Dad comes out of the bunkroom. ‘Stell?’
‘Everybody just pretends it’s alright and it’s not.’
Dad walks over and sits down next to me. ‘I’m sure Matthew knows people are there if he needs them.’
‘He shouldn’t have to put up with that, though! He shouldn’t put up with people pretending it’s all okay.’
‘People aren’t pretending,’ Dad says. He pats Jube’s head. ‘They just don’t know what to do.’
‘Did your dad do that to you?’ I pull my knees up against my chest. ‘The yelling and stuff?’
Dad pauses and I hear him sigh. I think he won’t answer. Can’t answer. ‘Yeah,’ he says finally. ‘Yeah. Yelling and a lot worse.’
‘A lot worse?’
‘He used to hit me. Lock me up in my room. Throw me out.’
‘I’m so sorry, Dad.’
He shrugs. ‘What’s done is done.’
‘That’s a stupid thing to say. Did people help you?’
‘No. People didn’t think it was their business.’
‘Did you know they were there, though? If you needed them?’
Dad sighs again. ‘No. I didn’t.’
***
The next day, I don’t see Matthew around Fairyland and I want to see him. I want to help him. At around ten, I go to the manager’s door and knock.
Matthew’s father answers it. He’s wearing a faded shirt and torn shorts and narrows his eyes at me, like everything’s too bright and hard this early in the morning.
‘Yeah?’ he says.
‘Just wondering if Matt’s in?’
He studies me and then stands back from the door. ‘First door down the hallway on the left.’
I hesitate, but he’s already disappeared into another room where a television’s loudly playing. I stand there wondering what to do. Then I push the door more fully open and go inside, leaving it unlocked behind me.
The house is sparsely furnished with old tables and chairs with uneven legs. I go down the hallway and knock on the first door. ‘Matt? It’s Stella.’
I push the door open. The room is empty. I lean against the chest of drawers on the opposite wall from the bed. The room’s the most depressing I’ve ever been in, including the seashell-encrusted one I’m currently sharing with Taylor. There’s only the bed, his clothes and this chest. There aren’t any posters or sports equipment; no funny little figurines left over from childhood or a desk cluttered with schoolbooks and a laptop.
I leave and it’s not until I’m outside again that I realise I’ve been holding my breath. I eventually find Matthew out the back of the pub, in the sheltered place by the kitchen.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asks flatly.
‘Making sure you’re okay. I couldn’t find you anywhere.’
‘I’m fine,’ he says.
‘I stopped by your house. You don’t have a lot of stuff.’
‘I leave everything at school,’ he says, not looking at me. His heel drums against the faded grey lino on the floor. ‘I organised it with Ms Huang. It’s just easier that way.’
‘My dad’s got a job,’ I say. ‘Can’t remember whether I told you or not.’
Matthew relaxes. ‘He does?’
‘In sales, at a camping store. Who knows how long it’ll last, but Mum’s rapt.’
‘That’s good. That’s great.’ Matthew rubs at his cheek.
‘It’s not okay, you know,’ I say. ‘Your dad yelling at you like that all the time.’
‘Having people telling me how bad it is doesn’t actually help me,’ he grumbles. ‘This is my life, okay? And it could be much worse. He never touches me. He’s never hurt me.’
‘He is hurting you, though. Just because he’s not hitting you doesn’t mean it’s okay. He shouldn’t treat you like that. It’s not right.’
‘What should I do, Stella? Tell me. What should I do?’
I open my mouth and close it again. ‘Tell the police. Tell Child Protection.’
‘There’s nothing to tell. He’s never hurt me. You’re blowing all this way out of proportion.’
‘But it’s wrong!’
‘It’s my life! It is what it is. I don’t want to talk about this anymore, okay? He’s my dad and he’s not perfect, but I know a lot of guys who get really bashed by their dads, you know? Like, really hurt. Actually hurt. I’m lucky.’
‘You’re not lucky!’
We stare at each other and finally I sigh.
‘Alright. I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything. I just want to help you and I don’t know how.’
Matthew blows out a long breath. ‘It’s fine that you said all that, Stell. It is. You don’t have to help everyone, you know? Just . . . being there is enough.’
‘I don’t know that it is.’
‘It is,’ says Matt. He tips his head, looks at me almost beseechingly. ‘And, anyway. He doesn’t mean them. The things he says. Not really.’
***
That night, Taylor tells me that she’s a shopkeeper and if I try to nick any more lipstick, she’ll have to call her supervisor. I manage to keep her in bed by apologising profusely.
I don’t feel like I sleep, but I must, because the next thing I know it’s morning and I can hear the radio playing. Mum has started going to Mass at the local church. I know she’d like Taylor and me to go with her, but we never do. This Sunday she takes her time getting ready. ‘You sure you don’t want to come?’
‘Yeah, Mum,’ I say. ‘I’m sure.’
If she’s disappointed, she doesn’t show it. I watch as she clatters out of the annex in her nice shirt and leather heels. I feel pretty awful about letting her go alone.
I force down a bit of toast and go out to look for Matthew. Fairyland is alive with the sounds of crickets and bees and blowflies. I end up out the front of Trisha’s with a mug of rosehip tea and a handful of squashed lamington.
‘My friend Nora sent me some books! The library where she works is updating their collection. It’s a very fancy place, you know. She sends me pictures. And . . .’
‘How’d you end up here, Trisha? With Reg, I mean.’
Trisha bites into a lamington and dusts the flakes off herself. ‘Difficult thing to unpack, really. I suppose because I fell in love with the wrong sort of man.’
‘You’re in love with Reg?’
She snorts. ‘No! No. Not Reg, no. But this man . . . I would’ve done anything for him. I gave him a lot more money than I should’ve. He had a business he wanted to start up, you know? And then he got behind on his rent – our rent, by then. I don’t know. Lots of reasons, Stella. But I’m happy to be here. I am. I lived in my car for a while. That was tough. And then it got impounded. No. Much better here.’
‘Why didn’t anyone help him?’ I ask.
Trisha frowns at me. ‘What?’
‘When Matthew was getting abused last night. Everyone just pretended like nothing was happening. It’s not right.’