Box Set Page 11

  Glen paused in the doorway, awkwardly juggling a brilliant bouquet of lilac lilies and his dirty old work bag, when he saw his daughter sitting on the edge of the bed. She was still dressed in her new white dress that bore witness to the night’s blossoming romance, now creased and crumbled around her as she bent doubled over.

  “Hey Millie-pie,” he said, frowning. “What’s up?”

  Startled, Millie jerked up in response to the deep voice of her father. A look of vague surprise was in her eyes as she looked upon the big man cramming the doorway.

  Glen gasped when he caught a glimpse of his daughter’s tear-stained face. He dropped the work bag and flowers as he hurried over to her. “Millie, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

  The vagueness in her eyes shifted as she regained her composure and glared back at him. He stopped in his tracks, stunned that she could give him such a look. She motioned towards the open wardrobe, bare of her mother’s belongings. “Are you happy now?” she said, her voice an almost inaudible whisper.

  He followed her gesture with clueless eyes towards the wardrobe. After a moment of staring blankly at the almost empty closet, it slowly began to dawn that his wife’s belongings were missing. He looked back to Millie, struggling with the truth of his wife’s absence. He was unable to speak as he stood dumbfounded and rooted to the floor while he looked at his daughter in a state of shock.

  Millie’s lips pursed and her eyes flared as she witnessed her father’s understanding become complete. When he turned to look at her, she was livid with anger. “She’s gone Dad. She’s gone!” Her voice became shrill. “This is all your fault!”

  “Millie,” Glen retorted.

  “No! Don’t you dare try and explain this away with lies. I know it was you that beat her up and left her here for dead. My mother has abandoned us because of you! You! I hate you!” she screamed. “I hate you!”

  Millie leaped up and lunged for him, beating small clenched fists vainly against his chest while she yelled at him with tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Glen was unprepared for the double-whammy heaped upon him by Millie’s outburst on top of his wife’s departure. He clutched at the flying balled-up fists of his daughter, easily restraining the slim wrists while trying to soothe her anger with calm words of reassurance. Her knees buckled and she sprawled down, sobbing heavily while he guided her gently to the floor at his feet. He kneeled and stroked back long strands of the hair falling over her face. He watched, patiently waiting for her to catch her breath and regain her composure.

  “I’m so sorry, Millie. I didn’t know that she would leave us,” he said, at a loss for anything more to say.

  He scooped her up in his big arms and cradled her against his chest, just like he did when she was a baby, then carried her through the dark hallway to her room. As he lowered her onto her bed, she turned away from him and curled up in a ball.

  He sighed heavily as he stood over her bed. “I love you, Millie-pie.” He turned and quietly left, disappearing into the hall.

  ***

  Back in his room, Glen slumped on his bed in front of the empty wardrobe that gaped in accusation at him. He sighed as he thought of Millie, so grief stricken and angry. What have I done? She hates me. He blinked through tears at the lilies dumped and forgotten on the floor. I bought her flowers. I thought everything was going to be okay. How can she do this to us? He stared at the flowers and the empty wardrobe, trying to process what had happened. He pulled himself up off the bed and strode up to the bouquet. He snatched up the flowers and brought them up to his nostrils. He breathed in deep, taking in the sweet scent of the lilies. Memories of Lilly instantly arose as he remembered her in their early days together. She was working long shifts at that rowdy bar at The Rocks in Sydney when they met. She was like a dainty lost angel, with a halo of gold swept up over her head and sad broken wings. He had watched her working that bar, warding off drunken, sleazy men with a hard-on for anything that moved with a certain weary grace. It was clear to him she didn’t belong there. He recognised the naivety in her youthful azure eyes. She could be moulded into a perfect wife for him, and mother to his new baby girl. After everything I’ve done for that bitch, she’s betrayed me. He steeled his heart against any feeling for her and vowed to get back at her for what she had done. Hatred rose in him like a black snake, filling him with its venom and rearing up ready to strike with deadly intent. He knew the ugly monster that lay dormant inside him could be tamed no more. He knew, as he embraced the inner beast, as it lingered over and settled itself firmly in his soul once again, that he would not stop until he satisfied its need for revenge.

  “That fucking bitch!” He crushed and tore the lilies to shreds and forcefully threw them to the floor. His sudden outburst ended just as quickly as it had begun when every lily lay in a mangled mess over the bedroom floor. A cold calm permeated through him as he allowed the black serpent to spread its poison through him.

  “Hello old friend,” Glen said. A crooked grin spread across his face, and a yellow blaze flickered in his eyes.

  ***

  “Millie.” A soft whisper beckoned her. “Millie.” Arms outstretched in welcome from a streaming light all around. The warm voice beckoned, soothing. She tried to move towards the light and the voice that dripped like smooth folds of honey on bread. She loved bread and honey. Wings appeared, slender and translucent, rising behind outstretched arms. The wings spread open and stretched out like an emerging butterfly, dazzling in their glistening colours.

  “I am coming!” Millie cried out.

  “Millie! Millie!” The voice rose in volume. “Millie, wake up!” The voice shattered her winged vision which now faded as she was forced into consciousness.

  Millie lay still as the events of the night before filtered through to her mind. She rolled over as fresh tears formed, and turned her back to Ace who was on his knees beside the bed.

  Ace gave her shoulder a little nudge. “Millie, you should see under the Christmas tree this morning. There’s heaps of presents!” he said as he stood up and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “That’s great,” she forced herself to say.

  “Come see!” He nudged her again. “Come on!”

  His eyes wandered to her bedside table where he spotted the little key on the chain laying on top of the letter her mother had left behind for her. He leaned forward to pick up the key, curious. “What’s this for?”

  “What?” Back still turned, she had forgotten the letter and key was still in plain sight on her bedside table.

  “This key?”

  Millie flipped over in a flash and snatched it from her brother’s grasp. “It’s nothing,” she said. She gathered up the letter and replaced them both inside the envelope.

  “What’s it for?” Ace persisted.

  “I told you, it’s nothing. Now, let me get up in privacy and I’ll come out and see the presents okay,” she said, clutching the envelope to her chest.

  He scrunched up his face then shrugged. “Okay, but hurry up!” he said on his way out.

  When Ace was out of sight, Millie rose out of the bed and tucked the envelope beneath the mattress. Satisfied with her choice of hiding place, she trudged over to the mirror and peered at her reflection. Well, I’m glad I didn’t look like this before my date last night, she sighed. The skin around her eyes was puffed up and blotchy. I look like a gold fish, she thought. I feel like a goldfish. Goldfish were clueless little creatures. I must be a goldfish! Didn’t see this coming. How am I going to tell Ace? She felt the sting of fresh tears rising again as she thought of her brother. She knew his innocent child’s heart was about to break and the security of his world was about to be swept up from under him. And there was nothing she could do to protect him. “It’s not fair!” Millie cried out to her image. “It’s not fair on him!”

  Ace’s voice cried out from the lounge room, breaking into her thoughts. “Millliieee! Hurry up!”

  Wiping her damp face with a tissue, she called back
. “Coming!” She dashed for the bathroom to bathe her face in some cold water before facing her brother beside the Christmas tree.

  He was waiting with a smile, and bounced up to her as she entered the room. “Look at all these presents!” he said. He gestured under the tree with wide arms, his face animated in delight. “Look at this big one, Millie. It has your name on it.” He kneeled before the gifts assembled under the tree, his sandy blond head bent and his eyes wide as he filtered through the presents.

  Millie eyed the gifts under the tree. Their mother sure had gone to some trouble playing Santa Claus this year. To compensate her abandoning us, she speculated. How could she do this to us at Christmas time? Her eyes shifted to Ace who was now watching her closely, expecting her to share in his excitement like she normally would on any given Christmas. But this Christmas was different. This Christmas she could find no flicker of excitement to share with her brother. This Christmas they were motherless. And he doesn’t even know yet, she pondered.

  She forced a smile. “That’s great Ace.”

  Millie sat down on a lounge chair and felt exhaustion consuming her. She could feel her body aching and her mind going around in weary circles. Is this how I will feel forever? Her eyes glazed over the Christmas tree. It was all lit up with the vibrant, glowing colours of the glittering bulbs and twinkling tinsel. Christmas had always been her favourite time of year. She loved everything about Christmas, from the magical stories of Santa Claus to the delicious Christmas lunches. I used to love Christmas … but no more.

  “Why has Mum put all these presents out now?” Ace quizzed.

  Millie dragged her eyes from the tree over to where her brother sat. Big blue eyes stared at her with inquiry. She was unsure how to answer his question. “Ummm … I …,” she started, her voice trailing. Her brain strained as she attempted to produce a suitable explanation. She shook her head from side to side and grasped a thick lock of hair, twisting. She felt her heart thumping, and her breath became short as the room started spinning.

  Ace’s brow knitted into a frown as he watched her. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

  He got to his feet and cautiously approached where she was sitting. He perched on the arm of the chair and awkwardly circled an arm around her trembling shoulders, patting her gently. His gentle act of compassion was enough for the floodgates to break. He pulled her close to him, and held her clumsily while she cried against his little chest, finding comfort in her baby brother’s arms. Ace stroked her shoulder as soothingly as he could until her sobbing broke into gulps of broken air. He handed her a nearby box of tissues and looked to the floor uncertainly as she wiped away the tears that had swamped her face.

  “I’m sorry, Ace,” Millie said quietly, observing his attitude.

  “It’s okay,” he replied.

  They sat together on the lounge chair in silence for a few minutes. Both sets of eyes fell on the tree again, both minds a world apart. Hers was a whirlwind of tormented anguish, and his muddled somewhere between confusion and elation. After all, it was almost Christmas time.

  Between the background jargon of the television and the emotional interlude the siblings had just shared, they had failed to hear the faint clanking of spatulas on pans emanating from the kitchen. The two looked at one another when the aroma of pancakes wafted through to them in the lounge room. Empty stomachs began to rumble and mouths started to water in anticipation at the prospect of maple syrup laden pancakes for breakfast.

  “Yum!” Ace said, licking eager lips. Eyes flashed towards Millie. “Mum is up early cooking pancakes!” He bounced up from the oversized arm of the lounge chair and scurried out of the lounge room before Millie could respond.

  She pulled herself up with much more effort than usually required, and followed her brother out to the kitchen. Unsure of what to expect of her father after her hysterical accusations and attack against him the night before, she approached the kitchen with light footsteps. She paused when she reached the doorway, hand buried firmly in a twist of long hair. Leaning against the wooden skirting for a moment, she watched Ace and her father, feeling her nerve ends jitter all over. They were pulling out plates, cutlery and maple syrup from the cupboards and placing the items on the table ready for their breakfast. The mood was light and joyous; smiles played on both lips as they gave one another affectionate jabs as they passed each other around the kitchen. Watching her father wisecracking with Ace irked her. How could he be so happy after last night? After our mother had left because of him? How? She stalked into the kitchen with a deliberate, indignant thud.

  Glen looked towards Millie as she entered the kitchen and sat down at the table with the unmistakable air of displeasure. “Good morning, Amelia.”

  He didn’t miss the stern look she flashed at him, nor her intent to ignore his greeting. He exhaled patiently and tilted his head as he smiled at her. “Pancakes sweetheart?” The smile grew broader.

  She ignored her father with a flick of her head, and turned to Ace. “Pass the syrup please, Ace.”

  Ace passed her the maple syrup between stuffing gulps of pancakes and ice-cream into his mouth.

  “Err … thanks,” she said dryly.

  She grimaced as she accepted the sticky bottle from him. Her father seemed pleased she was eating the breakfast he had prepared for them, and this bothered her even more. If I wasn’t so damn hungry! Millie shot her father an angry sideways glance. He was still smiling her way. Geez … what’s with the dopey grin? That’s gotta hurt. She directed her attention back to her brother and noticed with a trace of surprise that he had stopped eating – a feat when it came to soaked-up maple ice-cream pancakes.

  He was looking at their father thoughtfully. “Where’s Mum?” Ace asked.

  Millie bit down hard on her bottom lip as she dropped her cutlery to the plate below her. She also looked at her father, awaiting his reply with dread. Her heart began to thunder again.

  Glen chewed on a mouthful of pancake, purposely savouring the tasteful sensations the sweet syrup evoked on his tongue. He took a long slurp of hot coffee, considering the question posed to him. He replaced the steaming hot mug on the table next to his pancakes and looked at Ace.

  “Ace,” Glen perched his chin on the end of his bent arm, grinning, “You’re a big boy now. My big boy, right?”

  Ace nodded and returned his father’s grin.

  “Last night, Millie and I discovered that your mother has left us,” he announced in such a matter-a-fact fashion that he might as well have been talking about the weather. “It’s okay though, because we don’t really need her anymore, right?” He turned his gaze to Millie for reassurance. “Right Millie?”

  Without waiting for her reply, he picked up his mug of coffee again and drank from the steaming liquid. “These pancakes sure are good!” he remarked to a spot suspended on the wall.

  Watching her brother, Millie’s eyes teared up as the bombshell her father had so casually thrown at Ace fell on confused ears and an uncomprehending heart. His eyes glazed over in a stupefied haze as he tried to understand his father’s statement, and small eyebrows knotted together in an attempt to recognise why his father would be so offhanded. He looked to Millie for clarification while their father continued his breakfast unperturbed.

  “Millie, where’s Mum?” he asked again with a sense of urgency. His lips started to tremble as he looked at his sister and saw the fresh tears falling from the corners of her eyes. “Where’s Mum, Millie?”

  Millie gulped back the hard lump that had wedged in her throat. “She’s gone,” she rasped.

  Ace shot up abruptly, sending his chair hurling noisily to the floor behind him. “She wouldn’t leave us!” he cried, and raced out of the kitchen towards his parents’ room. “Mum!” he yelled on his way down the hallway. “Mum!” He flung open the door to the room and found it empty. He rambled out loud as he searched the room. “Where is she? She is supposed to be here, sleeping in. Mum!” He hastened back into the hallway. “Maybe she
’s in another room, or outside. Mum!” His voice rose in tone.

  Millie chased after him as he came out into the hall. He pushed her aside and ran through all the rooms of the house while calling out. He flew past his father, who was still eating his breakfast at the kitchen table, and headed out the back door to the porch and backyard. The worn screen door slammed. “Mum! Mummy!” He crumbled down to the cobblestone steps of the porch, whimpering. “Mummy? Mummy, please.” He clutched his face and wailed as his father’s words began to ring true to him. “No, no, no!” he repeated between sobs. “Don’t leave me, Mummy.”

  Millie came up behind him and captured his small quivering body in her arms. She rocked him back and forth while ignoring the pain gnawing through red-raw knees on the hard, rough cobblestones.

  “I want my mummy,” Ace sniffled.

  “I know,” she replied with a heart so trodden with grief, she could barely stand it. “Me too.”

  Chapter Nine

  December 25, 1987

  D ear Journal,

  It has been exactly nineteen days since our mother has left us. And it has been the hardest nineteen days of my life. I try so hard to be strong and keep it together for Ace. I lay beside him every night until he is asleep, and then I go to bed and cry myself to sleep. Will she ever return to us? Does she miss us as much as we miss her? Life seems empty without her.

  Today was the first Christmas I have ever spent without my Mum. Her absence was felt by me and Ace profoundly. We have never experienced such a depressingly dull Christmas – ever. Dad tried to make it as joyous as he could, and for him I actually think it was. He doesn’t seem too fazed by our mother’s elected disappearance at all. When I look him squarely in the eyes, which is rare because I seldom talk to him, a cold chill springs to life right at the top of my spine and runs all the way down. Although he is acting quite happy and joyous, he is different. And with every inch of my body, I know that it’s not a good different.