Beyond Carousel Read Online Free PDF Page A

supplies, Tommy,’ she said.
    â€˜Oh thanks. Yeah, supplies would be great,’ he replied.
    We watched as he carefully cleaned a camera lens.
    â€˜You really think this Curator is living in the hills?’ I asked.
    â€˜Oh yeah, maybe. Some people I have interviewed have said that,’ he replied.
    â€˜What did they say exactly?’ asked Taylor.
    Tommy packed the lens away and started on another.
    â€˜I met a band living in a small shopping centre in a suburb called Gosnells. It’s kind of at the bottom of the hills I think. They told me about this guy who used to visit them in a ute sometimes. He would turn up every month or so with fresh fruit and vegetables from the hills and ask them to play him some music in return. They said he could come and go from the centre whenever he wanted, but that they were trapped inside. Like you guys were,’ said Tommy, eyes wide like a kid with a ghost story.
    I looked across at Taylor. She was pensive.
    â€˜After a few visits the singer went kind of crazy and asked this guy why the fuck they couldn’t leave the shopping centre. The guy said he didn’t know and that he couldn’t help them. All he suggested was that they write some new songs. They were pretty pissed I think. Theguy never showed up again and they were stuck there for a while,’ said Tommy.
    â€˜Until they wrote the songs?’ said Taylor.
    Tommy beamed and nodded. Lizzy groaned. My stomach contracted.
    â€˜Who else?’ asked Taylor.
    â€˜There was a dude I met near the uni. He was pretty young and into graffiti art and that kind of thing. He had been sleeping in the top floor apartment of this sweet building near the river for a few weeks. He said that every few nights he would see headlights up in the hills somewhere. This guy moved around a lot, like me I guess, but he had never seen a car anywhere that was still working. Except up in the hills,’ said Tommy.
    Tommy finished with the lenses. We watched him, waiting to see if there were more stories to come.
    â€˜Plus I met a crazy lady who just kept screaming “bitch” up at the hills,’ he added.
    Lizzy laughed.
    â€˜Probably Rachel,’ said Taylor.
    â€˜Have you met a trashy single mum with bottle-blonde hair and a gutter mouth?’ asked Lizzy.
    Tommy laughed. ‘I don’t think so.’
    â€˜She could leave when we couldn’t,’ Taylor said to herself.
    Suddenly I felt flushed and guilty. My thoughts raced to the roller door in Carousel. It had shuddered its way open for me, but hadn’t moved for the Finns. What didthis mean? Was it connected to my writing? Or was I somehow the same as Rachel?
    â€˜Hmm. She sounds like a Patron maybe,’ said Tommy.
    â€˜What the hell is a Patron?’ asked Taylor.
    â€˜It’s what people call some of the others that didn’t disappear. The ones that aren’t Artists,’ he replied.
    â€˜Like the people in the library?’ asked Taylor.
    Tommy nodded. My head started spinning.
    â€˜So what is this Curator dude planning on doing with all this new art?’ asked Lizzy.
    â€˜That’s what I want to ask him in my interview,’ said Tommy.
    Taylor nodded and looked across at me curiously.
    â€˜When are our interviews?’ asked Lizzy.
    â€˜I was hoping tonight,’ he replied, smiling.
    I stood up and got the hell out of there. I was acting like a weirdo and felt all of their eyes on my back. Outside it was bright and sunny, but the air was still cool from the night. I ignored the cold, pulled off my shirt and plunged deep into the choppy pool. I kicked down to the bottom and sat there in the watery abyss, not wanting to surface until the world had its shit together.
    But when I came back up it was all still there waiting for me. The sky, cleaner and bluer than it had ever been. Lizzy and Chess playing fetch on a burnt-out lawn. Taylor pressing Tommy for more details inside our mansion. All