Torment (Thornton Brothers Book 5), page 5
“Was it like this last time? I don’t remember it being on this much of an angle.”
“Of course it was like this last time. Do you think Amelia’s driveway somehow changed in the weeks we’ve been away?”
“No, it’s not that. I just thought that maybe…” He stopped pacing to stare at the front of the bus. “Did we reverse up last time? Is that what’s different?”
Mum shook her head in frustration and turned her back on Dad. “Do you think the girls are up yet?” She started lifting the potted plants at the entrance to the kitchen. “Do you remember where Amelia keeps the spare key? I can’t remember where I’ve put ours.”
Groaning, I got out of bed and loudly clomped through the house to rip open the door.
“Amelia! You’re up!” My mother’s voice was too perky, too loud.
“Like I had a choice.” I moved across the kitchen to fill the kettle. Tea. I needed tea. Something strong. Something dark. Licorice. My head thumped as though I’d been drinking last night. And I had. But it was just a couple of wines as I was stripping the wallpaper in the lounge, not enough to warrant the way I was feeling.
“Is your sister home?”
I nodded and dumped the licorice tea bag into my favorite cup, the one that was blue with white dots and was the perfect size. “She’s still asleep.”
Mum laughed. “Of course. She’s always loved her sleep, that one. Not like you.” Mum pinched my cheek as I poured the hot water.
“You want a cuppa?”
Mum leaned close as I blew on my tea. Her nose twitched as though the scent offended her. “I’ve got some green tea in the bus that I got at a local market in a small town down the road a bit. I’ll go get it and find your father while I’m at it.”
I leaned back against the counter, relishing the feel of the sweet licorice slipping down my throat as I watched her climb back onto the bus.
My family were wanderers. Nell lived goodness knows where overseas. Molly’s job was literally to fly through the skies, and Mum and Dad traveled the country in their bus as though they were incapable of staying still. I, on the other hand, was firmly in the camp of being a nester. I loved my house and had no intention of ever leaving it. I’d been overseas on holidays, but unlike the rest of my family, there was no urge inside me to explore. Nomad blood they called it. I preferred to put down roots, not rip them up.
“Got it!” Mum sang as she walked back into the kitchen shaking a tin of loose green tea leaves. At least I think that’s what they were. When she popped open the lid and shoved the tin under my nose, it did smell a little strange.
Even though there was still a nip in the air due to the early time, Mum was only dressed in a singlet top and shorts. Her arms and legs were tanned in ways mine could never be. Her hair was bleached by the sun and streaked with grays. Nell and Molly had both got Mum’s fair hair. I’d ended up with Dad’s color which was about as close to black as you could get. Not that his was like that anymore. He’d been rocking the salt and pepper look for a few years now.
“Your father is just watering the garden.” Mum peered at me as the kettle boiled. “He said it looked like it hadn’t been watered in a while.” She poured the hot liquid over the tea leaves and watched them swirl.
“It rained the other day.”
Reaching across, Mum held the back of her hand to my forehead. “Are you feeling okay? You’re looking a little pale. You know I have some—”
I laughed and pushed her hand away. “I’m fine, Mum. Just a little tired.”
“Are you not sleeping well? There’s some chamomile in the bus. I could make you—”
“I’m fine, Mum,” I said again. “Someone just woke me up a little too early.”
She looked concerned until it occurred to her that I was speaking about her and Dad’s arrival. Then she laughed as though I was joking.
“We should go wake up your sister. I’ve got something I want to discuss with you two.”
“It’s your funeral.” I shrugged as Mum left, wandering behind her through the house until Molly’s bedroom door squeaked open. I really needed to fix that.
Mum perched herself on the side of the bed and pushed Molly’s hair back from her face. “She’s so peaceful when she’s asleep. I remember when you were little, and I would creep into your bedroom and just watch you breathe.”
“Because that’s not creepy.” I leaned against the doorway, one foot hooked over the ankle of the other.
“Sometimes your father would come too, and we’d just stare at your little chests going up and down and marvel how on earth we managed to make such perfection. And then one of you would wake up and the spell would be broken.” She laughed. “Molly,” she cooed. “Milly-Molly-Mandy my wee blossom, it’s time to wake up.”
Molly blinked a few times and stretched into the air. She wasn’t surprised to find our mother in her bedroom. We were used to it. Our parents came and went as they pleased. My house was merely a base camp for our family.
“You want a cuppa?”
Molly took the offered cup and sipped. “Fuck! That’s hot.” She hung her tongue out of her mouth and fanned it with her hand. “And disgusting. What is that?”
Mum took a sip from the cup as though testing it. “It’s a special blend of local green tea grown not too far from here. Don’t you like it?”
“It’s disgusting.” It was only then that Molly looked at the time. “It’s not even seven in the morning. Why am I awake?”
Mum walked across and jerked open the curtains. Molly shied away from the light as though she were a vampire.
“It’s a glorious day.” Mum turned to Molly with a smile stretched over her face. “Seems a pity to waste it lying in bed. Besides, your father and I haven’t seen you girls in weeks. We need to catch up.”
Mum video-called me every day while she was away. And not for a quick chat. I had to endure almost an hour of conversation about the quaint little shops she had discovered, or how sore Dad’s gout had been. She did it to Molly as well, but Molly didn’t answer as often. Mum thought it was because she was on a flight, but I knew better.
Molly groaned but eventually rolled herself out of bed under Mum’s watchful eye. She slung the blanket over her shoulders and dragged it with her, curling up on the beanbag.
Dad walked in, held his arms out wide and said, “My girls!”
Molly rolled her eyes, but I walked over to be engulfed by my dad’s hug. As annoying as my parents were at times, we were a family. A tight-knit, frustratingly close, share-too-many-personal-details family. All except Nell. Or, Crazy Nell as Molly liked to call her. When she arrived, the drama and the arguments started. I don’t know what it was exactly about her, but she managed to push Mum’s buttons every time. Mum would end up in tears, Dad would end up yelling and Nell would scream back and then leave. Needless to say, Molly and I would breathe a sigh of relief when she did. She was better as a long-distance sister.
“Did you miss me?” Dad pressed a kiss to the top of my head. No one in the family knew where my lack of height came from. Dad called me a throwback, though who in the family I was a throwback to was a mystery. I just squeezed tighter as an answer then detangled myself to walk into the kitchen to make another cup of tea.
“How’s the flying going? Ready to take over from the pilot yet?” Dad chuckled. I could almost feel Molly’s eye-roll at his question from the next room.
“Drink!” Molly yelled.
Lifting another cup down from the cupboard, I made her a cup of licorice tea too and walked back into the lounge. Curling my feet beneath me, I took a seat beside Mum and she wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pulling me close.
I took a sip, wincing when the hot liquid burned the roof of my mouth. “What did you want to talk about?”
Mum and Dad shared a look and took in a breath, both speaking at the same time. “Fruit picking.”
“Fruit picking?” I said, letting my voice rise.
Molly’s head flopped backward as she let out a frustrated howl. “You got me up at the ass-crack of dawn to talk about fruit picking?”
“Dawn had been cracked for a while, hadn’t it, my love?” Dad looked over at Mum, chuckling at his own joke. No one else laughed.
“It’s been a while since we’ve spent any quality time with either of you, I thought it would be nice for all of us to go away for a couple of weeks. We’ve got permission to park the bus up at an orchard down central way, and in exchange, we’ll do an hour of fruit picking a day.”
Mum had only just got the last word out when I said, “I’ve got to work.”
“You can’t get a few days off?”
I shook my head and took a sip of tea. “Too busy this time of year with all the end-of-year parties and Christmas functions. There’s no way Mrs Reynolds would give me the time off.” I didn’t know if that were true or not, but I did know I wouldn’t be asking Mrs Reynolds to find out.
Mum frowned exaggeratedly, sighed and turned to Molly. “What about you? Want to spend some time with the people who gave you life?”
I caught Molly’s eye just as she opened her mouth to refuse and cut in ahead of her. “You’ve only got one flight on Wednesday and then you’re off for a few weeks, aren’t you, Mol?”
Her eyes widened before narrowing in my direction again. I hid behind my cup. As much as I loved my family, the thought of a few days alone was too much of a temptation.
“I—” Molly started, but Dad interrupted, clapping his hands together loudly.
“Well, it’s sorted then. We’ll leave first thing on Friday and be back a few days before Christmas. Perfect.”
I didn’t look at Molly as a grin crept over my face. But I didn’t need to. I already knew she was throwing daggers my way.
6
AMELIA
When I got home from work on Friday, Molly and my parents were still there. I walked into the kitchen, hung my bag on the hook and stared at the mess. There were cups and plates piled in the sink, the remains of some sort of dirt spread over the table, the light of the oven was on and the fridge door was slightly open, causing it to beep incessantly. Sighing, I closed the door and started to organize the dishes to be washed.
“Meals? You home, Meals?”
Molly wandered into the kitchen, brushing her teeth. She was still dressed in shorty pajamas. She leaned against the door, one foot angled awkwardly up on the knee of the other leg and cocked her head to the side. Something was bunched in her other hand.
“You got any summer dresses or something I could borrow for this stupid trip? I get the feeling my clothes aren’t exactly what people go fruit picking in. I looked in your drawers, but I couldn’t find much. Do you own anything other than yoga pants, t-shirts and hoodies? And what’s with all these fluffy socks?” She tossed a ball of socks at me. It hit my shoulder and fell to the ground. “Who needs this many pairs of fluffy socks?”
“I like fluffy socks. They keep my toes warm.” I collected the socks and tucked them under my arm as I started to walk down the hallway.
“What about the pretty red and white polka dot dress you wore to Dad’s birthday dinner? It was summery and not too dressy.” Molly followed me down the hall, her words mumbled because of the toothbrush.
“I borrowed it from the shop.”
Molly veered off into the bathroom as I walked into my room.
I heard her spit into the basin. “It was a costume?” she yelled.
“Minnie Mouse.” I placed the socks back.
“Huh.” Molly appeared again, walking across to open my drawers. “Fine. Yoga pants will have to do.”
“Don’t you have any of your own?”
Molly laughed, gathering a pair of yoga pants and a couple of t-shirts and shoving them under her arms. “I don’t do yoga. I’m a runner.”
“You’re not a runner.” I followed as she walked across the hallway and dumped the clothing into a suitcase.
“I went for a run once.”
“That doesn’t make you a runner.”
“Do you do yoga?”
“Never said I did.”
Molly opened her wardrobe and threw clothes onto her bed.
I started folding the clothes and placing them into her suitcase neatly. “Weren’t you guys supposed to be gone before I got home, and where are Mum and Dad, anyway?”
Molly bent down and started tossing shoes onto the bed from the bottom of her wardrobe. “Mum needed shoes.”
I looked at the growing pile on Molly’s bed. “Maybe she could have borrowed some of yours. You’ve got enough.”
Molly stood and straightened herself. “You can never have enough shoes.”
After we had packed, Mum and Dad arrived back at the house. Their voices floated down the hallway as I lugged Molly’s suitcase over the carpet. The little wheels were broken which made it incredibly hard. In the end, I gave up and carried it. It was heavy.
“I just think you should have considered the brown leather ones, my love. I think you would have got a lot more use out of them than the black ones. You never wear black.”
Mum’s eyes had that strained and frustrated wide-eyed look which told me she was near her wit’s end with Dad. They drove each other insane but I don’t think they’d have it any other way.
“You guys all ready to go?” I smiled widely, praying the answer would be yes.
Dad took Molly’s suitcase off me, groaning at the weight of it. “What have you got in here? The kitchen sink?” Dad chuckled. Mum didn’t.
“Just the essentials.” Molly appeared behind me. Her elbow hit me as she walked past. “I hope you’re happy,” she hissed. “I’ve got days of this.”
I waited until she turned to look at me and smiled widely. “Whatever do you mean, dear sister?” I replied loudly. “You know I’d come if I didn’t have work.”
Molly just narrowed her eyes further.
“Well, I guess this is it,” Mum said that every time she left for a few days. She walked over and wrapped me in an embrace. “Be safe while we’re gone.”
“I wouldn’t dream of being anything but safe.” Her hug almost made me lose my breath it was so tight. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Dad chuckled as he pressed a kiss to the top of my head and hugged me with the arm that wasn’t holding Molly’s suitcase. “Don’t call her tomorrow, just call her Mum.”
I think all three of us rolled our eyes in unison.
But gradually, ever so gradually, they made their way to the door and climbed onto the bus. I stood outside and watched as Mum and Dad yelled at each other.
“Are all the cupboards closed?”
“Check!”
On and on they went until finally, they were ready to leave.
“Have fun fruit picking!” I yelled, waving enthusiastically as the bus began to roll down the driveway.
“Hey, Meals,” Dad shouted, his tan arm hooked over the door. “How many apples grow on a tree?”
I didn’t answer and just kept waving until they were at the bottom of the drive.
“All of them!” Dad shouted.
Finally, I was alone. I took a deep breath, inhaling the warm evening air and let it out slowly. And then I listened to nothing. No voices. No yelling. No stories. No lame jokes. Just silence.
Bliss.
Walking back into the house, I wandered through the rooms, letting my eyes settle on the scattered clothing, the dropped towels, the over-stuffed washing basket and the sink full of dishes. Then I turned on the stereo, turned the music up to full volume and got to work.
Three hours later, I was done. The house was clean and tidy and, as I looked over it, a sense of calm washed over me. For the next few days, this was to be my life. Quiet, clean, tidy and peaceful.
After making myself a late dinner, I sank down into the beanbag and contemplated turning on the TV. It would be tempting to spend the night blobbed out in front of it, but then the remaining strips of wallpaper caught my eye and I hoisted myself back up. The house wasn’t going to decorate itself. Changing into my paint-stained and oversized t-shirt, I grabbed the scraper and set to work ripping the remainder of the paper off the walls. Once that was done, I poured some of the gray-tinged paint into the paint tray, unwrapped my rollers and got to work. If I worked quickly enough, I would be able to get a layer over the entire lounge before I went to bed. That way, I could wake up the following day and apply another coat before I headed into work. My plan was to have the lounge, kitchen and laundry done before the family arrived back.
I was up the ladder, singing my heart out to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ when there was a knock at the door. It was after midnight. The lights were on. The windows were open. Anyone standing outside would be able to see me standing on the ladder, doing my thing.
Turning down the music, I called out, “Who is it?”
I tried to sound casual, as though it didn’t bother me at all that someone was banging on my door at midnight. As though a knot of fear hadn’t gripped my heart.
“It’s Jake.”
Without even seeing him and only hearing his voice, heat flooded my cheeks. After clambering down from the ladder, I stood on the other side of the door, my heart hammering, and fanning myself as though I had any control over the reaction of my body.
“Idiot,” I muttered.
“Is this a bad time?” Jake’s voice drifted through the closed door. “I was out for a run and I saw the lights on and—”
I pulled open the door. “Hello,” I said chirpily, as though it was normal for me to expect visitors at this time of night.
Jake blinked. His eyes traveled from my head to my feet and then back up again. I looked down at myself, suddenly becoming aware of the splattered paint and the fact that I was only wearing my over-sized t-shirt and Ugg boots. Lifting my hand, I pushed my hair back from my face, exhaling upwards to help it on its way, pretending as though I was totally fine with answering the door without pants. Thank goodness my t-shirt was so long it could almost double as a dress.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
