The Blooming Of Alison Brennan

Chapter 5

I thought I’d seen everything.

I had worked for local councils in Melbourne for twenty years, but I only started with the Yarra Council a few months ago, so I didn’t know the house. This summer was a scorcher — one of the hottest on record for the state — so we were doing spot checks for fire risk areas, overgrown yards, rubbish lying around. The last thing we wanted was a fire in this densely populated suburb.

The call came from a neighbour who said he’d made complaints about this particular dwelling before. He was especially worried now, he said, because he’d seen one of the inhabitants smoking and discarding butts in long, dry grass in front of the house.

So I went there with the council literature on fire prevention and safety. If necessary, we’d get machinery in to s***h the long grass and trim tree branches away from the electrical cables.

But this house was one out of the box.

Overgrown trees obscured the windows of the house. A wooden picket fence had fallen in on itself, so you had to scramble over it, and the tinder dry weeds in front of the house were waist-high in places. Fire would rip through it.

I made my way to the front door through piles of rubbish. Broken bicycles, an old TV, furniture blasted by heat and rain, the body of a rusted car stripped of its parts, an upended child’s swing, piles of smelly household rubbish buzzing with flies.

I felt sick at what I might find, even though I’d been through this kind of thing before. I was a believing man, and at times like these my impulse was to send out a prayer. ‘Please God, don’t let there be kids here.’

The door wasn’t locked because the handle had come off, but something behind the door prevented me from pushing it inwards. I knocked. No response. I knocked again. Then there was a shuffling behind the door, a sliding, falling noise, like things being pushed out of the way. I then heard a female voice.

‘Who is it? We’re not interested in what you’re selling.’

‘I’m not selling anything, Ma’am. It’s Rod Wilding from the Yarra Council. I’m here to advise you on fire prevention. If you’ll open the door I can show you my ID.’

‘No, go away, we’re alright with fire prevention.’

‘Well, no Ma’am, I’m afraid you’re not. Your front yard is a fire hazard. You’ll need to clear it right away. If you’ll open the door and talk to me, I can show you what needs to be done.’

‘Go away.’

‘Is anyone else in the house with you, Ma’am?’

I heard a male voice say, ‘What’s going on?’ And then the door was dragged halfway open. He was tall, broad and unsmiling. Suspicious.

The woman hid behind him. I got the impression of someone short and plump, and despite the heat, she was wearing a long-sleeved cardigan. The smell from the house rushed at me. It was a mixture of rotting food, mould, all kinds of thing I couldn’t name.

I held up my ID. ‘Rod Wilding from the council.’

‘What do you want?’

‘You’re going to need to clear around your house, Sir. This is the worst fire season in years. We’re encouraging all residents to do everything they can to reduce risk. Here are some council pamphlets that will inform you about the fire safety by-laws.’

He made no move to take them, but stepped across to shield the inside of the house from view. Before he did I caught a glimpse of high piles of paper and litter, and similar jumbles of rubbish as in the front yard.

He wanted to get rid of me.

‘Yeah, mate, I know it needs doing. Been putting it off. I’ll get on to it. Thanks for the reminder. By the end of the week, it will be done.’

I didn’t believe him, but I’d done what I had to do. ‘How many people live here, Sir?’

‘Only me and the missus.’

‘Good. I’ll give you a few days then come back.’ I turned back towards the street and stumbled again over the broken fence. Just as I was about to start my car, someone else went in the way I’d come out, into that firetrap of a house.

It was a young girl in a school uniform — fifteen or sixteen years old.

As soon as I got back to the office I made a phone call to Child Protection Services. Someone had to check on that girl.