‘Why have you got my dad’s number in your phone?’ She stared at it, trying to figure the connection.
‘What are you talking about?’ he spat.
‘This is my dad’s number.’ She held out the phone, which he grabbed and stared at the name Kelleway. His laugh when it came was mocking, nasty, and not for the first time, Domino felt the shiver of fear.
‘I don’t fucking believe it! Perfect.’ He kicked at the ground and let out a guttural yell, scuffing the toe of his immaculate trainer. ‘Fucking perfect!’
‘I ... I still need to make a call.’ She spoke in a quiet voice, almost afraid to raise it and wary of asking again about how he knew her dad when his reaction had been so strange.
Breathing heavily through his nose, he seemed to consider this and made a call.
‘Andrea, it’s me. Look, I need a favour. I’ve had to fly tip a dozy tart and I need it collecting.’ He laughed but it was a mean snort that rendered her silent. She knew she would never forget being described in that way; this was what he thought of her. No more thanrubbish...trash...waste... It made her feel small, less than. It made her feel like the kind of girl who would not get picked to live a life of shared moments, staring at sunsets from expensive hotel beaches and not the kind of girl who could waltz into a lucky, lucky life by walking down the aisle ... in Vera Wang.
‘Where from? Er ... I’m sending the location. Give it to her slag mates.’
It horrified her to hear her friends described in this way, but riven with shame and reflection, edged now with fear, she said nothing. And the fact that she felt unable to speak out was something that would bother her for the longest time: learning how quickly she could be subdued, reduced, made invisible. She pictured her mum packing up the car and painting on a smile and in that moment longed to feel her mother’s arms around her, the woman who made things feel better.
She watched him send a message, end the call, and without so much as a glance in her direction, he climbed into his flashy car. The one she had so admired.
Shouting now through the open window, he revved the engine. ‘The little tarts you arrived with are coming to pick you up. And I can’t believe you were so worried about your lift when you should be worried about my fucking car! Have you any idea the damage you’ve done to the leather? Do you know what it’s going to cost to get that stench out? What a fucking family! What a shambles of a fucking family!’
Fat tears trickled down her face. It was a hard thing to hear. She shook her head, wishing in that moment that she was still in her nan’s back garden, picking at cheese and sitting on the comfy sofa. What was it Grandad Bernie had said? ‘Your nan’s right, you make us all so proud...’She wondered how proud he would be right now. Or if not there, she’d like to be at home in Newman Road with her mum and dad, or better still, in her bedroom in their house in Melbourne, when life had been good, the sun warm, her friends sweet and her life had felt in control.
It had been a good life, where shehadworried about her grades, read books, played netball for her school, eaten ice cream in the park, and just the thought of not handing in a piece of coursework on glacial drift would have kept her awake with the sheer worry of it. A treat was a sleepover where her mum packed her off to herfriend’s house with a packet of peanut butter Tim Tams and where, for a midnight feast, she and her schoolfriends had greedily eaten delicious, melted-cheese Jaffles.
How had she arrived here in just three years? How had things spiralled so quickly until she felt empty like this – empty and hopeless, sitting here in the dark with this arsehole as she tried to carve a life that meant security. It occurred to her then that this type of security came at a heavy price. But surely anything – anything – would be better than listening out for every sound in the early hours, every bump in the night, in case it meant they were on the move again, that bags had to be quickly packed as they were given the green light to go, go, go!
‘Do you want to take a rain check?’ she asked, flicking the Brie from her cleavage. ‘I could come out to your place, we could—’
‘You’ve got to be fucking joking! Listen to yourself. Arain check? You’re a stupid little girl who’s seen one too many movies. I don’t even know your first name and that suits me just fine. It’s enough to know you are a Kelleway – of course you are! I see you have your dad’s gift of fucking up everything you go near. If I never set eyes on you again that’ll be too soon!’
The taillights of the car were gone in a second and the lane was suddenly dark. She shivered, partly in fear because there were noises all around that sounded like something or someone was present, but that could have been her imagination.
Being so sick had left her feeling wretched, but more than that, she was aware of a cold kernel of something that felt a lot like grief that had taken root in her stomach. Was she really like her dad? Was her life to be similar? It was as she felt this small icy kernel of self-doubt embed itself in her chest that her sorrow came in earnest. Thick ribbons of snot and tears streaked her face, and the remnants of her mascara found their way on to her cheeks. She wished shehad her coat, which had her phone in the pocket, both of which she had flung on to the back seat of Essie’s car.
But even if she did have her phone, who would she honestly call? Not her parents. Her grandparents? They’d only think it a hoax – their little Domino would never find herself in such a situation. Cassian? Yes, yes, she could call Cassian, her big brother. This thought provided a small blanket of comfort. She didn’t really dislike him. Truth was, she didn’t really know him; he was quiet and had never opened up to her. But she knew he was kind. Unlike her, who didn’t really give a shit about anyone or anything.
Not that she had always been this way. In Melbourne she’d cared about everyone and everything, but being wrenched from there with little notice and having to give up her school, her home, her friends, her whole beautiful life ... Well, it had changed her. And now here she was, sitting on a grass verge in the dark, cold, scared and covered in sick. The thought summoned a new batch of tears.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there – ten minutes, twenty? But enough time for her to stop crying and become strangely calm. Resigned, almost. She recognised the knocking engine of the little red runaround, and her relief was sweet when Essie pulled up, and both she and Ruby jumped out.
‘Oh my God!’
‘What the actual fuck?’
‘Why are you out here on your own?’
‘Did he hurt you?’
‘Are you hurt, baby?’
‘Talk to us!’
‘God, you smell bad!’
Their questions and observations came thick and fast and were fired in such quick succession, it gave her no time to answer.
‘I’m okay,’ she managed, gratefully accepting the pairs of arms that held her tightly, taking both warmth and comfort from them.
