Cassie by Barry Jonsberg

‘Don’t worry about Cass. She’s made of stern stuff. And she always gets a little upset after talking on the phone to her dad. I mean, it’s great he rings. But every night? I’m not sure it’s helpful, but I don’t know how to tell him.’
    â€˜It’s not that,’ Mum says. ‘We upset her. Me and Holly.’
    â€˜It’s been upsetting for everyone.’
    I agree.
    â€˜Oh, dear!’ Mum’s voice rises sharply. ‘No one has eaten. You must be starving. And poor Cass.’
    Never mind Holly , I think. I don’t count anymore. Aunty Fern and Cassie are the ones who count. My anger starts to flare again and I miss part of what Fern says next.
    â€˜. . . all the excitement, food hasn’t crossed my mind.’
    â€˜You think I’ve been too hard on her, don’t you?’
    This is what I have been waiting for. I go to pull back my hair from my left ear and then realise that I don’t have long hair anymore. I lean slightly closer towards the kitchen. There is a pause and then Fern’s voice is calm and quiet.
    â€˜Do you remember getting that tattoo, sis?’
    Mum’s tattoo? What has that got to do with anything?
    â€˜Oh, Fern, don’t remind me,’ says Mum.
    â€˜What did it say originally?’
    The kitchen is quiet. The clock ticks.
    â€˜Ross,’ says Mum. ‘Under the rose it said “Ross”. How embarrassing! Do you remember Ross?’
    â€˜How could I forget him? Tall, good-looking, athletic.’
    â€˜Yes. I was so in love with him.’
    I’ve never heard of this guy.
    â€˜I talked him into it. We went to the tattoo parlour together. He had “Ivy” tattooed on his arm, beneath this horrible vine that was supposed to represent me, I guess. And I went for a rose. I should have just had a thorn. When I think back to how many other girls he was juggling at that time, I’m surprised there was room on his biceps for me. By now, he won’t have an inch of spare skin.’
    They laugh. I groan.
    â€˜How old were you?’
    â€˜Sixteen. He broke my heart. And I had to go back and get “Ross” changed to “Rose”.’
    â€˜Yes,’ says Fern.
    This is getting interesting after all. There is a long pause before Mum speaks again.
    â€˜I understand now,’ she says. ‘I see what you’re up to.’
    â€˜Mum was so angry,’ says Aunty Fern. ‘She didn’t speak to you for a month. She even went round to Ross’s house and gave him a piece of her mind. After that, the tattoo parlour. That huge guy who used to run it. One hundred and forty kilos of tattooed blubber sitting there like a kid who’d just been caught stealing a lollipop from the corner shop. Reduced him to tears. Boy, after that he’d ask for ID from his own grandmother.’
    â€˜She was fierce, our mum.’
    â€˜And you, throughout it all, saying, “But I love him, Mum. I’m not a kid anymore. I love him.”’
    â€˜I was an idiot.’
    â€˜You were sixteen and in love. You wanted to be a grown-up woman, and Mum was saying you were just a kid.’
    â€˜She was right.’
    â€˜Maybe she was. But that didn’t alter your behaviour then, did it? You didn’t suddenly go, “Hey, you’re right. I’m a child.” You were trying on adulthood for size, seeing what it felt like in different clothes. We all did that, sis. In our own way. And that’s what Holly’s doing now. At least her haircut will grow out, which is more than can be said for your tattoo.’
    Woohoo, I think. Let’s hear it for Aunty Fern.
    â€˜I hate you sometimes,’ says Mum.
    â€˜That’s because I’m always right.’
    There’s a rumble as a chair is pushed back. I take a step or two towards my room and then pause. I can hear the tap running. The tea cups clink in the sink. When the sound of running water stops I