The Gaps by Leanne Hall (classic literature list .TXT) 📕

is the impressive cache of prescription and supplement bottles in the bathroom cabinet. Mum’s are all hormone-related and Dad’s are all mood stabilisers. I read the fine print on those ones and they’re years out of date. So Dad probably doesn’t take them anymore. I don’t know if that worries me more, or less.

And finally, there is something. Not a secret exposé of a serial killer, but something useful nonetheless.

A long, see-through white dress on Mum’s side of the wardrobe, simple enough to be a nightie or a slip, but not really either of those things. It has expensive written all over it.

I sincerely hope it’s not a kinky sex thing, because retch, and I must have it. I jam it under my jumper. There’s no way Chloe can say I look like an evil pixie in something so virginal.

DAY 42

The day of the photo shoot arrives and I’m more organised than I’ve been for anything else this year. I wait at the designated tram stop like a total dick with my bag of costumes and the beginnings of an over-the-top hairstyle and a million layers of clothing, wondering why I bossed Chloe into using me in the first place.

I scroll on my phone while I wait and see that Sarah has already posted pics of her and Ally in Heathrow airport wearing matching outfits, en route to Italy. I don’t see the huge green vintage car until Chloe yells out the window. I cross the road, swimming in deep regret. I have set myself up for an afternoon of pure awkward.

Chloe’s dad turns down the stereo as I get in and Chloe introduces us. I’m supposed to call him Jeremy. I see a set of piercing eyes in the rear-view mirror. He has his window rolled down, like we’re not in the middle of a cold snap, and blue tattoos on his forearms. He’s surprisingly pale and freckly compared to Chloe, you’d never guess they were father and daughter.

‘Right,’ he says, once we’ve pulled out into the Sunday traffic. ‘It’s time to discuss some ground rules with you girls.’

It’s a relief to hear some classic dad-speak.

‘I’ve cleared this with my immediate manager, but not the big boss, does that make sense?’

A layer of physical power hangs around Jeremy and an inappropriate bubble of laughter rises in my throat, something that happens when people are too serious around me. It makes school speech night and exams hell.

I grip my bag tighter and pay a whole lot of attention to the green-and-brown leather seat, the shiny chrome trim, Jeremy’s massively pointy shirt collar. When I look up, Chloe is watching me out of the side of her eyes. Out of school she wears jeans and a black hoodie.

‘We’ve got an hour, an hour fifteen max. You go in, do your thing, leave everything as you found it.’

‘Yes, Dad. You’ve already said this a million times.’

‘I’m sticking my neck out for you, Chlo-Chlo. I want to make sure we’re on the same page.’

‘Yes, Jeremy!’ I sing out. ‘We are most definitely on the same page.’

Jeremy gives me a look in the rear-view mirror that makes me wish I’d kept my mouth shut. He pumps the clutch and spins the steering wheel like a race-car driver. I wonder if the police have interviewed him too. When I glance at Chloe I can see it was worth it. Her mouth twists sideways and I know she’s having the inappropriate laughing problem too.

‘I’m trusting you girls.’

‘Oui, Papa.’ Chloe starts singing under her breath, leaning forward to turn the stereo up. Someone is mid-guitar solo, shredding hard. Her dad starts tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, bobbing his head. Chloe copies him, shrugging her shoulders and bobbing her head. She turns around to smile at me with mock enthusiasm on her face. ‘Yeah!’ She clicks her fingers and points. ‘Yeah, man!’

I look out the window but a half-laugh escapes me. If we drive fast enough, we’ll drive ourselves right into a time warp and pop out in the seventies.

‘Your dad’s cool,’ I admit, after we pull into the scariest place I’ve ever seen. It’s at the end of a nothing road with no one around for kilometres. A padlocked gate, cold wind whistling around large abandoned buildings that look like old factories or warehouses. Jeremy’s Valiant is the only car in the patchy gravel car park. I couldn’t even tell you what suburb we’re in.

‘I don’t think I’d go that far, but he’s okay,’ says Chloe. ‘Actually he owes me this, because he’s not around much.’

‘Sounds like my dad.’ I realise too late that Chloe means her father doesn’t live with them at all. To cover up, I kick a beer can lying in the dust and squint at the empty desolate horizon. Real smooth Natalia, you’re such a nice girl from a nice nuclear family.

Jeremy saunters back from smoking a rollie cigarette and looking up into a gum tree.

‘What did you have there, Dad?’ Chloe asks.

‘That’d be the Yellow-Breasted Warbling Tooter,’ Jeremy replies, and a pleased look passes between them. Those two freaks don’t even smile when they crack jokes.

Jeremy helps us drag Chloe’s stuff out of the boot and it’s when they’re side by side that I can finally see that they’re related. They look like the type to go camping and chop wood and fix cars with their bare hands. I can barely lift some of the bags, but Jeremy hoists them as if they’re nothing.

‘What is this place?’ I ask. After relaxing—sort of—during the drive, my nerves rise again, a bird trapped in my chest beating its wings faster and faster.

‘It’s an industrial park used by craftspeople and small businesses,’ Jeremy answers with a black canvas bag balanced on each shoulder. ‘I work in the furniture workshop on the other side.’

We drag the whole heap of junk into a low brick building and dump it inside a reception area. Chloe waves her dad away.

‘This way.’

I follow