‘Did you see who might be signing for Spurs?’
He became aware of his dad’s question and sat up straight. ‘Yeah, I got an alert on my phone.’
‘Idiots, paying all that money. It’s ridiculous. He’s already running on old legs as it is.’ His dad shook his head. ‘Fans won’t like it, I’ll tell you that for nothing.’
‘Yep.’ It was all he felt he could add. He didn’t care about football, never had, but knew that to say as much would be like a knife in his dad’s gut, as well as entirely incomprehensible. Cricket was Cassian’s sport, Melbourne Stars his team. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find the same enthusiasm for Spurs. Domino stared at him.
‘What?’ he mouthed.
Domino turned away, closing her eyes in a dismissive way, ignoring him. Not that it bothered him; they had very little in common, thank God. He wished, however, that he did have more of an interest in the things his dad liked. He figured that if they found it easier to talk about all the things that didn’t matter, it might just help them talk about the one thing that did. But what did he know? He was eighteen and, according to Jake, knew lickety shit about life. Maybe he was right. Not that he was sure Jake knew that much more, being as his whole life had been spent in Four Oaks, walking to and from school, and playing nerd games that baffled Cassian on his computer until the early hours.
‘You and Jake off out later?’
‘Think so.’ He nodded. His dad winked in the rear-view mirror.
‘Course you are. Good-looking boy like you, out with your wingman on a Friday night.’
‘For God’s sake, Loz.’ His mum’s tone was disapproving, judgemental.
He echoed her words inside his head.
For God’s sake, Dad! Is that all you can think of? Is that all you’ve got to say to me?
‘What now?’ He banged the steering wheel. ‘Exactly what is wrong with saying that to my son?’
‘Nothing. Nothing at all. You carry on.’ Having poked the bear, she gave a long sigh before turning to speak through the gap between the front seats. He noted her manicure was less than perfect. Things like that bothered him. The small examples of decline and indifference – he noticed them. Little indicators of a life that was out of kilter, a life where the timing was off. He watched her closely as she found a smile. ‘We’re going to have a nice evening.’ It sounded like an order or a reminder. ‘Forty years is some achievement.’
‘Get less for murder, eh, Cass?’ His dad laughed.
‘Yep.’
He couldn’t imagine being married for forty years. Couldn’t imagine being married full stop, although maybe one day. But forty years . . . that was such a long, long time. Forty was old! So old. When he got to forty, he’d have had his whole life over again plus four years. It was unthinkable. It was odd to him how people of that age, like his parents, still went out, had holidays, danced. What was the point when you were that ancient? Surely it couldn’t be any fun when you were wrinkly and unfashionable. He figured that at that age, he’d probably just live quietly. Do jigsaw puzzles, learn Spanish, take up golf . . . Was it possible that any attraction he felt right now could last for forty years? He shook his head almost imperceptibly; the weight of the thought was too much right now. Not that he was thinking too far ahead. It was all he could do not to worry about his A-level results that were due in a few weeks.
Good grades would mean he got a place at his university of choice: Oxford Brookes to study sports coaching for three years.
Pleeeease . . . He threw the silent prayer out into the ether, wanting nothing more than to move away, shed skin and start over, so he could choose what and who he would take with him from this chapter in his life. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his family, he did. It was more that he was waiting for his life to start, and living here with his mum, dad and younger sister felt a lot like he was wearing something too small, as if he had a scarf wound tightly at his neck and all he wanted to do was fling it off and breathe!
He knew they meant well, as did his grandparents. He knew he was loved, but what he couldn’t reconcile was how little he had in common with any of them. They might have been his flesh and blood, but if it wasn’t for the fact that the same red stuff travelled through their veins, what did he actually have in connection with these people?
It hadn’t always been this way, far from it, but life in Melbourne was no more than a distant memory, out of reach. And what Cassian was still trying to figure out was which set of parents was the impostor? The laughing ones who threw steak on the barbecue and jumped into the pool in their clothes just because, or these sullen, bickering, disappointed people? It was impossible to tell, but he knew which he preferred.
It wasn’t only his family; he felt quite disconnected from his peers, teammates, everyone, certain he was the only one ever to have felt this way. He didn’t share the history his peers did – kids who had lived in and around the Four Oaks area since they were babies. He was marked as different, a novelty, but also an outsider. In more ways than one.
He had now been at his ‘new’ school for just over three years and was still trying to fit in, learn the lingo, follow the often bizarre rules that made absolutely no sense to him. Why did it matter if he took two bread rolls at lunchtime and not one, if he was willing to pay for them? And who decided his bladder could only be emptied at ten forty-five, twelve thirty and two forty-five? The whole school experience was so different to his schooling in Melbourne, and despite the time that had passed, he was still learning the ropes.
Thank goodness for Jake, who made him feel less odd, less like he was in freefall, figuring out life one day at a time. Yes, he missed a lot about his old life: the weather, of course, playing different sports that weren’t going to get called off due to rain, but mainly the way they had felt like a family. It had been such a happy time, he and Domino contentedly unaware that the foundation for the future they thought was solid was in fact a crumbling bridge on which they teetered. Ignorance most certainly had been bliss. His dad’s energy and his mum’s enthusiasm had been infectious. It made him believe anything was possible if he just worked hard enough. But things had been very different since they’d arrived here. Home. That’s what his parents had said. ‘We’re going home . . .’ But it didn’t feel like home, not at all. The three years in Australia had shown him what home felt like and it wasn’t this.
His dad parked in the layby in front of his Auntie Cleo and Uncle Georgie’s car. His nan and grandad waved furiously from the back seat and even after he’d given them a wave they kept on waving! He wished they could be calm, cool, and not quite so . . . showy. But hey, it was their ruby wedding anniversary, and they could celebrate it however they saw fit. His mum was right, it really was some achievement.
He watched his dad jump out of the car and paint on a smile. A smile that he guessed would have been much appreciated by the older man who had slowed a little at the traffic lights earlier.
‘Here he is!’ his nan shouted, as she was wont to do.
His dad put his arms around her and she kissed his cheek, he then threw his arms around his dad, Grandad Bernie, and there the three stood on the pavement, greeting each other as if it had been months not hours since they’d last been together. Cassian noticed how his Auntie Cleo watched the spectacle as she climbed out of the car. Her stomach was huge! Absolutely massive! He tried not to stare at it, wondering what it must feel like to have to carry that big thing around inside you. A baby! A little human sucking up all your nutrition and swimming around inside your gut. He had to admit he could only think of scenes from Alien and the whole idea made him feel a little queasy.