What do you think?
Rate this book
313 pages, Paperback
First published May 30, 2016
The doorbell pierced the grim quiet of our house. Nobody moved. I knew this though I couldn't see the others. Our house stirred and breathed with us like old places do. I imagined us four freezing in our separate roosting spots. We, the Jackmans, were never called on unexpectedly anymore.
The doorbell rang again. This time I heard the house fidget. As I poked my head around the doorway of the living room I saw the others coming out of their hiding places. Dad and Wren downstairs like me, and Mum on the upstairs landing, peering over the railing. I told myself it would be postman at the door, or someone selling dishcloths. It was the police.
"Mr Jackman?"
"Yes?"
"I'm Detective Patel. Sorry to disturb you on a Saturday." She spoke gently and with concerned eyes, which we were used to.
By now, my sister was beside me. The police officers gave her a look. Most people did.
They'd come to return our lost property: an Ibanez Artwood. It was dark brown guitar with a burst of orange around the bridge that bled outward like a fierce sunset. We'd thought it lost forever. It was supposed to have been blown to pieces, turned to ashes. But there it was, whole.
Wren and I were on narrow single beds at either end of a long room. Although the air in here was wintry, I knew the beds would be toasty. Gran had flask-shaped ceramic hot water bottles that were even older than she was. The mattresses were as soft and deep as cake, with layers of sheets and blankets tucked in so tightly that we could only get under them by sliding in from the top. The marshmallow pillows cupped my head, and Mum even came in to say goodnight.
When Mum was sitting on Wren's bed, I could hear my sister talking in away that made her sound little again. I got a sprinkling of a feeling that happiness was almost in reach. Mum's replies to Wren were low and quiet like a violin bow pulled along the deepest string.
Then it was my turn. Mum sat so close to me that the covers tightened uncomfortably, but I wasn't going to say a word about that.
"It's nice here," I whispered, so that it could be just between us. Mum nodded and smiled. She kissed me on the cheek before and rested her head on the pillow. The tip of her nose grazed my ear, and I could feel her breathing me in. I only cared about Mum and me in that moment.
When she sat up, she traced her thumb over my forehead. I wanted to tell her that we should stay here in Cornwall instead of going to Melbourne, but I didn't want to make her sad again.
I lay awake for a while afterward. It was darker and quieter here but it wasn't lonely like home. Gran's house felt like it was the boss of us. It told us that we could go to sleep inside of it and turst that everything would be okay in the morning.