by Nicola Marsh
The long pause made Tash’s fingers clench around the phone and press it closer to her ear. ‘Isla?’
A stifled sob had Tash on her feet in a second. ‘Mum, can you come and get me now?’
‘Absolutely. What’s happened?’
‘I pushed Dennie and she’s hurt and I’m in trouble and everything’s a mess.’
Tash’s gut churned with trepidation. Isla was a good kid, she never fought, which meant something had precipitated this out-of-character action. ‘Sit tight, honey, I’ll be there ASAP.’ She paused, adding, ‘Everything will be okay,’ before hanging up.
Alisha touched her arm and Tash jumped. ‘You all right?’
Tash shook her head, blinking back the sting of tears. ‘Isla’s in trouble, I have to go,’ she said, grabbing her bag and heading for the door. ‘Sorry I can’t stay for a champers.’
‘Go,’ Alisha said, waving her away.
‘Let us know if you need anything,’ Ruby added.
‘Thanks,’ Tash said, before pushing through the back door of the roadhouse and sprinting for her car.
CHAPTER
2
Kody had always lived on the edge. As a foster kid, he’d been the first one to pick a fight, to taunt a bully, to stand up to ‘parents’ who were supposed to care for him. He’d taken risks: with his body, his music. But nothing came close to the rush of arriving back in Melbourne for the first time in thirteen years. Crazy, because he’d been offered exorbitant sums of money to play concerts here the last few years; huge, seven-figure sums the other band members had urged him to accept. He never did, because Melbourne held nothing but bad memories for him. He’d lived rough in this city, had his heart broken, lost a child he never knew he wanted until the decision was taken away from him.
Melbourne was the pits, which is why he couldn’t stay to recuperate. Instead, he’d hired a car and made the four-hour drive north to the Murray River. Yanni, his drummer and best mate, had a holiday shack in some backwater town on the border and had insisted he use it for however long he wanted. Right now, Kody had no idea how long that would be. One month? Two? He didn’t care. Time was irrelevant, considering he could barely function these days.
Causing the deaths of seven innocent people did that to a guy.
The silence of the car interior made his fingers itch to turn on the radio but he hadn’t been able to listen to music since the accident. It had been a long four hours alone with his self-flagellating thoughts skipping like a stuck LP. He’d never been to this part of Victoria before, with its rolling hills and barren paddocks interspersed with sparsely populated towns. Not that he cared about the scenery. Everything he needed was packed in the car boot: two crates of bourbon, a suitcase of clothes and a box of groceries so he could lay low for at least a week without heading into town. Last thing he needed was locals recognising him and leaking to the press where he was. That’s why he really hoped the supermarket did home delivery, but when he’d asked Yanni, his drummer had laughed. Apparently Yanni holidayed in Brockenridge whenever he came home and no one had ever recognised him. Exactly why Kody had jumped at the chance to hide out there.
A sign indicated he had another twenty kilometres to go as he cruised past a roadhouse, labelled THE WATERING HOLE in bright neon light. He’d seen similar places in the USA in the early days when the band’s coach would cruise from Alabama to Utah, California to Nevada, Texas to Georgia, keen to play as many gigs as humanly possible to lift their profile.
It had worked too, the slow burn of Rock Hard Place exploding into a furore of fame when they’d landed the prized gig of opening act for America’s number one rock band. His dream had come true. Fame. Fortune. Adoration.
Yet here he was, turning his back on it all because he couldn’t sing a note anymore. His vocal cords had seized the moment he’d heard about those poor people dying because of him. He’d had to walk away from the love of his life, music.
That had been a month ago and his manager, along with his band, had insisted he find somewhere to get his head straightened out after he’d spent the last four weeks holed up in a Wellington hotel, drinking himself into a stupor or dosed up on tranquilisers. Roger, Yanni, Blue and Daz were the closest thing he had to family and when they’d ambushed him with an intervention-style dressing down, he’d finally admitted the truth: he was a mess. He needed to get away, somewhere off the grid, somewhere he could work through his issues.
They expected him to come back to Melbourne some time in the not too distant future to work out the band’s next tour, with the hope Rock Hard Place would be bigger and better than ever. He hadn’t had the heart to tell them his music career was over. They’d find out soon enough.
He hit the outskirts of town, not surprised to see the main street flanked by pubs in typical Aussie fashion. There was the requisite bakery, a small supermarket, op shop, cafés and Chinese restaurant, a surprisingly upmarket medical centre and a town square. Yanni was right, the place had an understated charm. Not that it mattered. Kody wouldn’t be spending any time here. He’d be holed away drinking himself into oblivion.
Yanni’s house sat on a small hillside at the highest point of a dead-end road, Wattle Lane. He should’ve known his mate’s version of ‘shack’ resembled a sprawling homestead that looked straight out of an architectural digest. The entire place gleamed, with its sandstone façade, gunmetal steel roof and wrap-around veranda in contrasting sienna.
He parked the car around the back and stepped out, wincing as his knee buckled slightly. That’d teach him for doing one too many leaps into mosh pits in his early days. Those heady, crazy days when he’d known he’d had the talent to make it big but needed a break. Those exciting days filled with dreams and promise—and Tash.
Crap, where had that come from? He hadn’t thought of her in a long while. That’s all he needed when he was already feeling lower than low. The way she’d callously dumped him and announced he had no say in whether he wanted a child or not … he’d been so mad he’d channelled his fury and frustration into making those first few months in LA count. And he hadn’t looked back. Neither had he succumbed to the temptation to look her up online. Not that he would’ve found much. She’d stayed off social media even when they’d been dating, citing nosy parents.
Back then, he’d been so damn angry with her, though he had to acknowledge a small part of him had been relieved. He’d been on the cusp of breaking out with that LA producer and a baby would’ve seriously crimped his plans. But rather than supporting her through an abortion that must’ve been rough, he’d turned his back on her.
Shame burned deep and he muttered a curse as he stomped towards the homestead. He couldn’t change the past but for however long it took to shake the funk plaguing him, hiding out here was his future.
CHAPTER
3
As Tash pulled up outside the school sports ground and saw a group of girls huddled near the gate, her heart sank. Usually they’d be running drills on the netball court or having match simulation. Instead, the coaches stood to one side, a hunched Isla between them, while the rest of the girls gossiped and cast sideways glances at her daughter.
Many of the other school mums dreaded the impending teen years but Tash had been quietly confident that Isla was a good kid and wouldn’t give her too much grief. Isla had never been grounded or called into the principal’s office, but that was primary school. Maybe her daughter was struggling in her first year of high school and had hidden it?
She loved Isla and embraced life as a single parent wholeheartedly but it was moments like this that she missed having the support of a spouse. However, this wasn’t the time to take a futile trip down memory lane, wondering if she’d done the right thing in lying to Kody. His countless platinum releases, awards and worldwide fame, told her she had. But at what cost?
She stepped from the car and approached the group. Isla caught sight of her and took a step like she wanted to run into her mother’s arms, before resuming a recalcitrant sl
ump. The head coach wore a grim expression while her assistant leaned closer and said something before joining the girls at the gate. They returned to the court and resumed training.
‘Coach,’ Tash said, giving a brief nod. She’d always thought it ridiculous that a grown woman wanted to be addressed by this moniker at all times. ‘Hi, Isla.’
The coach frowned and glared at Isla, before her disapproving stare fixed on Tash. ‘There was an incident during our practice match earlier. Isla pushed Dennie hard, causing her to fall and injure her knee. She has since gone home but I wanted you here when I tell Isla the consequences for her actions.’
Fear flickered in Isla’s gaze before she averted her eyes.
‘We don’t tolerate any physical displays of anger in my team, whether against opposition or teammates,’ the coach continued. ‘So with that in mind, I think it’s best Isla is suspended for a month.’
Isla gasped and Tash struggled to hide her dismay. Isla loved netball and was good at it, the best goalkeeper this town had seen in a while, according to many. There’d even been talk of regional tryouts, followed by a national comp in Melbourne. This punishment would gut her.
Making an effort to keep her tone steady, Tash said, ‘I understand your no-tolerance policy but a month is—’
‘It’s a shame you feel the need to question my decision, Ms Trigg, but it’s final.’ The coach turned to Isla. ‘I expected better from my star player and I hope that while you’re on the sidelines for the next four weeks you’ll think about your actions and how you’ve not only let yourself down, but your entire team too.’
With that, the coach marched to the courts.
Tash wanted to stomp after her, spin her around and give her a verbal spray for being so damn dramatic. But she understood. Physical violence wasn’t okay in any situation and the fact Isla had hurt Dennie badly enough that she got sent home … Tash had to handle this, and fast.
‘Let’s go,’ she muttered. ‘We’ll discuss this when we get home.’
Isla wisely remained mute for the first few minutes in the car, but she’d never been any good at staying silent so Tash knew it would only be a matter of time before she blurted the truth. She’d never been a nagging mum, preferring to let Isla own her mistakes. But something major had gone down on that netball court and Tash needed to know what had turned her meek daughter into a girl who would resort to violence.
‘Mum, I hate when you give me the silent treatment.’ Isla poked her in the arm but Tash kept her eyes on the road.
‘I told you. We’ll discuss it at home.’
‘It wasn’t my fault, you know.’
Tash bit her tongue, desperate to respond, and Isla huffed, turning away to stare out her window. They drove the remaining minutes in silence, with Tash mentally rehearsing all the correct disciplinary chastisements while wanting to bundle Isla into her arms and make it all go away.
She parked under the carport, killed the engine and turned to face Isla. ‘Whatever happened back there isn’t right—pushing someone around—but I’m always on your side and I hope you trust me enough to tell me the truth.’
After several moments Isla finally looked at her, tear tracks smearing her cheeks. ‘Can we talk inside? I used the water from my bottle to clean Dennie’s knee and I’ve been dying of thirst ever since.’
Tash’s heart twanged. At least Isla had felt remorse if she cleaned her friend’s knee after their altercation. It gave her hope that this was a simple misunderstanding and the coach had overreacted.
‘Let’s go.’
When they entered the house, Isla ran to the sink, filled a glass with water and downed it in a few gulps. ‘I needed that,’ she said, flopping onto one of the wooden dining chairs and eyeing Tash with trepidation. ‘Now what?’
‘Now you tell me the truth.’ Tash sat next to Isla and made an effort not to cross her arms. ‘All of it.’
Something furtive shifted in Isla’s eyes before she blinked and Tash wondered if she’d imagined it. ‘Dennie was being a cow, then she got in my face so I pushed her away. Not very hard … but she must’ve tripped. I didn’t mean to hurt her, it was an accident, I swear.’
‘Pushing her isn’t an accident, Isla. You’ve never done anything like this before, so what was different this time?’
Anger furrowed Isla’s brow as her lips compressed in a thin line.
‘Isla, if you don’t tell me the entire story, I’ll be enforcing a punishment as severe as Coach’s.’ An empty threat, because a month off the team seemed excessive. Then again, what did she know? She’d never had to discipline Isla to this extent before and maybe her actions warranted a four-week ban.
Tears filled Isla’s eyes but Tash didn’t weaken, despite the urge to hug her daughter tight.
‘Tell me.’
After a long pause and a loud sniffle, Isla wiped a hand across her eyes. ‘Some of the other girls were talking about Swap Day coming up at school next month, then Dennie said no mums were coming, only dads … then she smirked at me and said why don’t I ask mine?’
Tash gritted her teeth. Whichever genius came up with the concept of parents swapping with their kids for one day of classes during their first year of high school needed to be slapped. She hadn’t been looking forward to it. In fact, she’d hoped she could weasel out of it by citing work. Now this.
‘What did you say?’
‘Dennie knows I don’t ever discuss my dad, but she wouldn’t let up this time. She kept going on and on, saying I must know where he is, accusing me of keeping secrets and being an attention seeker, that kind of thing, so when she got in my face I pushed her away …’ She trailed off and the tears were back, and this time Tash gave in to instinct and bundled Isla into her arms.
Her brave tween rarely cried so when Isla hugged back, sobbing into her shoulder, Tash knew exactly how upset she was. She held her daughter until the tears subsided, dreading the conversation to come.
Whenever Isla asked about her dad, Tash gave a carefully rehearsed answer designed to placate and discourage further questioning. But Isla was twelve going on twenty and Tash knew that fobbing her off wouldn’t work much longer.
She eased away, bracing for the inevitable question—‘Where’s my dad?’—the one she couldn’t answer even if she wanted to. In the early days, Tash could respond with a truthful ‘New York … LA … Tokyo … Singapore … London …’ because she’d kept track of Kody via the occasional online search. But she wasn’t about to do that now. Besides, how would she tell Isla her father was an international rock star who didn’t know she existed?
The secret sat like a rock in the pit of her stomach: immoveable, painful, unforgiving. She’d wondered many times whether she should tell Isla the truth, but the older her daughter got, the more chance of her rebelling and acting out against her.
She had to come up with a smart response, one that wouldn’t alert Isla to the fact her mother was a lying fraud.
Tash reached for her daughter’s hand, clasping it between both of hers, and was thankful when Isla didn’t pull away. ‘We’ve discussed your dad many times. I told you he played in a band in Melbourne, we went out for a short time, but then he left for overseas and I never heard from him again.’
‘Which basically tells me nothing, Mum.’ Isla pouted. ‘What’s his name so I can look him up? Everyone has a social media profile these days. Except you. Maybe he wants to meet me, now that I’m older? Why can’t you reach out to him?’
The questions left Tash winded. What could she say if she did reach out to Kody? ‘Hey, remember when I lied to you about aborting our baby? Well, here she is—surprise!’
So Tash reached for the worst lie of all.
‘He had another life overseas, sweetie, and he didn’t have time for a child.’
Tash’s gut churned as it did every time she uttered the monstrosity, or some version of it. No surprises why she didn’t sleep well at night. At first she’d blamed her insomnia on motherhood but as Isla grew ol
der and slept through, Tash knew her wakefulness had more to do with the lie she perpetuated than any mucked-up body clock.
‘I hate him.’ Isla pushed away from the table so fast her chair hit the wall. ‘Anyway, now you know what happened, are you going to punish me too?’
‘I think being away from netball for a month is punishment enough, but you can’t get physical like that again, okay?’
Her daughter nodded and slumped back into her chair. ‘I feel bad for hurting Dennie, even if she was being super mean to me.’
‘Why don’t you ring her and apologise?’
‘I already said sorry in person when I cleaned up her knee, and she was okay.’ Isla’s nose crinkled. ‘Though Coach went ape and gave me a massive embarrassing lecture in front of everyone.’
‘In that case, maybe apologising to Coach couldn’t hurt?’
Isla visibly brightened, as if the thought hadn’t entered her head. ‘Yeah, that’s a good idea. She really likes those chocolate éclairs from the bakery. Maybe I could buy her one and go to training really early tomorrow before everyone gets there, and give it to her and say sorry?’
‘Great idea.’ Tash stood and dropped a kiss on Isla’s head. ‘Now, it’s been a long day. Why don’t we have leftover spag bol for dinner then crash in front of the TV?’
‘Sounds good to me.’ Isla stood and, to Tash’s surprise, flung her arms around her. ‘Thanks, Mum. You’re fair and a good listener and better than any stinky old dad who doesn’t want to be around.’
Tash hugged Isla tight and willed the tears away. If only her guilt would follow suit.
CHAPTER
4
Kody had done a lot of dumb things in his life but this had to be the dumbest.
How had he thought that hiding away in some holiday home at the arse end of the earth would help him heal? If anything, rattling around Yanni’s plush pad by himself left him with too much time to think … remember … rehash. He did enough of that in his nightmares every frigging night. Waking to the screams were the worst. Desperate cries for help that went unanswered as the crowd tried to escape the flames and the stampede that followed. Heartrending, gut-wrenching screams that would haunt him forever.