Female before she rents out the granny flat again.'
'Jenna-Belle!' Declan says again.
'What?' I say, turning around. Annie is standing in the doorway. She has my pinch pot in her hand. 'Oh. Hello,' I mumble.
Annie is kind enough to pretend she hasn't heard me. 'Your mother told me that I would need to look for a new place, and so I have,' she explains. Annie lays the pinch pot down on the doona cover. 'Do me a favour, will you? Don't ever sell this again. I've returned the finger painting to Willem.' She puts her hand on the top of my head. I can see she wants to say something else, but she doesn't. Instead she smiles at me, and then pads out the door in her leather sandals.
'Bye, Annie,' I say.
I see her cross the lawn and start her station wagon, which is stuffed with last-minute items and odd things that don't fit in boxes. I want to run after her and say sorry, because what I said just now wasn't fair. It's not Annie that I'm angry with.
But I don't run down there. I let her drive away.
I wonder how many times in your life you let people just leave without saying what you need to say, or what you should say.
15
THE
SIEGE
The sheriff doesn't look like Clint Eastwood after all. He's grey-haired and wrinkly and wearing a uniform like a traffic cop. There is no posse . . . yet.
I see him knock on the front door from my bedroom window and so I run downstairs and out the back door. I run through Declan's kitchen, past his startled mother, and up to his room.
'C'mon. The sheriff is here,' I gasp. 'I'm going to the roof space. Building a fort.'
Then I run back home again and climb up into the ceiling. I thought Declan was behind me, but he's not. I wait for ages. I'm sure he's not going to turn up. I curse him for being a coward mofo, and then the cover slides back and two shopping bags emerge.
'Good thinking,' I whisper, digging through the bags as Declan clambers up. He's brought water, bags of pretzels and fruit.
'What's all this healthy stuff?'
'I have diabetes,' he protests.
'Yeah, but I don't.'
'You have a menstrual cycle, remember?'
I pop open a bag of pretzels.
'What are you doing? It's not a picnic, Jenna-Belle. We're supposed to be holding the fort, aren't we?'
I have one pretzel, then roll the top of the pack down and put it back in the shopping bag. We're not going to be very comfortable. I scoot over to the hole and stick my head out. I can see through the doorway and down the hall a little way.
'WILL!'
A few moments later Will stands in the doorway to the room below, frowning. 'I could hear you, but I couldn't find you. What are you doing? You should come down and see what's happening. There's . . .'
'Yeah, I know. Declan and I are building a fort,' I interrupt. My face is going red from being upside down. 'Can you bring us some pillows?'
Will disappears down the hall. He comes back with three pillows and his doona, which he stuffs up into the hole before him. Once he's in, Declan places his boogie board over the hole and sits on it. Will doesn't have a boogie board so he puts a pillow under his bum and balances across two beams.
It's very dark and it takes a minute or two for my eyes to adjust.
'What are all these beer bottles?' Will asks.
'They're an experiment in insulation. I saw it on Discovery Channel,' I lie.
Will eyes off Declan's hoard. 'Can I have some pretzels?'
'No!' Declan says, moving the bags out of reach. 'They're for later.'
'So what's happening downstairs?' I ask.
'The sheriff is there. He has paperwork. Mum's pretending that she doesn't know what he's talking about. It's pretty pathetic. There's a locksmith too, he's leaning on his car waiting. He'll change the locks as soon as they get us out.'
'No way!' Declan says.
We can hear thumping from downstairs.
'What's that?'
Will says. 'I think they're moving our furniture onto the lawn.'
'Can they do that?' I ask.
Will shrugs. 'I guess so. Can I have some pretzels now?'
Declan huffs. 'This isn't going to be a very
'Jenna-Belle!' Declan says again.
'What?' I say, turning around. Annie is standing in the doorway. She has my pinch pot in her hand. 'Oh. Hello,' I mumble.
Annie is kind enough to pretend she hasn't heard me. 'Your mother told me that I would need to look for a new place, and so I have,' she explains. Annie lays the pinch pot down on the doona cover. 'Do me a favour, will you? Don't ever sell this again. I've returned the finger painting to Willem.' She puts her hand on the top of my head. I can see she wants to say something else, but she doesn't. Instead she smiles at me, and then pads out the door in her leather sandals.
'Bye, Annie,' I say.
I see her cross the lawn and start her station wagon, which is stuffed with last-minute items and odd things that don't fit in boxes. I want to run after her and say sorry, because what I said just now wasn't fair. It's not Annie that I'm angry with.
But I don't run down there. I let her drive away.
I wonder how many times in your life you let people just leave without saying what you need to say, or what you should say.
15
THE
SIEGE
The sheriff doesn't look like Clint Eastwood after all. He's grey-haired and wrinkly and wearing a uniform like a traffic cop. There is no posse . . . yet.
I see him knock on the front door from my bedroom window and so I run downstairs and out the back door. I run through Declan's kitchen, past his startled mother, and up to his room.
'C'mon. The sheriff is here,' I gasp. 'I'm going to the roof space. Building a fort.'
Then I run back home again and climb up into the ceiling. I thought Declan was behind me, but he's not. I wait for ages. I'm sure he's not going to turn up. I curse him for being a coward mofo, and then the cover slides back and two shopping bags emerge.
'Good thinking,' I whisper, digging through the bags as Declan clambers up. He's brought water, bags of pretzels and fruit.
'What's all this healthy stuff?'
'I have diabetes,' he protests.
'Yeah, but I don't.'
'You have a menstrual cycle, remember?'
I pop open a bag of pretzels.
'What are you doing? It's not a picnic, Jenna-Belle. We're supposed to be holding the fort, aren't we?'
I have one pretzel, then roll the top of the pack down and put it back in the shopping bag. We're not going to be very comfortable. I scoot over to the hole and stick my head out. I can see through the doorway and down the hall a little way.
'WILL!'
A few moments later Will stands in the doorway to the room below, frowning. 'I could hear you, but I couldn't find you. What are you doing? You should come down and see what's happening. There's . . .'
'Yeah, I know. Declan and I are building a fort,' I interrupt. My face is going red from being upside down. 'Can you bring us some pillows?'
Will disappears down the hall. He comes back with three pillows and his doona, which he stuffs up into the hole before him. Once he's in, Declan places his boogie board over the hole and sits on it. Will doesn't have a boogie board so he puts a pillow under his bum and balances across two beams.
It's very dark and it takes a minute or two for my eyes to adjust.
'What are all these beer bottles?' Will asks.
'They're an experiment in insulation. I saw it on Discovery Channel,' I lie.
Will eyes off Declan's hoard. 'Can I have some pretzels?'
'No!' Declan says, moving the bags out of reach. 'They're for later.'
'So what's happening downstairs?' I ask.
'The sheriff is there. He has paperwork. Mum's pretending that she doesn't know what he's talking about. It's pretty pathetic. There's a locksmith too, he's leaning on his car waiting. He'll change the locks as soon as they get us out.'
'No way!' Declan says.
We can hear thumping from downstairs.
'What's that?'
Will says. 'I think they're moving our furniture onto the lawn.'
'Can they do that?' I ask.
Will shrugs. 'I guess so. Can I have some pretzels now?'
Declan huffs. 'This isn't going to be a very
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