by Jane Harper
It had been a full day since the terrible phone call from the town’s sergeant had come through, and Nathan had stood sullenly with Cameron in the hall while their dad demanded answers. A day since Nathan had been a fraction late coming to his brother’s defense, and a day since Cam had last spoken to him.
Nathan had let the cricket ball sail past him as Carl Bright’s dirty four-wheel drive had roared up the driveway and shuddered to a halt outside the house. Nathan lingered, keeping his distance, as he always did when he had a choice in the matter. Carl had been gone most of the day. That was not unusual. Nor was the fact that he’d failed to write down where he was going. He was bristling as he slammed his car door shut with a force that shook the vehicle.
Cameron had come out of the house.
Nathan had had the urge to whistle sharply, the way they’d always used to warn each other over the years. Watch out, Dad’s coming. He didn’t, though. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen and, if possible, he didn’t want Bub to see. Instead, Nathan tossed the cricket ball in the air and lobbed the bat at it, sending the ball a fair distance in the other direction. Bub scampered after it, swearing and complaining.
Anyway, it was too late for a warning, Nathan could tell as he turned back. Cameron had seen their dad, pounding across the driveway toward him. And their dad had clearly seen Cam. Cameron had paused. And then, instead of wheeling around and disappearing into the warren of the house, he walked down the wooden steps and waited at the bottom. As Carl Bright approached his middle son, he barely broke stride. He brushed past him, turning his head just once. And before disappearing into the house, Carl gave Cameron a single sharp nod.
It’s done.
32
It’s done.
Of course it was.
Carl Bright never nodded at his sons. Not in greeting, certainly not in approval. He had disappeared from the property for a few hours, and the very next morning Jenna and her boyfriend had gone to their employer and told him they were leaving. No reason and no notice, they just wanted to be on their way.
Keith had tried to talk them out of it, Jacqui told Nathan later. Keith had, of course, heard about the events at the party, and had asked if that had anything to do with anything. No, Jenna had said. It was a misunderstanding. She had been embarrassed and had blown things out of proportion.
Nathan sat on the couch in the living room now, staring at the Christmas tree bulbs glowing weakly in the dying afternoon light. The debris of the wake lay scattered around, empty plates and cups cluttering every surface. Steve had been among the very last to leave, pressing an appointment card into Nathan’s palm. By the time he’d driven off, the rest of the family had drifted their separate ways, rattling around a house that suddenly felt too big and empty.
Keith’s attitude toward Nathan had markedly changed after Jenna left in such a hurry. Nathan didn’t see Keith that often, so it took a while for him to fully notice. But where Keith had always been civil, if a little cold, he suddenly became hard and unpleasant. Nathan’s visits were greeted with increasing hostility, until eventually he and Jacqui stopped meeting at her house. They still met, though, and had laughed with the intoxication of forbidden intimacy at Keith’s disapproval.
Nathan could still remember Keith’s face all those years ago at the service station.
I know what men like you do.
Maybe, Nathan thought as he sat on the couch now, the bloke had actually had a point. The thought was deeply depressing.
There was a noise in the hall, and Bub appeared in the doorway. His shirt was creased, and he was squinting into the low light.
“Where is everybody?”
“Gone. It’s over.”
“Already?”
“You’ve been asleep for a while.”
“Oh.” Bub flopped down on the couch, and Nathan could smell the alcohol coming off him. Bub rubbed a hand over his face, then peered at Nathan with bloodshot eyes. “What’s wrong with you?”
Nathan, who couldn’t think where to start, looked at his brother and immediately pictured his dog Kelly lying dead in his hands. It had slipped to the back of his mind in the last couple of hours but now jostled its way forward once more. He opened his mouth, then with an effort, took a breath. “Nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing.”
Nathan shrugged.
Bub yawned and slid his eyes around the room. “Lots of people came, hey?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think that many would come out for us?”
“Nope.”
“Me neither.” Bub sounded resigned. “Bloody Cam. I don’t know how he did it. He was as much of a dickhead as the rest of us, he was just better at hiding it.”
“That’s what you think?”
“Yeah, of course.” Bub stared at the wall for a minute. His voice was rough, and his words still a little slurred. “It’s the truth, isn’t it? I mean, Dad was a dickhead, Cam was a dickhead. I am. You are.”
Nathan almost laughed. “I’m not arguing that, mate. But some things are a lot worse than other things.”
“If you say so.” Bub suppressed a small burp.
“I do.”
“Well, you would know.” Bub hauled himself off the couch and over to the TV. “I mean, Cam could be an arsehole, but you left a bloke for dead.”
“That was ten years ago. And he didn’t actually die.”
“No thanks to you. But maybe that’s not your fault. Like I said: family of dickheads. Not much you can do about that.” Bub stood over the TV, untangling the wires for his computer game.
“People can change, mate.”
“Okay.”
“No. Listen. I am nowhere near as bad as Cam.”
“Righto.” Bub didn’t look up. “Try to remember that when you and Ilse are screwing me over with this place.”
“Jesus, Bub, no one’s trying to screw you over.”
“We’ll see.”
“Hey.” Nathan lowered his voice. “What exactly is your problem?”
“I dunno. Not knowing what’s going on with my own property, for one thing. Never having a say, for another. Having you and Cam for brothers, for a third.”
“Well, you’ve only got me now, so there’s at least some good news for you.” Nathan could feel the anger building in him. He stood to leave. “By the way, you got anything you want to tell me about my dog?”
“Which dog?”
“You know which bloody dog. Kelly.”
Bub’s hands went still on the computer wires. “No. I dunno what you’re talking about.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Nothing to say about some baiting happening around my place? Not ringing any bells in there?” Nathan reached out and tapped Bub on the side of the head. Bub swiped his arm away.
“Get fucked.”
“No, you get fucked. Kelly was in a lot of pain at the end. I had to watch it happen. There was nothing I could do to help her.” Nathan could feel the tears prickling behind his eyes, and he blinked hard.
“She was only a dog.”
“I loved her. She was my best friend.”
“Then you need to get out more.”
Nathan made himself take a breath. He felt a rage building that he knew wasn’t all about Bub. Still. Bub was right in front of him.
“All right,” he said. “That’s fine. But when you and me and Ilse sit down to talk about this place, I’m going to look at you and think about what you did to Kelly, and then I’m going to think long and hard about how I can best repay you for that.” He stepped closer to his brother. “You’re wondering why Cam didn’t bloody trust you with this place or money or anything else? Take a look at yourself. He might have been an arsehole—worse than that—but he didn’t have rocks in his head.”
Nathan didn’t see the blow coming until it was almost too late. It caught the side of his head and sent him stumbling backward. He felt another hard jab under his ribs, and Bub’s arm was suddenly
tight around his neck.
“Fuck you, mate. And Cam.” Bub’s breath was alcoholic on his face. “You think you can turn up here and push me around and start acting like you know what’s best for everyone?”
Nathan felt the air knocked from him as they banged against the wall and lost their balance, hitting the floor with a thud. A loose fist connected with his cheek, and Nathan put his hand up too late as another blow sailed through.
“You and Cam always bloody think you’re better than me, but you’re not, are you? He’s dead and you’re a total fuck-up.”
Bub landed a sharp punch over Nathan’s eye, and his face was angry and slick with sweat. There was something reckless in his eyes as he pulled his fist back again.
“You think if you take Cam’s place and start behaving like him people will respect you?” Bub was saying.
“No.” Nathan tried to push him off, banging his head against the floorboards. He could see movement at the doorway.
“You think they’ll suddenly talk to you in town?”
“Get off.” Nathan shoved back, and they rolled over, hitting the couch and the coffee table. Something fell off and shattered against the floor.
“Hey!” A shout from Harry, as Liz’s voice also cried out from somewhere.
“They don’t ignore you because you’re not Cam, mate.” Bub’s words were hot in his ear. “It’s not even because you left what’s-his-name for dead. They don’t talk to you because you’ve got a bit weird, mate. You’re a weird, lonely loser and no one wants to be around y—”
Nathan got in a punch that time, a hard one, and they rolled again, colliding with something. Nathan felt the tremble at the same time as a gasp came from the doorway. The Christmas tree tilted, then fell in a shimmering jangle of decorations and plastic pine needles and tinsel. It caught the corner of Cameron’s painting as it fell, sending the frame rocking at an alarming angle on its twine.
“Oh, shit,” Bub said, his voice nearly drowned out as Liz shrieked and darted across the room. Harry got there first, smacking the frame hard against the wall as he caught the picture just in time.
“Christ,” he said. “That was close.”
Liz was already at his side, running both hands over the frame as she checked for damage. Nathan could see her shoulders move as she breathed heavily, and could tell she was trying not to cry. Finally, she straightened the painting against the wall.
“Jesus, of all days,” Harry was shouting. “You realize your brother’s gone, don’t you? You can’t respect his memory for five bloody minutes?”
“Sorry.” Nathan pushed Bub off him and stood up. He reached out for the painting. “Is it all right?”
Harry slapped his arm away. “Don’t you bloody touch it.”
“Hey! I was just trying to—”
“Well, don’t! You’ve done enough damage.”
“Stop it!” Liz turned, tears in her eyes now. She looked from Nathan to Bub, who was still sprawled on the floor, shimmering gently with a dusting of loose tinsel particles.
“Isn’t today already bad enough for you two?” she said. “What’s wrong with you both? Not enough misery here? You have to turn on each other as well?”
“Sorry, Mum,” Nathan said.
She didn’t answer. She was wiping her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he tried again. He ignored Bub, who was clambering to his feet. “I’ll fix it.”
Liz took a breath. “I don’t want you to fix anything. I have had it up to here, Nathan. I don’t want to see you—either of you—again tonight.”
“But—”
“Nathan. Bub. Please. Go away and leave me alone.”
She turned back to the painting and didn’t move again as her sons left the room.
33
It was dark as Nathan sat on the porch, playing Sophie’s guitar. He didn’t know where Bub had gone, and he didn’t care. Xander was crashed out, asleep on top of his bed, when Nathan had checked on him. A light was still on in the backpackers’ caravan. Nathan watched the shadows flicker in the windows as he sat on the steps and messed around with some chords.
“That’s nice.”
He looked up, his fingers stopped on the strings. “Thanks.”
Ilse was holding two beers. “Can I sit down?”
“Of course.” He paused. “Always.”
She put one bottle next to him. Condensation had already started to form as she clinked it with her own and sat down opposite. “Merry Christmas, I suppose.”
“Yeah. You too.”
Ilse leaned against the veranda post and tilted her head back, watching him. She’d had a shower and swapped her dark dress for shorts and a shirt. Her hair was wet and shone dark and sleek in the porch light. Nathan had changed back into his jeans earlier, and immediately felt dusty and gritty.
“I didn’t mean to put you off.” She nodded at the guitar. “Don’t stop.”
He drew a blank, scrabbling around for something to play. In the end, he settled on an old bush song his mum had used to sing when they were kids. It reminded him of Cameron when they were young. Playing cricket in the midday sun until Liz had yelled at them to get into the shade. It reminded him of the Cameron that he used to know, a long time ago.
Ilse stretched her legs out along the step, her feet bare against the wood. She took a sip of her beer.
“How are you feeling?” he said.
“It’s been a terrible day. But now it’s over, I feel—” She considered. “A bit better, I think. How about you?”
“Yeah,” Nathan said, realizing it was true. “Me too. Are the girls asleep?”
“In your mum’s room. Everyone’s having an early night.”
“Yeah. Right.”
They sat as he played softly. She did seem better, he thought, in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. There was a lightness in her face that hadn’t been there before.
Ilse was looking at the bruise forming around his eye. “So you spoke to Bub after all?”
“Oh.” He touched it. It hurt quite a bit, actually. “He kind of spoke to me.”
“Did you sort things out?”
“Not really. I’ll catch him tomorrow.”
“Well, it is Christmas. He might be more willing to make up.”
“I suppose. Either way, my dog’s still dead.”
“I know.” She stretched out and touched his boot gently with her toes. “But that’ll still be the case whether you forgive your brother or not.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“Definitely, I think, Nathan. Unfortunately,” she said, and he felt himself smile.
Ilse settled a little on the step, and the wood creaked. “How much longer are you here for?”
“Until the day after tomorrow. Xander’s getting the plane on the twenty-seventh.”
“Before you go home, we’ll have to talk over what to do about this place. With Bub, of course.”
“Of course.”
She leaned back, her eyes half-closed. “Not now, though.”
“No,” he said. “We don’t have to do it now.”
“Now, I’m going to sit here and listen to the music.”
“Sounds good.”
The light flicked off in the backpackers’ caravan, and they both looked over. It was pitch black out there now. Above, Nathan could make out the evening stars.
“So they’re thinking about leaving?” Ilse said.
“Yeah. Well, Katy, anyway. But, listen—” He hesitated. He didn’t really want to have this conversation. Not now. “I was talking to her—”
“I think she’s pregnant,” Ilse said suddenly. “She seems it.”
Nathan stared at her, then nodded.
A long silence, as Ilse stared out into the night. “Is it someone’s other than Simon’s?”
“Apparently so.”
“Ah.” The word was like an exhalation, and Ilse’s face twisted. She might have suspected, but Nathan could tell she hadn’t known for sure.
�
��I don’t think she’s planning to keep it,” he said. “If that makes a difference. But that’s why Cam made those calls to St. Helens.”
“That’s what it was about?”
“I think so.”
Ilse stared at the darkened caravan for a long time. “I’m pretty sure she’s not even the first,” she said eventually.
“Really?”
“I don’t mean the pregnancy, although—” She shook her head. “What do I know? But do you remember Magda?”
Nathan did, actually. A gentle Polish girl with a soft accent, who had been there one Christmas a few years ago. Not long after, he heard she’d gone, two months before her contract was up.
“And there was a girl over here from Perth. I think her, maybe. For a while. Maybe others.”
“Cam was—” Nathan struggled to put it into words. “Not good enough. In a lot of ways.”
Ilse had a look on her face he couldn’t quite read. She twisted the beer bottle in her hands, her fingertips leaving streaks in the condensation.
“Is that what the card with your present was about? Katy?” he said.
Forgive me.
“I’m honestly not sure. Maybe.” She examined her hands. “Maybe not. With Cameron, it could have been a few things.”
“Yeah. I’m starting to realize that.” The dark felt thick and heavy. “I spoke to Steve earlier. About Jenna.”
“Oh, yes?” Ilse’s eyes flicked to him.
“He said he told me the same as you.”
She leaned back, disappointed. “So nothing definite. No physical evidence, he told me.”
“I don’t know. It sounded pretty definite to me.”
“Did it?”
“I thought so. Especially in hindsight, for whatever that’s worth. I should have, I don’t know, at the time—” Nathan was quiet. “But Cam’s my brother. I believed him.”
“I know.” Her eyes were on him. “What do you think now?”
He looked up. The night sky was huge.