Little Bird Page 6

  We set off. The pram was heavy and took some getting used to – I had to tip it onto its back wheels to steer it around corners. I felt calm and content though, pushing that pram down the hill, looking over red and grey rooftops to the city and the river. It was icy cold, the wind seemed to come straight down from the mountain behind us, and in contrast I felt the warmth of Spence next to me, though our bodies weren’t touching. It was just like I’d imagined it. Me, Spence and Maisy were contained in a bubble: we belonged together and everyone else was outside.

  Anyone looking at us will think we’re a family, I thought with a thrill. They’ll think Maisy is my baby and that Spence is my husband !

  Spence glanced at his watch.

  ‘Are you late for something?’ I asked.

  ‘No, no,’ he said. ‘Let’s go this way. There’s a cafe up here – can I buy you a hot drink?’

  ‘Uh, sure,’ I said. I’d been planning to take Maisy up to the park. I don’t really go to cafes. All we have in Dawnvale is the milkbar. ‘That’d be great.’

  We hadn’t walked far at all when Spence stopped under an awning. He helped me get the pram through the cafe’s double doors and we navigated around the tables to a window seat. I kept banging into chairs and tables. Maisy was lying back in the pram with her head to one side, gripping the bunny’s ear and blinking sleepily. She grizzled protestingly when we stopped moving.

  ‘Sshh,’ I said. Miraculously, Maisy closed her eyes.

  ‘Wow,’ said Spence. ‘You’ve got the magic touch.’ It was the same thing Paula had said last night, but from Paula it had sounded like an insult. Spence sounded genuinely impressed. It was better than my dream – mostly because it was real. Spence was really there, next to me in this warm, cosy cafe. His cord pants brushed against my jeans under the table.

  ‘I’ve never been here before,’ I said. ‘It’s nice.’

  ‘Really?’ said Spence. He waved to get the waiter’s attention. ‘I thought everybody had been here.’

  ‘A couple of lattes please,’ he said.

  I never drank coffee, but I was too embarrassed to say I’d prefer a hot chocolate. It would make me sound like a little kid.

  As we waited for our coffees, a well-dressed lady with bobbed ash-blonde hair stopped on the street and rapped on the window. I glanced around the cafe, wondering who she was gesticulating at. She was the kind of lady who knew how to present herself, who was used to being noticed by everyone – just like one of the popular girls at school, though it was a long time since this lady had been at school. Though the way she leaned forward and waved urgently at Spence I had the impression that she didn’t particularly want to be noticed just now, except, for some reason, by us.

  Spence rubbed his forehead and groaned. ‘I’m sorry about this.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘It’s my mother.’

  ‘Your mother?’

  She strode in, her heels echoing metallically on the concrete floor. She clutched her handbag to her side as if she was worried I might snatch it and run away. ‘Where’s the baby?’ she was asking. ‘Where’s my baby?’ And then she cried, ‘Oh, she’s asleep!’ as if Maisy being asleep were something we’d done on purpose to annoy her. She looked too stylish to be a grandmother. I’m sure my nana had always been sort of old and woolly, with deep creases in her face and white cottony hair. Grandma was old too; she wore slacks and baggy tops, she had smoker’s breath, a small yappy dog, a front room dedicated to the Geelong football team and she seemed to think that she was no longer related to us, since Dad had left Mum. I suppose since Maisy was still a new baby, Mrs Spencer was still a new grandmother. Though I couldn’t imagine her ever having a room dedicated to a footy team.

  ‘She’s just fallen asleep, Mum,’ Spence said. ‘Mum, this is Ruby-lee.’ So he did remember my name. ‘Ruby-lee, this is my mother, Annette.’

  ‘And how old are you?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m sixteen,’ I said, not sure why I was being asked. Did she think I was Spence’s date or something?

  ‘And Colette left Maisy with you? Did she check your references? Michael, I don’t know what that girl’s thinking of. Leaving our baby with some stranger. A teenager!’

  ‘It’s all right, Mum. Ruby-lee’s one of my students.’

  ‘I’ve known Colette for years,’ I added meekly. ‘She’s my sister’s best friend.’

  Annette’s coral pink lips were one thin line. I had a feeling she hadn’t heard a word I’d said.

  ‘Mum, sit down. Relax. You’ve been saying you want to spend more time with Maisy. Well, here she is.’

  ‘But she’s asleep!’

  ‘That’s what babies do. They sleep. Now, do you want a drink?’

  ‘Do they have espresso?’ Annette glanced around, lost, as if she’d never been in a cafe before.

  ‘Yes, Mum,’ Spence said, with weary patience. ‘They have espresso. I’ll order one for you.’

  Don’t leave me alone with her, I pleaded in my mind. But it was too late.

  ‘Oh look at her, the little lamb.’ A moment of softness passed across Annette’s face. But then she frowned and the moment was gone. ‘Do you think she’s warm enough? It’s quite cold outside.’

  ‘She’s got lots of clothes on,’ I said. ‘And she’s got a blanket. And a hat.’

  ‘The pram should have a sheepskin in it,’ she said. ‘I tried to give Colette one and she said they’re an allergy risk! Well, I don’t know. Both my children had them and they never had allergies. What’s Maisy eating? Is she on three meals a day? Is Colette still breastfeeding her? Oh, it’s so important to breastfeed, I can’t emphasise it enough. I was the head of my chapter of the nursing mothers when Michael and his sister were babies. Michael could drain the breast in less than five minutes, and two hours later he’d be ready for more. Really, it was most exhausting, but I knew that breast was best.’

  It was one of those moments when blinking is the only form of defence. Spence was drumming his fingers on the cafe counter as he waited to order his mother’s coffee. He wasn’t trying very hard to get the waiter’s attention.

  Mrs Spencer was still talking. ‘Is she sleeping through the night? Is the flat warm enough? What are the neighbours like? A flat isn’t a place to raise a child.’

  ‘I haven’t met the neighbours. But the flat’s quite nice.’

  ‘I knew all my neighbours when my children were little. Now anyone could be living next door, you never know.’

  I felt exhausted by the time Spence came back. I didn’t know what I had become a part of, but I felt very uncomfortable. Spence showing up unexpectedly at the flat was one thing, but now his mother just happened to be walking past this very cafe, just as we’d sat down? I might be a pushover, I might be failing English, but I wasn’t completely stupid. Colette would be furious if she found out.

  ‘Mum, look at her,’ Spence said, firmly. ‘Look at that beautiful little girl. Like I told you, Maisy’s fine. Just enjoy her while she’s here.’

  ‘You young people. You take everything so lightly. Babies are serious work. They’re a commitment. You can’t pop them out and move onto the next thing, like that girl, what’s her name? That Brittania girl? The one who doesn’t even have the decency to wear underwear?’ She turned to me. ‘You know who I mean,’ she said, though I had no idea.

  I was overcome by a sensation of rising panic, combined with a small but spreading stain of anger. There was no way Annette happened to be passing by. Even if Spence did have rights, this . . . this cheat’s way of seeing Maisy was wrong. But I found I couldn’t do anything but be polite. I sipped my bitter coffee and watched Spence’s mother slowly unravel.

  ‘Britney Spears,’ Spence said tiredly.

  ‘They took her babies away, you know,’ Annette said. ‘The father got custody. That happens quite often these days.’

  I couldn’t bear to listen anymore. ‘We have to go,’ I said to Spence, standing up. ‘Colette will be home soon.’


  ‘Of course,’ said Spence. ‘Mum, we should go.’

  ‘They change so fast at this age,’ she said, plaintively. ‘I didn’t get to see her teeth.’ I felt a pang of confused sympathy for Annette. After all, she was Maisy’s grandmother, and Spence was Maisy’s father. I was just the babysitter.

  ‘Next time, Mum. Promise. You sit here and finish your drink. I’ll help Ruby-lee get Maisy home safe and sound, then I’ll come back and pick you up.’

  ‘I’m perfectly capable of getting myself home, thank you Michael,’ said Annette sharply, at the same time as I said, ‘I’ll be fine with Maisy.’

  ‘I insist,’ said Spence. It didn’t matter if he was speaking to me or his mother, the outcome was the same. He took the pram and steered it through the cafe and I had no choice but to go after him.

  9

  ‘And?’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘And then what happened?’ Tegan asked.

  I shrugged. ‘He walked me back to Colette’s house.’

  ‘Did he apologise? What did he say?’

  ‘Oh yeah. A couple of times. He said he’d called her on his mobile from the flat. He’d just meant for her to walk past and see that Maisy was okay. Apparently she’s worried that Colette’s starving her or something.’

  ‘Did you tell Colette?’

  I shifted on the brick wall. The cold was seeping out of the bricks and into my jeans. My thighs and bum felt numb. ‘Nah. She came back from the gig on a real high – I didn’t want to ruin her mood.’ I didn’t want her to be angry with me either. ‘The new singer had a sore throat or something so she ended up on stage singing the last three songs. They’ve invited her to rehearse with them, and play the occasional gig.’

  ‘How can she? Is she going to take Maisy along?’

  I hesitated. ‘Well . . .’

  ‘Oh, you didn’t! You’re such a victim, Ruby-lee King.’

  ‘It’s just Sunday afternoons. Anna from the band can drive me home and I can do my homework and stuff when Maisy’s sleeping . . .’

  ‘Ruby-lee! You complained about Spence using you, but you’re letting Colette walk all over you.’

  I shrugged. ‘I like Maisy. I like hanging out with her.’

  Tegan shook her head. ‘I can’t believe you’re completely sacrificing your social life for a baby.’

  ‘What social life?’

  ‘Thanks a lot.’

  ‘Sorry! I didn’t mean it like that. Honestly.’ I’d finally won Tegan back again with the choice gossip about Spence and his mum. I didn’t want another week of Tegan being abrupt and surly, of having to run around after her, buying her Cokes and forcing myself to smile when she slyly put me down in front of Blake and his friends. ‘I mean apart from hanging out with you, what social life? It’s not like I have a boyfriend or anything.’

  ‘Well, how are you going to get one if you spend every weekend babysitting?’

  I picked at a loose thread on my jeans. ‘Maybe I don’t want a boyfriend.’

  ‘Bull. Everyone wants a boyfriend. Unless . . .’ Tegan mused.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Unless it’s Spence that you want.’

  ‘No! No way. Of course not. No.’

  Tegan’s eyes lit up. ‘You do!’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘I can’t believe this, you so want him. I knew it. Did he . . . ?’ Tegan’s eyes blazed. ‘Did he kiss you?’

  ‘No, of course not. Oh, Tegan, please, you can’t tell anyone about this.’

  ‘He did kiss you!’

  ‘He didn’t.’

  Tegan looked at my face and relented. ‘Okay, maybe he didn’t kiss you. But you do like him?’

  ‘Tegan, he’s a teacher.’

  ‘Does he like you?’

  ‘As if! You were the one who said he used me.’

  ‘Maybe. But he didn’t have to take you out for coffee. He could have brought his mother with him to Colette’s flat or met her on the street or something.’

  I hesitated. Could Tegan be right? My heart hammered against my ribs, so hard I didn’t think I’d be able to bear it.

  ‘How apologetic was he?’ Tegan asked, leering.

  ‘It was weird. And awkward. And totally embarrassing. Honestly, nothing happened.’

  ‘Ruby-lee, this is so gross. I mean he’s, like, completely old.’

  I didn’t answer. But I’d done the maths last night. Spence was twenty-six (according to Shandra, who knew everything about everyone) and I was nearly seventeen. Nine years. That wasn’t that big a deal. There was a twelve year difference between Dad and Paula.

  ‘I can’t believe you’d even like him after what he did.’

  I hadn’t told Tegan everything. I hadn’t told her about Spence gathering the sleeping Maisy up in his arms and how he’d carried her as if she was lighter than air, up the steps, through the front door, down the corridor and into her room, placing her so gently into her cot that Maisy didn’t even stir. I hadn’t told Tegan how we’d stood there together for a moment, watching Maisy’s face.

  ‘She really is so beautiful,’ Spence had whispered, as if seeing her for the first time. He was so close that the breath of his words tickled the fine hair inside my ears.

  ‘She looks like you,’ I’d said, bravely. (Had I just told a man he was beautiful?)

  I didn’t tell Tegan how, when Colette came home, I could still smell the spiciness of him in the air, or that I was frightened Colette would smell it too. I hadn’t told Tegan how terrified of being caught I was, and how heady with relief I felt when I wasn’t. ‘Yoohoo, Ruby-lee,’ Tegan kicked me in the shin. ‘Are you even listening?’

  ‘Ow!’ I rubbed my shin. There’d probably be a bruise. ‘Sorry, I spaced.’

  ‘Thinking about your lover?’

  ‘Don’t be gross.’

  ‘What’s gross about the word “lover”?’

  ‘What were you saying when I vagued out?’ I asked, trying to change the subject.

  ‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter. It’s not important, anyway.’

  My Memory by Ruby-lee King

  Total marks deducted for lateness – 25.

  Ruby-lee, this is an evocative piece of writing –

  I particularly enjoyed the way you invest your emotional response to your parents’ divorce into the multivalent image of the Barbie doll. However your punctuation and presentation are well below the standard I expect from a Year Eleven student. In order to make a passing grade, taking into consideration the marks deducted for lateness, I would like you to take it home and revise it into a more coherent piece of writing, thinking about paragraphs, commas, full-stops and consistent use of quotation marks.

  ‘What does multi . . . multi-valent even mean?’ I asked Tegan as we walked to the bus stop. Blake had a dentist’s appointment so for once Tegan wasn’t going to his place after school. She and I would be able to ride together. I was sick of catching the bus by myself. Everybody else came in pairs, or groups, except me, alone and invisible.

  ‘She really does hate you, doesn’t she?’ Tegan said, reading over my shoulder.

  ‘Pass me or fail me,’ I groaned at the page, which was covered in angry red slashes and dots. ‘Don’t make me do extra work.’

  Suddenly Tegan elbowed me hard in the ribs.

  ‘Ow! What did you do that for?’

  ‘Here comes your lover,’ Tegan whispered.

  Tegan made an innocent face, her eyes widening as Spence approached. She sang out in her best kindergarten voice, ‘Good afternoon, Mr Spencer.’

  I’d been looking out for him all day, and now he was finally here I wanted to disappear into the ground.

  ‘Hi, girls. Ruby-lee, could I talk to you for a minute?’

  ‘She’ll miss her bus,’ said Tegan.

  ‘It’s all right,’ I said.

  ‘Can you catch the next one?’ Spence asked.

  ‘There is no next one,’ Tegan said.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I said quickly. ‘I can
walk down to the highway and catch a bus there. I do it all the time.’ I’d done it exactly once, after I’d dropped a pot of blue ink during printmaking and the teacher, Carlo, had made me stay behind and clean it up. It was a forty-five minute walk, and then I’d had to wait for half an hour for the bus to come.

  ‘I can give you a lift to the bus stop if you like,’ said Spence.

  ‘That’d be great.’

  ‘Ruby-lee!’ Tegan’s eyes burned into me. ‘You were going to catch the bus home with me.’

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ I said apologetically.

  ‘Fine.’ Tegan’s face was stony as she stalked up towards the bus stop.

  ‘Bye,’ I called out weakly, but Tegan didn’t turn around. I felt a heavy sensation in the pit of my stomach. Tegan was definitely mad again. Which so wasn’t fair, since she hardly ever caught the bus home anyway – it was usually her abandoning me.

  ‘Come on,’ Spence said. ‘I have to pick up some assignments from my office first.’

  It felt strange to walk back into the empty school. The quiet halls were almost spooky. Spence’s office was as quiet and airy as the rest of the school.

  ‘I wanted to thank you for Saturday,’ Spence said, as he rummaged around his desk. ‘It meant a lot to Mum. She worries. She and Colette can’t be in a room together for five minutes without one of them setting the other off.’

  I didn’t really know what to say. It wasn’t as if Spence had given me a choice, but he was talking like I’d done him some big favour.

  He gathered together the pile of stapled assignments and slipped them into a plastic folder. ‘So did you . . . ?’ he started casually, and then trailed off.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I was wondering if my little visit had come up, you know, with Colette.’

  ‘Do you mean did I dob?’ I asked. ‘No! Of course not.’

  ‘Sorry. Of course you didn’t.’ Spence met my eyes. ‘To tell you the truth, Saturday meant a lot to me too.’