Logan knew that Savannah had taken the story she’d told him from that documentary. He knew that she’d lied to Troy about his father. So wasn’t it possible she’d also taken this story of a starving child in their midst from somewhere else? Did it even matter now? The facts kept slithering from his grasp. Trying to see Savannah was like trying to catch a true reflection in a funhouse maze of mirrors. The cadences of her voice, her gestures, her stance: he saw now how constantly she merged and morphed into different kinds of people. One moment she was a genteel middle-aged lady and the next she was a rough, tough-talking teen.
Logan tried to take control with the facts he’d gathered, the facts he knew to be true. ‘Savannah, I went to see your boyfriend. Dave. That story you told about him hitting you. It never happened.’
Savannah lifted her chin. ‘Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he?’
‘You lied to us,’ insisted Logan. He needed her to confirm the truth of this so he could find his footing and they could move forward. ‘I know it’s a lie.’
‘No, you don’t,’ said Savannah pleasantly.
‘Nah, mate, it was out,’ Savannah’s brother used to say, so innocently and convincingly, so calmly, when questioned on one of his calls. Harry Haddad was a natural on the court, and also a natural cheat. His flagrant cheating had enraged Troy to the point of lunacy whereas it baffled and unbalanced Logan. He saw the ball go in, yet Harry said it was out. That called everything into question: right and wrong, the laws of physics.
Lying clearly ran in the family.
Stan met Logan’s eyes and lifted his hands hopelessly. Logan didn’t think he’d ever seen his father so defenceless, even when he’d been in the hospital for his knee.
‘You were there that day too, Logan.’ Savannah looked at him coolly and his heart lurched.
‘I never met you,’ said Logan. He was one hundred per cent confident of this.
‘You threw your racquet at me,’ said Savannah. ‘Like I was a stray dog.’
‘I did not,’ said Logan. ‘Why would I do that?’
Troy was the racquet-thrower. Yet another lie.
‘I would never –’
He stopped. He saw himself walking off the court the day he first lost against Troy, the same day his father told him to watch Harry’s kick serve, the day he understood that if he could lose against his younger brother, and if there were players in the world like Harry, there was probably not much point in continuing, although he did, for another five years.
‘Wait a minute, I wasn’t throwing it at you,’ he told her weakly. He’d lost the advantage. He’d always felt bad about that little girl jumping clear of his racquet.
‘So you do remember me,’ said Savannah sweetly.
She had her brother’s ability to play offensively, pushing his opponent further and further back.
She turned her attention to Troy. ‘What about you, Troy? Do you remember me?’
‘I don’t care if I did meet you,’ said Troy flatly.
‘Someone left the back sliding door open,’ said Savannah dreamily.
It would have been Logan. He was forever in trouble for not closing that sliding door properly because it jammed.
‘I walked in through your back door and went into the kitchen,’ said Savannah. ‘I thought maybe just . . . if I could just get a glass of milk. Anything. I was so hungry. I hadn’t eaten anything for twenty-four hours. I was only nine. I felt so sick and dizzy. All I could think about was food. I was obsessed with food, and there was food everywhere, there were people eating, everywhere, all around me, walking down the street eating ice-creams, sitting at a bus stop eating pies, stuffing food into their mouths, but I had no money. I couldn’t get any food.’
Logan’s mother put a hand over her mouth. ‘Oh my goodness, Savannah.’
Please let this be someone else’s story, thought Logan, because his family were not bad people. They would have fed a hungry child. They sponsored hungry children on the other side of the world. ‘Think of the poor starving children in Africa,’ their mother used to say if they didn’t like their vegetables, and then Amy would become completely inconsolable, sobbing for the poor starving children in Africa, unable to eat, and Logan’s dad would sigh and reach over to stab at her broccoli with his fork.
Savannah said to Troy, ‘You chased me out of the kitchen like I was a beggar. You’d just got out of the shower. You were all wet, you had a blue bath towel around your waist. You called me a vulture.’ Her lip lifted again on the word ‘vulture’。