Free Have You Seen Ally Queen? by Deb Fitzpatrick

little things, big things grow”—that’s what Paul Kelly says. Paul Kelly! Mum loves him, she loves him, pours herself a glass of wine while she’s cooking tea and cranks up the stereo— my stereo! —with that ... urine.’
     
    The cicadas have gone super quiet. One of them tries a chick-chick, but then clams it again. I’m staring at the tree, his tree, and all I can say is, ‘Rellard? That’s your name?’
     
    ‘Yeah, I know, don’t say it.’ He does quote marks in the air. ‘It’s interesting. Or different. It was my grandfather’s name. It’s a family thing.’
     
    ‘So you’ve been here for like—’
     
    ‘Ever.’
     
    ‘Jesus. I mean, wow. You must really ... like it.’
     
    He nods. ‘It’s cool. I get to surf and fish—on my own, half the time. And I can go up to Perth whenever I want, for weekends and stuff. Got some all right cousins up there. But normally I just hang out here, ‘cos, I dunno, I like it.’
     
    My mouth drops open and I look straight at him. ‘Were you ... down there the day the whales got beached? Were you helping out?’
     
    ‘Yeah,’ he nods. ‘Were you there, too?’
     
    I try not to smile too wide. ‘I thought I saw you,’ I say quietly.
     
    The sky’s dipping down on to us, way blue. I knew he lived around here, but never this close, and it hadn’t clicked that it was him that evening on the beach with the whales. Before I know it, Rel’s gone inside and got an ice-cream container, and we’re filling it with mulberries, together, and the day has changed all over again.
     

ECONOMICS OF LIFE
    I want to go and see Mum. On my own. There’s no point asking Dad if I can; he’ll just want to come, too. So I press the button on the phone for Aunty Trish (Mum’s filled up all the memory buttons, even has 000 saved in case we can’t remember that) and wait while it rings.
     
    ‘Trish Queen.’
     
    ‘Aunty Trish, it’s Ally.’
     
    ‘Ally! Well, won’t your mum be glad that you called. How was school today?’
     
    ‘Fine, boring. Actually, I was wondering if it’d be okay for me to come over and see Mum.’
     
    ‘Oh, I can’t see why that’d be a problem, as long as your dad says it’s okay.’
     
    ‘He said it’s fine.’
     
    ‘Great, so when will we see you?’
     
    ‘Well, that’s the only problem. I kind of ... need a lift.’
     
    I can almost hear her smiling over the phone. ‘No problems, possum, I’ll be round in half an hour.’
     
    Half an hour—cool. Dad’s meeting a new client today, so he said he’d be late home, and McJerry’s at some McNerd’s place, designing electrical boards, so I’m in the clear. I race down to my room to get changed. If I’m quick, I can still make it to the beach before Aunty Trish gets here. I’m gunna collect some shells and cuttlefish and one of those brown sea sponge things for Mum. Reckon she might need a surrogate bathroom collection while she’s away. There’s no way I’m picking up an old blowie skeleton, though—that’s just wrong. She’ll have to do without until she comes home. She will be coming home soon; I’m sure of it.
     
    Aunty Trish is so cool. She has Triple J playing on the car stereo when she rolls up. She reckons Mum is getting better, a bit every day, and that she misses us heaps.
     
    ‘Tell that to Jerry,’ I say, as the trees blur past us, blown away by Aunty Trish’s driving. ‘He’s not so sure.’
     
    Mum’s reading a magazine when I go into her room, and she gives me a big cuddle on the edge of the bed.
     
    ‘Since when did you read those trashy magazines?’ I say, grinning.
     
    She looks embarrassed. Mum reckons it’s really important for people to practise what they preach. Well, usually.
     
    ‘Yes, fair enough, Ally, I er...’—and her voice drops to a whisper—‘I found it in the loo. Trish likes them. I’m not really reading it, just looking at the pictures.’ She laughs palely. ‘How’s everything? How’re Dad and