Andrea Höst - And All the Stars

This first rush done, she came up for air and discovered Noi curled beneath the quilt on the other half of the couch, already asleep despite the early hour. Madeleine hadn’t even heard her come into the room, and wondered why she hadn’t said anything. Or perhaps Noi had, and been ignored, as Madeleine was too used to doing when interruptions came when she was drawing. Stupid and rude of her, and not how she wanted to treat Noi.

The girl had pulled her mass of curling hair up into a topknot, but a few black spirals escaped to spring across her face and, captured by the image, Madeleine shrugged off her annoyance and began a new sketch, a very detailed one. Then she moved on to more pictures of Noi, and of the four boys and their apple-green car, and tried to decide if they were as likeable as they’d seemed, or if she was just reacting to the situation. Madeleine was used to distrusting people and holding herself in reserve, and yet she’d met Noi and teamed up instantly, and did not want that to end. She didn’t even dislike the idea of joining the four boys at their school. Still, she could surely accept the need for allies without forgetting to be wary about relying on others.

When hunger and weariness finally broke through she snacked and showered, then killed all but the hall light. With the TV off, the city skyline became more dominant, blazing away at however many kilowatts per hour, keeping the corpses lit. Once again she heard a weird electronic music, almost like an untuned radio.

Had her mother sounded strange? Even though her eyes were sandy-tired, Madeleine couldn’t make herself stop analysing their brief discussion. Had there really been something there, or was she just looking for the next disaster? The day’s activity should have left her feeling, if not cheerful, at least hopeful. There were people around her who were friendly, and she’d solved the problem of food for a solid chunk of time. Instead of reassured, she was on edge.

A noise in the dark. Madeleine shifted, unsure if she’d been sleeping, and tried to process what she’d heard. A close sound, stifled and secret. A minute or more passed before she realised it was Noi, crying.

Pinned between a desire to do something, and knowing that nothing she might do could make any real difference, Madeleine lay listening to the muted betrayal of pain. If Noi was anything like Madeleine, she wouldn’t want anyone to know she was crying anyway, so it was better to stay still and quiet, not go blundering in.

The question of whether that was the right way to treat Noi occupied her until long after the last tiny sob had faded.

Sunlight crept beneath Madeleine’s eyelids, but it was a sumptuous roil of cinnamon and chocolate which woke her. She scrubbed a hand across her face, stretching, and blinked at a man on television filming himself in front of a Spire. The only sound was from Noi clunking something in the kitchen.

For some minutes Madeleine didn’t move, watching the man holding up a star-studded arm, displaying it as best he could next to the Spire’s whorl of light. Then she shifted her attention to the easel, to Tyler who was somewhere out there probably dead. Painted eyes gazed back at her, uncompromising, and she realised that she felt no impulse to return to the portrait because it didn’t need it. The roughly blocked background, the quick strokes she’d used for everything except the highlight points of head, hand and hair, worked perfectly.

"Which do you prefer for shops: King’s Cross or Bondi Junction?" Noi asked as Madeleine sat up. "There’s a fair few things I need, and from what Faliha was telling me it’s probably not a good idea to wait too long."

"I’ve never been shopping at either of them," Madeleine said. Finding the room unexpectedly chilly, she pulled the koi dressing gown around her. "What on earth are you cooking?"

"Fudge, and caramel squares. I figure we need to always carry something with a big sugar hit – little blocks of emergency energy. There’s pancakes for breakfast, or will be by the time you’re dressed."

"Can I keep you?" Madeleine asked wonderingly, and then laughed with Noi at how that sounded. "I’m guessing you get that a lot. It must be nice to be good at something so useful."

"What, and you aren’t?" Noi said, looking pleased. "I’d kill to be able to draw like that." She nodded toward Madeleine’s sketchbook on the coffee table. "I can’t believe you did those from memory."

"Not a useful skill," Madeleine muttered, and shrugged at Noi’s questioning look. "My mother wants me to be a vet. There’s no money in art. I need a real career, need to be practical , can still paint in my spare time." She pulled herself up, hearing the resentment leaking into her voice. "Guess none of that matters now. Did you always want to cook?"

"Hell, no. I was destined to be a pro basketball player." All of five foot nothing, she grinned blithely. "Well, okay, maybe I did watch a few too many episodes of Masterchef when I was a kid. And food’s a big thing in my family – I’m Thai-Italian, so I’m like Aussie fusion cooking incarnate. My Dad would have preferred I finished Year Twelve before starting my apprenticeship, but he knew it was the only thing I wanted to do." Her smile faded, and she stirred the bubbling pot of fudge.

"I’ll go get dressed," Madeleine said, hesitated, then murmured "Thanks," and left it at that.

After another raid on Tyler’s closet, they disposed of the pancakes and found a second backpack for carrying supplies. Madeleine took a moment to remove the boring print over Tyler’s bed and hang his portrait, balancing the frame of the stretcher on the hook. She refused to acknowledge any symbolism to the gesture.

"We’ll have to search some of the apartments for car keys later," Noi said as they headed down. "But my bike should be enough for this trip. Meet me out front."

It was still early, a breezy and overcast day with a chill southern breeze. Madeleine wished she’d added a jacket to her ensemble, and tucked her hands into her armpits as she walked slowly down the wharf, attention on the Spire flirting with the clouds. Every velvet step reminded her of warm, unnatural stone.

A tutting motor warned her of Noi’s emergence from the driveway on the eastern side of the wharf. Her curls foamed beneath a white helmet and she rode a cream moped, speeding to a precipitous stop at the curb.

"I’ve only the one helmet, sorry," she said. "The Cross is closer, so we’ll head there. Anything you particularly need?"

"Underwear," Madeleine said, sliding onto the seat behind the shorter girl and feeling a little ridiculous.

"Underwear it is!" Noi said, and shot them across the street, past the Woolloomooloo Bay Hotel, and by a collection of tiny terrace houses. She rode with verve and obvious pleasure at having no competition for the road, but it was the shortest of trips, and when they reached the shop-lined streets around King’s Cross Station she slowed to a crawl, staring at ragged holes and spills of safety glass.

"Looks like we’re late to the party," Noi said. "Looting: the new economy."

Madeleine was shocked by the destruction: there was hardly a shopfront intact. King’s Cross had a certain reputation for a drugs-and-prostitution nightlife, but it was an ordinary enough inner-city suburb otherwise.

"What would anyone need from a nail salon?" she wondered.

"Cuticle crisis? Hangnail emergency?" Noi shook her head. "Let’s do this quickly."

Tucking her moped between two cars, she led the way into a Best & Less , snagging a couple of enviro-bags from a checkout. The store offered a full range of cheap, serviceable clothing, and there was no sign of whoever had broken the door open, so Madeleine quickly stuffed bags with clothing suitable for a Sydney winter, and slipped on a plum-coloured coat with a white lined hood.