Everything We Keep, Di Walker [best pdf reader for ebooks txt] 📗

chest near the window, so full that they couldn’t close.

Agatha sat on her spot. She pulled her feet up under her and sat back into the sunken seat of the sofa. This room had not changed. No matter how hard they tried, this room never changed for the better. ‘I see there’s a few more vases, and shoes, and all these containers,’ she said to Nell, who was still standing in the hallway entrance to the sitting room, as if strategically plotting the way she will get through the room to continue on to the kitchen.

‘How can you tell?’ Nell asked as she looked around the room.

‘I know every inch of this room,’ Agatha said as she stood up. ‘Let’s keep going. They’ll be out the back.’

Weaving and winding, they both made their way through the kitchen, Agatha pointing silently to the sink that had been cleaned, ready to be used. She also noticed that the food packaging that was being saved for reuse had also been removed. The kitchen smelled freshly cleaned, a smell she was not used to in this house.

Through the kitchen and out the back door, Agatha found her parents, both sitting in their chairs, as if enjoying the early afternoon.

Neither looked up.

‘Hi,’ Agatha said.

Her mum turned her head and looked at Agatha. ‘You’re back. Have you had a nice holiday?’ Her mother’s voice was the same. No sense of malice. No anger. Just a soft little voice, greeting her daughter after her ‘holiday’.

‘It wasn’t a holiday, Edith,’ Nell chipped in. ‘You know it wasn’t a holiday.’

‘We’ve been cleaning up. Cleaning up. Ready for you to come home.’ Her mother had turned back to the small pile of junk mail that she was smoothing out, one leaflet at a time. When sufficiently smoothed, she placed it carefully on a growing pile on a small table next to her chair. ‘Agatha’s home, Karl. Aggie’s here.’

Agatha’s father had not looked up. He was pulling apart a radio, one of hundreds from his shed or the from the back veranda. He seemed too engrossed in what he was doing to notice anyone, let alone Agatha.

Edith’s hands kept smoothing, one after another. ‘I can make you a cup of tea if you want. Something to eat?’

‘No thanks Mum. Nell got me something on the way. It’s good to see you.’ Her mother didn’t reply. Agatha stepped closer to her mother and gently touched the top of her once dark hair, that was now predominantly grey. She smoothed a small part before Edith pulled away, as if irritated by the gesture of tenderness.

Agatha looked past her parents to the back yard. It had hardly changed. The grass had been mowed in patches, but it was basically the same. No place for a child to play. From the back veranda, Agatha could see over the neighbours’ fences on both sides. She knew they could see what was happening on this side of the fence too. Agatha’s parents were now the type of people that no one wanted to have next door.

‘I have to go,’ Nell said. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow, and the day after to check on Agatha.’ Edith and Karl didn’t respond. Smoothing and tinkering. Smoothing and tinkering.

Agatha moved back inside, weaving her way to the front door. Nell was close behind, her own footsteps tracing Agatha’s.

‘Did you notice that Dad didn’t speak to me?’ she asked Nell. ‘He blames me you know.’

‘I know he does. But it wasn’t your fault. We all know it wasn’t your fault. You were seven years old.’

‘How long do I have to stay here for?’

Nell sighed. ‘They wanted you back, Agatha. The court said if they cleaned up your room, they could have you back.’

‘You didn’t answer the question.’

‘Until you’re fifteen. Then you get to decide. But I . . . ’

‘I know. There’s nowhere for me to go anyway.’

Agatha’s head dropped down. When she raised it again Nell could see her eyes were filled with tears. ‘Don’t leave me here, please. I love them, Nell, I really do but I can’t live here,’ her voice was small, pleading. ‘Please. Take me back to Katherine and to Chief.’

Nell rearranged the sunglasses that had been perched on her head and shook her hair, blinking away her own tears. ‘Right now, today, I can’t. I’m sorry.’

Agatha raised her arm and wiped her own face with the sleeve of her shirt, nodded silently and turned away. Leaving Nell alone at the open front door, Agatha stepped carefully to her bedroom door, opened it and without turning back, closed it behind her.

3

Inside her room, Agatha picked up the orange suitcase and laid it carefully on her bed. Opening the locks, then unzipping it, first one way then the other, she lifted the lid and slowly picked up the t-shirt that was sitting on the very top. She smoothed it with her hand and walked towards the wardrobe. The mirrors on the tall sliding doors had been hurriedly cleaned. She could see some of the streaks left behind. It wouldn’t have been her mother, she knew that.

Sliding the door gently open, she could see that the cleaning up of her room hadn’t extended to the interior of her wardrobe. It was still packed full of clothes that had not even been bought for her. Most were from op shops or from the discount bins at the cheaper department stores.

She turned back to the bed and returned the t-shirt to the suitcase, checking that the other items were still perfectly arranged. Her hand gently picked up the small photo book that she and Katherine had made, photos of their summer. Agatha couldn’t open it, not yet. She slipped it into the side pocket of the suitcase. At the very bottom, under the other clean and freshly clothes Katherine had bought her, were the jeans and the floral purse. Agatha closed the lid and zipped it up, lifted it carefully and knelt to slide it under her bed.

She stood for