The Goddess In Blue Gumboots

A Chapter by Ruth

A feminist fantasy novel set in the bush of Southwest Western Australia.

Chapter 1

Mandy, with great apprehension, stared from under hooded-eyes and lowered head, at the surrounding bush, the fruit trees, the pine-covered hills, the proteas set out in rows and the glorious flower gardens surrounding the small brown weatherboard cottage set high along a ridge between two lush green valleys.

The protea paddock ran in terraces along the north-facing slope beyond the new corrugated-iron packing shed, and the peach trees glowed in soft pink against the compliment of the distant green pasture on the next property where cows rested, contentedly chewing their cud.

Work, that's what she wants. Work me to death like that last place. Board and lodging in exchange for cooking, cleaning, picking fruit, picking flowers and god knows what else. There will be no babysitting and that's a relief. Plenty of fresh air and space too. No men to touch me up. She might, she looks all right. Got a nice smile and she raised her eyebrows at me while old Pittsy rabbited on.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of her bedroom, fresh white and yellow, yellow, her favourite colour; the colour of wattle and sunshine, sunflowers and the moon, the colour of freedom. Creamy-coloured freesias stood in a small vase on the dressing table, their perfume mingling with the smell of jasmine drifting through the open window.

I'll chuck that stupid yellow teddy bear for starters. What does she think I am - a f*****g kid or something?

In the white bookcases stood loads of books, books she loved and legally possessed only one in her short life. Other books she stole and destroyed before moving to another place. They knew every single thing she possessed, consisting of nothing much; two sets of school clothes, two pairs of jeans, a pair of sneakers and five sets of newly update underwear, a gift from the Australian taxpayer and a tatty old bible, blue leather with a zip, from some busy-body do-gooder. She read it nonetheless, particularly the Psalms.

And a desk! And a computer! What? Me use a computer? You must be joking? Me? Wicked, dumb me? Computers are for kids with brains. You've no brains Mandy Riley. You're stupid. You're no-good as well. She probably uses this room as her office.

Ana Bellamy watched Mandy's hungry eyes search the white and yellow room. She watched the glow in her green eyes brighten, then dull, then brighten again, dependent entirely on whether negative or positive thoughts ran through her quick mind. The corners of her wide mouth would momentarily twitch, still for a moment, before being replaced by the customary scowl.

Am I making a mistake? Can I cope with this girl? What does she need? What do I say? Will she talk to me? Look at all that untidy scraggly hair and hunched shoulders, clenched eczema-encrusted hands and bitten-down fingernails. Can I go through with this? What am I doing? I must have rocks in my head.

***

Don't show anything Mandy Riley. Don't let them see. I'll last as long as I can before I stuff up. I'll work hard and get my jobs done quickly. The nights will be okay. The house is small so not much inside work to do and there are only two people to cook for. If I don't have too much school homework, I'll read all those books, one every night. I'll be angelic till I finish them. The computer's not for me to use. I won't even look at it. It's probably hers. She'll take it away. She'll probably take the books away too.

'Well, Mandy what do you think? Would you like to make your home here with me?' asked Ana Bellamy wondering if this is what she, herself, wanted or could cope with.

I can't say anything. My mouth's gone all dry and my hearts banging so hard I can hardly breathe. I'm going to choke.

'Hurry up, girl. Answer when you're spoken too.'

'Be quiet, Mr Pitt and leave this to me,' interjected Ana.

'I beg your pardon?'

'You may. Please leave me to talk to Mandy.'

Ana frowned at the case officer with whom earlier spats resulted in the bad feeling between them. Knowing he had lost all credibility with this uppity woman at their last interview when he tried to persuade her to foster a less recalcitrant child, he retreated to his car.

They deserve each other, these two. A couple of right b*****s. Probably end up killing each other. Serve them bloody right.

'Now, Mandy, what do you think now that man's out of earshot?'

What? She didn't say that, she didn't. She's a snotty doctor, he said. Doctors don't talk like that. Do they? I don't know any. They don't move in my circle.

Mandy giggled and, putting her hand over her mouth, looked embarrassed.

I never let people see me giggle. Not the proper thing for a violent, bad-tempered, sullen, wicked, no-good s**t to do.

'Well, Mandy?'

Play it cool, Mandy Riley. Play it cool. Don't let her see you're keen. What do I say? Yes? I don't know? I'd like to? No? No! Definitely not no. I can't speak. My mouth's all dried up.

A prolonged silence remained until Mandy made a faltering attempt to answer.

Sweet Jesus. I croaked. I croaked. Like a frog. Like a f*****g frog. She must think I'm stupid. I don't want her to think I'm stupid. Everyone thinks I'm stupid. I am stupid. I bloody croaked. Like a f*****g frog.

'Here's some water, Mandy,' said Ana poring clear rainwater into a glass from the carafe on the bedside table and handing it to Mandy added, 'Didn't Mr Pitt stop for a drink on the way down?'

Mandy swallowed the proffered water in three long gulps.

That’s right Mandy Riley, behave like a pig and she'll change her mind. Pittsy said I wouldn't last five minutes.

'Well, you were thirsty? Would you like another drink, Mandy?'

Without resorting to another trial at speech, she nodded her untidy brown head.

Speak you stupid fool. She'll think you dumb as well as dumb.

Her face muscles twitched as the giggle rose again.

'Mandy, you intrigue me. I've been told you are rude and sullen but I feel you want to laugh. If you want to laugh, then please feel free. Then you can tell me what's funny. I like to laugh sometimes too. Come into the kitchen and we'll sit down while you tell me.'

You've done it this time, Mandy Riley. She reads you like a book. Books. All those wonderful books here in my bedroom. Yes! My bedroom.

'Look here Mrs… Ms… uh…Missus Doctor… Yes, yes I want to stay… Oh s**t! I didn't mean to say that.' Mandy started to cry and she cried and cried and cried. Firstly, she soaked the red gingham tablecloth in the bright kitchen and then Ana's blue T-shirted- shoulder.

What's this? Why am I crying? I don't cry. Mandy Riley never cries. Mandy never feels a thing. Hard through and through, that's what she is. I don’t want to cry. I want to stay here and I can, so why am I crying and I'm crying all over the doctor's shoulder and it's nice. No-one's put their arm around me since my mum went to prison and that was only my mum hanging on so she wouldn't fall over. Better than nothing. At least she needed me. Wonder how my mum is? I'd write a letter to her in prison if she could read it. I'd need some paper. I could tear some from my schoolbooks. Perhaps someone could read it to her. I wouldn't know what to say. The doctor might help me write it. What am I thinking? If she knew my mum was in prison, she'd send me away. Probably think I'm a crim too. Well I am, I suppose. I'm an unpaid labourer too. I'd better keep crying so she doesn't take her arm away. It's been years since anyone touched me except dirty old men. They don't count. This is nice. If I stop crying she'll take her arm away and I don't want her to. Only babies cry. Okay so I'm a baby. So I'll keep crying. Oh God! She's taken her arm away. She's taken it away. She doesn't like me. She hates me. She knows I'm no good. I'm no good. No one likes me.

'Come on Mandy, enough is enough. Mr Pitt is waiting on your decision and you'll become dehydrated if you keep this up.'

'I don't want you take your arm away. I want you to hug me. No one ever hugs me.'

Shut up, Mandy Riley. What are you saying? Don't let them see. Don't say anything. Then they'll know. They'll know how to twist the knife deeper.

Mandy felt arms gathering her in and she clung desperately like a cat with its claws tangled. She felt fingers smooth her tangled hair and tears on her forehead.

Why is my forehead wet? She's crying. I heard her gasp. Why's she crying? Has someone hurt her too? What's she got to cry about?

'Why are you crying?' asked Mandy concerned. She'd never seen a grown-up cry except on television and that doesn't count. Only other kids and, when no one was looking, she did, but that doesn't count either.

'I'm crying for your unhappiness, Mandy.'

'But why, what do you want to cry for me for?'

'Because I want to and if I want to cry for you I shall,' answered Ana, somewhat lost for explanations.

'Oh!'

'The time has arrived for you to make some decisions, Mandy. Are you quite sure you wish to stay here? At least we can both give it a try and work at getting on together. I would like you to stay. Do you want to stay?'

'Oh, yes please, Missus Doctor.'

What's this please business, Mandy Riley? You know the rules. No pleases and thank yous. These people just want to use you, so don't grovel. They win in this bargain: so don't crawl.

'I am pleased, Mandy. If we are both prepared to work together I am sure we shall enjoy our life here. Do you need to return to Perth for any reason?

'Only to get my things.'

'Would you like to stay on here now and have your things sent down here to Majenup or would you prefer to return to Perth to collect them?' We can even ask Mr Pitt to collect your things. It is possible he may not like that much but we won't allow that to worry us overmuch.'

This time Mandy giggled out loud, infectious giggles that convulsed her whole body causing her hands to unclench and her eyes to widen. Suddenly she stopped and dropped her lip.

'Please Mandy, do not do that.'

'What?'

'Scowl, Mandy. You can giggle and laugh as much as you like but for goodness sake stop scowling, otherwise you will commence looking like Mr Pitt. You look beautiful when you smile.'

She said I look beautiful. No one's ever said I even look nice. She's just saying it. She doesn't mean it. Why would she say a thing like that? She's nice when she smiles too. I don't have to go back to that place. Good. I suppose she wants me to start work. That's okay too.

***

'She hasn't any belongings with her and the formalities need to be attended to, Doctor Bellamy.'

'Forget the formalities for a moment, Mr Pitt. Mandy and I shall drive to Manjimup this afternoon and I shall buy what she needs. You go back to Perth and deal with your formalities, whatever they may be. Send her things back here to Majenup, and the formalities, or bring them if you wish.'

'You'll need to arrange her admission to the Majenup School or would you prefer the Department did this?'

'I'll deal with all that is required for Mandy and would prefer if your Department interfered as little as possible. She seems to me to one very severely damaged young woman who needs some care. I wish to provide this care, Mr Pitt, if it is okay with your Department.

'I suppose so.'

I can hardly say no when you pulled strings at the top to foster a kid. Why you want this monster beats me, you stuck up b***h, and I sincerely hope Amanda Ngatunga Riley gives you the hardest time you've ever had. I'm not your lackey, used to other people doing all your work for you. Probably what you want the kid for, to do all the work. They usually do.

***

'Quiche and salad for lunch, Mandy, will that suit you?'

'I don't know how to make a quiche. I'm good at salads though.'

'I am not asking you to make it, Mandy. It's in the fridge already made. I planned to invite Mr Pitt for lunch but every time I see that man I become quite angry so I couldn't bring myself to offer the invitation.'

The woman and girl ate their lunch outside on a picnic table under the shade of the grapevine-covered trellis, the leaves new and fresh green. Each eyed the other covertly and after a few attempts at conversation by Ana, they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, the refinements of conversation being an unknown art to Mandy.

What have I done? This is terrible. Mealtimes can't be like this. Dinner at night will be the main problem. I could buy a television I suppose. We could gaze at it while we eat. How awful. I enjoy my mealtime read or just thinking while I eat. I really must do something about this eczema. Unethical to treat her myself, I suppose. A dermatologist. I'll take her down to the Well Women Clinic in Manjimup and they can refer her on.

***

I like quiche. I suppose I'll have to cook it in future, eggs, tomatoes, cheese, bacon, onions. The pastry's out of a packet. I make better pastry than this. I hope she owns a food processor. It's easy with a food processor. Good food, lots of it. Real orange juice too. Just for me. Out of a big glass jug in the fridge, I can drink what I want, she said. I'll have to squeeze it I suppose. All sorts of fruit too, I can eat what I want, she said. Chocolate biscuits too, only to be eaten with permission, she said. Ha! We'll see about that. I wonder if she counts them. Asked about my hands. Wanted to know what the doctor prescribed. Nothing, that's what. What doctor? She's a doctor. She might help my skin get better. No one takes me to a doctor anymore. They wouldn't dare after the last time they tried. I wonder if she'll make me cook porridge for breakfast, like in the home. I hate porridge. Gluey stodge. And porridge pots. Yuk.

Ana breathed a sigh of relief when the last piece of crusty bread disappeared and the orange juice jug emptied.

At least she can eat. There is no problem in that regard. She may have massive problems but anorexia is not one of them. I wish she talked as well as she eats, well not quite so well perhaps.

'I think we should wash the dishes and head off to Manjimup to buy what you need.'

Mandy jumped to her feet, deftly packed all the dishes on the tray and headed off in the direction of the kitchen before Ana could finish speaking and move.

'I will wash, you dry, Mandy. I don't want you putting your hands in water unnecessarily.'

'What do you mean? How'll I'll do the washing, cleaning and stuff?' asked Mandy trying to balance a tray of dirty plates on a round wobbly plastic tray as she stopped to look back in amazement as Ana pushed her chair back under the table and set off to follow her.

'Who said anything about washing and cleaning?'

'But what do you want me for, Missus…uh…doctor? Is it the outside work?

'All I want is for you to be happy here, Mandy. I want you to laugh, smile, talk, and play. I want you to go to school to learn and make friends. Otherwise, you can do as you wish. You can walk amongst the trees and invite friends home. You can help me if you want to. You must keep your room clean and tidy though, and set the table for meals. Help with the washing up afterwards.'

'And that's all?

'Yes, Mandy, that's all.'

'No cooking?' Mandy gave up trying to balance the tray in her small hands and set it back on the edge of the table.

'No cooking.'

'Oh.'

'Why the sad face? Do you want to cook, Mandy?'

'Yes please. I love cooking. I make great pastry. Better than that packet stuff on the quiche. I hate making porridge though. Do I have to make porridge?'

'Mandy, it is not necessary for you to make, eat, or do anything you don't wish to do except go to school, look after your room and yourself and try to fit in with me.'

I don't believe her. I just don't believe her. There's a catch somewhere. What does she want from me.'

But why? I don't understand why?'

'Why what, Mandy?

'Why I'm here?'

'Because I want you here and you obviously need a home.'

'But why?'

That is the very thing I've been asking myself since I embarked on this venture, and what everyone else asks me as well, I wish I knew. Mandy's a very suspicious child. I can't answer her questions. I'm not lonely. I like my aloneness. Now that's gone. Is there some altruistic motive? Am I seeking to establish some sort of family to counterbalance my childless home? Am I frustrated do-gooder. Who knows? I don't. I haven't answered her question, and I need to answer. What do I say?

***

Why doesn't she answer me? Is she afraid to tell me? Does she think I'll get angry and bash her? Did they tell her about old Ma Tomlinson? What does the f*****g b***h want from me? Jesus, f*****g Christ! I'd rather slog my guts out and get bashed around. At least I know where I am with that… but this… Sweet Jesus… it's like dangling in mid air … no f*****g ground beneath my feet … nothing I can grab hold of.

'I don't know, Mandy. I really don't know.'

Of course, she f*****g knows. Does she think I'm f*****g stupid or something? Just have to wait and see. Be careful Mandy Riley. You're on unknown ground here. Just be f*****g careful.

'What do I do when I'm not at school then?'

'Whatever you want to, Mandy.'

'You said that before. You must want me for something.'

Cool it, Mandy Riley. Just cool it. You're blowing it. Shut up. I'll blow it if I like.

'Everyone wants something from me even if it's just to kick me. Nobody gives me anything for nothing. Nobody and that includes you, you f*****g b***h. What do you want? What do you f*****g want from me?' Mandy stood angrily by the table, her small hands bunched in tight fists on her bony hips, then gathering up the tray she headed into the kitchen and started unloading the dishes.

Ana flinched with the hate the words implied; the rage within their volume, as she followed Mandy into the house. She commenced washing the dishes in silence after handing Mandy the tea-towel.

What have I done? What do I do? How do I cope with this? She's a little tyrant, a spitfire, a child from hell. Mr Pitt was right. What on earth do I do with her? What have I done?

Mandy dried the last glass carefully and placed it in the cupboard, straightened the tea-towel on the rail, walked out of the kitchen and stood at the doorway of her bedroom.

Goodbye room. Too good to be true. You fucked up big time this time, Mandy Riley. Last placement, they said. Botch this one and it's the home till you get a job or go to prison and out of our hair. Three long years to go in that hellhole. S**t! S**t! S**t!

'Go and have a shower, Mandy. Perhaps a shower will make you feel better before we go out.'

Thinks I'm dirty does she? Send me back clean, I suppose. Be a good girl and be clean, Mandy Riley. What the hell, I love showers, next best thing to chocolate. Only had a short one this morning, the hot water ran out again. Nice smelly soap. It's a nice bathroom, all clean and modern. The house is really old, a nice comfy house though. It has a nice feel. Lots of lovely hot water and big thick warm towels. Wish I could nick one. The home's ones are rough and thin. The powder smells nice, same smell as the soap. I'll put some on. She won't notice. Will think it's the soap. Feels good, I love the smoothness of the powder on my skin and I love the smell. Smells like her. I love nice smells. She smiles at me like as if I said nothing wrong. Is she for real? Come on. Let's go, back to that f*****g hellhole. I won't look at my room. I don't like it anyway. All that white, gets dirty easy and too close to the kitchen anyway. Good for the maid, but the maid's not me. No. Not me, Mandy Riley. You didn't catch me this time. Get some other stupid fool to do your work.

'Let's write a shopping list of all you need so we shan't forget anything, Mandy,' suggested Ana as she walked down the passageway to the kitchen as Mandy emerged from the bathroom.

'What?'

'I said we better write a shopping list.'

'What for?' Mandy turned; a look of astonishment on her face.

'So you have something to sleep in and wear till your things arrive, toothbrush and the like.'

'You're going to keep me? You're going to let me stay here after what I said?'

'Yes. Did you think I would return you to Perth simply because you lost your temper? What will you do when I lose my temper? Send me back?'

Mandy giggled again. 'Have you got a bad temper too?'

'Yes. I lose my temper rarely but when I do look out. Would you be able to say you're sorry for being so rude? Are you sorry?'

'Yes,' whispered Mandy, finding her sneakered feet very interesting.

'Mind it, Mandy Riley, no saying sorry. Not ever. No way. Tell her to get stuffed.

'Well?'

'I'm sorry,' muttered Mandy moving her gaze from her feet to the polished floorboards.

I wonder if they're hard to clean. Do I have to polish them on my hands and knees? Jesus! She's hugging me. She's actually hugging me again. Oh, sweet Jesus. What will I do? I'm going to f*****g cry again. That's what.

'Come on Mandy dear. We must hurry. It's getting late.' Ana pried Mandy's arm from around her chest and wiped her tears on the tea-towel. 'We must buy you some things for tonight and tomorrow at least.'

She called me Mandy dear. No one's called me, Mandy dear before, except my mum. I've been called all sorts of things but never Mandy dear, just my mum. I like it. I hope she calls me it again. I'll be good, just for her. I'll try to be, no problem at all. I'll be a good little angel. Well I'll try anyway, but don't hold your breath.

Chapter 2

Mandy wandered about looking at things while constantly searching for the shop's security camera. She watched Ana browsing through a selection of dressing gowns so with a flick of her wrist a skimpy nightdress disappeared under her T-shirt. Then she was stuck. The horrible pink nightie with white teddy bears created a bulge in front and no amount of surreptitious poking could flatten it out, so much for trying to be good. She loathed the bloody thing anyway. Nicking toothpaste, soap and stuff remained her specialty. People didn't query where toilet articles appeared from or books when libraries abounded, clothing was a different matter altogether when everything ended up in a communal wash. Extraneous objects in the possession of the unwanted and unloved always brought questions, so usually she took great care in her selections. Her skills in shoplifting clothing remained underdeveloped. She liked McLean's toothpaste and new toothbrushes; she loathed soft flabby toothbrushes. Chocolate, of course, remained her true passion, easily disposed of and without trace.

When she saw Ana heading in her direction Mandy tugged the nightie and let it drop to the floor and with a great show of fussiness picked it up, brushed it off and, neatly folded, placed it on the pile on the display table. Under Ana's gaze, she skirted the frilly and lacy nightdresses, drifted over to the serviceable pyjamas and the fun nightshirts. She kept eyeing a pretty, white nightdress with yellow spots, trimmed with lace and threaded through with yellow ribbons.

'Hurry up, Mandy; we've still lots to do. Choose what you want. Three things; one to wear, one to wash and one to wait.'

'These will do,' said Mandy picking up three pairs of plain blue pyjamas. They're like the ones the Welfare gives us.'

'What about this nightie? It will match your room. It's about your size too.'

'Nah, too sissy. It's too expensive anyway. I'd look silly in it. Never wore a nightdress. It's all frills and ribbon and things. Stupid.'

'Me thinks thou dost protest too much. Do you like it Mandy?'

'Yes,' she whispered.

'We'll have this one,' said Ana to the hovering shop assistant, who security instructed to keep an eye on the kid with the mess of brown hair and blue T-shirt.

'But its thirty dollars!' protested Mandy who had never had thirty dollars spent on her in whole life let alone held thirty dollars.

'Stop looking at the prices. That's one down, two to go.'

After considerable pushing, Mandy chose a pink, chunder-making-colour she said, silk pyjama suit and a silly long nightshirt covered with gnomes and toadstools.

'Stage one of the marathon over,' said Ana. 'Have you a dressing gown?'

'What's that for?'

'For sitting by the fire in the evening reading and eating breakfast in the kitchen in the morning.' said Ana wondering about the Department of Community Services.

Did she say sitting by the fire reading. I've never sat by a fire reading. I usually read in bed or hide somewhere to read. People think I'm wasting time when I read. Does she read books too? I've never seen a grown-up reading. Way to go. I'll have a dressing gown. I'll have a hundred. She's paying. She's already spent seventy-nine dollars and fifty-five cents on me. On me! What does she want? She's trying to buy me, that's what. But why? Why would anyone want to buy me?

'What about this striped towelling one? It's nice and fluffy and warm for the cool spring evenings. Do you like it?'

'Yes.'

'Mandy, What's the matter? You're scowling again.'

'Nothing.'

'Good. We shall take this too and a pair of warm slippers.'

***

'I think we'll go in here to the clinic, Mandy. I would like one of the doctors to look at your hands, if they can fit us in.'

'No.' Mandy stopped still. A fleeting start of concern trembled across her face to be veiled immediately by her usual scowl.

Over my dead body. No f*****g doctors going to get his hands on me. It's not worth the risk. Definitely not. No way. No!

'You're a doctor, Missus, aren't you? Can't you give me some stuff?'

'I'm sorry, Mandy. I can't do this. I haven't practised for a few years and anyway you're part of my family now and it's unethical for doctors to treat family.'

'Oh.'

Family. I'm part of her family? Me? I'm not. There's just my mum and me in our family. She wouldn't want me? Would she? All that money, six hundred and sixty-three dollars, plus a pair of blue gumboots, all for me to keep forever she said. I'm not seeing any f*****g doctor. No way. Not ever. Definitely not.

'What's the problem? What have you against doctors?'

'Nothing.'

'Come on Mandy. Tell me what the matter is.'

'Nothing.'

'I'll come in with you,' Ana offered cautiously.

'No.'

'Do you want your hands healed?'

'No.'

'If that's what you want, we shan't worry this time. You still require toilet things before the shops shut. What else do you need?'

'McLean's mint toothpaste and a hard toothbrush.'

That's right, Mandy Riley, stick out for all you can get. Definitely no Home Brand though. What would she say if I volunteered to nick them? What about some chocolate too? There are chocolate biscuits at home, home, in that fancy tin. I wonder if she counts them? A manicure set? Sweet Jesus, hair shampoo, conditioner, bubble bath, Yardley's talcum powder and body lotion in a cellophane box. She lets me smell them before I chose what I want. I wanted the smell of the little creamy-white freesias in my room, my room, but there isn't any. Lily of the Valley smells nice. The lady in the shop is smiling. This is fun. She's spent another sixty-five f*****g dollars, seven hundred and twenty-eight dollars and a pair of blue gumboots as well.

'Mandy?' asked Ana stopping outside another shop and wondering if she should push for any further revolutionary changes.

What now? What's she up to now? I'm not going to see any f*****g doctor. No way. So don't try it. sister. Sister? I wish she was my sister, my big sister. I'll pretend she's my big sister. That's a good idea. We are family, my big sister and me. But I'm still not seeing to any f*****g doctor.

'What?

'How about seeing if the hairdresser can fix your hair?'

'Fix what?' asked Mandy grinning up at Ana.

'Shampoo and cut it. It's all split ends you know.'

'Oh. Is it?'

'Well?'

'I don't know. What do they do?'

'Have you never been to a hairdresser before?'

'No.'

'Who cuts your hair?'

'Me, when I'm bored and there's scissors handy.'

'Do you?'

'You don't like my hair?' asked Mandy patting her tangled mop.

'Well no, not exactly, it is a bit of a mess, Mandy.

Right on, big sis. I spent about fifteen minutes this morning making it look like this. The housemother gave me a blasting. No one would want you looking like that, she said.

They walked into the shop outside which this last exchange took place and Mandy true to form muttered, 'Jesus! This place stinks.'

Ana frowned and hastily asked the pert young hairdresser, busy cleaning up for the day, if she could fit in a shampoo and cut at this late stage. After offering her an extra ten dollars to work late, the hairdresser agreed and, with dismay, seated Mandy and surveyed her head. Mandy winked at her via the newly polished mirror

'How would you like your hair cut?' the hairdresser asked.

'Like hers.' With eyebrows raised, the hairdresser turned to Ana who immediately quashed the idea. Mandy leafed through a book of styles and eventually settled on an urchin cut which was the closest to Ana's practical no-nonsense style.

With back straight, Mandy stalked out of the hairdresser's waggling her shiny head to adjust to the clean sleek feel and remove the light-headedness.

Who is this good-looker strutting along beside her big sister and going to the Chinese takeaway to buy their tea to take home and eat by the fire? Hurry up, can't you. I want to get home and unpack all my things, my things, and hang them up in my wardrobe, my wardrobe, and put them in my very own drawers and arrange my brush and things on my dressing table and on my bathroom shelf. I want to wear my new nightdress and dressing gown and sit by the fire and read one of my books with my big sister.

***

Mandy piled all her bags on her bed and stood gazing at them in disbelief.

It's not real. It's just not real. I'm dreaming. It is definitely not real. I'll unpack the toothpaste first. I know about toothpaste and it's not even nicked. Sweet f*****g Jesus, I'm going to chunder.

Ana hovered worriedly by the door while Mandy knelt like a worshipper at the toilet bowl vomiting copiously and later retching when her stomach emptied. In between bouts, she gasped for breath, sniffed loudly and wiped away the tears streaming down her face on the bottom of her T-shirt.

She's ill. What will I do? Has she eaten something? We only had a Choc Milk each since lunchtime. She ate a big lunch though, but nothing I didn't eat. Could be appendicitis. I wonder if she's had an appendicectomy. I need her medical history. I should take her temperature. I wonder where my medical bag is, on top of the cupboard in my office, I think. It's probably rotted away by now. Causes of vomiting, food poisoning, gastroenteritis, appendicitis, nerves, excitement, cancer of the stomach, I'm forgetting. I'll ring Shirley in Manjimup to see what she says. Steady on, I'm the paediatrician. Have I caught the anxious parent syndrome? You know what happens when diseases are left untreated for too long. This particular disease has lasted all of five minutes. I feel so helpless. It's awful for the poor child. Have I any Stemitil? Probably out of date by now.

'Missus Doctor, can I have another shower?' asked a small voice from the crunched up body on the toilet floor.

I wish she wouldn't call me Missus Doctor, but it's not the appropriate time to say so.

'Are you all right, Mandy dear? Have you a sore tummy or headache or something?'

'I'm okay. I'm always sick the first day in a new place. Can I have another shower and clean my teeth?'

S**t. Why did she have to see me? I hate people knowing I chunder. It all came on too quick. Usually I can rush outside before I puke. I feel yuk. And I want to clean my teeth and have a drink of water. I wished she'd piss off. I must look f*****g stupid sitting on the dunny floor.

‘Put on your new sleeping things after your shower. Do you need any help?'

'Nah! I'm okay now,' she replied bounding up from the floor and hurrying into her yellow and white room.

'Would you like me to unpack your things while you shower?' asked Ana from the hallway outside the room while Mandy searched for her toothpaste.

'Oh no, Missus Doctor. Oh no. I'll do it. Please let me unpack all my lovely things. Please leave them for me,' Mandy cried desperately.

Ana stood on the threshold of the room she'd taken such care over and now where an invisible demarcation line appeared. This lovely room suddenly turned into forbidden territory.

She watched from the doorway as Mandy carefully laid her new nightdress, gown, slippers, powder, soap and body lotion on her bed and Ana turned away feeling obtrusive. In doing so, she felt abandoned for she longed so much to share this unhappy child's enjoyment.

'Where's my f*****g toothpaste? Oh woops. I'm sorry, Missus Doctor. It just slipped out.' Mandy turned from her searching to the empty doorway.

She's gone. Thank God. I can't stand her eyes watching me. She's a funny old hen. Hope she didn't hear me. I think I want her to like me. Make a change if someone, did my big sister. Why did I have to go and chunder? At least I got another shower out of it. I'll be clean for putting on my new things. Do people wear pants under nightdresses at night? I'll put on these stripy ones with the white lace. They're really pretty. I wonder if I can keep them when she sends me away. I'll hide some of my things to take when I go. Just in case.

Clean, shining and smelling of Yardley's Lily of the Valley and toothpaste, Mandy crept out of the bathroom and into her bedroom where she very carefully and silently closed the door.

Good, she didn't hear me. I look different all dressed up. I feel good, and nice and clean. I like this big mirror; I can see all of me at once. I like my hair. It's nearly like my big sister's. I'd better hang up all my stuff so they don't crease. I could iron them tomorrow. I wonder if I have to do much ironing. I hate ironing, except tea-towels. I love ironing tea-towels, crisp and clean, sharp corners. I'll tidy my room and fold the bags up. I'll keep them to remember today. My sister's put a bowl of fruit in my room while I was in the shower. She's nice, my big sister. I wonder how long I'll stay here. I'll stay forever, just my big sister and me. We'll sit by the fire in the evenings in our dressing gowns and read all the books in the world. I'm hungry. All that chundering emptied my stomach. And I need a chocolate biscuit. I suppose I have to go out there. I feel silly all dressed up like this. I wonder what she’s doing. We're eating that Chinese takeaway for tea. I like fried rice. I had it at that third place where that man tied me up when I pinched his watch and he burnt me with f*g ends until I told him where it was. I didn't like them much, but the food was great and plenty of it. Didn't stay there long. I wonder what she's doing out there. I wonder if she's eaten all the Chinese? I don't want to go out there. I feel silly. She's calling me. Do I want something to eat, she said. You bet. What does she think I am? I don't want to go out there. I'll pretend I can't hear. She's banging on the door asking if I'm all right. I suppose I'd better go out there.

It was another silent meal. This time, both woman and girl, each ensconced in large chintz �"covered easy chairs in front of the slow-combustion wood fire, ate their meal from bowls on their laps, after each serving herself from the plastic takeaway containers littering the low jarrah coffee table. The woman asked sporadic questions of the girl who replied in mainly negative monosyllables. She was more interested in emptying the food containers.

Well, the sickness was short-lived. I can cease worrying on that score. She looks well and pleased with herself. Needs some padding on those bones, a high metabolism I suppose. How do I persuade her to talk? Perhaps we can remain a silent household? I wouldn't mind. I wonder if she would. I think I need specialist help in dealing with Mandy. A psychologist. For Mandy or me. Both, I suppose. I feel rather foolish asking all these questions but how else do I talk with her. Start talking about the weather and hope she joins in? Never mind. I'll pretend she's not here and read my book.

***

I wish she'd stop asking all these questions about my health. Zing! Got it! The Welfare sent me here to see how healthy I am, as I wouldn't let any doctor examine me. That's why. It fits. No, it doesn't. Why all the performance with old Pittsy then? He really pissed her off and he didn't want me to stay here. On the way down, he said he knew a nice kid who would benefit from staying here. I wouldn't benefit from anywhere he said, until I was locked up in prison with my mother. And she bought all those things for me. That was her very own money, paid with her plastic card. That wasn't Welfare money. No way. I saw part of her name on it. Ana. That's a nice name for my big sister. Sounds like water running down a windowpane. I couldn't see her last name. I know her last name couldn't be Baloney. But I thought that's what old Pittsy said. I'm not going to call her Doctor Baloney. That's silly. But Missus Doctor's worse. That just comes out. I'll call her nothing. She's starting to read. I'd better do the dishes. Not that there's many, it all mainly rubbish bin stuff. Easy peasy.

'Leave the dishes, Mandy. We'll do them in the morning,' said Ana looking up from Tim Winton's, Dirt Music, as Mandy started to gather up the empty plastic containers.

'Oh no. We couldn't.'

'No?'

'Oh, I'm sorry Missus Doctor. I just can't stand things lying around.'

'Please stop calling me Missus Doctor and sit down, Mandy.'

'I'm sorry,' muttered Mandy into the collar of her new fluffy dressing gown as she tried to disappear into the depths of her chair.

Look at you Mandy Riley, cringing like a frightened dog. Tell her to get stuffed. What's happening to you, lost your fight, lost your oomph. It's all the prissy new clothes, and the powder, and the haircut, and the yellow f*****g teddy bear, and the books and don't forget the priceless blue gumboots.

To Ana's astonishment, Mandy started giggling again

For goodness sake, what now? When she thinks I'm telling her off she backs down like a frighten rabbit and then starts giggling. Hysteria. Labile emotions. Douse it quickly.

'What's amusing you, Mandy?'

'My blue gumboots.'

'Do you think they're funny? You do like them, Mandy? I watched you eyeing them in the shop.'

'Oh yes. How much did they cost?'

'Why on earth do you want to know how much they cost?'

'Well I know how much everything else cost but I missed the gumboots 'cause I wasn't watching when you bought them. I didn't know you were going to buy them.'

'You liked them though, Mandy? You'll need them here when it rains.'

'They're cool, but how much did they cost? I need to know.'

'Why must you know?'

'I like everything organized. You spent seven hundred and forty-eight dollars and eighty-five cents, which includes the hairdressers, but not the blue gumboots.'

'For goodness sake, Mandy, how on earth do you know that?' asked Ana in surprise. She hadn't tallied up the amount herself yet, though she'd enjoyed spending the money if for no other reason than to see the delight on Mandy's face.

'I counted up.'

'But that's impossible. You wrote nothing down.'

'I don't need to, I remember things.'

For the next five minute the woman pressed numbers on her calculator and Mandy multiplied six figures by six figures before she faltered.

'Do you receive high marks at school?' asked Ana.

'I'm hopeless at school. I don't like it much.'

'You must be good a mathematics though?'

'No. I'm no good. I always get everything wrong.'

Will I tell her about the time I got everything right and was sent to the principal for cheating? I get them all wrong now. That's what they expect, so that's what they get. Anyway, I'm stupid.

'But that's ridiculous, Mandy. I'm very good at maths but I can't calculate integers to such high values in my head.'

She thinks I'm good. I know I can do it. But I'm not good, am I? I can do something she can't. She's a doctor. She's brainy. All doctors are brainy. I know I can do the sums but I know I must get them wrong. Sweet f*****g Jesus, I don't know.

'Do you read much, Mandy?'

'Oh yes.'

'What do you like?'

'Anything I can get. Everything I can get. I've got a Bible all of my very own, with my name in it that some people gave me. The pages are edged with silver and it's got a blue leather cover that zips up. Can I read those books in my room, all of them? Please Missus Doctor?'

'My name is Ana, Mandy. Not Missus Doctor.'

'Okay, Missus Doctor, can I read those books?'

'Yes Mandy, you may read every one of them but not if you call me Missus Doctor one more time.'

'Okay.'

'Who?'

'Who what?' replied Mandy, picking at a button on the arm of her chair.

'Mandy, I want you to call me by my name. Come on, try it.'

'I can't. I feel silly. Doesn't seem right.'

'Would you rather call me Doctor Bellamy. Missus Doctor is not on.'

'Is that what you're name is? I thought old Pittsy said you're name was Doctor Baloney and I didn't want to call you that. Missus Doctor is better than Dr Baloney.'

With that Ana shook with laughter and Mandy giggled into her new striped dressing gown until Mandy decided she really must clean up the mess.

'Mandy leave the dishes alone.'

'Please let me do them mi… Doctor Bellamy. I can't relax till everything's tidy.'

'Fine Mandy, if you must you must. I shall wash, you dry.'

'I'll do them, Missus Doctor. You read your book.'

'You must not put your hands in water unnecessarily and I mean it. Something must be done to heal your hands and seeing you are adamant about not seeing a doctor, we'll just have to do the best we can, which means keeping them dry.'

The remainder of the evening passed uneventfully as Ana gazed at her novel, turned the pages infrequently while her mind roved from doubt to visions. Mandy wandered through Peer's Encyclopaedia, between furtively glancing at Ana, admiring her new clothes, glancing at herself in the reflection on the shiny piano in the corner and wondered when she'd wear her new, still priceless, blue gumboots.

Chapter 3

As the sun rose over the eastern ridge and the kookaburras racketed into a new day, Ana lay in bed listening for any sound of movement from the room next-door. During the night she checked on Mandy who slept peacefully with one arm round the yellow teddy bear and the other around her blue gumboots, no doubt to protect them from all harm and people who nick.

Well she will not be taking them to bed with her once she's worn them in the paddocks and that's for sure. I wonder what time she wakes up. Probably early, with that metabolism. I can't hear her moving about. I wonder what she eats for breakfast. Not porridge, anyway I haven't any. Today should be better and I've lots of work to do. We seem to have ironed out a few of our problems. She's starting to talk a bit. I'd better move. I'd hate her to be waiting for me to appear. She has the encyclopaedia to read, at least.

***

'When did you find the note?'

'It was propped against the teapot on the sideboard. I saw it as soon as I walked into the kitchen this morning.'

'You hadn't heard anything?'

'Not a thing. I looked in on her at about two this morning and she was sound asleep then.'

'I'll drive around and make a few inquiries in town. You stay here in case she turns up again. I'll contact surrounding police stations and ask them to keep an eye out.'

'Where could she have gone, Rob?'

'Dunno. These bloody kids. What's she look like? What's she wearing?'

'She's nearly thirteen, very thin and small. She looks a lot younger than she is. About one metre thirty high, I think, with short brown hair cut in an urchin style, olive skin and the greenest eyes you've ever seen. There's touch of aborigine in her features. Her fingernails are bitten down to the quick and she has severe eczema on both her hands. I think she's wearing blue jeans and a red Country Road t-shirt. She has taken a change of clothing and some food supplies and chocolate biscuits.'

'Not planning on starving then, that's for sure. Bloody kids,' said Rob, the local policeman known locally as Rob, the cop, to differentiate him from Rob, the sparky and Rob, the butcher. He'd spent the previous evening chasing drunken teenagers hooning around Majenup demolishing road signs.

'She was wearing a pair of new blue gumboots.' Ana lost all composure over the pair of blue gumboots last seen clutched tightly in a small imperfect hand which protruded from a new white nightie with yellow spots.

Rob Wilson, who disliked dealing with crying women, patted her on the back as he hightailed it out the door. 'Don’t worry, Ana. We'll find her. They always turn up when they're hungry. Bloody kids. I'll ring you later.'

***

'Ana, where are you? I need to pick up the crates from the shed.' A small dumpy woman bustled into the kitchen uninvited. Her mop of black and grey curls bounced around her pleasant face as she entered carrying a covered cane-basket from which protruded a silver thermos flask. She halted abruptly when she noticed Ana huddled over the kitchen table with a yellow teddy bear staring glassy-eyed from her arms.

This particular teddy bear they'd chosen together on a shopping excursion to Bunbury to furnish the yellow and white room. They both enjoyed the day during which Teresa watched Ana relax and climb off her high horse, just for once. She remembered the argument about the teddy bear though. 'All children like teddy bears', said Teresa, as she won the argument, ‘Even if they pretend they don't, especially soft cuddly ones'.

'Hey what's the matter, Ana? What's wrong? There, there Ana lovey, come on now. Wipe your eyes and tell me what's wrong.'

A great sense of relief washed over Ana with Teresa's arrival and she sobbed out her miserable tale. Glad to be lightened somewhat of her burden of distress, she wiped away her tears while Teresa brewed tea.

'I just do not understand why Mandy ran away. We developed a good rapport yesterday. I just do not understand. What can I do?'

'Look Ana, there's not much you can do. The cops are looking for her. Have you told the Welfare?'

'I don't want to tell them yet. Mandy hates them. I feel so irresponsible to have to tell them she ran away within eighteen hours of being in my care.'

'You're going to have to tell them whether you like it or not. It's not your fault. This kid is a real problem and no one will be the least bit surprised from what you tell me.'

'Not yet, I'll ring them later if the police don't find her.'

'I think you're wrong, Ana. We can't sit here all day. Those proteas need picking for the two o'clock freight.'

'Leave them, today, Teresa. Proteas are the last thing on my mind. I shall pay you anyway, despite no work.'

'You can't just leave them. Those proteas must be picked,' exclaimed Teresa with dismay, shocked. 'You promised that florist you'd have them in Perth by tonight. They'll go, even if I have to pick them myself. Come on, you'll feel better if you do some work.'

The rest of this novel of 92,300 words is free to download until December 1 from