The Serpent's Skin

banged on the roof of the cabin, and Pete let out a whoop and took off.
He belted us in a straight line for the creek at the other end of the paddock. I squatted back low, holding real tight.
‘What’s got into ya?’ Dad yelled at me.
‘Stayin out of the wind,’ I yelled back. It wasn’t the wind. But it was something. I was usually jumping up and down with the different of it.
Pete pulled up sharp at the far end of the paddock and wheeled about, heading up towards the bridge.
‘There,’ Tim and Mr Kennedy yelled, one voice.
Pete skidded to a stop. Mr Kennedy manned the spotlight. I hopped up to see. Mr Kennedy scudded the light about till it found the target. A small grey body scooting this way and that in ever-smaller dodges until it was nailed to a quiver-still stop. Up on its hind legs, two black eyes, shiny with the thing it knew was about to happen.
Then the shot.
The rabbit’s body jerked high and somersaulted backwards.
Shouts of victory.
Tim leaped out. Came back with the prize, and tossed it in the box. Dad rubbed Tim’s head. ‘First shot too, boyo.’
‘Bet you can’t do better,’ said Tim. Even in the dark I could tell they were both grinning.
Then Mr Kennedy’s voice. ‘I’ll give ya a run for ya money, but.’
There was a quick knocking from inside the cabin. ‘Philly’s crying,’ said Tessa, getting her head out the window.
‘Bloody hell,’ Dad swore. Then everybody waited for him to say more.
‘Phils.’ Dad raised his voice so she could hear. ‘Never bothered you before.’
‘I don’t want you to kill,’ came Philly’s small voice, all soaked up with tears.
‘There’ll be no dinner tomorra.’
She didn’t say anything. I didn’t either, kept my head right down, but Philly was nothing but right.
‘How about another few goes and then we call it quits?’
More silence.
‘She nodded,’ called out Tessa finally.
‘Righto. Let’s get this show on the road.’ He banged on the roof and Pete took off again. But slow, like something had come out of the thing.
Next morning we were all jangled up listening out for the phone. Philly picked up the receiver a couple of times to make sure it worked. Tim and I fought over the Milo tin and Dad didn’t even notice, just kept his eyes long and low out the window. In the end I convinced Philly to take her mind off things by making pot plants out of old fruit tins to surprise Mum when she came home. She agreed if we did it beside the tanks where we could still hear the phone, which was fine by me cause I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.
After breakfast, Tessa snatched the tea towel from me and spread it over the dish drainer, all filled up angry. Philly and I took off for the door.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Tessa asked.
‘Help Dad,’ I lied, quick as quick.
‘Not before the school shoes.’
Philly looked stricken and changed direction.
‘They get a good shine up every bloody Saturday. Reckon they could do with one week off,’ I said, still facing the laundry and freedom.
‘Don’t be so selfish, JJ. Break Mum’s heart if she got back and our shoes were in a state.’
I scratched my ear. ‘Reckon it would take a bit more than that to break her heart.’
‘How would you know?’ Tessa smoothed Mum’s apron over her stomach. ‘Tim,’ she yelled. ‘Shoes.’
We heard movement from Tim’s room coming our way, so if he was doing it there was no getting out of it for me. I went over to the kitchen hearth.
‘Shove over,’ Tim said when he got there. He pushed me and I fell, getting polish on the lino. I roared and flicked him with my cloth. He caught it with a grin and then held my fighting fists out at arm’s length.
‘You take up a lot of room for a little girl.’
‘You can’t talk. You’re not even a teenager yet.’
Tim flicked the cloth this time and got me right in the face. I ignored him. I bunched my hand inside my shoe and slammed it down to the hearth. I slapped my cloth at the outside, back and forwards, big and long.
‘Settle down,’ Tessa said.
‘I don’t reckon she’s at Aunty Peg’s,’ I said.
Philly dropped the polish tin and it skidded across the kitchen, colliding with the stove. We all stopped to watch it circle and circle, then topple.
‘If she was there, sure as sure, she’d pick up Aunty Peg’s phone and call us,’ I said.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Tessa.
I gave the shoe a last blast and put it aside. Picked up the other one. Tucked my hand in its hood. ‘Dad’s a bloody bugger liar.’
‘JJ!’ Tessa’s voice was knife sharp. ‘God will strike you down.’
I dropped the cloth and spread my arms like Christ on the cross, as if to say, here I am, strike away.
‘So where else is she, then?’ Tim asked, all reasonable.
I got the cloth again. ‘Dunno.’ My voice was no bigger than a pinhead.
‘Reckon you should ring Aunty Peg and find out,’ he said.
I poked my tongue at him.
‘She’ll do no such thing,’ said Tessa. ‘Nobody goes near the phone without Dad’s say so.’ Tessa got Philly to pack away the polishing. She sent Tim out to chop the kindling. She made me clean the polish off the lino.
When Dad came in for lunch he nodded at the shoes lined up square like usual. He sat to the table with a grunt, as if he’d been on the tractor day and night for a month. Tessa had sliced up the corned beef Mum’d cooked the morning she left and had it on the table ready with a bit of lettuce and some boiled eggs, so we all sat. Dad forgot Grace so Tessa reminded him. He gave Tim the nod, and Tim gave Grace a good run for its money. Dad didn’t stop him racing through it, though.
‘Dad,’ I started. ‘Dad—DAD.’ Not a peep back. ‘DAD.’