The Life and Times of Gracie Faltrain by Cath Crowley Page A

empty.
    â€˜Gracie, honey, I’m sorry, I’ll be travelling for the next few days but then I’ll be home. I’ll call you from the hotel. I love you.’
    â€˜I love you too, Dad,’ I whisper. I can’t bring myself to press the clear button.
    Mum’s face smiles out at me from the picture hanging on the wall in the hallway. She looked so much younger. She’s leaning on Dad’s shoulder and smiling. They’d just been to their first dance. Dad’s arm is around her waist. Everything will be all right when she gets home. We’ll eat dinner and watch the Saturday movie together. She will let me call Jane.
    I can’t stop thinking about her trying to take in the shop sign on her own. How will she hold her bag and lock the gate at the same time? I go to meet her.
    Half the light in the day has escaped and so she doesn’t notice me at first. I’ve never seen Mum cry before. She turns, silver rivers streaking across her face. She has a line running from her nose to her mouth. I think of all the nights I’ve left her to shut up on her own. I wonder if she’s cried every time.
    I feel like there’s someone behind us the whole way home, but when I turn the street is empty. It’s just Mum and me. And the quiet night around us.

23
    fight verb : to struggle, to carry on
GRACIE
    â€˜There’s a storm coming,’ Mum says as we eat fish and chips. ‘There’s the smell of rain in the air.’
    Usually I love the sound of the water hitting the windows. Mum always turns the outside lights on so that we can see the garden, wet with storm. Tonight I feel unsettled. I want the next day to be warm, calm.
    Mum starts quietly. ‘The good news is that the business is better. Not much, but a little. The thing is, we need to do a lot better. I don’t know if we can hold on much longer.’
    Things are moving too quickly now.
    â€˜You can have the money we’ve saved for New South Wales, Mum. I’ll work harder too. I promise.’
    â€˜Gracie, it’s not your fault. It’s going to take more than just you and me to save the nursery.’ She eases herself off the chair and looks old. ‘Don’t worry. I think I know what we need.’
    â€˜A miracle,’ I say.
    â€˜Not quite, but I know a person who can help us.’
    â€˜Can they help me too?’ I ask.
    She touches my hair. ‘Gracie, don’t just sit back and wait for the next thing to happen. If you’re not happy, then do something about it.’
    â€˜What should I do?’
    â€˜I can’t tell you that, Gracie. No one can.’
    I want Dad. I want to hear the sound of his keys in the lock, his bag dropping at the door. I want him to come home and stop the wind howling.
    Â 
HELEN
    Don’t let go, Gracie. Hold on. Fight.

24
    ghost noun : a mere shadow
GRACIE
    There’s a tin shed at the bottom of the oval, on the edge of where the team practises. It’s never locked. If I leave the door open a little and stand inside the door, I can see the whole field, but no one can see me.
    I watch Martin running, arms held out for balance, his legs already kicking before he’s at the ball. I watch and it hurts. I can feel it like a slow tearing across my chest.
    Without soccer, life is a long Sunday afternoon with nothing to look forward to. It’s weeks and weeks of not seeing Dad or Jane. It’s nothing. Slowly creeping inside me. Filling me up. I hate the team for making me feel like this.
    I want to run out onto the field, dots of mud flecking my legs, wind blowing at me like a sharp breath across a dusty shelf. I hate that I’d have to ask to come back. ‘I hope they lose the Championships,’ I murmur to the tin around me. My voice sounds thin and I’m glad that no one can hear me say it.
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MARTIN
    I see her watching us, her face half hidden by the door of the old tin shed. Just ask, Faltrain. Why won’t you