A Way Home by Emily Brewin

Author:Emily Brewin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MidnightSun Publishing

Two hours later, I’m walking across Flinders Street towards the station. I’ve got food in my stomach and cash in my pocket and feel the best I have in months, despite the fact my back aches and I just rehomed two trollies worth of books. I touch the bump under the hair at the back of my head. It’s tender still but smaller and, although I stay close to shop entrances and keep glancing around, I’m less on edge.

I tighten my backpack straps. The library card’s tucked safely into the front pocket. I didn’t borrow any other books. Won’t, until I’ve finished Tracks. One at a time’s enough at the moment. I’m reading Tracks slowly. Savouring every sand dune, clay pan and vivid description of the desert and the people who inhabit it. A world away from here. From the peak-hour hordes, dark back lanes and the drizzling weather. Plus, I promised Mary I’d read to her more.

When I reach the station, it’s the second thing she asks for, after demanding one of the steaming jam doughnuts I just bought from Jenny’s kiosk. I hand over the bag and unwrap the book from its plastic cover, before settling down beside Mary.

I take solace in sitting close to Mary, because being near her feels the opposite of threatening – unless I’m on the receiving end of one of her lectures.

As I begin reading, she stops yelling at a police officer about his hat and casts her eyes downwards. The afternoon crowd fades as I read, until all I can hear are the words and Mary breathing. Sharp, shallow intakes, interrupted every now and then by a rip-roaring cough, followed by a groan that makes me nervous.

‘Keep going,’ she urges, when I stop. Then, even the doughnut’s forgotten as I describe the shifting colours of the landscape at dusk. For a moment, I think both of us are transported, lifted momentarily from beneath Mary’s filthy blankets and plonked in the middle of the clean, dry desert. I turn to Mary, eager to share the magic, but her chin has dropped into her neck and she’s snoring.

I sit for a moment and focus on the loud in-and-out of her breathing before getting up. It’s peak hour and the crowd streaming into the station makes me tense. Louie will be back at the ledge by now. And for once, I look forward to not getting a word in edgewise. To letting his day wash over me. For once, I won’t interrupt or tell him to get to the point of his story. This time I’ll listen, maybe even ask a question or two to keep the dark thoughts at bay.

I make sure Mary’s tucked in properly before standing stiffly and lifting my bag. My arms ache, so I shake them out. The crowd’s growing bigger, more impatient. The only way onto the street is straight through it – dodging, weaving and elbowing. The prospect is daunting but I can’t stay here either. It’s getting dark and the station will only get busier as the night wears on.

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