by Lily Malone
Do you remember the story of how I learned to cook before you were born? Dad was so tired of pretending to like my terrible burned meals he sent me to cooking school in Perth.
That’s where I met Dominic. He was our host and our chef and teacher, and I thought he was wonderful.
I was so excited to be back in the city on my own, all grown up. I hadn’t realised how much I missed it! The cooking school was in a hotel right in the middle of Perth. The shops were open all hours, people coming and going, and the food we cooked, all paired with beautiful wines! We ate it at night outside in a courtyard where there was a huge table covered with the food we’d cooked that day, pots of flowers, ferns and you could see all the city lights! It was like Christmas! I’ll never forget that week.
I was swept off my feet by the whole thing and it made me do something silly. I cheated on your dad with Dominic.
When I came back to the farm when the cooking school week was over, it was all pretty grim. I didn’t want to be in Chalk Hill. I didn’t want my old life, but I love your brothers and they were so little. They needed me. So did your dad. And Dominic was never going to stay. There was no point. I would have missed out on all of you.
He was supposed to stay my secret, but I found out I was pregnant just a few weeks later and I knew you were Dom’s child. I just knew it.
I was so happy when you were born. You were all mine, Abel. Your brothers loved working with your dad on the farm, but you were mine.
You look like Dominic a little bit even now. His hair is the same as yours, that same curl in your fringe. Sometimes I imagine you all grown up and you’re wearing a chef hat, and you have flour all over your hands, and you’re rolling perfect pastry on a huge wooden board, like Dominic.
Your dad knows about Dominic. I couldn’t not tell him about it. He tries hard, but it was always tricky for him to love you.
But he tries. Don’t ever forget that. Stan is a good man and we’ve been very happy together and we’ve raised you three beautiful boys.
Dom wrote to me many times, and I’ve replied. He has pictures of you and he knows all about you, but he lives in Belgium now. But tomorrow he will be at Little Beach.
He wants to see you just once. He knows it can only be from a distance, but maybe after tomorrow both of you will be able to say you were together once in the same place at the same time. Just once, down the line of the years that stretch before all of us.
I love you, my special boy.
You are our shining star, Abel, and you always will be. Shine on.
Love Mum xx
His mother’s cursive writing misted and blurred as he stared at the words.
Our shining star?
Who the hell was ‘our’?
Did she mean her and Dad, or did she mean her and this Dominic bloke?
Abe sat on the sun-faded carpet with his back against the sturdy cardboard of Tax/Wills and his mum’s letter dainty and delicate in his hands.
Stan was not his biological father. Some dashing young Belgian chef scored himself that very honour all those years ago.
Nice one, Mum.
Shine on.
The letter slid slack in his right hand, and Abe closed his eyes.
* * *
‘I found the Christmas ham recipe, Dad,’ Abe said, about an hour after he dusted off the diary and put it, and all the cookery books, back in the box.
His father blew out a short breath. ‘And?’
‘Why wait till now to tell me?’
Stan Honeychurch cleared his throat. ‘She’s wanted to tell you for years and years, but you haven’t been around much, you know?’
‘So why now? Because she’s sick?’
‘She’s really sick, mate. I think … well, in case she didn’t get back. In case she doesn’t get home.’ His father’s voice broke on the word home.
‘I take it you know what the letter says?’
‘Pretty much. Yep. I’m sorry, son.’
What did he say to that? I’m not sorry?
The truth gave him a reason why the farm never quite felt like home.
The truth gave him a reason why he was happier making scones for the shearers than throwing fleeces in the shed.
The truth gave him a reason why he’d never quite loved his father like a boy was supposed to love his father.
The truth set him free.
‘I’ll tell your mum you found the letter when she wakes up. She got the shakes, uh, earlier. It’s not your fault. She’s tired and sick, and very emotional. I hope you can understand that, Abe.’
‘Is she going to die? Jesus, Dad, just how sick is she?’
His father cleared his throat again. He’d never known his dad to have so much trouble saying things how they were.
‘I’ve never been so scared as I was on Sunday,’ his dad said.
‘You should come home. She’d be happier at home.’
‘I know. We were on our way. We were in Noosa and we looked at each other over coffee last week and said “It’s time to go home”. This thing on Sunday night shook us all for six.’
‘Do you have to wait to have these other tests? This MRI thing? Or can you get that done here in WA?’
‘I’m not sure.’ He sounded so defeated. More than anything else, that scared Abe the most.
CHAPTER
25
The idea had been centrestage in Taylor’s head all week. She wasn’t sure it was a good idea, mind, but it was the only idea she had, and much like her much-maligned plan to play private investigator almost a year ago, and then to seek Abe’s help for Will in Chalk Hill, this idea wouldn’t go away.
That’s why she found herself parked outside 3/36 West Street Parade five minutes into her lunch break on Friday, studying the house, hoping Amanda hadn’t moved.
There were yuccas and flax in the garden that hadn’t been there a year ago but otherwise the place looked the same.
Taylor squared her shoulders, checked her hair in the rearview mirror and launched herself out of her car. Parking the Redline outside Amanda’s place felt like parking a fire engine on the street, lights flashing, siren blaring, and even though the street was quiet, it was as if the windows of all the neighbouring homes were eyes, opened wide. Watching.
Silly.
Briskly, she walked up to Amanda’s front door, heels clacking no-nonsense on the pavers, pulse racing in time with her heels. She put her finger on the doorbell, pressed hard, and from deep inside the house came running footsteps, a light, young, soft tread.
After a scrabble at the door it surged open and Keeley stood there, taller, hair shorter, eyes somehow older.
Why wasn’t she in school? It was a school day, wasn’t it?
Keeley yelled over her shoulder. ‘It’s not Uncle Jack, Mummy.’
Taylor’s chin came up. Amanda’s expecting company.
‘Who is it then?’ Amanda called from inside.
‘It’s the lady from the park with the puppy I played with.’
Well, that was a shock. Damn good memory, kid.
‘The who?’ yelled Amanda, voice moving closer. Heavier footsteps than Keeley’s caused the floorboards to vibrate and Amanda appeared in the corridor tugging a lacy blue shirt over her head and one shoulder. She pushed her other hand through the sleeve, pulling the top down as she approached the front door, smiling brightly.
‘I’ve told her before not to answer the door to strangers,’ Amanda said when she reached them, putting her hands each side of Keeley’s shoulders—the picture of perfect relaxed motherhood in that moment, except it wasn’t real.
With this woman, nothing was real.
Don’t forget that.
‘You said it was Uncle Jack,’ Keeley accused. ‘You said he might have a present for me.’
‘Well it’s not Uncle Jack now, is it, honey? It’s a lady.’ Another smile for Taylor, white teeth mixed with the perfect hit of parental roll-of-the-eyes exasperation. ‘How can I help you? I don’t make random donations
, sorry. I have a brother fighting leukaemia at the moment. I help out with cancer charity if I can. We can’t donate to everything, can we? We’d all be broke.’
She’d bet there was no brother, no cancer and she couldn’t imagine Amanda putting coins in any donation tin. Sociopaths had no empathy. It’s why they would never feel remorse for ripping off their victims. It’s why they moved from one target to the next, changing partners like a footballer changed socks.
‘I’m not collecting for charity. My name is Taylor Woods. William Woods is my brother. I believe you know him.’
Incredible how fast Amanda’s posture changed.
She pushed her hip between Keeley and Taylor, blocking the little girl. Her eyes chased Taylor top-to-toe, and her body language said fuck off as clear as if she’d had the words stamped across her forehead.
Amanda turned to her daughter. ‘Keeley honey, you go play with your dolls.’
‘But maybe she brung the doggie—’
‘The lady doesn’t have a dog. There’s no such word as brung. I said go to your room.’
Best Mum In The World Show was over.
Behind Amanda, Keeley’s figure trailed slowly away. Amanda didn’t see her daughter’s slumped shoulders. Amanda’s focus was on Taylor.
‘I haven’t seen much of William lately, how is he?’ Amanda asked.
‘Please don’t pretend you care. Caring isn’t your strong suit. If you cared about Will you would have paid him back the money you owe him.’
A muscle twitched in Amanda’s cheek. Her hand flashed to the door. Taylor shoved her arm out, blocking the timber before it could close. She would have put her foot in its path but she didn’t trust Amanda not to slam the door on her toe.
‘You had the Uncle Bruno,’ Keeley shouted, running back across the room. ‘We were naming the puppy.’
Amanda’s spine softened like butter as she turned to her daughter. ‘What was that, honey? Have you met this lady before?’
‘She hads the puppy. At the park. We named him. Me and the other girl.’
Amanda stood straight, assessing Taylor over her daughter’s head, no doubt trawling through her memory for any time there had been puppies in the park.
‘You go play in your room, honey. I’m having a grown-up talk with the lady, okay?’
‘Are we getting a puppy?’
‘Maybe one day, if you’re a good girl.’
‘Thank you, Mummy, I’ll be good.’ Keeley danced on the spot. ‘I’d be so careful. I’d look after him better than anything. I won’t let him get runned over on the road, not like Annie.’
Taylor smiled at Keeley. ‘Who is Annie?’
‘None of your—’ Amanda said, but Keeley had already blurted, ‘Annie is our bunny rabbit. She’s our Vienna Sthops bunny rabbit.’ She tried so hard to get the breed name right. ‘She got out and she got squisheded by a car. Now Albert is all on his own.’
‘The lady doesn’t care about Annie and Albert, Keeley. Now go to your room and play.’
At least there was a happier bounce in Keeley’s step this time as she moved away.
Amanda’s attention returned to Taylor and her voice was all knife and ice. ‘You don’t come near my little girl. You come near my daughter I’ll make you regret it.’
‘You’d call the police? I’d like for you to call the police.’
‘I don’t need the cops, love. Keeley’s father is in an outlaw motorcycle gang. He’s Sergeant-At-Arms. Know what that means?’
‘I know what it means. I also couldn’t give a flying fig. If you come near my brother again, or Abel Honeychurch, I’ll have you in a court so fast your head will spin. Every cent you stole from Abe and Will, you’ll pay back and then some. Do you know what I mean?’
Amanda’s eyes widened when Taylor said Abe’s name, but that was the only sign she gave. ‘I never stole anything. Sometimes men buy me nice things and give me money. I don’t need to steal it.’
Taylor had to give it to her, Amanda was good, but there wasn’t anything beautiful about her anymore. She was all sneer and scratch, fight and strike.
‘You stole a lot of money from Abe,’ Taylor said.
Amanda put an expertly manicured finger to her chin. Her smile could have cut glass. ‘Are you sure he didn’t lose his money on a horse race and needs someone else to blame?’
Taylor wavered. Abe did say he used to gamble. But he wasn’t betting now. Was he?
Twin grooves of triumph glowed in Amanda’s cheeks and Taylor hated herself for hesitating.
That’s what sociopaths do. They lie, Taylor! They manipulate!
She knew better.
‘Abe didn’t gamble his money away any more than Will did. He gave it to you. He was trying to help you. He loaned you money in good faith that you’d pay it back. Will did the same.’
‘Funny that you’d say “he gave it to you” then two seconds later it’s “he loaned you”. Those are two very different things. If you don’t even know what you’re saying, how do you think I knew the difference between a gift and a loan? How do you think the cops, or a judge, or a jury would feel? Think about what you just said, lady, before you front up to my house like the bloody Queen!’ Amanda’s voice lowered. ‘Now get lost. Stay away from my little girl. I’ll get a restraining order.’
‘Shouldn’t Keeley be in school?’
Amanda didn’t miss a beat. ‘She had a sore throat this morning. She’s off sick.’
Amanda’s hair was freshly straightened and Taylor could smell hair product. Keeley had been expecting ‘Uncle Jack’ to open the door.
She put two and two together and played her hunch. ‘It suited you to keep her home today. You got your hair done this morning and you didn’t have time to take Keeley to school. She’s too young to walk on her own. You’d get in trouble if people saw her walking on her own. I guess Uncle Jack—’ Taylor made quote marks in the air on the words— ‘must be arriving any minute, hey? Maybe if I hang outside your place long enough I can meet him. Warn him off before you scam him too.’
‘Get off my place, bitch,’ Amanda spat. ‘You’re the one grooming my little girl by bringing bloody puppies to the park like a pervert. You’re the one who’s sick in the head.’
‘I’m a trained child psychologist. I could report you to the child protection agencies on reasonable belief of child neglect.’
‘What? Because she’s home from school sick?’ Amanda laughed. ‘You won’t report me.’ She moved closer to Taylor, stepping right across the door to point at her chest, and Taylor had to sway back to avoid the woman’s stabbing hand. ‘Will said his big sister was a shrink. You’ve got damn big balls on you if you’re gonna come here lecturing me about my moral responsibilities. How’s your conflict of interest? Talking with my daughter without my consent in a public place, trying to pass yourself off as a puppy-lover. Trying to screw whatever the hell information you think you were trying to get out of her? Take a look at yourself before you come accusing me, bitch.’
Taylor didn’t bat an eyelid.
‘I’d give just about anything to see you in court but my brother’s too nice to put you there. Let me give you a tip. I’m not as nice as Will, and I will do it.’
‘Bring it. Love to see you try.’ Amanda stepped back into her house, put all her weight against the front door and it clicked shut.
Taylor strode to her car, anger and adrenaline like wasps buzzing in her chest, vibrating all the way through her shoes. She waited on the bright red bonnet of her car, sitting there with her ankles crossed, scanning the street for any man who might be Uncle Jack.
From time to time the curtains flicked in the house, but the minutes ticked by with no sign of Amanda’s potential new victim.
The curtain twitched again, drawing Taylor’s attention to a tiny freckled face behind the glass.
Two seconds later the curtain hauled shut like Satan closed the theatre to Hell, and when Taylor checked her watch she was out of time. Her first afternoon appointm
ent was in twenty minutes and it would take ten minutes to drive back to the clinic.
Uncle Jack would have to fend for himself.
CHAPTER
26
Abe never got to knock on Taylor’s front door because she ran out to meet him when he turned into the driveway, and stood there beside a rose bush bigger than she was, watching him park.
Her smile took up most of her face.
He took a few seconds to look at her—long-sleeved dress with navy and red stitched through it that finished short, black boots that finished long and would feel amazing when she wrapped her legs around his thighs—then he got out of the car.
The air had that familiar far away buzz of thousands of car engines combined into one hive-like hum. He’d missed it!
‘Hey, Chef,’ she said. The breeze blew her fringe across her eye.
‘Doc. How’s it going? Nice boots.’
She took two steps towards him with her arms coming up. He met her halfway, his arms going down and around. Squashed her into his chest and pulled her close, burying his nose in her neck and hair to get a hit of how cuddly and warm she was, and how she felt like suede and smelled like flowers.
Abe breathed her out. ‘I missed you.’
‘I can tell.’ The words came out shuddery and fast and she swayed a bit because he’d swept her off her boots.
Well, he was about to do more sweeping.
Abe picked Taylor up, front on, supporting the bottom of her thighs, one in each hand.
She said, ‘What about your car? You didn’t lock it.’
‘Nothing in there to steal.’
She tapped his shoulder. ‘Abe, you haven’t even shut the door.’
He leaned back, bumping the door shut with his butt. Then he bore her into her house like a caveman might if he found a beautiful woman in the spring sunshine smelling of roses after he’d been shut up in his smelly man-cave all winter long.
‘What about your bag?’ Taylor said, wrapping her arms around him as he ran.
‘Not gonna need it right now.’
Her giggles made her soft, jiggly and so so sweet in his hands. His body was responding to every wild errant caveman thought, and he had a few.