Chapter Seven

Alan hobbles, but his never-say-die attitude in the wake of the many stares he’s receiving as we pass through the foyer of the hospital tells me this kid is going to be okay. A few small grunting sounds press past his lips when we make our way through the automatic doors and Alan sees his freedom from the hospital for the first time in more than two months.

“It’s fucking bright,” he groans.

“It’s called the sun. It’s supposed to be bright,” I tease.

“Smartarse.”

“Watch your mouth, boy. If I’m going to take on this guardian role and be responsible for you, you’re going to have to do as you’re told.” Not even I can keep a straight face saying this.

Alan laughs. “So, what? I have to call you Dad now, too?”

My shoulders shake from the strength of my own laughter as I breathe out, “No.”

“Good. You’re twenty-six years old if I remember correctly?”

“Something like that.”

“Twenty-six with a fifteen-year-old son doesn’t look favourable for either of us. I mean, you would’ve been thirteen when you shot me from your ball sack.”

“Ten, mate, and this is why the first thing we’ll be doing is getting your dumb arse back into school. And, Alan, I’m not joking about school—you’re going.” I saunter past him whilst shaking my head.

“Fucking great.”

“Come on, get a move on, will you?”

“Coming, Master.”

By the time I’ve thrown Alan’s bag into the tray of the ute along with the wheelchair I know he will need at times, but I sure as hell won’t let him rely on, Alan finally makes the distance and stops not far from my feet.

“What’s this now? New car? What happened to your rusty old shit heap?” He scrunches his face tight.

“Yep. New car. That rusty old shit heap caught fire.”

“Shit, hey? Righto then. Where do you want these?” Alan points to the crutches tucked under his arms.

“In the back with you, I’d say.”

“Cool.”

I take a moment to look through the passenger window to check on Tessa. She’s sleeping. I pause for a moment and wait for her chest to rise and fall. It does.

Opening the back door, I offer Alan my arm in support. A little lift is all he needs—he underestimates his own strength. He’s strong.

“Who’s the old chick in the front?” Alan wiggles his eyebrows as he fastens his seatbelt.

“Ms Simon. Our new flatmate.”

The sound of her raspy breaths and snores tell me Tessa’s sleeping soundly. It must be deep because all this noise hasn’t woken her. Anybody could have stolen the car and she wouldn’t have had the foggiest idea it had happened.

“You need anything?” I offer Alan.

“Nope.”

“Right. Let’s go then.” By the time I have the driver’s door open, Roxie has managed to plant her furry butt in my seat.

“Really?” I smile, scuffing her hair. “You better move, dog, or I’m going to sit on you.”

She doesn’t move a whisker. No surprises there.

“Roxie, come here,” Alan instructs with an outstretched hand.

Roxie doesn’t hesitate clambering into the back and sniffing wildly over his clothing.

It’s a blue-coloured remote the size of a matchbox. Three grey buttons rise out of the plastic covering. The question I’m asking myself is which one of these buttons opens the garage door. Of course, the third button I push is the one that has the door going upwards.

Tessa snores, one loud sound before it catches in her throat and has her coughing and spluttering. The rapid rate with which she draws breath through the points in her nose and the desperation of her hand clutching the tubes has me shaking my head. I knew all those cigarettes she smoked over the years would do her in. It’s a tragic way to go, really.

“Is she all right?” Alan’s concern doesn’t go unnoticed, and I nod in response.

“You’re all right, Tess. Calm down.”

Her eyes are so wide and the blue colouration flashing her lips momentarily has me cringing. I knew she was sick, but I guess I’d never really wanted to acknowledge the extent.

Driving the car forward, I shift the stick into neutral and pull up the handbrake. Turning the engine off, I swing my vision between Tessa and Alan and have one moment where I think what the fuck am I doing? The doubt doesn’t last long.

“Where are we?” Tess says.

“Home. We’re home.”

“Home.” There’s surprise to her tone.

“Yep. Home. Hold tight for a moment. I’ll be right back.”

I think it takes all of thirty seconds to remove myself from the car and make it to the screen door, the one separating the house from the garage.

I’m surprised when I enter the kitchen, mainly because it’s set up with appliances on the bench and there’s a fridge in a space no fridge was when I left.

Bang!

The noise is coming from the upstairs level, so I hightail it through the open space, taking the stairs two at a time and racing towards the master bedroom where the banging sounds grow louder.

Shit. I didn’t see any other cars in the driveway. Who the hell is here?

“About fucking time you got here. Dude, what arsehole is not here when the removalist and unpacking service arrives?” Blocker is shaking his head and holding a wrench in his grease-covered hand. “You’re going to stand there with your mouth hung open then?” He uses his free hand to scratch his bare chest right over the skull and rose tattoo he had done when we were adolescents.

“What are you doing here already? Where’s your car?”

“I rode the bike. I parked it round back.”

“Fair enough. What have you been doing?”

“Helping your hired help set your fucking place up, that’s what. Everything’s done, you slack bastard. If you don’t like where I told them to put stuff, or where I’ve put stuff, then sort it later, right?”

“Right. And everything’s been done?”

“It’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Thanks for that.”

“What are friends for? Anyway, where have you been?”

“Hospital. Getting Alan. I picked up Tess as well.”

Blocker cocks his overgrown eyebrows. “Thought you were doing that later today.”

“Time to kill. I Thought I’d get it over and done with.”

“Fair enough. Where the hell are they then?” He wipes the sweat dripping from the front of his crewcut over his forehead.

“In the car. Give me a minute and I’ll be right back.”

He chuckles dryly. “Fucking frazzled prick.”

He continues to chuckle as I jog down the hallway and take the stairs three at a time on my way back down.

I’m not frazzled. Or am I?

Tessa is the first I help out, and once she’s clutching the handle holding her oxygen tank, I offer my arm for Alan to take as he makes the small jump to the ground.

“Thanks, Tank.” He smiles before retrieving his crutches.

“This way,” I say.

I don’t take the pair of them on a tour. Right now, their bedrooms will do. I’m still shocked as to how all the shit I bought to furnish some of this house is here and already unpacked. The removalists said they’d arrive a little after 1:00 p.m. Also, I’m confused as to how Blocker knew to be here earlier than planned, and what the hell the wrench was for.

Making the back end of the lower level, I point to the two doors on either side of the lounge room, which has already been furnished with a rustic brown corner lounge and a television mounted to the wall. Seriously, when did this happen?

Alan is staring at me, and I’m pretty sure from his puzzled gaze I look rattled … and I am. I’m definitely rattled.

“Right.” I puff out my cheeks and release a hasty breath. “Tess, your room is on the right. Alan, yours is the left. These are the only two bedrooms on the lower level of the place, and they are yours. Tess, I’ll have the rest of your stuff brought over from your apartment before nightfall, and Alan, you can go out tomorrow and buy some stuff to make your room homely, or whatever teenage boys do nowadays.”

“Tank.” It’s all Alan says before his mouth hangs wide-open.

“Finlay, how can you afford this?” Tessa’s eyes are wet and she sniffs.

I’m not sure if she’s about to cry or sneeze, but she’s searching for my reaction.

“How do you think?” I whisper.

Her lip quivers and then the moisture previously coating her pupils drips from her lower lid and races down either cheek. “It was you. You were the winner.” She’s breathless.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Alan says with disbelief.

Running my hand over my still uncut hair and down my face, I take a moment to think about how this one night changed everything. How one piece of flimsy paper meant I’d live a life I’m not even sure how to live.

“Well, I’m just glad someone deserving won all the money. Finlay, you deserved to win the lotto.”

Tessa’s smile beams with a mixture of pride and relief, and I’m pretty sure I’ll hold onto this image for the rest of my life. I’ve seen that look of pride twice before: once when she took me in as a six-year-old orphan and I let her hold me tight; the other time when I came back for the safety of her arms after what happened with Penny.

You see, Tessa isn’t just the neighbour who lived above me in those shitty-arse apartments for the last six years. Tessa is so much more. She’s so much more than just a foster mother. She’s a saint.