The House At Flynn's Crossing

by Elisabeth Rose

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Flynn wouldn’t get a cut out of whatever deal they’re cooking up.’

  Flynn didn’t give Lauren so much as a glance. Simon came to stand by her side but still said nothing.

  ‘Because small towns like ours lose our young people to the cities and we don’t attract enough people to replace them. Unemployment is a big problem, our population is ageing and we don’t get the resources we need to support the people who stay here. If our primary school numbers drop below a certain number it will close. We’ll lose our post office and our supermarket. We’re already down to one bank when ten years ago we had three. Who knows how long that one will stay? Tourism is the obvious answer. We have a fantastic drawcard right on our doorstep. Why not open it up and tell people about it?’

  ‘We don’t need a whacking great luxury resort to do that,’ said Rufus.

  ‘I agree and so does Sean Baldessin.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Lauren. ‘You can always believe a billionaire businessman. Those people don’t make their money by being restrained by the opinions of locals.’

  Flynn checked his watch. Nearly one-thirty. He’d have to leave.

  The truck’s engine burst into life with a throaty roar. The five or six people blocking the gate linked arms. The driver leant on the horn but they didn’t move.

  ‘Who are those people?’ asked Flynn.

  ‘Sympathisers,’ said Lauren.

  ‘Where from?’

  ‘Sydney mostly, but a couple are from Brisbane.

  ‘What do they have to do with this?’

  ‘They care about the environment.’

  ‘Really? Friends of yours, are they?’

  ‘One of them is. He brought the others.’

  ‘Do they know anything about the town?’

  ‘They know how precious the forest areas are.’

  ‘For God’s sake! No one’s bulldozing the forest.’

  ‘Yet,’ she said.

  The truck edged forward. Flynn turned away, pulled out his phone and dialled.

  ‘Pat, Flynn.’ He outlined the situation.

  ‘Did you call the cops?’ demanded Lauren.

  ‘Yes. This could easily get nasty.’

  ‘Whose fault is that?’

  ‘Not mine if that’s what you’re implying, Lauren. I didn’t invite a bunch of professional protesters here to cause trouble.’

  The truck moved forward till the bumper was almost touching the barricading line of bodies. The excavator and bobcat fell silent. The bobcat operator jumped down from his cabin and walked across to the gate, talking on his phone. The excavator driver followed, swigging from a water bottle.

  The truck’s engine stopped and a ragged cheer went up from the protesters.

  ‘You’re a bit late, aren’t you?’ said Flynn. ‘The house has been knocked down already. What’s the point of preventing them clearing away the rubble?’

  ‘Bloody idiots,’ said the excavator driver to no one in particular.

  ‘Get out of the way,’ yelled the truck driver. ‘I’ve got a job to do.’

  ‘So have we,’ someone shouted back.

  ‘Bloody good-for-nothing layabouts.’

  The three workmen glared at the protesters.

  Flynn said, ‘The police will be here soon.’

  ‘Who are you?’ asked the truckie.

  ‘Flynn, head of the local council. I’m sorry about this. These people aren’t locals. Those are.’ He indicated with a nod of the head.

  ‘What the hell are they protesting about? That house wasn’t worth anything.’

  ‘There’s a proposal for a resort to be built on this land and they think it’ll damage the National Park.’

  ‘No protected trees here.’ The excavator driver spat on the ground.

  ‘No.’ Flynn sucked in air and checked the time again. Five to two. He’d be late. ‘I have to go.’

  He headed for the car but Simon and Lauren cut him off.

  ‘Where are you running off to?’

  ‘Shouldn’t you stay and see this through, Flynn?’ asked Simon. ‘This is your project, after all.’

  ‘For God’s sake! It’s not my project. I didn’t know this was happening here today. Why should I?’

  ‘You take a personal interest in other clients’ affairs though, don’t you?’

  Lauren’s head whipped towards Simon. She frowned.

  ‘If you mean Antonia, she’s a friend,’ Flynn said.

  ‘What are you on about, Simon?’ Lauren demanded. ‘Why shouldn’t Flynn see Antonia and the twins?’

  ‘They’re my kids, not his.’

  ‘So? Aren’t they allowed to see anyone else? Isn’t she?’ Lauren’s voice rose. All her attention was on Simon now, the protest forgotten. ‘She’s not interested in you other than as father to her kids. She told me herself. Stop pressuring her and let her make her own decisions. She’s been through enough.’

  ‘I have to go,’ Flynn said swiftly. This was getting very personal very quickly.

  ‘You have no idea what she’s been through,’ Simon snapped.

  ‘Do you?’ Flynn paused. He’d never heard Simon raise his voice as much as in the last few weeks. ‘You haven’t seen her for years.’

  ‘Yes, because she told me when she first came to see me. If she hasn’t told you, and I doubt very much she ever will, it’s because she doesn’t trust you. And I don’t blame her.’

  ‘What happened to her?’ asked Lauren.

  Simon shook his head. ‘Antonia trusts me not to say anything.’

  ‘Do you know why she went to Sydney?’ Flynn asked.

  ‘Of course I do.’

  Lauren sighed and caught Flynn’s eye.

  ‘See you later.’ He headed for the car. So that meant Simon knew of his involvement in the trip. Or did he? He hadn’t mentioned it and he would have if he’d known. What a mess this was turning into. Secrets were dangerous things. Divisive and corrosive.

  ***

  Antonia scooped her bag off the luggage carousel then, with a child on either side, she headed for the exit and the passenger pick-up lanes across the road. Sarah hadn’t slept well in Sydney, too excited by the whole excursion. Now she was grumpy and exhausted. Jacob was too but he tended towards silence while Sarah whinged.

  ‘Where are we going?’ She slapped her feet down noisily on the tiled floor and let the backpack fall to be dragged along behind her.

  ‘Carry her bag please, Jacob,’ said Antonia.

  ‘No, it’s mine.’ Sarah jerked the bag out of his reach.

  ‘Then put it on properly, please. We’re going outside.’

  She herded them over the pedestrian crossings, scanning the slow-moving traffic and waiting cars.

  No sign of the black BMW. Flynn promised he’d be here but he wasn’t. He hadn’t texted or phoned either. Had he forgotten or was he just late, held up in traffic? She parked the twins on a bench and tried calling him. Straight to voicemail.

  The flight had landed a few minutes early but still … She sat down next to Jacob.

  ‘Where’s Flynn?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know. He’ll be here. Watch out for his car.’

  ‘How will we get home if he doesn’t come?’ Jacob leaned his full weight against Antonia.

  Good question. ‘He’ll come.’

  ‘Daddy could come.’ Sarah said.

  ‘Maybe, but Daddy’s ute won’t fit us all in and he doesn’t have the key for our car.’ It was on the key ring in her handbag.

  Half an hour later, Flynn still hadn’t arrived. Sarah and Jacob fidgeted, whined, argued and asked every few minutes when he was coming. In desperation, she tried Simon but he didn’t answer either. What to do? It was after five. Decision time. At worst they’d spend the night in a Brisbane hotel and get home somehow tomorrow. Surely there was a bus service. This was not a disaster, they weren’t stranded in the middle of nowhere. She had a credit card and a brain.

  They couldn’t sit
here forever. She drew in a deep breath, stood up and said, ‘Come on.’

  ‘Where are we going? I’m tired,’ said Sarah.

  ‘We’re going back into the airport to find out how to get home.’

  ‘I need to do a wee,’ said Jacob.

  ‘Okay, we’ll do that first. Then we’ll get a drink and something to eat and work out what we’re going to do.’

  With a stride more confident than the hazy plan in her head, she headed for the terminal. Fifteen minutes later, bodily essentials taken care of and the twins marginally happier, she approached the Information desk and stated the situation to a plump-faced woman. She tried hard not to but she may have sounded a tad desperate. The woman cast a glance at the two faces staring up at her over the counter and smiled.

  ‘Aren’t you two just the cutest ones?’ she said. ‘Let’s see what we can do.’

  After perusing the coach-line timetables, frowning and murmuring to herself, she pointed to a car-hire desk.

  ‘That’s your best bet, in my opinion, especially with the little ones. You’d have to stay overnight in the city or go down to the Gold Coast to catch a bus in the morning. The train is across the way, but by the time you’d done that and found a hotel you could be nearly home by car. It’d be cheaper to drive, I think. And much faster.’

  ‘Are we going in our own car?’ asked Sarah.

  ‘A rental car,’ said the woman.

  Antonia did some quick calculations. It was now past five-thirty but wouldn’t start getting dark till at least eight. If she didn’t get lost on the way out, they’d be home before night fell. She could do this. She’d watched fairly closely when Flynn had driven them in. She needed to get onto the M1 and go south. The roads were well signposted and the car might have a GPS. She’d driven to Flynn’s Crossing from Sydney, she could drive home from here.

  ‘Thank you very much.’

  ‘Safe trip.’

  On legs gone suddenly weak, she approached the car rental desk.

  ***

  So far so good. The car was a new model silver hatchback, nippy and far more responsive than her own car. Once she’d remembered the indicator lever was on the other side, she settled in and began to enjoy herself. Traffic had been heavy close to Brisbane because it was the evening rush hour and she hadn’t factored slow-moving queues and impatient drivers into the time frame. But once they reached the M1, the cars flowed along faster even with the vast numbers leaving the city. She still had at least an hour of driving to go and it was nearly seven-thirty.

  Jacob said, ‘I’m hungry.’

  Antonia threw a quick glance at the back seat. Both of them had gone to sleep quite quickly once the new car excitement wore off and the trip home began in earnest, but now they were awake.

  Sarah stretched and yawned. ‘I need to do a wee.’

  ‘You’re a pair of sleepyheads,’ Antonia said. ‘You’ve been asleep for ages. I suppose we should eat dinner then you can go straight to bed when we get home. How about a burger?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Keep your eyes peeled for a place to stop.’

  Shortly after, she pulled into a roadside cafe, which proudly boasted the best burgers in Australia.

  The place was busy, but fortunately most customers were waiting for takeaway orders. Toilet stop taken care of, Antonia secured a table and scanned the menu. It was like the Bluebird Cafe at home, same basic fare. While they waited, she checked her phone. Still no messages. She tried Flynn again. No answer, which was a little concerning now.

  But this time Simon answered his phone.

  ‘It’s Antonia.’

  ‘I know. How did it go?’ His voice was curiously flat and toneless, with none of the usual warm cheer.

  ‘Okay, I guess. He asked all sorts of things, some of which I’d told them before, other things I hadn’t. I’m glad it’s over. For now anyway.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What’s up? You sound strange.’ She lowered her voice and turned away from the twins who were giggling together across the table.

  ‘We had a bit of trouble next door. There was a protest when they started demolishing the house on that block Baldessin bought.’

  ‘Why? What happened?’ The Flynn’s Crossing protest issues had gone completely out of her head. Was Flynn involved? Was that why he hadn’t turned up?

  ‘A couple of Lauren’s friends were arrested.’

  ‘Gosh. What about Lauren?’

  ‘She’s okay but she’s furious with Flynn.’

  ‘With Flynn? What did he have to do with it?’

  ‘He was there talking to a reporter but he cleared out after he called the cops.’

  ‘Why did he call the police?’

  ‘The protesters blocked the gate and wouldn’t let the truck go in to clear the site.’

  ‘Did locals do that?’ It sounded rather extreme for someone like Mary or hippy Hugh, but then she didn’t really know the depth of feeling in town.

  ‘No, Lauren’s friends brought people with them.’

  ‘Why would they get involved? It all sounds really stupid to me.’

  ‘Yeah, well it would. It doesn’t affect you, does it?’

  Antonia closed her eyes, perilously close to yelling, ‘Grow up, Simon.’ Soothing his wounded ego wasn’t her job. ‘Simon … I have nothing to do with any of this. Right now I’m tired and I want to get myself and my children home.’

  ‘I thought you were home. Where are you?’ A spark of interest at last, maybe even concern.

  ‘Driving back from Brisbane. We’re having dinner in a cafe at the moment. We’re about an hour away.’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  ‘Where’s Flynn?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. Why?’ Sullen again but that was no surprise.

  ‘I tried to call him but his phone’s been off all afternoon.’

  ‘I don’t know. He said he had to go somewhere and took off.’

  ‘When was that?’

  ‘About two. Why?’

  ‘He was supposed to meet us at the airport.’

  ‘Didn’t you drive?’

  ‘Flynn did and he was supposed to pick us up but he didn’t. I hired a car to come home.’

  ‘Why didn’t you ask me?’

  ‘I tried but your phone was off.’ Hard to keep the annoyance out of her voice. He was so childish sometimes.

  ‘Oh—yes, it was for a while. I was in the bush taking photographs.’

  ‘Simon, do you think Flynn is all right? He might have had an accident.’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘Can you call someone and find out?’

  ‘Who? Flynn lives on his own.’

  ‘The police? The hospital?’ Was he being deliberately dense?

  ‘I suppose I could call the Kurrajong Hospital.’ Said grudgingly.

  ‘Simon, Flynn’s your mate. You introduced me to him and said I should trust him. I do and he’s been very helpful. What’s your problem?’

  The waitress arrived with the food. Three plates of burgers and chips. Two marginally smaller but still more than any of them could eat.

  ‘I have to go. I’ll phone when I get home.’ She pressed ‘Off’ before he could reply.

  ‘Why are you cross with Daddy?’ asked Sarah.

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Is Flynn in hospital?’ asked Jacob.

  ‘I hope not, but he might have had an accident when he was coming to collect us.’ Which was the only explanation she could think of to explain why he didn’t answer his phone or call her. And for that to happen he would have to be injured badly enough to be incapable.

  She stared at the plate of food with no appetite whatsoever and a lump of dread expanding rapidly inside her.

  Chapter 13

  Simon tossed the phone onto the table. Damn Flynn. He should never have introduced him to Antonia, but he’d been so keen to help her he never dreamed she’d fall for that bastard and vice versa. And here she was not telling him Flynn had driven her and the
twins to the airport. Why didn’t she ask him? It was his job to do that sort of thing, not Flynn’s.

  Somehow he’d bungled the whole thing. Lauren didn’t understand what it was like to be a father—the love and the overwhelming need to be there for his kids, to help them and protect them. She was angry with him and so was Antonia. Antonia kept secret the fact she was asking Flynn for help, Lauren took her side and told him to back off. Why?

  And Flynn was most to blame. He knew Antonia was off limits but he went there anyway. Damn him to hell and back. He didn’t even bother to say he was rushing off to Brisbane to collect Simon’s family from the airport. Antonia had let him assume she was driving her own car to Brisbane. Why would he think otherwise?

  He ground his teeth and went to the fridge for a beer, then flung himself down on the couch. Rain beat against the window, preventing any more work today. For the first time in his life, getting drunk seemed like a good idea. Only problem was he probably didn’t have enough beer on hand.

  ***

  Flynn opened his eyes and closed them almost immediately. Nothing made sense. Why was he lying down? Was he dreaming? No, it was cold. His head hurt, and a stabbing pain shafted through his chest as he attempted to move. The seatbelt was cutting him half, holding him in place like an iron bar across his belly. Something was wrong with his right leg. His right arm was trapped, immobile. He concentrated hard on his left hand and managed to move the fingers.

  His eyes flickered open again and focused this time. A mass of leaves and branches obscured the windscreen, falling onto the dashboard. Why were they there? How? Where was he? Leaves glistening with water. Raining? Soft drops pattered on the foliage, landed on his face and slid down to wet his shirt. He blinked.

  There was no windscreen. The glittering remains of the glass hung from the frame. He lay crushed against the door. The car must be on its side, angled down a slope wedged against a tree. In a burst of memory, a pair of roos came from nowhere right in front of the car. No time to stop, wrench the wheel, frantic instinctive braking, useless … a slide … thunderous crashing … then what?

  Undo the seatbelt.

  Fingers groped feebly for the catch, found it and pressed. Nothing happened. He tried again, holding the button down as hard as his weak thumb would allow. It popped free and he lurched forward with a hoarse scream as his head connected with the steering wheel and the stabbing in his chest turned into a chainsaw attack.