I shudder and drain my glass. ‘We should keep going,’ I say. ‘Thanks for the drink, Muriel.’
***
After Richard and I have knocked on the door of every home in Fairyland, I walk to the pavilion, thinking about Dad. There’s an exercise book open on one of the plastic tables. I flip through it. Some of it’s scribbled notes on all the jobs he’s heard back from – people and numbers and dates and when he thinks he can follow up. The other pages are just rows and rows of dollar amounts and I can’t tell if it’s what he’s lost or won or a mix of both. Maybe neither, just a hopeless attempt at projecting something he thinks he can control.
I grit my teeth and shut the notebook. Compartmentalise. Compartmentalise.
‘Stell?’
I startle. It’s Dad.
‘How’s Jube?’ I ask.
‘He’s got to stay in there for a bit, but he’s okay. We got him there in time.’
I nod. I pass him the notebook and sit down on a chair, wondering if he’ll sit down next to me and try to explain what he’s written. Or what he’s feeling. Or anything. He slowly turns around and heads out into the damp dusk. I watch as he walks across Fairyland, pausing for a bit too long before he goes into our home.
I sit there for a little while longer, trying to work out what I’m feeling. Then I hear grunting and banging coming from around the back of the building and I warily peer out the door.
It’s Matthew, ripping at the long grass with his bare hands. There’s a sort of furious energy about him that makes me catch my breath.
‘Matt?’ I say.
He pauses and takes a deep breath. After a moment he wipes his nose and sits down, his chest heaving.
‘What if you get bitten, too?’ I ask. ‘Get out of there.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Come inside.’
He stands up. He’s soaked through his grass-covered t-shirt, but it’s hard to tell whether it’s from sweat or rain.
‘You alright?’
We sit with our backs against the wall of the pavilion.
‘It’s my fault he got bitten.’ He swallows. ‘He was in so much pain. He screamed the whole way to the vet.’
‘He’s going to be fine. Dad just told me.’
‘But he was in agony.’ Matthew closes his eyes. ‘I was going to do the grass yesterday, but I didn’t. I was lazy and Jube copped it because of me.’
‘It’s just one of those things. It’s not your fault.’
‘It is. It’s my responsibility and I blew it.’
‘You’re a kid! It’s your dad’s responsibility, not yours.’ I want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him so badly that I sit on my hands. ‘It’s not on you.’
‘It is.’
‘It’s not!’ I roll my eyes. ‘It’s egocentric to think that it’s your fault. You don’t want to be egocentric, do you?’
‘Ego what?’
My phone buzzes and I look down at it. Clem, asking how the dog is. I put it away without replying and poke Matthew in the leg. ‘He’s going to live because you guys got him to the vet. And Muriel was telling me how you make sure he’s vaccinated and flea-ed and wormed and everything. Those things matter. That’s the stuff that counts – not that he went nosing around where he shouldn’t have and got bitten.’
Matthew rests his head in his hands. ‘What if it had been a kid?’
‘It still wouldn’t be your fault, Matt!’
‘See? Stell’s got it right.’ Ginny and Richard come into the pavilion and sit down next to us. Ginny hands around cans of soft drink, cold from the fridge. She wipes her mouth and knocks her leg against Matthew’s. ‘It’s not your fault, you idiot.’
‘It is.’
Richard sighs. He’s got the cash tin next to him and I tap it with my finger. ‘We got enough yet?’
He shakes his head. ‘But we will. Everyone loves Jube.’
Matthew groans. ‘God. Asking people for money this close to Christmas. And it’s all my fault.’
Ginny leans in very close to him. ‘I’m about this close to knocking you out and waking you up in a few weeks when everything’s sorted, you know? Give yourself a break.’
‘I did this to him.’
‘A snake did this to him,’ Richard says, shrugging. ‘Not the snake’s fault either, actually. It was just being a snake. You know whose fault it is? Really?’
‘Whose?’ Matt asks quietly, glancing sideways at Richard as though he very badly wants to be convinced.
‘The guy who up and left Jube here. The one who called him Psycho. He didn’t know we’d take care of Jube. He didn’t know Jube would hang around here and sleep in people’s homes. He just left him for dead and didn’t even care. It’s his fault.’
‘And your dad’s,’ Ginny mutters.
Matthew shakes his head. He’s covered in flecks of grass. ‘I was sleeping.’
Ginny sighs. ‘What?’
‘Yesterday. I was going to do the grass, but I fell asleep. I only meant to sleep for ten minutes, you know? But I slept the whole afternoon.’
‘Because you work your arse off here every day and your dad keeps you up at night with all his yelling and ranting,’ Ginny says.
‘I fell asleep and Jube could’ve died. A kid could’ve died.’
Ginny stands up. ‘That’s it – I’ve had it. It’s been a really long day and I’m knackered. Matt, you’re an idiot. Richard, good job on the money. Stella, good luck with Matt.’ She disappears out into the night.
Next to me, Matthew presses his palms to his eyes and takes a deep breath.
Richard runs a finger around the edge of the money tin. ‘It’s all fine, Matt.’
‘It’s not, though.’
Richard glances outside. ‘I’d better get back to Mum. She gets worried after dark. I’ll see you guys later.’
‘See ya,’ I say.
Matt trembles next to me.
‘It’s all okay.’
Matthew’s dad is calling for him, but he doesn’t think to check in the pavilion.
Matthew holds his head and, as his father’s voice recedes, he starts to cry. Silently, his whole body shuddering. He cries and cries. I think about all the things he’s trying to manage and I guess it sort of makes sense that this had been enough to skitter him past breaking point. Particularly when he doesn’t have a reading list of self-help books to fall back on.
I open my mouth to say something, to fix things. But I realise that nothing I say to Matthew right now will make a difference. Nothing I’ve read about, anyway.
Instead, I lean my head on his shoulder and don’t say anything at all.
CHAPTER TEN
Later that night, Mum, Taylor and I watch a reality television show that I can’t stand. I sit with them anyway. I want to get some snacks, but know Taylor will yell at me if I make too much noise while she’s watching High Life.
‘I heard about that dog,’ Mum says. ‘Poor thing.’
‘Dad found him,’ I say. I can’t stop thinking about Matthew. I’d sat with him for an hour, until he’d stopped crying and his breathing had returned to normal. I’d asked if he wanted to do something, go to the river, or go get some food. I’d even asked him back home, where I knew one of us would have to sit on the floor of the annex because there aren’t enough chairs. He’d shaken his head and disappeared. I keep craning my neck to look out the window, although it’s too dark and wet to see anything even if he did happen to wander past.