Angel Rock

Henry threw his fork down on the table. ‘Blast!’ he shouted. Flynn jumped.

‘I’ll look after him,’ said Tom. ‘He could help me bag the sawdust.’

‘No, you’re helping me.’

Tom could feel his whole Saturday slipping away. ‘But what about Mr Riley?’

‘He can wait a day for his bloody sawdust can’t he!’

‘But –’

‘Christ Jesus, Tom, no more! I can’t afford to pay some bastard, and I need to get those bloody logs out!’

Tom didn’t say any more and they continued to eat in silence. He couldn’t think of any more cards to play, not without his mother there. Flynn started to giggle and spit mashed potato down the front of his shirt.

‘Flynn!’ shouted Tom. ‘What are you doing?’

‘He can come too,’ said Henry, chewing and staring at Flynn. ‘He’ll be all right in the cab.’

Tom looked from his stepfather to Flynn and back again, but he bit his lip and said no more. When they had eaten and the table was cleared Henry fetched the chainsaw from the front verandah and sat it on the table under the light. He fitted the sharpening jig to the arm and proceeded to put the edge back onto each tooth in the chain. Flynn settled on the couch in front of the television and put his thumb in his mouth as before.

‘Make sure Flynn has his bath before he goes to bed,’ Henry muttered, his mind on what he was doing.

‘Yep.’

As Tom washed the dishes he fumed and thought of Sonny Steele again. Another question began to form in his mind but this one had a much more dangerous shape than the one he’d asked Sonny. When he finished the dishes he turned round and watched Henry sharpen the blades for a while. Every so often Henry’s hand would slow down and his chin would dip and his eyelids droop and then he would catch himself and shake his head and continue. Tom felt a little light-headed, but then he took a deep breath, held it for three, asked his question straight after.

‘Henry?’

‘Mmmm?’

‘What’s a whore?’

Henry didn’t answer immediately but looked up at him sharply with his full attention, the chainsaw, the file in his hand forgotten.

‘Where’d you hear that?’

Tom gulped. He couldn’t lie to Henry when his eyes were like that, his voice so low and blunt.

‘Sonny.’

‘Steele? What – he call you that or something?’ Henry’s forehead rippled into deep furrows. Tom could see a few spots where he hadn’t rinsed the soap off properly.

‘No.’

‘Then why’d he say it?’

Tom didn’t answer.

‘Answer me, or so help me!’

‘I don’t know why he said it!’

‘Repeat to me – exactly – what the little cunt said. Exactly.’

Tom tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He felt a bit dizzy, and reckless, as if he were about to unleash something as furious and unstoppable as a storm from the tip of his tongue.

‘Mum,’ he whispered. ‘He said: your mother’s a whore. That’s what he said.’

He braced himself for a belting when Henry leapt up, but it didn’t come. The big man’s thighs caught the edge of the table and lifted it up and the chainsaw and the tools went banging and clattering to the floor. Henry didn’t even seem to notice. The storm Tom had unleashed, still smelling of soap and with his hair still damp, pulled his work boots back on and pounded out the front door. Tom watched him climb up into the truck and roar off down the road in a spray of gravel. He felt a cold flitter of fear down in his gut, even worse than the one he’d felt that afternoon – a flash of what might happen to anyone who got in Henry’s way maybe – but also the sure knowledge that this storm, as well as sweeping over Sonny, might well wheel round and break on him in turn.

2 (#ulink_f153be17-8bb4-56fa-94c2-efa507a7feea)

‘Hey, Darcy! Darcy Steele! Goody-bloody-two-shoes! Show us your tits!’

The boys were much older than they, long-haired and pimply, and Grace Mather had been apprehensive when she’d first seen them appear, but Darcy just gave a breathy laugh and took in a lungful of air before responding.

‘Rack off, bastard arseholes!’ she shouted.

Grace nearly wet herself laughing, but it was nervous, wild laughter, more likely to end in dizziness than anything else. The boys stood by the side of the road for a while longer, one chopping at the long grass with a stick to make himself feel better, but then they walked on and disappeared down behind the Agricultural Hall.

‘They would have come for me if you hadn’t been here,’ said Darcy.

‘I didn’t stop them.’

‘Yes, you did. Pop’s your dad. That’s why they didn’t chase me. Because you’re here.’

Grace half shrugged, unconvinced. ‘Have they chased you before?’

‘Yeah. Heaps of times.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me? What did you do?’

‘I run. I’m faster than them.’

‘Have they ever caught you?’

‘Once.’

‘What happened?’

‘They wanted to see my tits, my fanny. I said they could if they showed me their dicks.’

Grace looked at her friend, her eyes wide.

‘Did they?’

‘One did. The other was too chicken. But I ran away before it was my turn. Ha!’