TADPOLE

Appleton. How I hate that sleepy, dream-draining little town. Tasmania's Huon Valley is a beautiful part of the world, but I suppose no beauty comes without a blemish.

I hate Appleton.

I hate my sister.

Welcome To Appleton, Population 1400. Reduce Your Speed.

Three years ago I vowed never to return. Yet here I am rolling down the main street in a rented car, wincing at the uncared-for children playing in the gutter outside the pub. Here I am again, back amongst the dropouts, the ferals, the hippies escaping Byron Bay's peak season. And all because Liam, my sister's de facto, deserted her the same week she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Everyone in the family seemed surprised, except me. You'd have thought they would've known him better than that by now.

Graeme was all objections when I booked a flight after Ellie's hysterical call. "She doesn't really want you there," he said. "She'll just try to get money out of you." Now, pulling up outside her small weatherboard cottage on the town's outskirts, I wish to God I'd listened to him.

I'm shocked when I see her. I'd expected tears, tantrums, fury. This was the sister who once chased me around her backyard with a carving knife at some imagined grudge. Ellie's mood swings were legendary in our family. But here she was, calm as anything, waving to me on the porch along with her pack of children. Her hair was newly coloured with golden foils; she wore a vintage style outfit. She looked radiant, beautiful even. I should've known then that something was terribly wrong.

We embrace in that awkward manner of siblings who share a history but are no

longer close. The children gather around to stare at their long-absent aunt made flesh.

"Look at you!" Ellie cries, holding her hands up to her face as if she is witnessing an apparition. "You're so glamorous! So Sydney. Too posh for Appleton."

"You look fantastic," I say meaning it. "I'm sorry about..." I can't bring myself to say the words cancer or Liam. Somehow the two seem to go together. Tears well up in my eyes, surprising myself.

"Oh well, shit happens," Ellie says. "Come out the back, I've got some friends for you to meet."

I groan inwardly. Not her layabout friends.

"Come on, Amber," Ellie says, reading my mind. "Don't be a bloody snob. You'll like them. They're dying to meet you."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

We walk around the house, past the large vegetable garden. Toys lay scattered across the yard, broken and uncared for. The torso of a Barbie doll, the head of a teddy bear. I recognise half the face of a china doll I'd bought from Hamleys in London for them.

In the garden is a wooden bench and table. Further back is the rickety clothes line, a compost heap, a small pond, an unpainted tumbledown hen house and beyond, the serene Huon valley. Two women sit at the bench smoking, looking so typical of Ellie's friends. Both wear long crushed velvet skirts; one has dark red hair curling to her waist and tattoos across her arms, the other has a nose ring and dyed orange hair cut into spikes. A deck of tarot cards is on the table in front of them.

"Here she is!" screams Ellie. I begin to suspect she is drunk. I want to hit her, run

away, but I know I'll have to endure this mad tea party.

I am introduced to tattoos (Gypsy) and nose-ring (Ursula). They both squeal a lot,

smell of patchouli oil and light cigarettes in unison.

"So," Gypsy says, blowing a thin plume of smoke out of her nose and surveying me with pale green eyes that have already appraised my outfit. "You've come to console your little sister. That's nice." The three exchange glances and I feel excluded from a private joke.

"He's a swine, isn't he?" Ursula says cheerfully. Her teeth are stained yellow with nicotine. "Took all her money, all his clothes. He'd been sneaking his things out for months. She's well rid of the bastard."

"I couldn't agree more," I say. It was no revelation to me that Liam cleared out. It was amazing that he stayed as long as he did. From the moment I met him I knew he'd be trouble. He had left his first wife - who, ironies of ironies, had a breast removed because of cancer - and also his baby girl just to move in with my sister. I hated everything about him. His lazy smile, the way he flicked his hair out of his eyes, his love of pornographic magazines and videos. The vampiric way he lived, existing from one dole cheque to the next with both himself and Ellie content to bleed my parents dry. The way he judged me for being "stuck up and conservative." The pushy manner he'd adopt trying to make you to take drugs with him. The way he'd sit up all night drinking and talking about the band he was going to form, or the ship he was going to build. The bullshit dreams he wove around himself.

"Ellie looks fantastic," I say, attempting to shield my face from the harsh sun.

"Being with Liam was obviously holding her back."

"I have a new lover," Ellie says, giggling.

"Already?" I stare at her, aghast. In my world, people don't start sleeping with

new lovers as soon as a marriage ends, especially if they're beginning treatment for cancer at the same time.

"Told you that would happen," Gypsy says triumphantly. "Saw it the last time I

read for you." She stabs at the tarot deck and glances at Ursula with a strange smile.

By now a crowd of children have gathered around me, their dirty faces and hands making me long to scrub them. I struggle to recall the names of my smaller

nephews and nieces.

"Those three are mine," Ursula says indicating a grubby little trio. I feel relieved, thinking for a moment I had missed a few of Ellie's births. Johnny, Rosie, Dick and Clover: my nephews and nieces, the names written numerous times in gift cards.

"Where's Rosie?" I ask. Rosie had always been my favourite.

"Not home from school yet," Ellie says. "The bus will be along shortly. You won't she her, but. She's going through a shy stage."

"Liam tried to fuck her," Ursula says suddenly, obviously longing to discuss every intimate detail of this sordid family business with me.

"Really?" I'm genuinely astonished. Even my hatred for him hadn't extended so far to imagine him doing something that vile. I'd always just thought he crept away to see prostitutes.

"Yeah, the dirty bastard," Ursula says. "But Rosie's a pretty little thing. We could see it coming."

"I didn't," Ellie says. A shadow seems to have crossed her face. I see new wrinkles around her eyes and mouth and instinctively, I move myself further into the shade.

"No, you didn't," Ursula agrees. "But we could. It was obvious when he started building the bathroom with no door. He wanted to watch her."

I am fascinated, despite myself, as well as appalled. Poor gentle Rosie, the only child of my sister who ever bothered to write me thank-you notes for all the presents posted at considerable expense over the years. A white hot fury spikes my throat. I feel anger at Ellie for allowing the situation to develop that far. Liam was not Rosie's natural father - that was another no-hoper, a Kurt Cobain look-alike named Austin who drank himself to death in front of the kids over several years.

"Liam groped her up a bit," Ellie said. "But she told me and I threatened him with the police."

I am confused. "Is that why he had the affair with Lotus?"

Ellie laughs. "That slag? Oh, he was screwing that mole for years. Lotus has been through just about all the men in Appleton, you know. Only Liam would leave me for the town bike. She's not even good looking!"

Shaking her head, Ellie looks into space as she draws on her cigarette. "Hey, get away from the fuckin' pond!" she screams suddenly at one of the children over by the stinking fishpond. "I don't suppose you'll have a beer with us, Amber? Don't worry, I'll go and make you a coffee. I hope you don't want a cappuccino - you're not in Sydney now, girl."

She vanishes into the back door and I'm distracted by an obese little dog being dragged around by the children, wheezing in an alarming manner. A bit like my father before he died. An old scar within me puckers; Ellie had refused to visit our dying father. After all the money she had wheedled out of him over the years, too. He was on his deathbed and she decided to go camping on Bruny Island. She was too broke to contribute towards either parent's funeral, of course, but she'd been quick to commandeer and sell everything of value in our old family home.

"That dog looks extremely unhealthy," I say, to no one in particular.

Gypsy laughs. "I reckon. Poor old Jellybean. She's a garbage can. Eats anything."

"It's cruel," I say. "It'll shorten her lifespan."

Ursula lights another cigarette. "It's only a dog."

"You can't tell Amber that," Ellie says, reappearing with a tray filled with steaming mugs. "She's got one of those little rat dogs, remember I told youse about it? It wears pearls and lacy dresses and even gets its nails done." The three of them exchange smug, see-what-a-superficial-cow-she-is expressions.

"I guess it makes a good child substitute," Ursula says patronisingly. Just then a small runny-nosed child approaches me and squeals something that sounds like "squashed itti." I recoil and Ursula shakes her head at my awkwardness, putting on the big earth mother act.

"That's right, darling." Ellie laughs, turning to me. "Clover just told you that Liam killed Kitty."

"Kitty?" I felt a horrible shock. With the exception of Rosie, Kitty was the only other member of her family I'd been fond of. That poor old ginger cat always looked half-starved and it endured constant taunting from the children. She'd been with Ellie for about fifteen years.

"Well, she was old." Ellie's eyes shone in the way they did when she knew she was about to horrify me. "We couldn't afford the vet's bill to put her down. We're not like you and Graeme with your big flash Sydney house and well-paid jobs and no kids. I had all the school books and shoes to buy. No, Liam smashed her head in with a brick."

"He did what?"

"Calm down. It was humane. She died quickly."

"It's not humane. It's disgusting. I've never heard anything so low, not even from

you. Poor Kitty, ending her miserable life like that." On the verge of tears, I feel my face growing red. "The last thing she would've seen is Liam with a brick in his hand."

Ellie shrieked with laughter. "She cares more about animals than people!" Gypsy and Ursula follow our conversation with glee.

"I care more for Kitty than I would for you or Liam," I reply, knowing it to be true.

"She didn't steal or manipulate, or sponge off others."

"Hang on a fucking minute!" Ellie says. "Don't think you can come in here and

insult me in my own home in front of my friends and kids, Miss Sydney la-di-dah."

"I came here to be a support to you in a difficult time, but I should've listened to Graeme. He said I was wasting my time."

"Hi Auntie Amber!" A young man in a grey and burgundy school uniform was shambling towards me. At first I hardly recognise Johnny, my sister's eldest boy. He has dyed his blonde hair black, and is taller than me. A pretty, dark-haired girl hovers behind him. Johnny gives me a perfunctory kiss. He has his Austin's eyes and face. "You look well, Auntie," he says. There's no trace of the shy country boy I remember. "This is my girlfriend Cocoa."

"Cocoa practices Witchcraft," Ellie says, eyes shining again.

"Are you two fighting again?" Johnny says, as if we are the children. "They hate each others guts," he informs Cocoa, who nods as if she has heard this before. Her eyes flick over me, "Nicetomeetcha," she says, blushing as she hides behind Johnny.

"Your mother was just telling me about Kitty," I say. "She seems to find it amusing."

1 "Mum, lay off her. You know how she feels about animals. Rosie's in the house, too freaked to come out."

"I'll go to her," I stand, feeling relieved at the excuse to get away from Ellie's

malicious smile.

"No, I'll get her. She's just trying to get attention. Johnny, sit and talk to your aunt," she orders him before vanishing inside.

From the house, I can hear the sounds of shouting. "They never get along,"

Johnny says, sitting on the bench beside me, pulling Cocoa next to him. They both

light cigarettes. His eyes stray to the children fighting near the fishpond.

"I think your mum blames her for Liam leaving," says Gypsy, lighting up as well.

"Have you seen him?" I ask Johnny.

He shakes his head. "No. I'd kill the prick if I did. Bastard. Lotus can have him for all I care."

The smoke settles over me. I can feel it in the back of my throat. "Has anyone seen him? Appleton's not exactly huge. I'm surprised he hasn't started legal proceedings for the house, or for visiting rights." Across the yard the kids were now delighting themselves by smashing bugs to pieces. "I always thought he seemed so fond of Clover and Dick. After all, they're his."

"You didn't know him," Johnny says. His eyes are an adult's. For a moment I feel panicked at the disparity between the age and voice sitting opposite me.

Ellie appears, half-dragging a reluctant Rosie. "Here she is!" she pushes her forward. "Don't you think we look like sisters?"

They do not. Even forgetting the age difference, Ellie still looks hardened by years of drinking, smoking, emotional hysteria and drugs, despite her admittedly improved new glowing appearance. But Rosie is fresh, beautiful and innocent, stunning even in her unflattering grey baggy T-shirt and cotton leggings. Her long dark hair is dragged

back from her serious-looking oval face. The large green eyes don't meet my gaze.

"Hello Aunt Amber," she kisses me on the cheek before moving to sit next to

Ursula. "Mum, can I have a smoke?"

"No!" Ellie lights up her own. "You're too young."

Ursula pushes the packet towards her. "Don't be a spoilsport, Ellie. Better she does it in front of you than behind her back."

"Did you bring Dolly?" Rosie asks me, taking her first drag.

"Her pampered rat dog," Johnny snorts, then turns to Cocoa. "I've told you about

her."

Suddenly a wild commotion erupts from the children - Jellybean has snapped at one of them.

"Not his fault!" a child screams. "She bit Jelly first!"

Not wanting to discover which child had bitten the dog, I excuse myself to use the bathroom. The strain of the meeting is beginning to drain me, and the fishpond and the compost heap stink so much I'm feeling quite nauseous. I wonder how they can stand the rotten odour; their senses must be dulled from the incessant smoking. As I walk through the back flyscreen door I hear Ellie laughing and Johnny telling her to shut up.

Inside the bathroom I use the toilet quickly, self-conscious about the fact there is no door. I try not to make contact with the dirty toilet seat and avoid a huntsman in the corner of the streaky mirror. The bathroom is a mess, towels and underwear heaped on the floor, a pot plant overturned. Liam's toiletries are still on the shelves, covered in dust. There are large holes in the wall, where I can imagine Liam putting his fists. Through one of the holes, I can peek into the back yard. Gypsy is saying something to Ellie, her face filling with anger. She bangs the table. Ellie glances towards the house as if aware of my gaze.

"Get rid of her," I clearly hear Gypsy say. The feeling I've been nursing all day

flares into awareness. Something is not right.

I walk through the house, wondering as always how they can live in this mess. Dishes pile up on the sink beside a mouldy loaf of bread. Dusty heaps of videos in the lounge room, empty beer bottles. I glance into Rosie's bedroom and stop. She has a large framed family photo on the wall. Liam's head has been carefully cut out. Quickly, I dart into Ellie's bedroom and without thinking, open the wardrobe. There at the bottom are Liam's clothes in piles, his shirts on coathangers.

"Amber?" Ellie strides through the house, looking for me. She enters the bedroom and sees me standing before the mirror.

"Uh, I just thought I'd fix my makeup."

"Come outside," she says. "The kids want to play with you."

I follow her, my mind racing. Why would she lie about Liam taking his clothes? Why hadn't he taken his things? Even his shaving cream was on the bathroom shelf. Why were they claiming they hadn't seen him? It wasn't making sense.

"Auntie Amber, come and catch tadpoles!" Clover stands at the backdoor with a glass jar.

"Be careful if you go down there," Ellie looks nervously over at Gypsy, who watches me with narrowed eyes as I follow the children down to the pond.

"It stinks, doesn't it?" Johnny is at my side, his face pale. "You get used to it after awhile. I think there's something wrong with the drains."

We gather around the pond, Jellybean pulled back from jumping in the vile water. "Are there fish in there?" I ask, trying to see the bottom.

"You wouldn't know what was underneath the scum," Johnny says. "But there's tadpoles." We stare into the muck as Clover brings out a jar filled with wriggling black things. "A solitary tadpole can regenerate an injured part of its body only slightly. But

if it's with the others, its healing powers speed up."

I laugh. "Johnny, you sound just like your father. Austin always knew everything about everything."

His face twists in pain. "He knew so much he had to drink himself to death." "I'm sorry, Johnny."

Johnny looks at me with his cold adult eyes. "Why? What did you ever do?" Then he adds, "You know she's fucking Ursula's husband."

I shake my head. "Who hasn't she slept with in Appleton?" I glance over to where Gypsy and Ursula are whispering together. "Does she know?"

Johnny shakes his head. "Not yet. But the shit'll hit the fan when she finds out. Mum's her own worst enemy. Ursula's got the brain of a sheep but she's been good to Mum since... everything happened. So Mum repays her by sleeping with her husband." He can smell my anger and disapproval. "Mum was so upset when Liam left. I think she just had to prove herself somehow."

Longing to point out the long list of marriages my sister has helped to break up, I bite my lip at the strained expression on Johnny's face. As terrible a mother as Ellie is, she's still his mother and her children love her.

"How can you stand that smell?" I try to change the subject. I feel as if I could dry retch from the odour, which only seems to have intensified. Johnny's pale long hands trail in the tadpole pond, disturbing the scum. He looks stoned for a second. "You get used to it," he says. "You get used to everything."

"Come and say goodbye, Amber!" Ellie calls. "Gypsy and Ursula are leaving."

Noisy farewells are said as tarot cards, shawls, cigarettes, lighters and children are scooped up. Gypsy captures me in a patchouli scented embrace, pushing her breasts against me. "You should be leaving soon, too, Amber," she orders. "It's dangerous driving out here in the dark. Too much wildlife on the roads. Pity I didn't have time to do a reading for you."

I attempt to feign disappointment by shaking my head. I am surprised at the

strength in her arms; Ursula's almost crushing me.

She offers me a peace sign as she leaves. I've no doubt that after she finds out

where her husband has been spending his spare time, I'll never see her again.

"You heard Gypsy, you had best get a move on," Ellie is nervously gathering up

mugs and ashtrays. "I'll call the kids for you to say goodbye, unless they've already disappeared."

"Why did you lie about his clothes?" I ask. She looks up, shocked into silence.

"Why did you lie?" I say again, giving her time to come up with a story. "I looked in your wardrobe. His clothes are still there."

"Bit of a nosy parker, aren't you?" She throws her tea onto the garden.

"You're all acting weird - well, weirder than usual."
She moves in front of me, like a snake about to strike, and I flinch at the hatred in her eyes. Her mask has slipped for a second, and I realise the depth of the contempt she has nursed for me all these years.

"Just leave, Amber," she hisses. "Go back to your faggoty husband and your stupid pampered Dolly and your big flash apartment. We don't want your kind here. I don't want you or need you. I'm happy, Amber! I look great! Men want me all the time. I don't need your sympathy. I'm a cancer survivor!"

"You're pathetic," I say. "You're an abusive, negligent mother who blames everybody else for her own shortcomings. I'm not surprised Liam walked out! How could any man ever stay with you?"

She smiles, her eyes shining in that familiar fashion, and I steel myself.

"He didn't walk out," she says. "He's under the compost heap."

"I'm leaving," I say resisting the urge to slap her face. "You had better be careful running around saying things like that. If the children overhear."

"Rosie and Johnny know," she says, laughing. "They helped Gypsy and me clean the place up. I stabbed the bastard for fucking Rosie. I found him sleeping in her bed and I stuck the knife in him thirty times and I'd do it all over again if I had to. Useless piece of shit he was. Jellybean keeps trying to dig him up, the dirty little mongrel. Oh

God!" She is wheezing with laughter by now. "You should see your face!"

"What about Lotus?" I say.

"Who cares? Last I heard she was screwing her way around Byron Bay." She stops, taking in my expression. "Oh Jesus, Amber. I'm only kidding. Playing with your mind. I'm joking, fuck it! Can't you tell the difference?"

Driving back through Appleton, I'm not convinced. I remember the lost and haunted expressions in Johnny and Rosie's eyes as they say their goodbyes, the gleaming, triumphant shine in Ellie's. The shadows that cling to the house. The putrid, rotting smell from the earth and Liam's clothes folded so neatly in the cupboard. Gypsy's knowing, sly eyes and her worn hands turning over a tarot card. The children laughing as they crush insects with stones. Clover with her child's eyes, detached, innocent, cruel, holding a jar of wriggling tadpoles up to the light, watching them squirm in their glass trap.

There seems to be a lot of women along Appleton's high street. An old lady tends her cottage garden; her large red mannish hands wave a pair of gleaming shears as I pass. My hand leaves the wheel to return her greeting automatically. Two girls about seventeen push prams towards the shops with thin, stringy arms. Their faces are filled with the quiet desperation of trying to make ends meet. Another woman with two large German Shepherds looks a lot like Gypsy. She stands near the road sign: We Hope You've Enjoyed Your Stay In Appleton. As I drive past our eyes briefly connect. It is Gypsy, now wearing a white singlet top and black tracksuit pants. She doesn't wave.

On the way to Hobart airport I turn the radio over incessantly, trying to find

something, anything to block out my chaotic thoughts.

Appleton. I hate Appleton. I'm afraid of its sleepy demeanour, the illusory membrane masking the hive of secret activity beneath. I recoil from them, consumed with each other's empty lives. Mating each other, hating each other, ravaging each other.

Go away, Gypsy's eyes had said as I had passed her in my car. Go home to your precious Sydney apartment. This is women's business. We do what we have to do to survive, sister.

I picture Rosie screaming in a bed of fresh blood as my sister plunges the knife into a sleeping Liam. Then Gypsy takes charge, drags his torn body through the house, digging his grave, cleaning up after my sister's Maenad fury.

Poor Rosie, lost and alone in the shadows of Ellie's house, her innocence lost. I want to scream, cry and spit on the earth that contains Liam's rotting body. I offer up a prayer for Rosie to have the strength to survive. Perhaps she will. Perhaps her pain will only make her better able to cope with the world outside. Perhaps.

An innocent tadpole isn't damaged by the filth in its own pond. All it knows is that it exists. The pond is the universe.

Sometimes it's wise to let dead men lie.

THE END

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