4★
“At first, before I moved to the couch, I tried sleeping in your bed: wrapped in your doona, one of your T-shirts pressed to my nose. Each breath in taking a little more of you, till all your scents were gone. Till only the warm, swampy smell of dog and the nothing smell of me were left and your pillow held only the shape of my head.”
Rae’s a ten-year-old girl, talking to, and badly missing, her absent mother. The book is written this way, with Rae telling us her story over 55 days, something like a journal, but it isn’t written. We're just hearing her thoughts. She’s resourceful and smart, loves their dog, Splinters, and loves school.
What she doesn’t love is the old goat who lives next door, the sticky-beak neighbour, Lettie, who seems to sit on her front porch just so she can spy on Rae’s house. Rae is being very careful not to call attention to herself so nobody will realise she’s home alone. She’s one of those kids who’s watched how her mother does things and has filled in for her in the past when her mother obviously needed help.
She is distressed but has found ways to cope.
“It’s 342 footsteps till home, depending on which way I cross the road. I didn’t used to be a counter, not like Quentin at school, but I’ve found it helps when I’ve got a head full of bees. I look at my feet and count the steps and the bees get less loud. Or maybe they like numbers.”
Oscar is another boy she finds strange, a boy down the street who really just needs a friend, but Rae thinks he’s spying on her so rebuffs him regularly. Splinters she trusts. Anyone else, not so much. It’s the dog who’s keeping her sane, making her stick to a routine. But nights are bad. She often imagines her stomach pains as a rat, gnawing inside her chest.
“I wake as usual to the cold pinching my face. The TV is muted but the screen lights the room, chasing away the shadows from my sleep, with their pointy teeth that rip and bite and eyes that shine in the dark. Now it’s TV light and the sound of my tight frosted breaths. My heart settles.
The house is cold and all the quiet things are loud. The fridge, the clock, my breathing, Splinter’s. He sleeps on the couch with me. I don’t put him out at night.”
She’s started making her own rules (the dog's on the couch all night), but she kind of apologises or explains to her mother as she does it.
She notices how some houses look cheerful and happy because they have chairs with cushions on the front porch and plants in pots. So while she’s out and about with Splints (as she calls him), she pinches some to brighten up their house. She’s also a little light-fingered in other places, but she’s quick and clever about it.
It’s not a spoiler to say that she gets to know the old goat next door, Lettie, who has serious problems, but Rae is torn between being friendly and helpful or keeping as private as possible – not calling attention to herself.
Lettie and Rae share hot chocolate and a pizza on Lettie’s front porch, which is lovely - until Lettie asks an awkward question.
“The rat jerks awake from its pizza and chocolate coma and stabs its claws into my chest. I swallow.”
Rae is very descriptive and frequently refers to the rat, but there are times when her language is far more adult and literary than sounds right for her, which immediately made her unbelievable to me. I suspect that’s just me, and I imagine most readers overlook that in favour of the mood and the spell of the story. I just wish those excellent phrases could have been added by a third-person narrator instead of Rae.
This will find a lot of fans, I’m sure, and end up on many lists of favourite books. I can imagine the film already.
Thanks to NetGalley and Text Publishing for the preview copy from which I've quoted.