Unsheltered by Clare Moleta (most inspirational books of all time txt) 📗

did that she wouldn’t ever be able to put them outside again.

As the heat blazed up she sat close to the children and thought about where they needed to be now. She thought about Rich’s North stories, how a story could be a map, and she tried tell them about the best place the way Matti used to tell it. She told them they’d have to cross the deep sea but there were boats that didn’t sink. And about all the colours and how the animals all had families. That there was water that came from inside the rocks, and kids rode horses to school and on the way home there was a shop that sold lollies for zero money. And you never got old enough to go to Wars and no one in your family died. But if someone had already died, or you’d lost them, the best place was where they’d wait for you and when you got there your room would be ready.

It was no good. She couldn’t hear Matti’s voice anymore. She only had her own words, her own understanding.

It was dark when she stopped telling the best place. She didn’t want to eat but she ate something. It was okay to take the blanket back, they didn’t need it and she still had to live, but she piled their clothes over them and left the fire burning. And when she was in the tent, in her thermals and balaclava, with the blanket wrapped around her inside the sleeping bag, she sang the song that came from her mother, just the little bit she remembered.

Guardian angels

watch beside us

all through the night

The last time she talked to them was a Sunday and she was nine. Almost nine. At the beginning they called every Sunday, then later it was once a month, and by that last time they hadn’t called for three months. She used the calendar Val got from the free hospital to keep track of his medication. She checked every Saturday that his phone was charged and he had credit and they would be somewhere with reception. When she asked him why she couldn’t call them instead, he said they didn’t have a phone yet, that it took time to get set up inside but he knew they’d call as soon as they could.

She and Val were inland on a sheep station called Yanderup, about halfway round the circuit. They got a lift into town with the boss and Val bought tinned food and flour and powdered milk and tobacco and cigarette papers, and an orange for Li because he worried about vitamins. When it was nearly time he bought a newspaper and sat at a picnic table by the playground pretending to read, and she pretended to play, and when the phone rang he grabbed it off the table and said, Howaya? and then, All right, so. She’s here now, I’ll pass you over.

She talked to Chris first. He was three years younger and not good at phone calls – he would nod instead of saying yes, or forget to talk, or try to show her things. She asked about his birthday the month before and he said he had to choose between a footy or a cake so he chose a cake. They were living in a different place again. She asked if he had any friends at the new school yet and he told her about a kid who’d fallen off the big climbing frame and broken his arm. He asked about Tolly and some of the other kids whose families were on the circuit. She said she was helping Val with patching jobs now, that they might get a job on a kelp farm next season.

Then she said, Is Mum there?

Yeah.

Can it be her turn next?

She’s gone in the other room.

Then her dad came on the phone and asked if she was being good and listening to Val. He wanted to know where they were now. He asked how often she was getting to school and if she liked the postcard they’d sent with the last letter to Val. There was a strangeness in his voice, he was talking a lot and not leaving space.

She said quickly, Did you get a phone yet?

A hesitation. No, no not yet. Me and your mum are still looking for work, it’s all taking a bit more time than we thought.

And she didn’t ask for her, she didn’t ask, but he told her anyway. Mum can’t talk this time, love.

Did she lose her voice again?

She’s been a bit sick, yeah. She sends her love, though, she’s blowing kisses down the phone. There was a kissy noise and then her dad’s voice straight after saying, Did you catch them? Put them in your pocket, quick. Like she was a little kid. But Li couldn’t answer because something was pushing up into her throat. She pressed her ear against the phone in case she could hear her mum in the other room, in case she was trying to say something, but after a minute her dad said, All right, love, I need to have a chat to Val now, okay? We’ll talk next month. Okay? Everybody loves you.

She played The Floor is Lava with a kid she didn’t know while Val talked to her dad. After a while she looked over and he wasn’t on the phone anymore, he was just sitting on the bench, so she went over and he looked up at her with a look she didn’t understand and then he said, How about an icy pole? And pinball.

She said, Can we afford it?

We can this month, yeah.

When the month came up on her calendar again, they were further north, further inland, at a camp in the bush. She kept reminding Val and he kept saying it’d be fine but on the Sunday they were out of range. That was the only time she got angry with him. When she screamed at him that he