Evie Wyld - All the Birds, Singing

‘Just an old friend,’ I tell him, and when he looks sharp I say, ‘More of an acquaintance .’ He doesn’t talk all the way back to the station, which is fine by me, because I’m thinking of all those times with a six-pack down by the beach when me and Karen’d take a night off, even if we couldn’t afford it. I think about when she gave me five whole packets of Holidays because a regular had gone abroad and got her duty-free. I hope the bloke with the hat is good, I hope he is the one that got her the duty-free.

That night, I hear Otto padding down the hall to my room, and I start to make myself ready. He likes to be able to see my scars these days, says it makes him feel protective over me which I guess can’t be a bad thing. So I yank up my T-shirt over my head, and I’ve hooked my thumbs into the sides of my shorts to pull them off too, but his footsteps stop outside my door, and he doesn’t come in. Instead there’s a scraping noise, and the doorknob rattles. Still he doesn’t come in and I’m looking at the door expecting him to walk through it, but then his footsteps go back down the hallway, and I realise he has locked the door to my room.

Right , I think.

A fortnight later, I am cleaning the oven when Otto comes into the kitchen holding his hat in his hands.

‘I’m going to the shops,’ he says, turning the hat around a full circle. I get up from the floor and pull the handkerchief from my head.

‘I’ll just wash my hands, then I’ll be ready,’ I say, but Otto lets go of the hat with one hand and holds his palm down to the floor.

‘No — you stay here,’ he says. ‘I can see you’re busy.’

‘It’s fine, I can leave the oven-cleaner to work — I need some more Dettol for the sheep — the flies—’

Otto interrupts to say, ‘I’ll get that for you.’

I go to the sink anyway to wash my hands, hang the rubber gloves over the faucet. ‘It’s fine, I can finish the oven later.’

My back is turned to him and he says in a voice with an edge to it, ‘You’ll stay here.’ And the fly-screen snaps behind him.

When I turn around, he is getting into the truck and leaving Kelly, which he never does. Kelly stands out the front watching him leave, and then she turns to look at me. I put my hand up to the fly-screen and she lowers her head, keeps her eyes trained on me. I’m not to leave the house.

When he gets back that evening, I see Otto take out the keys, and I see him lock the ute up and hang the keys high up above the sink. He’s never locked the ute before. Not even in town. I take this small thing that I see to bed and think about it as I watch out the window. There has been a change — I can sense it in the smell of the place, which has started to get to me.

And when he comes to my room, the sex is different, it’s too tender, makes me feel like I’m made of wax. He holds my trunk for a long time afterwards, his head resting on my belly. He kisses the space above my navel and sighs into me. I look at the bald spot at the top of his head that is covered in liver spots, and where the hair is greased by his own scalp. I get the feeling I’d rather be fucked hard and hated, I’d rather his socks in my mouth.

‘Do you need anything?’ he asks me. ‘Do you need the loo?’

When I come back from the toilet he has smoothed over my bed sheets and put a glass of water on the table by the bed. He pulls back the sheets for me to get in, and when I comply, he tugs up the sheets around my shoulders, makes sure my man’s arms are covered, even though it’s a hot night. He tucks my feet in so that my toes point downwards. He kisses my forehead and tells me, ‘Goodnight, sleep tight.’ And in that moment I think I might cry, but I manage to wait until he has left the room and I hear the click of him locking me in again. Kelly scratches in the dirt underneath the house and tonight I cannot bear the sound. I get out of bed and hit the metal cage of my window to try and get her to go away. She barks loudly and I sit back down on my bed and wait to hear Otto’s footsteps padding down past my room and looking out on Kelly. I hear him say, ‘What’s it?’ and Kelly’s whine. ‘Good girl,’ he says quietly and he goes back to bed, pausing at my door, listening perhaps. I bounce a little on the bed, to make a noise like I might be turning over in my sleep. I hear Kelly growl, then bite at the fleas on her back. She heaves herself up and starts to dig again. I get quietly out of bed and I do push-ups in the dark. When my arms can’t take my weight any more, I do sit-ups and finally I crawl into bed and as I fall asleep a bird cries in the night, and it sounds just like a fire horn.

The next morning when the wind had stopped blowing, the mist came down thicker than I’d seen before. It lapped at my feet when I opened the door, like my house was an island. Dog strode off into it, and lost his legs and hovered smoothly. In the woolshed I dug out the unopened fox bait that had been there since I moved in. I put it in my pocket and thought about how probably I wouldn’t lay it, but it was good to feel like I could if I wanted to. I doubted it would do anything much to an animal the size of the one I’d seen on the way home. I tried to remember the shape of the thing, but all I had left in my memory was a set of yellow eyes.

Outside Lloyd was shaking his finger at Dog. I started when he yelled, ‘No!’

Dog sat at Lloyd’s feet, with his ears back and one foot raised. He looked pissed off.

‘What’s going on?’

Lloyd ignored me and said Dog’s name in a creepy way. He was saying it the way people talk to a baby, with too many ups and downs so it sounded like ‘Doo-erg’, and looking Dog right in the eye at the same time. The hackles on Dog’s shoulders were up more every time Lloyd said it, until Dog couldn’t take it any more and barked his warning bark, the high-pitched one that meant Get lost . As soon as he’d barked, Lloyd yelled ‘NO!’ in a deep voice and Dog cowered down, but his ears flicked about and he looked ready to murder.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ I asked.

When Lloyd looked up, Dog started to slink away up the field.

‘The book says you need to get him to know his name.’ He bent down and picked up the book lying on the ground which he’d taken with him from the pub. I hoped nobody had seen. He read out, in a booming voice, ‘“Your puppy should learn his name right away. Say his name often in a gentle voice.”’

‘Dog is four years old, and he knows he’s Dog already,’ I said. ‘You’re just pissing him off. He’ll bite you.’

Lloyd carried on, ‘“It is imperative you teach your dog not to bark when working. Yell NO! at him harshly. If he does not listen, grab him by the nose and say NO! firmly.”’

‘He is going to bite you,’ I said again.

Lloyd waved his hand at me. ‘We have an understanding now,’ he said and looked around for Dog, who was still trying to make his way inside without being noticed. ‘Here!’ Lloyd shouted sternly, pointing to his feet, and fair do, Dog shuffled back to him. ‘See!’ said Lloyd, resting his weight on a crook and looking very pleased with himself. ‘He knows who’s boss.’

I went back inside, put on a pot of coffee and watched from the kitchen window. Lloyd started up with his gooey naming again and Dog barked, three times, so Lloyd shouted NO! NO! NO! one for each bark.

Dog’s ears were flat to his head, and he put his bum up in the air, his chin down low. ‘Doo-erg,’ said Lloyd, pointing at him. Dog made six high-pitched yips, wiggled his arse and lunged at Lloyd’s face. After impact, Dog seemed free of rage, and trotted happily back towards the house, his work completed.