from Mum’s car.’
Harry looked at what Miles was sitting on. He couldn’t tell what colour the seat was because there wasn’t enough light, but
he remembered that the seats in Mum’s car were red, dark cherry red, and that they were always slippery and shiny and cold
in the mornings. He remembered that the doors in the back had wooden panels that he could run his Matchbox cars along.
‘You wouldn’t remember,’ Miles said.
Harry sat down next to Miles. ‘I remember,’ he said.
He ran his fingers along the cold leather. The seatbelts were still attached. He found the middle metal buckle, pressed the
button with his finger. It still worked.
He looked at Miles. He didn’t know why the seat was here. He didn’t understand. Miles was staring ahead. Harry watched him
slip both of his hands into the wide gap where the seat bottom and back joined. Harry remembered that his Matchbox cars used
to end up there sometimes and Miles would fish them out for him.
He put one hand into the gap, too, but his fingers only found dust and grit. Then his hand touched the sticky threads of a
spider web and he pulled it out quickly. He stood up.
Miles had something in his hand. He’d found something in the seat. Something small attached to a string.
‘What is it?’ Harry asked.
Miles held the string out for Harry to see. For him to take. And it was heavy. A big triangle of bone, sharp on the sides.
‘What is it?’
‘White pointer’s tooth,’ Miles said.
And he said it like he knew it. Like he was sure.
‘Hello?’
It was Joe. Harry hadn’t heard his van pull up, but he was standing in the light by the shed door.
Miles grabbed the tooth out of Harry’s hand. He stood up and put it in his pocket.
‘What are you doing back here?’
Joe bent over and picked up something from the ground. It was a steering wheel. He held it up in both hands.
‘Jesus,’ he said.
And Miles showed him the rest. The crumpled bumper bar, and bent doors. The whole boot and back axle. But he didn’t show him
the tooth.
Joe put the steering wheel down and wiped his hands on the front of his jeans.
‘Maybe we should stop for a bit, have lunch.’
Outside, the light hurt Harry’s eyes. Miles and Joe walked towards the house but Harry stayed on the grass. He shielded his
eyes with his hand.
‘What are we going to do with it?’ he asked.
He knew Miles would never let Joe chuck Mum’s seat out, take it to the tip. The seat and the steering wheel and whatever else
was there would go on the ‘keep’ pile. They would keep it.
But Miles kept on walking. He went into the house. Joe stopped on the verandah, rested his arm on the railing.
‘I don’t know why Granddad kept all that stuff, but I don’t think he should have. I don’t think he should have kept those
things.’
And he turned to go inside. He told Harry he’d make him a sandwich.
But Harry stayed where he was. He stayed among the piles of Granddad’s things left on the lawn – all the things that were
no longer needed, no longer useful – and he wished that Joe would stay.
H arry climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door. He liked going to the tip. Lots of devils had dens up there and
they were slow and fat and almost tame from eating scraps and rotten food. Sometimes you could see them hanging around in
the day, not like the ones near home that you could only hear late at night, growling and screaming and fighting when everything
was dark. Sometimes Harry looked out the window and tried to see them. And sometimes he thought he saw eyes – little red eyes
staring out through the scrub – but he was never sure. He knew Dad hated them, the sound they made. He knew if any devils
ever made a den under the house then Dad would shoot them.
Harry hoped he would see some today.
They had found even more of the car as they emptied the shed, mostly dented panels, bits of the engine, and it was all loaded
up in the trailer.
Harry looked at what Miles was sitting on. He couldn’t tell what colour the seat was because there wasn’t enough light, but
he remembered that the seats in Mum’s car were red, dark cherry red, and that they were always slippery and shiny and cold
in the mornings. He remembered that the doors in the back had wooden panels that he could run his Matchbox cars along.
‘You wouldn’t remember,’ Miles said.
Harry sat down next to Miles. ‘I remember,’ he said.
He ran his fingers along the cold leather. The seatbelts were still attached. He found the middle metal buckle, pressed the
button with his finger. It still worked.
He looked at Miles. He didn’t know why the seat was here. He didn’t understand. Miles was staring ahead. Harry watched him
slip both of his hands into the wide gap where the seat bottom and back joined. Harry remembered that his Matchbox cars used
to end up there sometimes and Miles would fish them out for him.
He put one hand into the gap, too, but his fingers only found dust and grit. Then his hand touched the sticky threads of a
spider web and he pulled it out quickly. He stood up.
Miles had something in his hand. He’d found something in the seat. Something small attached to a string.
‘What is it?’ Harry asked.
Miles held the string out for Harry to see. For him to take. And it was heavy. A big triangle of bone, sharp on the sides.
‘What is it?’
‘White pointer’s tooth,’ Miles said.
And he said it like he knew it. Like he was sure.
‘Hello?’
It was Joe. Harry hadn’t heard his van pull up, but he was standing in the light by the shed door.
Miles grabbed the tooth out of Harry’s hand. He stood up and put it in his pocket.
‘What are you doing back here?’
Joe bent over and picked up something from the ground. It was a steering wheel. He held it up in both hands.
‘Jesus,’ he said.
And Miles showed him the rest. The crumpled bumper bar, and bent doors. The whole boot and back axle. But he didn’t show him
the tooth.
Joe put the steering wheel down and wiped his hands on the front of his jeans.
‘Maybe we should stop for a bit, have lunch.’
Outside, the light hurt Harry’s eyes. Miles and Joe walked towards the house but Harry stayed on the grass. He shielded his
eyes with his hand.
‘What are we going to do with it?’ he asked.
He knew Miles would never let Joe chuck Mum’s seat out, take it to the tip. The seat and the steering wheel and whatever else
was there would go on the ‘keep’ pile. They would keep it.
But Miles kept on walking. He went into the house. Joe stopped on the verandah, rested his arm on the railing.
‘I don’t know why Granddad kept all that stuff, but I don’t think he should have. I don’t think he should have kept those
things.’
And he turned to go inside. He told Harry he’d make him a sandwich.
But Harry stayed where he was. He stayed among the piles of Granddad’s things left on the lawn – all the things that were
no longer needed, no longer useful – and he wished that Joe would stay.
H arry climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door. He liked going to the tip. Lots of devils had dens up there and
they were slow and fat and almost tame from eating scraps and rotten food. Sometimes you could see them hanging around in
the day, not like the ones near home that you could only hear late at night, growling and screaming and fighting when everything
was dark. Sometimes Harry looked out the window and tried to see them. And sometimes he thought he saw eyes – little red eyes
staring out through the scrub – but he was never sure. He knew Dad hated them, the sound they made. He knew if any devils
ever made a den under the house then Dad would shoot them.
Harry hoped he would see some today.
They had found even more of the car as they emptied the shed, mostly dented panels, bits of the engine, and it was all loaded
up in the trailer.
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