Red by Libby Gleeson Read Free Book Online Page B

colour of his skin. And then they were at the airport and on a plane and he said they were going to Adelaide and then to a smaller place in the country and her name was different, now it was Rosie.
    â€˜What was my name?’ Red turned to face Jazz. ‘Not Ginger. What was my real name?’

CHAPTER SIX
    â€˜RHIANNON. RHIANNON CHALMERS. I CALLED YOU Rina. I mean when I wasn’t calling you Ginger.’
    Rhiannon? Chalmers? They meant nothing. ‘Rhiannon, Rosie, Red, Rina, Ruby.’ Peri ticked the names off on his fingers. ‘Bit stuck on “R”, don’t you think?’
    â€˜Not my fault.’ Red sat down again. ‘Why did we go away? My dad said we needed protection. Who from? Why?’
    â€˜Maybe your dad was in danger from some big-time crooks. Or maybe he was a crook himself,’ said Peri.
    â€˜Don’t be stupid.’ Red spat the words out.
    â€˜Or a spy or something like that. And he knew stuff and …’
    â€˜That sounds stupid, too,’ said Jazz. ‘He was just like any other dad. He took us all camping in Year Four and he made the best birthday cakes.’ She looked at Red. ‘Do you remember that year when we won the soccer and he made the cake like a field with green icing and…’
    â€¢ • • • •
    Red felt suddenly cold. Her dad, just like anyone else’s dad. Her hands were tightly clasped in her lap. She whispered, ‘And what about my mother?’ There had been no mother in the car, at the airport, on the plane.
    Jazz shook her head. ‘I don’t know. There never was one at your place. I don’t know what happened to her. Mum might know.’ She went inside then and came back with a bowl of pistachio nuts. ‘I’ll go and fix it with Mum so you can stay tonight.’
    Red and Peri rubbed the skins off the nuts and ate in silence.
    â€˜D’you want to stay here for the night?’ said Peri.
    â€˜I suppose so. I don’t know what I want. But when she tells me stuff like the day we left, I do remember bits. If I stay here, more might come back. What about you?’
    â€˜I’ll stay tonight. Tomorrow…’ He shrugged. ‘I’ll work it out then.’
    â€¢ • • • •
    They stayed.
    Jazz’s mother studied Red’s scabbed hands and insisted on bathing them in warm water and smoothing an antiseptic cream all over them. She found plastic gloves for Red, who then stood under the hot shower and soaped and soaped her body. She turned her face upwards and let the warm droplets pound her forehead and cheeks. Water poured over her back and her arms, taking with it the mud and salt that was in her hair and every pore of her skin. Finally she emerged. She dressed herself in Jazz’s spare pyjamas and settled into an armchair in the lounge room.
    â€˜Your turn,’ she said to Peri.
    The television screen was filled with images of the wrecked coastline. The helicopter filming swooped low over cliffs now smashed and shattered on the beaches. Huge front-end loaders like teams of dinosaurs moved through the streets. They scooped up mud, sand and the wreckage of homes, tipping everything into the council dump-trucks. Workers in fluorescent clothing swarmed over the remains of buildings, roads and open spaces. A face appeared on the screen.
    â€˜Now here is the Prime Minister,’ said the announcer.
    â€˜My government has done and will continue to do everything we can to assist everyone marked by this terrible tragedy,’ said the Prime Minister. ‘This is every bit as big a disaster as Cyclone Tracy that destroyed Darwin on Christmas Eve in 1974 or the Queensland cyclone and Brisbane floods of 2011. Because of the density of our current coastal urban environment, many people are now homeless. Resources are being moved in from interstate and we are grateful for the assistance coming to us from our international friends. Clearly