by Jane Harper
“I know.” Ilse ran a hand through her hair. “That’s what I wondered too. I’d always been a bit worried about that happening. A dingo could dig up that hole, couldn’t it? Take the envelope?”
“Yeah.” Dropped it somewhere when it lost interest. It was probably under a pile of sand by now. “And Bub said there were dingoes sniffing around.”
“Oh, right. Well, then.”
They both fell quiet at the same time.
“I know Bub was out there by himself for a bit, but—” Nathan pictured the rumpled tarp, and Bub’s face after Cameron’s body was moved. “He was as surprised to see that hole as anyone.”
That didn’t necessarily mean he couldn’t have taken something from Cameron’s pockets, though, Nathan thought. He didn’t say that out loud.
“I feel like Bub would have said something to me by now if he’d found it.” Ilse was whispering now, as they approached the house. “Especially with him being so annoyed about the property.”
They hesitated at the foot of the veranda steps. Nathan took a breath.
“There’s no way Jenna might—”
“Realistically, she couldn’t—”
They both started and stopped at the same time. Neither said anything.
“I really don’t think—” Nathan said.
“No.” Ilse shook her head firmly. “I don’t either. I don’t.”
They stood for a moment longer, just looking at each other, then turned to go inside. As he held open the screen door, she brushed his fingertips with her own as she passed.
“Thank you, Nathan,” she said, politely.
“You’re welcome, Ilse.”
He could see her smiling to herself as she disappeared down the hall.
Nathan sat now on the couch, looking at Cameron’s artwork. He could pinpoint the spot beneath the headstone where the earth had been dug up in real life. In the painting, that piece of ground was smooth and untouched. In the corner of the room, the Christmas tree shivered in a draught of air. Someone had put it back up since yesterday.
The pounding of small footsteps filled the hallway, and the girls piled into the room. They were holding presents under their arms, and even Lo seemed interested, for once. Liz followed, carrying a tray of coffee mugs. There was the sound of a toilet flushing along the hall, and a minute later, Bub appeared. He hovered at the edge, leaning against the door. He had a beer in his hand.
“What? It’s Christmas,” he said, as Liz frowned.
She turned to Nathan. “Where’s Xander?”
“I’ll get him.”
“We’re not waiting to start opening, Uncle Nathan.” Sophie’s voice floated behind him as he got up.
“I wouldn’t dream of asking you to.”
Xander was fast asleep in bed, his hair dark against the pillow, and Nathan felt a pang of nostalgia. It had always been Xander who had woken him up on Christmas morning, every second year. This could realistically be the last Christmas they would spend together, Nathan thought. And either way, his son would be fully grown-up next time. The room felt a little bare, and Nathan realized Xander had already started packing a few things. He stared at his backpack and sighed.
“What are you doing?”
Nathan looked over to see Xander awake. “Watching you sleep, my son and heir.”
Xander smiled. “That’s weird.”
“Then you should have got up earlier. Happy Christmas.”
“You too.” Xander seemed in a better mood than yesterday, at least. He nodded at Nathan’s bruise. “Your eye looks bad.”
“It’s all right. You should see the other guy.”
“I did, last night. Bub was fine.” Xander was watching Nathan with a bemused look. “What’s up with you, anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. You seem sort of … happier.”
“Oh. Well. It’s Christmas, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. I suppose.”
“There you go. The girls are opening their presents.”
Xander pulled himself up to sit against the pillow. “So we’re really doing this? Christmas like nothing has happened?”
“They’re just kids, mate. You were excited at that age too.” Nathan started toward the door. “Get dressed and come through when you’re ready.”
“Dad—” Xander took a breath. “I don’t think Sophie hurt her arm riding.”
Nathan sat back down.
“I was talking to her yesterday, and when I mentioned it, she seemed to kind of … forget. Then she got this weird look on her face, like she’d said something she wasn’t supposed to.”
The funeral had opened the floodgates, Nathan thought. With Cam safely in the ground, it seemed everyone felt more able to say what they couldn’t when he was walking around. Nathan looked now at his son. He was nearly grown-up in so many ways now. Not a child anymore. And there had already been too many secrets kept for too long in that house.
“Cameron hurt her,” Nathan said. “Ilse told me last night.”
Xander didn’t reply for a long time. “Sophie’s just a kid,” he said finally. “How could he do that?”
“I don’t know, mate.”
“Do you think Cameron felt bad about it?”
“I hope so.”
“Maybe that explains why he left his car.”
“Yeah. Maybe it does.”
“Are the girls okay?”
Nathan could hear voices down the hall and thought about Cameron buried outside. “I think so, right now, anyway. Why don’t you come and join in?”
He stood up.
“Dad—?”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry about the past couple of days.” Xander threaded the bedcover between his fingers, the way he used to when he was young. “I was just worried.”
“I know. I’m sorry too,” Nathan said. “And look, you’re right. I’ve got an appointment with Steve. And I’ll have a think—a proper one—about some changes. I can’t promise I’m going to move away, mate—”
Xander looked disappointed, but Nathan wanted to be honest. And it was true. He couldn’t simply leave, for lots of reasons. Financial. Practical. And not least because sometimes, quite a lot of the time, he felt connected to the outback in a way that he loved. There was something about the brutal heat, when the sun was high in the sky and he was watching the slow meandering movement of the herds. Looking out over the wide-open plains and seeing the changing colors in the dust. It was the only time when he felt something close to happiness. If Xander couldn’t feel it himself, and Nathan knew not everyone could, then he couldn’t explain it. It was harsh and unforgiving, but it felt like home.
“Things will be better, though, I promise.” Nathan reached out and put his arms around his boy. Xander hugged him back. “You can trust me.”
“Yeah. I know.”
They pulled apart, and Nathan left Xander to get up and dressed. Out in the hall, he could still hear chatter coming from the living room. It was a nice sound. He started toward it, then stopped at the sight of the landline phone. He glanced back at Xander’s room, then, without thinking too hard about it, he walked over and dialed a number. It had been a while, and he got it wrong the first time. He tried again.
“Hello?” The voice was both familiar and that of a stranger.
“Jacqui? It’s Nathan.”
There was a confused pause, then: “Has something happened to Xander?”
“No, he’s fine.” He heard her breathe out in relief. “I wanted to talk to you, actually.”
“Oh.” Another pause. “Okay.” She sounded surprised, but not nearly as hostile as he remembered. She sounded different from the way she did in her e-mails or through her lawyer.
“Listen, Jacqui, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for abandoning your dad. Whatever had happened between me and you, it was a terrible thing to do, and if I could go back and change it, I would.”
“Oh.” An even longer pause. “Thank you.”
“And I’m sorry I wasn’t what you needed, for you or for Xander.”
He expected the silence this time, and waited.
“You’ve always given Xander what he needed,” Jacqui said finally. He heard her take a breath. “Sorry, Nathan, I have to ask, is it skin cancer? Have you had a bad result?”
“What? No.”
“Then what’s brought this on?”
“I just—” He stopped. “It felt like it was time.”
It was true, he realized. It was hard work staying angry for ten years. Jacqui sounded tired too. They spoke for a bit longer. It was awkward and rusty, but it was like an old piece of machinery. He could imagine it being functional once again. She sent her condolences about Cameron. Nathan gritted his teeth and asked politely after Martin. He was doing very well, apparently, his star continuing its ascendance in the field of metal-centric architecture. Nathan’s gaze wandered as Jacqui made awkward small talk about some renovation work they were planning for Xander’s bedroom. His eyes landed on the key rack above the family logbook. Cameron’s car keys hung from their lanyard, exactly where Nathan had put them himself a couple of days earlier.
It was the silence on the other end of the phone that told him he’d missed something. “Sorry, what was that?”
A small sigh of disappointment. That brought back a few memories, but he pushed them aside. “I was saying thanks for understanding about Xander’s exams and him needing to be at home more.” Jacqui paused. “I know you miss him.”
“Yeah.”
“He misses you, too.”
“Does he?”
“Of course. You’re his dad.”
Nathan felt a flicker of warmth between them, and for a moment he could remember what he’d once loved about that golden-haired girl on the other side of the fence.
“Seeing Xander’s the best part of my year. He’s really great. You should be proud.”
“Well. As should you, Nathan.”
Nathan heard movement and saw their son in the hallway. He waved him over. “He’s here now. I’ll put him on. Happy Christmas, Jacqui.”
Xander took the phone, mouth agape in a way that made Nathan feel both a bit better and a bit guilty. He should have tried to do this years ago.
As he turned away, his eye caught once more on the key rack, and he reached out and unhooked Cameron’s keys. He wandered down the hall, running the lanyard through his fingers. It still had a little red dust on it, and he couldn’t help picturing it, dumped on the front seat of Cam’s car on that terrible day when they’d found him. Not dumped, a small voice whispered in his head. Neatly coiled, in a way he had never seen from his brother.
Nathan’s thoughts were scattered by shrieks as Sophie and Lo careered out of the living room and ran past him. Ilse followed with a smile and a rubbish bag full of torn wrapping paper. Nathan slipped the keys into his pocket and smiled back. Liz came out, looking better than she had the day before, Nathan was relieved to see. She headed toward the kitchen and squeezed his arm as she passed. She seemed to have forgiven him, at least.
“I’d better get lunch on. I’ve given the backpackers the day off, so feel free to help.” She turned and called out: “Sophie!”
“Yeah?” a voice shouted back.
“Can you please run out and tell Simon and Katy that lunch is at twelve?”
“Okay.” More pounding of feet. Sophie appeared and drew to a brief halt. “Can I whip the cream for the pavlova?”
“No! I want to!” Lo shouted.
“You both can.” Liz rolled her eyes. “We’re not there yet, anyway.”
She headed into the kitchen as Sophie ran outside. There was a silence, then the veranda boards rumbled again. Sophie reappeared at the door, and Nathan could see by her face that something was wrong.
“It’s gone.” She sounded confused.
Harry appeared at Nathan’s shoulder. “What has?” he said.
“The backpackers’ car.”
“They’ve gone?”
“The caravan’s still there. But their car is gone!”
Harry frowned, and Nathan followed him outside.
Sure enough, the backpackers’ battered car—their own private vehicle that they’d driven into town—was no longer there. It had been parked last night, and every night before, right next to the caravan. Now there was just an empty patch of ground in its place. Sophie ran up to it and spread her arms wide.
“See?” she shouted. “I told you.”
The caravan door opened, and Simon poked his head out, surprised to see Nathan and Harry and the girls staring at him. Over his shoulder, Nathan saw Ilse and Bub wander out onto the veranda to see what the fuss was about.
Simon blinked in the sunlight. He looked like he’d just woken up.
“Is Katy already in the house?” he said. It took him another moment to realize what they were all looking at. His eyes widened, any last traces of sleep gone. “Where’s the bloody car?”
He ran out, hitching up his shorts. He stood on the bare patch of land and circled around one way, and then the other. The car did not reappear.
“Where were the keys, mate?” Harry said.
Simon stopped turning and dashed back into the caravan. He reemerged, looking, if possible, even more perplexed.
“They were right there in the cupboard, but now they’re gone!”
He ran down to the empty space again.
“And no sign of Katy in there with you?” Harry said quickly, before Simon could start circling once more.
“No! She’s gone too! And her bag!” Simon stopped dead still and stared at them. “Wait. Katy took my car?”
“I would say, mate, that’s the way it’s looking.”
“But—why?” Simon’s eyes widened, then with a speed that surprised Nathan, his expression darkened. “It was my car. How could she do this to me?”
Nathan cleared his throat. “She did mention she was quite keen to head off,” he said, neutrally.
“So, what? She just gets to make the decisions, does she?” Simon’s eyes flashed, and he paced up and down the empty space. “Shit. Shit. I can’t believe this.”
“Did you not hear her leave?” Harry said. He looked mildly entertained.
“I take sleeping tablets at night,” Simon snapped back. “I’ve been very stressed lately. Shit.” More pacing. “No one else heard her go?”
Nathan resisted the urge to glance around at Ilse. Now that Simon mentioned it, he had vaguely registered the faint thrum of an engine at one point. He’d been dozing and dreamed it was the generator. By the time he’d opened his eyes, he’d looked at Ilse sleeping next to him and instantly forgotten all about it.
He watched Simon pacing and mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like “stupid bitch” and felt a certain warm glow at the idea of Katy buggering off under the cover of darkness. She deserved better, all things considered, but it was a start.
“How am I supposed to get out of this shithole without the car?” Simon was shouting now. His tone was bordering on screechy. Nathan heard Bub on the veranda, failing to suppress a laugh.
Harry caught Nathan’s eye. A flicker of a smile caused his craggy features to move a fraction.
“I can tow you into town tomorrow, mate,” Harry said, not unkindly.
“And then bloody what?” Simon snapped.
“I dunno, mate. I reckon you’ll be able to work something out from there, though.”
Simon took one more look at them, one more look at the empty space, then turned and stomped back into the empty caravan, where his girlfriend used to be, and slammed the door, hard.
Nathan could still hear Bub laughing as he disappeared with Ilse and the girls back into the house. He and Harry exchanged an amused glance.
“On that note.” Harry started toward the house. “You coming back in?”
Nathan felt Cameron’s car keys weighing down his pocket.
“Harry.” He felt his smile dim. “There was nothing wrong with Ilse
’s car.”
Harry turned at that. “No?”
“She reckons Cam was messing around with it, so it was too unreliable to use.” Nathan watched his face. “Is that what you’d thought?”
Harry said nothing for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. I wondered. Eventually. There’s not a lot that stumps me on those vehicles, but that bloody car—” He shook his head.
“She reckons he was doing other things as well.”
“Like what?” Harry said.
“Things like Dad,” Nathan said. He waited. “You don’t look surprised.”
“It’s not that.” Harry glanced toward the house. “Look, Cameron was a smart bloke. A lot smarter than Carl, but you know that. Carl was a violent, aggressive bastard and didn’t care who knew it. But Cam was never like that. He wanted people to like him and respect him. And they did, didn’t they? Underneath, though—” Harry said nothing for so long that Nathan thought he might not continue. “I’d started to wonder if Cam was more like your dad than he let on. Maybe worse, even, because he was clever. He could hide it better.”
“You never saw him do anything?”
“No, but I felt like I’d seen some of the signs before. Lo’s bloody sad drawings. Sophie’s arm sounded like bullshit to me as well, but she swore that was what happened.”
“Jesus, Harry, you should have done something.”
“Hey.” Harry pointed a calloused finger at Nathan. “You haven’t shown your face here in a year, mate. Don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t have been doing. I kept that key to the rifle cabinet close, in case he started getting any ideas. I sent Cam away from here on any job I could think of. I tried to talk to him. When that didn’t work, I argued with him, like your bloody backpacker mate overheard.”
“You could have called the police.”
“So could you,” Harry said suddenly. He stared at Nathan with a clear gaze. “All those times with your dad, and you and your brothers and your mum. You were all old enough to pick up the phone and call someone. Why didn’t you?”
Nathan opened his mouth, then shut it. “I don’t know,” he said finally.
He did, though, he realized. He hadn’t called anyone for help because it simply hadn’t occurred to him that he could. He knew the unspoken rules: don’t tell anyone, not even each other. And even if he’d thought to ask for help, there had seemed no point asking for something that simply wasn’t there. Nathan may not know much, but in his heart he had always held on to a single ingrained truth. Out there, he was on his own.