The Lost Child by Suzanne McCourt

Author:Suzanne McCourt
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction literary, Family life
ISBN: 9781922148773
Publisher: The Text Publishing Company
Published: 2014-02-26T05:00:00+00:00

Now the cutting has stone walls sloping down to a V at the bottom. ‘It’s a wonderful achievement, Tim,’ says Josie.

I think: Who’s Tim? Then I remember Timothy is Uncle Ticker’s real name. At the same time, I notice he’s lowering his face towards Josie as if he’s going to kiss her, but I’m breathing down their necks so Josie tilts her head back and says why don’t I climb over the seat and join them in the front where I’ll have a better view of the cutting? When I’m between them, we look at the scar on the hill and the swamp stretching away to the treeline, and after a while, Josie says: ‘How about I kiss Uncle Ticker, then you can too?’

I’m not that interested in kissing Uncle Ticker but I lean forward and let them kiss over my head. Then Uncle Ticker gives me a quick peck on the cheek and Josie says: ‘Now I’ll kiss you.’

Me? She pecks me on the cheek. ‘Now you.’ So I give her a peck too. ‘Now,’ she says, ‘I’ll kiss Uncle Ticker.’

This takes a lot longer.

Soon I’m sick of all this pecking and kissing. I tell them I need to go behind a bush and Josie moves over to let me out. I take a long time sitting behind a patch of boobiallas and when I come back, Josie has a red face and Uncle Ticker’s wiping lipstick off his mouth.

‘Better get going,’ says Uncle Ticker, ‘if we’re to pick up the Old Girl and get to your place on time.’

Josie’s place is behind a high cypress hedge on the outskirts of Muswell. It has a tiled veranda and rosebushes around a circular lawn that would be good for playing cricket, that’s how big it is. As we walk inside, Grannie tells me to close my mouth and breathe through my nose because that’s why I’ve had my tonsils out.

Josie has two brothers. The older one has thin hair, a wispy moustache, and works in a bank. Colin is about sixteen, with white-blond hair, a big nose and pimples. Josie’s father pours sherry into little glasses and lemonade for me. The bubbles get up my nose and make me cough and Grannie snatches my glass off the table and wipes where it’s been. Josie’s mother tells Colin to show me his eggs.

‘Eggs?’ he says, wrinkling up that nose.

‘Yes,’ she says with a warning stare.

I follow him down the hall to a room with red velvet curtains and shelves of books to the ceiling. ‘Don’t touch anything,’ he grumps before leaving me there.

I’ve never seen so many eggs. They’re in cabinets with glass lids, on a shelf below the books, three whole walls of them. Emu eggs in different sizes, glossy black, others bottle green. I would like to steal some for Dunc but I can’t think how I could hide them in the car because Grannie sees everything. And I’m too scared. Later I hear voices down the corridor, Uncle Ticker’s laugh.

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