The House At Flynn's Crossing

by Elisabeth Rose

  ‘After dinner. It’s for dessert,’ said Sarah.

  He pulled a face. ‘That’s a long time to wait.’

  The twins laughed. Antonia frowned and shook her head as she smoothed the icing over the cake. ‘You’re a bad influence.’

  ‘I try,’ he said and gave the twins a big stagey wink, which produced more giggles.

  ‘We’re getting a kitten,’ said Sarah.

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Josef has a cat and they’ve decided they’d really like one. Pets are good for kids,’ Antonia said. ‘We couldn’t have one before, but now we’re settled we can.’

  ‘We had a dog when I was a kid,’ said Flynn. ‘He was a bitser.’

  ‘What’s a bitser?’ asked Jacob.

  ‘Bitser this and bitser that. No special breed.’ Antonia smoothed the last of the icing and collected the dirty utensils.

  ‘What was his name?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Freddie.’ A black and white scruffy little dog that his mother adored more than her kids, it seemed to him. ‘He was old. My mother had him before she got married so by the time I was born he was already about six or seven. I remember him being a bit deaf and very snappy. He died when I was twelve.’

  ‘Do you like cats better?’

  ‘I don’t know, I’ve never had a cat.’

  ‘You can have one of the kittens from Annabel’s cat too.’

  ‘I don’t think I want a kitten.’

  ‘But you’d like it,’ Sarah insisted.

  ‘We haven’t even asked Annabel ourselves,’ said Antonia. ‘They might have given the kittens away already.’

  ‘They can’t leave their mummy until they’re six weeks old,’ said Jacob. ‘Annabel said.’

  ‘Into the bathroom, you two, and wash your face and hands,’ said Antonia. ‘Then your cartoons will be on.’

  Flynn sat down while she bustled about tidying up. Rain and wind pelted against the roof, the old timbers creaked and groaned under the onslaught, but the house was solid and had weathered many similar storms.

  ‘It’s getting wild out there,’ she said.

  ‘It won’t last too long. These things blow over in a few hours usually.’

  ‘I’m a bit worried about the mango tree. Some of those branches could hit the house.’

  ‘We’d better get them trimmed.’

  She nodded. ‘I think so. It’d be terrible if one crashed into the verandah.’

  ‘I’ll see to it this coming week.’ If he sold from under her the whole house would come crashing down. And the tree would be the first to go. That might cause a bit of public resistance.

  ‘It’s not urgent. You shouldn’t go back to work until you’re stronger.’

  ‘I do need to replace my phone. I’ll have to go to Kurrajong.’

  ‘We could go on Monday morning when the twins are at school. I don’t have to be back until after lunch for the recorder group.’

  ‘It’s a date. Thank you.’

  ‘Is spaghetti all right for dinner?’

  ‘Sounds good to me. Give me something to do, please.’

  ‘No need.’ She flashed him a smile and bent to pull a saucepan from the cupboard.

  Flynn relaxed and watched her move purposefully about, collecting the ingredients for the sauce. She began chopping onion and garlic with deft strokes of the knife then dumped the onion into the pan to brown.

  She turned to face him, wooden stirring spoon in hand. ‘Why do you feel you’re not worthy of having a family? You’d be a great father.’

  The suddenness of the question took him by surprise.

  ‘I told you my secret …’ she said.

  ‘Yes, and I’m honoured you felt you could.’

  ‘So?’

  She’d been brave, so could he.

  ‘I was a pretty out-of-control kid from about eleven or twelve on. Don’t ask why, I’m sure there are plenty of reasons to do with my parents, but basically I was a little ratbag. When I was thirteen I got in with a group of older boys who were really bad—burglary, muggings, drugs, you name it. I know two of them have been in prison for most of their adult lives and one of them died of a drug overdose at eighteen.’

  ‘But you came good,’ she said softly.

  ‘Only after …’ He stopped, the memories flooding in. The exhilaration that turned to fear, then shock and outright panic. The screech of brakes, the frantic swearing from the driver, the scream and the terrible thud …

  ‘Flynn?’

  He swallowed, continued. ‘We stole a car. At least they did, I went along for the ride, thinking I was something else—a big tough gangster instead of an unhappy, ultimately stupid fourteen-year-old. I was in the back seat. There were four of us. Jacko was driving. He had a licence but he was crazy reckless and the others kept egging him on to go faster. There was booze too, but weirdly enough I didn’t drink because I didn’t like the taste. Anyway, at first it was fun, a lark, a bit of excitement on a boring Thursday night but we were roaring down a suburban street and suddenly a woman came from nowhere, crossing the road.’

  Antonia gasped but didn’t interrupt.

  ‘The car hit her going full speed. Jacko braked but it was way too late. She died instantly, they said, and so did her baby. She was six months pregnant and she’d just gone across to visit a neighbour—to return a book.’

  ‘Oh my God.’ It came as a whisper.

  ‘Jacko died later in hospital. No seatbelt and he was crushed against the steering wheel and cracked his head open on the windscreen. The rest of us weren’t badly hurt.’

  The onions sizzled vigorously, the mouth-watering smell permeating the kitchen. Antonia turned abruptly to stir them.

  ‘I vowed there and then that I would never have my own family because I didn’t deserve to have what that poor woman’s husband had lost in one stupid, senseless act.’

  ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘I was a minor, we all were. I wasn’t deemed accountable for the death but I was involved in the car theft. I was given counselling and community service and a good-behaviour bond. Which I kept. As far as the law is concerned I’ve paid my debt, but as far as my conscience is concerned I never will.’

  Antonia dumped mincemeat into the frying onion and garlic. She stirred without saying a word. What was she thinking?

  ‘Do you know what happened to the woman’s husband?’

  ‘Actually, yes I do. I did a search and found him through Facebook a few years ago but I didn’t contact him. I’d never do that.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He’s married with two children. He lives in Grafton now.’

  ‘So he’s happy. That’s good to know, isn’t it?’

  He nodded. He had been pleased when he saw the man’s page, glad he’d managed to overcome the tragedy and find happiness again.

  She turned the heat down and faced him. ‘Nothing you do or say will bring her back, Flynn, you know that. Why deny yourself something that would make you happy? You were a kid; no one holds you responsible for the accident, because that’s what it was. Jacko died and he paid the ultimate price for what essentially was his fault. The others have learned nothing, apparently, but you have. You turned your life around and I imagine if that woman’s husband knew, he’d be pleased she didn’t lose her life in vain. I can’t think he’d want you to pay for the rest of your life.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He shook his head, lips clamped together. What she said made sense and others had told him that at the time; and afterwards, police and counsellors who urged him to learn, to change his life for the better, take a new path. He had, but the black hole of remorse remained.

  ‘Neither do I but that’s what I think.’

  ‘Do you want your abductor to pay for the rest of his life?’

  Her expression changed instantly, blank but at the same time a fierceness blazed from her eyes as she spoke.

  ‘Yes, but he set out deliberately to do what he did and he was an adult. He’d been doing it for a lon
g time and he allowed at least three girls and their babies to die in order to protect himself from discovery. It’s not the same thing at all. None of you went out that night looking for someone to run down and kill. You were all brainless, mad kids acting in a criminally reckless manner but you weren’t psychopaths.’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘No suppose about it,’ she said viciously. ‘Believe me, I know. Murdoch will never feel the remorse you feel. He’s incapable of empathy in any way, shape or form.’ She snatched up a tin of tomatoes and ripped the ring-pull top off before dumping the contents in the saucepan.

  ‘Are you saying I should get over myself? That I’m being self-indulgent?’ he said stiffly. How could she be so callous? He’d thought she’d be sympathetic, understanding.

  Antonia stopped stirring, hesitated. She added a couple of dollops of tomato paste, water and a sprinkle of herbs to the mix. When she spoke, she was calmer. ‘I think you should live your life and be happy. You can’t allow events in the past to ruin your whole life. All you can do is try to live a better life for yourself and other people. Flynn, you’re already doing part of that here in town. It’s the part for yourself …’ Her burst of candour fizzled. She turned back to the stove and began poking and stirring at the fragrant sauce. ‘Sorry,’ she muttered. ‘I don’t know anything about it, really.’

  Flynn pushed himself to his feet. ‘No, and I don’t know how to stop feeling the way I do.’

  ‘Maybe you need to let yourself …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Get close to someone …’

  A loud crash and thud came from outside and a moment later the power went off.

  ‘Mummy, the TV stopped,’ yelled Sarah.

  ‘It’s okay, it’s just the storm,’ she called back. ‘Press the off button.’

  Flynn was already out the back door, peering into the gloom towards the street. Antonia followed him to the corner of the verandah, her hair whipping about in the wind.

  ‘Was it the mango tree?’

  ‘I don’t think so. It looks okay to me and it’s not near the powerlines. I think it was at the back but there aren’t any wires there either.’

  She ran back to the steps into the yard.

  ‘It’s the shed. A branch from one of those gums landed on it,’ she called. Leaves and smaller branches almost covered the shed but it was still standing. ‘It’s too wet and nasty to check now.’

  ‘The powerlines must have come down somewhere else.’ Flynn walked carefully around to the front of the house, mindful of the slick boards underfoot and the wind tugging at his clothes. No lights came from across the road or next door, although it wasn’t really dark enough to need them.

  ‘Oh well, at least we can eat chocolate cake for dinner,’ Antonia said behind him. ‘It’ll be back on soon, probably.’ She opened the front door and slipped inside, shivering, then closed it firmly behind them both.

  Flynn wiped drops of water from his face and hair. ‘It could take a while for them to find the fault. One of the benefits of living in the country. Do you have candles? A torch?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘Okay, well, we could go to my house. I have solar power with battery storage and a backup generator for emergencies. I also have a stack of candles and a gas stove so we can finish cooking dinner. And I wouldn’t mind collecting some warmer clothes.’

  ‘All right. I’ll get organised.’ She was already heading for the kitchen, calling the twins as she went.

  ‘Make sure you turn the stove off in case the power comes back on.’

  ***

  Antonia had never been to Flynn’s house. It was on the far side of town in a more recently developed area. The houses were newer and more expensively designed and built, but surprisingly his house was an old-style wooden-framed bungalow similar in design to her own. The difference was Flynn’s sat on a rise with a view flowing away to the far hills and much more money had been spent on the upkeep and interior.

  The contrast with the Mango House was even sharper inside. Polished wood floors, white painted walls with a few landscapes and presumably his own photos hung in strategic places, an open living area which led onto a lovely garden space. At the moment, in the wind and rain, it was grey and sodden, but when the sun was shining it would be beautiful—a little corner of rainforest with ferns and flowering vines.

  Antonia insisted on taking her and the children’s shoes off and leaving them in the entrance foyer in spite of Flynn telling them not to worry.

  ‘It’s so clean,’ she said. ‘We don’t want to a make a mess in your house.’ So clean and uncluttered it was like a showroom.

  ‘Here’s the kitchen,’ said Flynn. ‘I hope everything’s there that you’ll need. I’m not much of a cook but over the years I’ve collected some bits and pieces.’

  Granite benchtops, polished wood cupboards, all clean and tidy and functional. Antonia put the two bags containing the spaghetti sauce and chocolate cake on the bench, then set the saucepan of sauce on the stove to continue cooking. Flynn flicked on a few lights and pulled the curtains while the twins stood awkwardly together, looking around at the unfamiliar house.

  ‘Are you warm enough?’ asked Flynn.

  They nodded and edged closer together.

  ‘Will we see if your cartoons are still on?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ All their bravado had disappeared in the face of this new situation. Despite their liking for Flynn, being in his house was disturbing.

  ‘You can sit down,’ Antonia said and they walked across and perched on the edge of the black leather couch facing the large-screen TV. All the houses they’d lived in had been messy, family homes, crammed with the junk of daily life. Even their captor’s house had the feel of family, an atmosphere the women had struggled to maintain for the sake of the children despite the lack of freedom.

  This house was like a display home. Beautifully furnished but with an unlived-in feel to it.

  ‘Have some cushions.’ Flynn took a couple of red cushions from another chair and tossed them over. Jacob grabbed one while Sarah scrambled for the other. ‘Have some more,’ he said, and threw another two, which elicited giggles from the recipients and a failed attempt at retaliation from Jacob.

  ‘No pillow fighting,’ Antonia said sternly. She knew exactly where this would end up.

  ‘Flynn started it,’ said Sarah.

  ‘And I’m stopping it,’ she said, hands on hips. They settled back to watch the remainder of the program surrounded by red cushions.

  Flynn joined her at the bench, which divided the kitchen from the living area. ‘There should be some wine in that cupboard.’ He pointed. ‘And glasses up there.’

  Antonia poured two glasses. ‘This is a lovely house. It’s a similar floor plan to my place.’

  ‘I like it. It’s the original old weatherboard structure but I pretty much had the whole of the inside redesigned and modernised. It’s solar passive too. I got most of those ideas from Margie. It’s very cost efficient.’

  ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘It needs more living in. I’m not home much.’

  ‘You won’t be going far without a car,’ Antonia said.

  Flynn groaned. ‘I’d almost forgotten about that. I haven’t even called the insurance company.’

  ‘You don’t have a phone and you’re injured. Give yourself a break.’ She smiled.

  ‘I know, but I need to get onto both things quickly so I can get back to work. My insurance will cover a rental car for a while. In fact, I should call them now.’ He slid off the stool. ‘I have all the details here in my study. Make yourselves at home.’

  ‘Okay.’

  While Flynn was busy doing that Antonia explored the kitchen. His stove was brilliant. She could do wonders in a kitchen like this but it was clear he rarely cooked because the utensils were so neatly stacked in the cupboards. There was a dinner setting for eight, which she would swear hadn’t been used, and a matching set of blue
-patterned mugs, plates and bowls, which would be for daily use. Six all-purpose tumblers had never been bought for their contents of jam or vegemite. Nothing was chipped and everything was part of a set.

  He must think her mishmash of crockery and cutlery completely hopeless and wonder why on earth she was so passionate about the run-down old house. She pulled out a large saucepan and filled it with water for the pasta. The sauce was simmering nicely but would need at least half an hour.

  Flynn’s voice came from another room, too far to hear what he was saying.

  ‘I need to do a wee,’ said Sarah from the couch.

  ‘Let’s find the toilet. It should be down this hallway.’

  Flynn was in the first room they passed, sitting at an office desk with a computer and papers spread before him. The door was open and he smiled and rolled his eyes. ‘I’m on hold,’ he said.

  ‘Where’s the loo?’

  ‘Second on the right.’

  The bathroom and toilet were in separate rooms just like at home, but his bathroom was ultra-modern with a walk-in shower and a spa bath and looked like an extension to the original building or an adaptation of a smaller bedroom. Why not, if you had the money and the space? He probably had an ensuite in the main bedroom too. Antonia sighed as she waited for Sarah.

  The more she saw of the house, the more she realised just how far he’d lowered his standards to stay in the Mango House. He’d jumped at the chance to return to this comfort and warmth. She’d hardly been aware of the storm since they’d arrived, whereas at home every gust of wind and slash of rain rocked the house and threatened to tear it apart.

  He’d probably want to stay here now he was back and she couldn’t blame him at all. Staying with her was slumming for him. They’d have dinner, she’d borrow some candles and she’d take the twins home.

  Chapter 17

  Flynn concluded his conversation about the insurance but he didn’t immediately rejoin Antonia; instead he checked email and dashed off a few replies before his ribs and shoulder began to ache and he realised he’d been sitting in the office for half an hour.