The Story of Tom Brennan Read online

  'Huh?'

  'We've, well, it really . . .' She took her hands out of her pockets and started to twist her long fingers around and around her wrists. 'It was me that broke it off. I mean, you know things have – changed. But I don't think he gets it. Have you seen him? He's really drunk.'

  'Yeah.'

  'Really drunk.'

  'Where is he now?'

  'I think he went back inside, it only happened a few minutes ago. I needed some air. I mean, I was trying to tell him that it wasn't working out anymore – for me, that is. I should've left it for later. Tonight probably wasn't the right night. Tomorrow, yeah, tomorrow would've been better, when he's not pissed. He goes off when he's had too much. He's been so full-on lately. But you know Daniel, it's all or nothing. Isn't it?' Claire was raving in a breathy little voice I'd never heard before. 'He's just, I don't know, he scares me sometimes, Tom. He just, well, he gets this look and it freaks me out.'

  In the distance I could see Fin watching us, but when he saw me he turned around and walked back into the hall.

  Claire was still talking. 'If he doesn't get his own way he kind of snaps. Yeah, he snaps.' She kept nodding. 'That's it. That's what he does. And I don't know how to deal with him when he gets like that.'

  Of course I knew better than her what she was talking about.

  'It's not your fault, Claire.'

  'I didn't mean to hurt him, Tom. It just, you know, happened.' Claire stared at the ground, grinding her toe into the dirt. 'Dan doesn't understand that if you don't treat someone right then . . .'

  'Claire, no one could blame you.'

  'So you don't hate me?'

  'Hate you?'

  She looked right into my eyes. 'Daniel says he's going to – kill him.'

  'Who? Huh?'

  And then we heard the shouting and Matt was outside on the stairs yelling, 'Where's Tom? Someone find Tom.'

  Claire and I ran into the hall. 'Fight. Fight,' people were chanting.

  I could hear Daniel yelling as I elbowed my way through the crowd.

  'Fuck you! Fuck you!' he kept screaming.

  Claire slipped on the beer-sodden floor. Someone helped her up. I recognised the back of Fin's head inside the circle that was closing in around my brother's voice. I pushed my way to Fin so he could help me, tell me what Daniel was going on about. And that's when I got the real shock. It was Fin Daniel was yelling at.

  'What's going on, Fin?'

  'He's off his face.'

  'Fuck you!' Daniel jeered. Foamy spit had pooled in the corners of his mouth. Luke and Owen, one of the forwards, were standing close by. I couldn't work it out. We'd just made the final, won the biggest game of our lives. We were mates. A team. We were family.

  'What's going on?' I yelled again. 'Luke? What's, what's . . .'

  But Luke didn't answer. He just stood there swaying and looking blank.

  'You're a weasel, Fin.' Spit was flying from Daniel's mouth. 'Finbar the weasel.'

  'Shut up Daniel, you're pissed.'

  'I'm not too pissed to smell you, Finbar.'

  'What are you going on about?' And as I said it I realised. This was what Claire had tried to tell me. 'Daniel?'

  'Oh, fuck you, Tom. This is between Fin and me. Finbar the weasel. Get your brown nose out of our business.'

  'Daniel.' I heard my voice shake. 'Get out of his face.'

  'Oh, little Tom,' he taunted. 'You going to stick up for Finny? You think maybe Finny'll save you some?' Snarling, he beckoned me over like he did when we were kids and he wanted to fight. 'That's what you two got in common, Tommy. You couldn't buy yourselves a root.'

  'Leave him, Tom,' Fin sneered. 'He's a loser, mate.'

  Daniel lunged towards Fin but Owen caught him by the shoulders and held him back. They stumbled into the circle that had packed tightly around us. Daniel found his footing and pushed Owen's hands off him.

  I saw Claire standing there, tears spilling down her cheeks. She threw her hands over her mouth and I turned to see Daniel take another step towards Fin. This time no one stopped him. Fin didn't move. The room was silent except for the echo of Daniel's breathing, hard and fast.

  Their noses almost touched but Daniel whispered loud enough for us all to hear. 'Even if I let you have it, you wouldn't know what to do with it.'

  Daniel pushed Fin out of his way, slamming his shoulders through the circle. The crowd scattered to let him through. I followed, forcing my way to the front of the hall.

  'Daniel!' I called. 'Daniel!'

  He ignored me as he stumbled along the dirt track, kicking anything in his way and screaming things that made no sense. Just noise and anger.

  I caught up to him. 'Why do you have to be such an arsehole?'

  'Piss off, Tom,' he yelled.

  'No, you piss off.' I pushed him. He turned around, grabbing me by the neck of my jumper, stretching the wool till it was almost over my head.

  'You know nothing about it.'

  'Yeah?' I wrestled out of my jumper. 'I know stuff.'

  Daniel walked on, banging the bonnets of cars that were parked along the track. I followed him. I wasn't going to let him off that easily, let him off like Mum and Dad and Pa always had. I wanted an answer. I wanted to grab his face in my hands and squeeze it until I could feel his jaw snap. Then ask him why, why he had to ruin everything.

  'You did it to yourself,' I screamed. 'You've been treating Claire like a piece of shit and you know it.'

  He spun around faster than I was ready for and slammed me against a telegraph pole. He held me there for just a second, long enough for me to see the darkness in his eyes. 'You grovelling little prick,' he spat.

  'Let him go!' It was Fin. 'Let him go, Daniel!'

  'Come on,' Luke called behind Fin. 'Give it up, Dan. We're having a party, mate. A par-dee.' He took a hip flask of bourbon out of his coat pocket and took a swig. 'We made the final! Third year in a row-ho-ho.'

  Daniel took the bottle from Luke and had a long drink. Then he held the bottle out to Fin. 'You want some?'

  I held my breath. Fin stood there staring.

  'You deaf?' Daniel snarled. 'I said, do you want some? Seeing you like my slops so much.'

  We all just stood there. No one said anything.

  'You're – the – prick.' I felt my chest heave with each word.

  I walked off, leaving them there, wishing, hoping he'd walk further into the black hole he'd dug for himself. 'You've really fucked it up this time!' I yelled behind me. 'You deserve it, Daniel. You deserve everything you get. Everything! You're going down. Down!'

  I had to get as far away from him as possible. At that moment I didn't care what he did, I didn't care if I never saw him again. I despised him, and it was burning a hole in my guts.

  I could feel my teeth grinding together. I kicked at the dirt and thumped the trunks of the trees as I strode away from the hall, away from the car park. Away from them all. I didn't care if I had to walk all the way home.

  The party seemed to be folding anyway. As I got further down the track I could hear everyone loading into their cars. People laughing and yelling, doors slamming, engines starting. The screech of tyres on the dirt with the odd doughie.

  A single file of cars and utes crawled down the kilometre-long dirt road that met up with the highway. I kept my head down, hoping no one'd notice me, but no such luck.

  Us Mumbilli folk got a bit excited in a traffic jam. Let alone making the grand final, a family biffo then a traffic jam. Everybody had a bit to say. The wankers stopped to make some smart-arse comment about what'd happened. The busybody do-gooders had to see if everything was okay and if I needed a lift home.

  But I wanted to walk. Walk it out of me.

  A car slowed up next to me.

  'Tom?' It was Claire, piled into a car with her girlfriends. She was crying and held a bunch of tissues to her nose. 'I'm so sorry, Tom. Are you okay?'

  'Yeah.'

  'Fin said he'd stay with him.'

  'What
?'

  'Dan.' The car was driving away. 'Dan,' she called again. 'Fin said he'd . . .' Her voice disappeared into the traffic.

  'Oi!' It was the Statesman.

  Matt wound down the window. 'We've been looking for you.'

  'Get in,' Snorter said. 'Tell us the real story.'

  'I feel like walking.'

  'Walking!' Snorter said, stopping the car.

  The blokes behind started honking their horns. That and the hip-hop, rap, techno and whatever other rub-bish was blaring from the cars made it impossible to hear what Snorter and Matt were saying.

  'What?' I yelled.

  'Hurry up,' someone shouted and, 'Pull over, you turkey.'

  'Yeah, all right!' Matt gave them the finger as Snorter pulled the Statesman over to the side of the track, letting the cars behind pass.

  'Geeze, if they get dust on the Statesman, I'll kill 'em,' Snorter growled.

  I leant into the window. 'Has it calmed down?'

  'Sort of,' Matt nodded. 'Was that Claire?'

  'Yeah. She was with the girls.'

  'Wish I was in that car,' Snorter moaned.

  I ignored him. 'What about the others?'

  'Luke was throwing up. Dan was raving a bit. He's tanked.'

  'Was Fin with them?'

  'Yeah.'

  'God, he's an idiot.'

  'I know, but he's the only one that's sober,' Matt said. 'I s'pose he'll take Dan home.'

  'If he can drag him away.' Snorter smirked. 'Daniel looked pretty busy with Nicole when I last looked.'

  'Nicole?' I wasn't in the mood for Snorter's jokes. 'Geeze, you're sick.'

  'True!' Snorter was smirking. 'That dirty brother of yours, he sniffs out an opportunity and she was ready and waiting.'

  'She's pissed,' Matt said. 'She was all over him.'

  'At least she can't sing when someone's got their tongue down her throat.'

  'You're off, Snorter.'

  'Come on, Tom, get in.'

  'Aw, shit!' Snorter put his head on the steering wheel. 'I'm an idiot.'

  'No kidding.'

  'No, dickhead, I left my jacket back at the hall.'

  'Get it tomorrow.'

  'Someone'll nick it. It's my Bathurst 1000 jacket. Got all the signatures.'

  'Who'd want it?' Matt scoffed. 'I hate that jacket.'

  'I'm going back to get it. You getting in, Tom?'

  'Nah.'

  'We'll get you on the way back.'

  The line of cars had gone. Snorter turned the Statesman around and drove back. I kept walking.

  Kylie's school bag lay in the doorway. I kicked it out of the way and looked around: Gran's house was empty. The lights were off and the curtains drawn. It was creepy; our place in Mumbilli was so noisy and open.

  The screen door in the kitchen squeaked, then slammed. It was a noise that always reminded me of school holidays here, Daniel and me running in and out of the house playing chasings, or hiding from Kylie. Gran shouting, 'I'll tan your hides if I hear that door slam again.'

  Dad appeared in the hall. 'Tom, you're home.' He sounded cheery enough. Perhaps Kylie had kept our fight to herself. 'First day okay?'

  I shrugged.

  'I'm driving Kylie down to the pool. You want to come too?'

  'Nah.' All I wanted to do was crawl back into the cave.

  'She's a bit uptight. I think a swim'll help.'

  'Where is everyone?' I asked him.

  'Let's see. Your Mum's having a lie down at the moment.' I knew he was trying to make out she'd just gone to bed. I gave him the raised eyebrow 'don't bullshit me' look Daniel taught me in Year Seven, and for a second Dad seemed to stumble. 'Um, and, err, who else.' But I didn't want to rattle him. If Dad lost it that'd be the end of all of us. 'Yes, well, your Gran's doing the flowers at the church, and Brendan and Jonny are still working down at the sheds.' Dad followed me to the kitchen. 'So you still haven't told me, how did it go?'

  'Okay.' I bit into an apple. 'Got Harvey for home room.'

  'Yeah? Brendan'll be pleased about that. Hang on, why don't you go down to the sheds, see Brendan and Jonny?'

  'Nah.'

  'Go on,' Dad pressed. 'He'll want to know how your day went.'

  And there was that tone in Dad's voice again. It whacked me right in the guts every time.

  'I'm sure he's dying to hear all about it. Go on.'

  'Okay,' I sighed.

  'Good, good.' He smiled. 'Well, I'll be off. Kylie's waiting in the car.'

  I wandered down the hall in case Mum was awake. The door to her room was open. I stood there. Maybe Dad was telling the truth, maybe she had just gone to bed and was waiting to hear how my first day went. I stepped into the doorway. A thickness in the air hung still and stale.

  She didn't see me. How could she under all those covers?

  'Yeah, thanks Mum,' I whispered. 'School went okay.'

  FOUR

  Gran and Pa's place was four acres called 'Saint Marguerite Bourgeoys'. Of course The Grandmother was responsible for that. Most of Gran's earbashing sessions included a little story about Saint Marguerite, 'A very holy and good woman who taught young people how to look after the home.' How many times had I heard that! When we were kids and we'd drive through the front gate, Daniel'd say, 'Welcome to Saint Marge's Boogie.' Kylie and I'd crack up.

  For the last five or six years Saint Marge's Boogie had included 'Healey's Tractor Repairs and Services', Pa's business. After he died he left it to Brendan to run. Now Jonny worked there with him.

  We just referred to it as 'the sheds', 'cause three enormous sheds were built down the end of the property. The most awesome tree house and Gran's chook pens used to be there until they were flattened to make room.

  Mum reckoned Gran never got over getting rid of the chooks. She never kept chooks again, which was kind of sad 'cause Gran loved her chooks. Most of them either had saints' names or names from the Bible. There was Saint Paul, or Paulie, the rooster. Mary and Bernadette were the hens, and later on she got Cain and Abel. It didn't seem to matter to Gran that the hens had boys' names. When I was a kid I thought that was the weirdest.

  I never got told the whole story of why Pa moved the business from the centre of Coghill to home. It was one of the things our family never discussed, and boy, had us Brennans added a big one to that list.

  Daniel told me Pa lost the family business betting on the horses. He'd know, 'cause Daniel was the only one Pa ever took to the races. Even as a kid I remember thinking how unfair it was, because our cousin Fin was the one who really loved horses. When he was eleven, Fin knew the name of almost every racehorse, their breeding, who trained them and how many starts they'd had. But that didn't seem to matter to Pa, he only ever took Daniel. At least Daniel saved the race books for Fin. Sometimes I think he felt bad about it, and that was saying something.

  Suddenly I was sucked deeper into that long black tunnel, the memories of Fin and Daniel and how we once were, and the worst thing, the knowing. Knowing more than anything I'd ever know that things would never be the same.

  That night, walking home from the scout hall, I'm so positive I didn't hear anything. I remember looking up at the sky, seeing the Southern Cross and the saucepan, and thinking how quiet and still the night had become. It was good to be on my own.

  I was nearly at the end of the track when in the distance I could just make out the sound of a car coming my way. I thought it would be Daniel and the others, I'd been wondering when they'd come past. Dreading it.

  I hadn't seen Fin come by with anyone else, so he must still be with Daniel. God, Fin spent his life copping it from Daniel then going back for seconds.

  The sound of the engine was getting closer. I could hear the groan of the tyres slipping all over the dirt and the horn was blaring. It was sure to be Daniel, pissed and being an idiot. Fin should've driven, but no way would Daniel let anyone touch his car, he was over the top about that.

  I contemplated ducking behind a tree. The last thing I needed was m
y brother in my face again. But slowly I started to realise the sound I could hear wasn't Daniel's horn. It was too clear and even tuned to be his car. It was the Statesman. The precious Statesman! That's when I turned around to see Snorter and Matt howling up the track.

  Matt was hanging out the window shouting and waving like crazy.

  'Tom! Tom!' He threw the door open and started running towards me. 'Dan's stacked. Fucking stacked,' he was screaming. 'Come on. They're . . . I can't . . . stuck . . . fucking hurry.'

  I strode down to the sheds, trying to clear my head and find the exit door to that black tunnel. But I could never find it. I didn't want to go back there but that night was etched into the bones of my skull. What could I do? I hated the past, and yet I hated the present nearly more.

  Up ahead I could see Jonny's boots sticking out from under a tractor. You couldn't mistake them.

  'That you, Tom?' Jonny's voice echoed from underneath.

  'Yeah.'

  'How'd your day go?'

  'Okay.'

  'Yeah?'

  'Where's Unc – Brendan?'

  'Inside.'

  'Do you reckon he'd mind if I checked my emails?'

  'Can't see why he would.'

  Brendan had built himself a cabin down by the sheds. It doubled as an office and a flat, and the thing that always amazed me was how tidy he kept it. Spick and span.

  I tapped on the door. 'Brendan?' I could hear the shower going so I let myself in.

  My jaw dropped. This wasn't the place I remembered. Empty bottles and cans of beer littered the table, and the plates looked like they hadn't been touched for weeks. I didn't know whether to stay, or go back out and wait till Brendan was out of the shower.

  I'd spent nearly half my life here on school holidays, yet I didn't really know my only uncle. One of the other things our family never discussed, well, never discussed openly, especially in front of Gran, was Brendan and the fact he was gay.

  I knew 'cause Daniel and Fin told me, but I think by the time I was about twelve or thirteen I'd figured it out anyway. You never saw Brendan bringing home a girl for Christmas lunch, or ever heard him talk about them.

  There's one memory I have of Brendan with a sheila at Pa and Gran's thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. She'd been in the same year as him at Bennie's. I don't remember her name or whether she was a blonde or a brunette. What I do remember is hearing Mum and Aunty Kath whispering about it in the hallway.