Wrath. Anne Davies

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СКАЧАТЬ boys, all three of them, had a pony each. So did the McCaghs. The horses would be tied up to the fence under the trees at the back of the school, their saddles pulled off and slung under cover. They seemed quite content to munch away slowly at whatever grass they could reach or just stand there, one hind leg bent up slightly and resting up on the hoof with their eyes glazed, until the school day was done.

      The school only had 22 kids. Grades one to seven, all of us, were in the one room. A lot of the rich farmers sent their kids off to the city to boarding school when they’d finished primary school, but for now, we were all together.

      “The days are long gone when you could just go and work on the farm at 14, boys,” Mr Evans would say. “Farms don’t just need labourers now; they need someone who knows business, who can do other things besides shear sheep and sit on a tractor. You need to be educated, or you’ll go under. And as far as you girls go, you’ll need an education, or the best you’ll do is a job behind a counter in Coles in Geraldton and a bunch of kids.”

      The girls would always look at each other and sneer at this. They all wanted to get to Perth as quickly as they could. The smart ones were aiming for university or apprenticeships. As for me, I was too little to think about it much, but I knew I just wanted to work with Dad.

      The day Dad started his new job always sticks in my memory for another reason too. One of my friends, Gary Morgan, was walking home with me. Katy was in a little group of girls a few metres behind us. It was a stifling hot day, the sun soaking through our clothes and skin in a way that, for some reason I could never fathom, caused little shivers to go through us every now and then. The wheat in the paddocks on either side of the road had been harvested, and although no breath of air touched us, we could see the wind sliding through the stubble, changing the flat gold to a rippling wave of silk.

      As we plodded along, too hot to say much, we heard the familiar rumble of a truck from behind us. I turned and saw Katy and her group move onto the scrubby ground next to the road, and Gary stepped in behind me.

      “I think it’s a sheep truck,” he said, as the roar of the truck got closer. He said something else, but I couldn’t hear him clearly, not just because of the noise but also because he had turned away from me to look at the truck, which was only a few metres from us now. It passed with a flurry of dust from the gravel road, and I turned away, holding my breath. As the sound faded, I heard the girls behind me running and making ‘panicky girl’ sounds. I turned.

      Gary was lying on the road, with his hands covering his eyes. His mouth formed a ragged ‘O’ that looked almost funny, and the most hideous sound roared from his throat. Blood gushed from between his fingers. The girls around us started whimpering, and I stood frozen, unable to think or move. The guttural screams from Gary slowed to a wheezy, gasping whine.

      “What’ll we do, Luca?” Katy pulled on my arm, and I woke from my fright.

      “Run quick to Criddles and tell them to ring an ambulance, and then run home and tell Mum what’s happened. She’ll find Gary’s mum.”

      Katy turned and raced off, her pigtails flying. The others ran off after her like a twittering flock of birds, leaving just me and Gary, the sun still beating down on us, silence only broken by Gary’s rasping shudders. I patted Gary’s leg in a useless and helpless way.

      “You’ll be okay, Gary. Someone’ll be here soon.” Gary’s hand dropped from his face. He must have lost consciousness, and I could see a gaping bloody mess where his eye had been. A gravel stone, flicked up by the speeding truck, must have hit him. I sat there in the dust and heat, savagely brushing flies away from his face. I was crying loudly, but no one was there to hear me. They’d taken my dad away from me, and now they’d taken Gary’s eye.

      “Bloody trucks!” I blubbered. “Bloody trucks!”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      I woke early this morning and lay there thinking about Katy. I hadn’t seen her since that last day in court. I hadn’t heard from her at all. Where was she? Who was looking after her? There was no one I could ask. We’d never been away from each other for more than a night or two when we’d stayed at friends’ houses. It was bad enough not having her around the corner let alone not speaking to her for so long.

      I eat all my meals with everyone else now. I’ve tried not to, but I can’t help but look forward to those three meals a day. Yesterday, after I finished breakfast, the guard said to me, “Come with me. The boss wants to speak to you.”

      I looked up, surprised. “Why?”

      “No idea, mate, but on your feet.”

      “Okay, Mr Owen, I’m coming,” I said, brushing my hair down quickly.

      He laughed. “It’s just ‘Owen’, not ‘Mr Owen’. Owen is my first name.”

      I realised then that the staff here wouldn’t want any of us to know their surnames. Too easy to track them down and cause trouble later on if anyone had a grudge. Using an adult’s first name seemed friendly, but nothing here is as it seems. Owen stood outside the door again, and I stepped out in front of him.

      “Go straight down the steps and then turn left.”

      I walked down the steps, conscious that he was right behind me. What did he think I was going to do? Throw myself head-first down the stairs and finish myself off? I turned and walked straight towards a double door. He stepped to one side and entered the code, and the door opened. I blinked in surprise. A long passage opened in front of me, and on either side were windows into large, well-lit rooms.

      As I walked along, I could see that each room was a classroom of sorts. About 12 boys were in each room. I didn’t have time to see what they were doing. In some rooms, they seemed clustered around a teacher; in others, they were sitting at desks or working at benches. Passing several guards, Owen quickened the pace behind me, and I could feel his hand on the small of my back.

      “Step it up,” he said, “Mr Khan is waiting.” We came to the end of the passage, and then he stepped past me and knocked on a door.

      “Come in,” a voice called. Owen opened the door and motioned me inside. I stepped in, my eyes directly on the man in front of me. Mr Khan was only about my height. He was Indian-looking and dressed in a dark-grey suit, white shirt and tie. He stepped lightly and quickly around the desk, his hand outstretched.

      “Hullo, Luca. My name is Abraham Khan. I’m pleased to meet you.” He pulled a wry face. “Although I’m sure you’re not too pleased to meet me under the circumstances.”

      His hand was warm and firm. Something in my belly clenched with a kind of shock, and he looked me straight in the eyes. How long it seemed since someone had touched me in a friendly way! I kept my face impassive, however, and he released my hand. Motioning to a chair, he sat down behind his desk.

      “I know how difficult it must be for you to get used to this place—its rules, its loneliness—and, given the nature of the crime that got you here in the first place, you’ll be here until you’re 18.” He paused and looked at me for a long moment. Despite my effort to not react to anything or anyone, I heard my voice break the silence.

      “I know. They told me I would be here till I was 18 and then I’d be transferred to an adult prison.”

      He looked down at his desk, a small frown line between his eyes. “Yes. That means you will be here for just over two years. Your 16th birthday is…” he glanced down СКАЧАТЬ