The Good Sister(51)

‘What the hell happened?’

Wally and I stagger to our feet. I had finally stopped shaking, but I suddenly start again. Rose looks so angry.

‘We went out for dinner,’ I say.

‘In a restaurant? You know you can’t handle that environment.’ She looks at Wally. ‘You know she has sensory processing issues, don’t you? She’s hypersensitive to sound and light and touch.’

‘And smell,’ I add.

She looks back at me, as if seeing me for the first time. ‘What on earth are you wearing?’

‘Goggles. There was no-one else at the restaurant–’

‘Well, evidently there was! Jesus. Fern, let’s just get out of here.’ Rose looks into the restaurant, at the waitress who is having a good gawk at us through the window. ‘Have you paid the bill?’

I look at Wally.

‘Not yet,’ he says. ‘I was . . . distracted. I’ll do it now.’

‘For god’s sake, I’ll do it.’ Rose stalks into the restaurant, unzipping her purse. ‘The last thing we need is for you to be arrested.’

Wally stands up, but by the time he is on his feet she is already gone. He looks at me. ‘I’m so sorry, Fern.’

‘No, I’m sorry.’

He shakes his head. ‘I . . . I had no idea it would be so . . .’

‘Difficult.’

‘Yeah. Difficult.’

There is a brief silence when no cars drive past.

‘Why can’t I just be normal?’ I whisper.

‘You are. It’s everyone else who are weirdos.’

We smile at each other sadly. After a moment, Rose comes out of the restaurant. ‘Say your goodbyes,’ she says, taking me by the arm and putting me into the passenger seat of her car. It feels so different from Wally opening the door to me earlier. Then, I felt like a woman. Now I feel like a child.

As we pull away, Wally gives me a weak smile. I can’t help but smile back. He is still wearing his goggles.





JOURNAL OF ROSE INGRID CASTLE


We drove to the campsite in Daniel’s car, listening to the Traveling Wilburys. Fern and I didn’t know the band, but we picked up the words quickly and it was actually kind of fun, all of us singing along like that. Daniel had sweets in the console that he passed back at intervals to Fern and Billy, who ate them eagerly. He also had cans of Coca-Cola. I still remember him holding out the red can for one of us to grab and Fern and me staring at it. We’d never drunk Coke. It wasn’t just because of my diabetes. Mum said it was full of chemicals that would rot our teeth and give us cancer. But there was Daniel, offering us a can, waggling it impatiently, waiting for one of us to take it.

I could have blamed my blood sugar, but something told me that would be the wrong thing to do. I saw Fern open her mouth to say something – probably that Mum didn’t like us drinking Coke – so I quickly beat her to it.

‘Thank you, Daniel,’ I jumped in, taking the can.

Mum caught my eye and I knew I did good. Different rules for different situations, that was her mantra.

Still, neither of us drank the Coke.

We arrived at the campsite before dark and unpacked in a flurry ‘before we lose the light’. Like the drive, I quite enjoyed it – the feeling of being part of something, working together as a team. Us against the light.

Fern and I set up our own tent with impressive speed, mostly because Fern had memorised the instructions. We finished so quickly that we were also able to help Mum and Daniel pitch their tent (which was much more complex) and then collect a huge pile of kindling before dark. (Billy set up his own tent, then sat on a log while the rest of us worked.) Daniel commented that Fern and I were ‘born for camping’ while Billy was ‘born for laziness’ and Mum smiled a lot – even when Daniel wasn’t looking.

Once the tents were set up, Daniel cooked some sausages and corn on the cob over a little camping stove and we ate them with bread sitting around the camp fire. Afterward, Mum and Daniel disappeared into their tent, so Fern and I went to ours. We had just got settled when we heard the rustling of twigs outside the tent. We didn’t even have time to exchange a glance before the zip lowered and Billy’s face appeared in the gap. ‘Anyone for poker?’

Fern and I broke into a chorus of gasps and shushes. ‘We’ll get in trouble!’ I cried, horrified and, if I’m honest, a bit exhilarated. Mum and Daniel’s tent was just metres away and Mum’s hearing was ridiculous. At home, Fern and I had learned how to have entirely soundless conversations by mouthing words for this exact reason. But if Billy was afraid of being reprimanded, he hid it well. He crawled into our tent, a torch in one hand, a deck of cards in the other.

‘They won’t hear us. They’ve already sunk a bottle and a half of wine.’ He reached outside the tent and retrieved a can of beer. ‘But they didn’t drink this.’

‘What are you doing?’ I whispered. ‘Put that back!’

He opened the can and took a swig. Fern and I were scandalised.

‘They’ll know,’ I cried. ‘You’ll get into trouble.’

He shrugged. ‘So, are we playing?’

I looked at Fern, whose eyes were cautious.

‘How do you play?’ I asked.