Emily O'Grady - The Yellow House

CASSIE ONCE TOLD ME THAT twins have special powers. He said they can read each others thoughts and feel pain in the same spots even if only one of them has been hurt. But that wasnt true for Wally and me. When Wally tripped in the kitchen and burned his hand on the stovetop I didnt feel it. When I came off my bike and into the barbed wire surrounding the paddock, Wally laughed like a loon as I hosed the blood off my elbows and knees. I used to send Wally brain messages, secret thoughts I hoped would worm into his mind without using human words anyone could overhear, things I was too embarrassed to say out loud. Later, I realised they never workedthat I was as much a mystery to Wally as he was to me. If we were proper twins, I wouldve been able to latch on to Wallys brain and know all the things he somehow found out, like magicall the secret stories he kept from me, just because I was a girl and he liked the feeling of knowing more than I did.

Even before I knew anything about Granddad Lesthe ugly things he did when he drove trucks up north and back againWally and me sometimes dared each other to see how close to the knackery we could get. It was way out in the bottom paddock, and Dad had banned us from going further than the dam. Wally said it was because the whole paddock was haunted. He said he could see ghosts wisping in the grass like sheets blown from the washing line. But even then I knew for sure that was a lie.

Our house sat at the edge of the paddock, down a dirt road off the side of the highway. There were no other houses close by, except for the yellow house over the fence. A weatherboard, almost identical to ours except for the colour: the same rickety verandah that looked out over the hilly paddock and the inky mountains on the other side of the highway, the dirt crawl space that rustled like tinsel if you gave the nesting cockies a fright.

Les lived in the yellow house before he died, two years before Wally and I were born. When he died, the house became Uncle Dermotts. Cassie told me that Dermott only came back to town for Less funeral, but a few months after me and Wally were borna few months after the cops searched the paddockhe drove his car into a dam and drowned, still buckled into the drivers seat. The house sat empty for all that time, until the year we turned eleven.

Helena and Tilly moved next door not long after that, and then Ian showed up as well, and before I knew it everything had started to shift and, though I tried, it was impossible to steer things back to how it was. Now, I know that everything was set in stone the moment Les decided to take those girls off the highway, drive them back to the knackery and leave them in the paddock where no one would find what was left of them for years and years. Now, I know everything he did trickled down and created us all, because as it turned out he was the god of all our lives.

WE WATCHED HELENA AND TILLY from the verandah for almost three days before any of us spoke to them. Dad told us to stop gawking, but even he sometimes stopped on the stairs and watched as they climbed into the Commodore and rattled towards the highway. They came back with mops and brooms, groceries, paper bags from the bakery.

Ill pop round after theyve settled in, Mum said. Invite them over for tea.

I dont want them over here, Wally said. We were leaning against the railing, and through the gap in the gums that lined the fence we could see Helena bringing in the washing from the Hills hoist, Tilly reading on the steps. Shes spastic, Wally said, jerking his chin towards Helena. Look at the way shes walking.

Helena had stopped to prop the basket on her hip. When she set off again I saw she moved strangely, like a waddle.

She is not, Cassie said.

Theyre weird, Wally said.

Theyre family, Mum said. Your aunt and your cousin.

If theyre family, then whyve we never met them? Wally asked. Whyve we never even heard of them?

Aside from Dad, who gave Helena the key when they got here, it was Cassie who spoke to them first. I spied on them through Dads binoculars. Helena and Cassie stood on opposite sides of the fence and talked for nearly ten minutes, but really it was Tilly I was watching, as she trailed around the yard, collecting gumnuts in her skirt, which shed scooped up into a pouch. When it started to spit a little bit, Helena held out her palm and looked to the sky. She stubbed out her smoke on the fence post and turned back to the yellow house, Tilly following. But Cassie stayed out there for ages, even after hed slipped Helenas smoke into his pocket, until the rain started to come in sideways, blowing the paddock stalks to yellow velvet.

That night after dinner we sat on the back steps while Mum and Dad watched the cricket. I kept a close eye on the yellow house, but there was no sign of Helena or Tilly. It still felt magical then, like they were special guests whod been sent to us, to me. Like a gift I didnt know I wanted until it was right there in front of me waiting to be opened to reveal something extraordinary.

The rain had cleared and the sky was deep as a gem. The cicadas were hissing. Cassie had a can of lemon squash and he cracked the tab, took a slurp.

Whered you get that? I asked.

Bought it, Cassie said.

Did you buy one for us?

Nah.

Give us a sip, then, I said, and Cassie handed me the can. I took a mouthful and passed it to Wally. What were you talking about? I asked Cassie.

What? Cassie said.

This afternoon. With Helena.

I dunno, Cassie said, taking the can from Wally. Nothing much.

What did she look like? I asked. Up close.

Wally snorted. Bet she looked even more spastic up close.

Cassie took a sip, bit down on the rim. I walked down Main Street after school the other week, he said, and there were all these prams with babies, and all the mums were real young and kind of sad-looking, kind of feral. And then when you go into the city everyones just beautiful.

What does that have to do with anything? I asked.

I dunno, Cassie said. Just that she doesnt look like shes from here. She looks exotic or something.

Cassie handed me the soft drink, went inside. When I shook the can I could hear the dregs rattling in the bottom.

Dont hog it, Wally said, snatching it off me. He tipped the can up and took the last sip, tried to crush the can in his hand, and then under his foot when that didnt work. He threw the mangle of yellow into the air and batted it into the grass. Under the yard light it shone like a bar of gold.

I didnt have to wait long. It was the first week of school holidays, and on Tuesday afternoon we went to the yellow house. Mum made us root around for our good clothes, though they hardly fit anymore. The sleeves of my dress cut into my arms like rubber bands and the sleeves of Wallys shirt came halfway up his wrists.

Why do we have to go? Wally whined, pulling at his collar.

Theyre family, Mum said again, tipping a packet of jam drops into Tupperware. Shed washed her hair that morning, was wearing stockings under her skirt that made her legs a different colour from her arms. Mum never got dressed up for anything, always trackies, or a pair of shorts if she ever went into town with Dad, though he usually did a big shop once a week on his way back from work.

Why doesnt Cassie have to come then? said Wally. Why doesnt Dad have to come?

As we crossed the yard I could tell Mum was nervous. She kept tugging her skirt to her knees, and when I looked at her face she was smiling at nothing, with too much gums, as though she was just practising. I was nervous too. I knew that when we went through the gate it would be the start of something. Wally was my best friend, but sometimes I thought it would be nice to have a second friend, someone new and different to play with, a girl. The kids at school were strange; Wally and I played by ourselves at lunchtime, always paired up when we did partner work. But with Tilly it would be different because we were related and had parts of the same person in us. I knew that would make things much easier.