlia and I could call her any time, day or night. Since Mrs B. only lived a few doors down, she could keep an eye on us and put Lydia’s mind at rest. I wasn’t so keen about the ‘keeping an eye on us’ part, but at least it got Lydia off our backs for a while.

  Once she’d gone, Tahlia cried, ‘Woo hoo! Who’s up for a game of Scrabbopoly?’

  Scrabbopoly was a game Grandpa had invented one time when I wanted to play Monopoly and Tahlia wanted to play Scrabble. There was a lot of rule-breaking and laughing whenever we played it. It felt like ages since we’d done that.

  ‘I’m in,’ said Grandpa, grinning.

  ‘Me too,’ I said, and ran off to get the board.

  It was a night of weirdness. I woke at 2 am to a loud thud. When I got up to see what was going on, I found Grandpa in the hallway, holding onto the telephone table for support. He must have lost his balance.

  ‘Grandp
a,’ I said, touching his arm.

  He shook me off. ‘I don’t want to go to school,’ he said. ‘You can’t make me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Miss Steele hates me,’ he said.

  ‘What are you talking about? Who’s Miss Steele?’

  Grandpa stared at me. ‘My teacher, of course.’

  I looked back, alarmed. What was wrong with him? It suddenly occurred to me he must be sleepwalking. I’d heard you shouldn’t wake people when they were like that. Instead, you should just go along with them.

  ‘It’s school hols,’ I said. ‘You don’t have to see Miss Steele for two whole weeks.’

  ‘Really?’ said Grandpa.

  ‘Really,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you come back to bed? Here, take my arm.’

  He looked at me carefully. ‘Well, all right, then.’

  After I’d got him settled, I peeped into Tahlia’s room. Her arms were flung above her head like she was doing a pirouette. Typical. She’d slept through it all. I decided to let her sleep, feeling all warm and glowy because I’d been so mature and capable, handling Grandpa’s sleepwalking all by myself. We so didn’t need Lydia.

  Back in bed, I drifted off, dreaming I was a stunt woman on a film set. I was just about to leap out of a burning car when I woke up. There was a hand clamped over my mouth. It wasn’t mine. I struggled. I tried to scream.

  ‘It’s me, you nong,’ hissed Tahlia. ‘Quiet or you’ll wake the neighbours. That’s the last thing we need.’

  I pushed her hand away and politely told her to shove off. She pulled back my sheet so I had no choice but to sit up and try to thump her one. She was too quick, and ducked out of the way.

  ‘It’s Grandpa,’ she said. ‘He’s gone.’

  I rubbed my eyes. ‘What do you mean? He’s probably in the dunny.’

  ‘I’ve checked the dunny and the garden. The front door is open and his crutches are gone.’

  ‘What?’ I was wide awake now. ‘He must be sleepwalking again.’ I stuffed my feet into my sneakers, not bothering with any socks. ‘Let’s go.’