Crossing the Line by Dianne Bates Read Free Book Online

the house unlocked when she goes out.
    ‘We grew our own vegies – no chemicals, like really organic, Soph. Good healthy food. And we made our own bread. There were about three families, single women with kids, and we got on really well.’ Amy flips onto her stomach and hoists up her skirt for the sun to do its tanning.
    I ask, ‘What about school?’
    ‘There was none. I mean, we could all read – Mum made sure of that. She was always reading to us. We got by.’
    ‘What was she like? Your mum?’
    Amy tears out a tuft of grass. She’s in her little space. Can’t be reached.
    ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘Forget I asked.’
    She turns and smiles wryly at me. ‘No, that’s okay. I can handle it.’
    It takes a moment more for her to gather her thoughts.
    ‘So you want the story of my life . . . okay.’ Amy’s head droops and I can’t see her face. ‘Well, my mother was a good person, but she did weird, sometimes freaky things.’
    She squeezes her eyes shut, fighting back tears. I don’t know whether or not to comfort her, but I hate people ‘helping’ me when I’m upset, so I say nothing.
    ‘She used to get really off her face,’ she continues. ‘Not drunk or drugged, just out of it – mental problems, I guess. This one time she was so bad I talked her into seeing a doctor. Real clever idea, that. We got into town and he tried to convince Mum she was schizophrenic and needed to take medication. She just laughed at him.’ Amy picks at some fluff on her jacket for the longest time. ‘Anyway, some welfare people came out to our camp not long after that and took us all to a women’s refuge. That’s when Mum really lost the plot – got paranoid, imagined bad people were coming after her. That night she took my brothers and disappeared . . . The story of my life – ta da!’
    I want to hug her but Amy doesn’t give me a chance. Abruptly she’s on her feet and striding away.
    ‘Must be time to see that movie,’ she says. ‘You coming?’
    I know how painful it can be when you’ve stood naked and shown your scars. I tag along behind her without speaking.

    When the movie comes out there’s still a healthy slice of day left. The sun is gentle and so is the breeze; perfect garden weather. I decide to leave my assignment for the time being.
    Back home again, Amy plants herb seeds, and I stare at weeds, trying to scare them away. I’d pull them out but that would mean I’d have to get out of my lovely, peaceful hammock. We chat a while before I say, ‘Got a hard question for you, Amy. You up for it?’
    ‘You know me. Up for anything. Ask away.’
    ‘Well, I was wondering . . . how come your mother didn’t take you with her?’
    ‘Wish I knew, Soph.’ She kneels in front of me, brushing hair out of her face. ‘Maybe she thought I was too old to be carted around the countryside. Maybe she just didn’t think at all. Keeps me awake sometimes, trying to work it out.’ She shrugs. ‘What can you do?’
    ‘Then you got fostered, I suppose?’
    ‘Sure did.’ She drives a fork into the dirt and unearths a clump of weeds. ‘Some genius decided to put me with the most boring middle-class family they could find.’
    ‘That would have gone down well with you.’
    ‘Oh yeah. Big time. The Browns handed me back just in time. Another day and I would have burnt down their house.’
    ‘I know the feeling.’
    ‘Yep. And then the same genius gave me all the M families – Murphy, Mitchell, Morrison – I hate Ms! And then it was the Dawsons – hopeless! And finally some nice Greeks. That didn’t work because we couldn’t understand each other. I’d swear at them and they’d smile. Where’s the fun in that?’
    ‘Did you ever find out what happened to your mum?’
    ‘No. She’s just gone . . .’
    ‘Hellooo. Anyone home?’
    I see a face peering over the side fence. It’s Jan. I run to open the gate but halfway there force myself to slow down. I can’t let her see how much she means to