Cassie looked over at the clock above the fridge. ‘Gotta go to work soon,’ he said.
‘Quiet,’ said Wally, reaching over and hitting Cassie on the leg. ‘It’s on.’
Cassie stood up, went into the kitchen. He grabbed his keys and wallet from the counter and disappeared outside. After a minute I went to the window. Cassie was sitting in his car with his jumper hood up, head tilted back on the headrest, eyes open or maybe closed.
Dad was back in the yard later that afternoon. I didn’t want to be by myself, so I went and stood next to him on the grass. ‘Do you need any help?’ I asked.
Dad stood up straight and put his hands on his hips, surveying what was in front of him. He was hacking off the branches of the fallen tree with a saw. The grass beneath the leaves was slick and dark. I bet there were all sorts of awful creatures lurking under there.
‘Righto then,’ he said. ‘You can pick up those branches. Pile ’em right up.’
‘Where?’
‘Anywhere you like.’
I picked up a branch and started a pile near the edge of the paddock. ‘Why do these keep falling down?’ I said.
‘Because they’re old. Because of the weather.’
‘What if one fell on the house?’
‘Then we’d all be dead, I suppose.’
I pulled off a leaf, rubbed it between my hands. ‘Hey, Dad?’
‘Yep?’
‘Am I your favourite?’
‘Favourite what?’ he said.
‘Favourite kid.’
‘Dads aren’t allowed to have favourites.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘But if you had to pick. Say if someone said they would shoot you in the head if you didn’t. Then who would you choose?’
Dad looked up as though he was thinking deeply about it, but he was probably just having a rest from the sawing because his arm hurt. ‘When you’re both carrying on like pains in the arse, neither of you are my favourite.’
I thought that was a stupid answer. Everybody had favourites. ‘What about Mum?’ I said, looking down and moving a branch with my foot. ‘She has a favourite.’
‘She does not.’
‘Yeah, she does,’ I said. ‘It’s obvious. She loves Cassie best.’
‘She doesn’t, Cub.’ He said it sternly and I knew not to say anything more about it. He never let us complain about Mum, not even when he had the shits with her as well. ‘Now pass me that over there.’ Dad pointed across the grass and waggled his finger. ‘That thingamajig.’
There was a chainsaw lying in the grass. I picked it up and it felt heavy as an anchor. The blade was coppery brown, and the sharp grooves around the edge of it made me think of a cactus. I wanted to change the subject so Dad didn’t stay cranky with me, but I couldn’t think of anything else. I didn’t want to go back inside and it felt good to concentrate on talking, to concentrate on thinking about something that didn’t make me feel sick.
‘Are there any other twins in our family?’ I asked, handing him the chainsaw.
‘Not that I know of,’ Dad said.
‘What about ages and ages ago? Like, in convict times? Our teacher said that being a twin is genetic. There must be others.’
‘There might be,’ Dad said. ‘But none I’ve ever heard of. Maybe on your mother’s side.’
‘Maybe we’re mutants,’ I said. ‘It would explain a lot about Wally.’
I hoped he would laugh, but he didn’t reply, and I could tell by the way he turned away and inspected the chainsaw that he was getting annoyed with me bugging him and asking questions. He liked to do these kinds of things quietly, alone. Just like Cassie. He revved the saw and it roared. I stood back and watched him hack down into the tree that was smoothed of its branches. The cuts were so clean it was as though he was slicing something as soft as cheese.
After a while Dad turned the saw off and wiped his face with his hat. His cheeks and nose and ears were bright red. He put his hat back on again and started chucking the hunks of tree he’d cut over to where I’d started the pile. They looked heavy but he gritted his teeth together and they landed in thuds across the grass. I wanted to go help him but I didn’t want to go near the chainsaw. I had a strange feeling that it had a mind of its own and might turn on and come for me, cut through me as easy as Dad cut through the tree.
‘You right over there?’ said Dad. ‘You look a bit crook.’
‘I’m alright,’ I said.
‘You don’t look alright.’
‘Do you think Tilly’s okay?’ I asked.
Dad rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, pulled on his nose. ‘Go inside,’ he said. ‘Go have a rest.’
‘I don’t need a rest.’
‘Go on,’ Dad said, waving his hand towards the house.
‘I want to stay out here.’
‘It wasn’t a suggestion,’ Dad said. ‘Go on. Get.’
I threw the branch I was holding onto the pile. Dad turned the chainsaw on again and I felt like I’d gone deaf, my bones vibrating. I stood there and watched for a minute longer. I looked over to the yellow house. It was too bright, like it was trying to show off, trying to draw attention to itself. What a stupid colour to paint a house.
When Cassie came home from work he sat on the couch beside me. He smelled like sweat and sour breath and I could tell he hadn’t brushed his teeth that morning. I licked my teeth with my tongue and realised my teeth were furry as well.
Cassie looked over my shoulder. ‘Long division,’ he said.
‘Yep,’ I said.
‘I hated long division. Could never do it.’
I shrugged. ‘It’s pretty hard.’
‘I was useless at it,’ he said. ‘That old hag Mrs Raymond was a shitty teacher, though. It was probably her fault for not teaching it properly.’ Cassie leaned back on the couch. ‘Maybe I’m really good at long division and I just don’t know it.’
‘Maybe,’ I said.
Cassie stuck his legs out and cracked the bones in his ankles. I made a scribble on the page, my full name in running writing. My real name.
‘What are you watching?’ Cassie said.
‘Just a cartoon.’
‘Is it any good?’
‘It’s alright,’ I said. ‘I’ve seen it before.’
Even though I wasn’t focusing on my work, I put my pencil in my mouth and chewed the end as though I was thinking about it real hard. I didn’t know how to talk to him, didn’t know how to ask him about the uniform, but I didn’t have to, because he brought it up first.
‘Hey, Cub?’ Cassie said.
‘What?’
‘Do you know how you saw me coming out of the paddock the other night?’
‘When?’
‘The other night,’ he said. ‘When I drove into the paddock.’
I didn’t look up from my page. ‘Yeah,’ I said.
‘Don’t tell Ian you saw me, alright?’
‘Why would I tell him that?’
‘I don’t know. I mean, you wouldn’t. But if he asks, or anything like that.’
‘Why would he ask?’
‘He won’t,’ Cassie said. ‘But if he does, just pretend you never saw anything.’
‘Okay.’
‘In fact, just try and forget you saw anything at all. Can you do that?’
‘Okay,’ I said. I knew this was my chance to ask him what he’d been doing out there, to ask him about the uniform and where it had gone, where Tilly had gone. I also knew that if I asked he’d lie to me and I couldn’t stand being lied to again. ‘I’ll forget.’
‘Good,’ Cassie said. ‘Good.’ He rubbed his hands on his knees. ‘I’ve been thinking about Ian, and maybe you’re right. Maybe he’s not a very good friend after all.’
I couldn’t hold it in anymore. ‘I saw it, you know,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘What you put out there.’