‘Jesus, Paulina.’ Jesse’s voice went high. ‘Cut it out. Please.’
‘Please?’ She lifted his T-shirt, kissed the hair on his belly, licked it. ‘Let me do this for you, babe. Please?’
Jesse’s abs tightened. She licked the soft, downy place right above where his belt-buckle started, then below it.
‘Oh, yeah,’ he whispered, finally. ‘Oh. Jesus.’
‘You’re beautiful, Jess!’ Paulina congratulated him. ‘Can I suck your dick? Please?’
‘Jesus … Yeah.’ Jesse covered his face with his hands. ‘Before I come in my pants. Please. Yeah.’
She grappled with his belt-buckle. He helped her.
‘Oh, Jess.’ She gazed up at him through the curtain of her fringe. ‘You’re beautiful.’
‘Yeah. Jesus, you too.’
She took him in her mouth, worked him up and down.
‘Oh, yeah,’ he whimpered. ‘Please. Yeah.’
‘Can you come in my mouth?’ Paulina raised her head. ‘Please?’
‘Uh, yeah. Jesus, yes, please.’
Her eyes leaked as she took him deeper. He clutched the roots of her hair.
‘Say it again?’ she asked. ‘Before you come in my mouth? Say “please”.’
‘Oh, please. Yes, please.’
‘Say I’m beautiful? Say it.’
‘Beautiful. Beautiful, Paulina. Please …’
It flooded her mouth: creamy, salty, bliss. She swallowed and laughed at the look on his face, like all his dreams had come true. Also, another thing — Rabbit was crossing the reserve with a flashlight, rapping on the car window.
‘Do you think I’m stupid?’ His lips were white. ‘You think I don’t know you’re down here?’
‘Jesus.’ Jesse buckled up his pants. ‘I’m sorry.’
Rabbit tore his gaze from Paulina to Jesse: ‘I need her gone tonight.’
‘Fine with me!’ Paulina jeered. ‘Like I wanna spend another night with you.’
‘Fuck!’ Jesse cried into his hands. ‘Fuck!’
‘I don’t care what you do with her,’ Rabbit continued calmly. ‘I just need her gone.’
‘She’s not going with me!’ Jesse pleaded. ‘I don’t want her! Please, Rabbit—’
‘She’s not my problem anymore.’
‘Rabbit, brudda, please. She’s yours—’
‘You’re the one with your plana in her mouth. She’s your problem.’ Rabbit glanced at Paulina’s bare chest. ‘One word of advice? Don’t get her pregnant.’
At that, he stalked off. Paulina broke down.
‘I’m sorry, Jess! He’s a bastard. Please, let’s go—’
‘Don’t touch me!’ Jesse’s voice cracked. ‘You fucking bitch! Get away from me!’
‘Please,’ Paulina bleated. ‘Please? I love you so much.’
‘Get away from me! Go sit in the backseat!’
‘Can you sit there with me?’
‘Fuck! No!’ Jesse was shaking. ‘It’s so you don’t touch me. If you touch me again, I swear … You make me so fucking angry.’
‘Jess?’ Paulina cried harder. ‘Don’t cry. I love you.’
‘If you love me, get the fuck away from me,’ he said in a stiff, quiet voice. ‘Now.’
She stopped crying and grabbed her clothes; scrambled into them in the backseat.
‘I’m going out for some air,’ Jesse said, after a while. ‘Don’t follow me.’
While he was gone, Paulina wept herself into a catatonic state. It was an eternity before Jesse returned, with bleeding knuckles.
‘Did you and Ric have a punch-up?’ she asked, awed.
‘No. Fuck.’ Jesse started the car. ‘I punched a pine tree.’
Paulina made every effort not to laugh.
‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised as he drove out of Cookies. ‘I love you.’
‘Stop saying that. You don’t.’
‘I do! I love you so much.’
‘Whatever that was back there, it wasn’t love. You don’t know what love is.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Tears burned her cheeks. ‘I wish I was dead. I’m so sorry—’
‘Shut the fuck up. You’re not the victim here. Stop playing the fucking victim.’
Paulina closed her eyes and wished he’d drive her somewhere cold and put her out of her misery. Instead, he drove to Mutes’. ‘You have keys, right? You can sleep in a cabin?’
‘Yeah,’ Paulina mumbled. ‘I’ll clean it in the morning.’
She got out of the car. Lowered her eyes and said it one last time.
‘I know you’re sorry.’ Jesse sighed. ‘But I don’t think I can forgive you. Okay?’
It wasn’t okay. Nothing would ever be okay again.
8:30 UNSOLVED
Once upon a time, Judy Novak was just a woman who answered phones for a living. Now, she was a woman with a famously tragic surname who answered phones for a living.
‘Student Help Desk, Judy speaking. How can I help you?’
‘Hi, Judy,’ said the girl on the other end. ‘Is this Judy Novak?’
‘Yes, that’s me,’ Judy chirped; then it hit her like a bus. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Judy Novak, the mother of Paulina Novak?’
‘Yes.’ Her voice went as cold as the case was. ‘Why do you ask?’
The girl started talking rapidly. Nicole, Judy heard. Channel something. Something 8:30 pm. Judy listened as best as she could until the roaring of her blood got too loud.
‘I’m hanging up now,’ Judy said in a small, vague voice. ‘Yes. I’m hanging up.’
She hung up. Lana — a new girl she’d help train up for Summer Enrolment period, their busiest period — smiled at her without meeting her eye. Judy liked the new girls; even if they knew, they pretended not to.
The phone rang again. Judy picked it up; it was her job, after all.
‘Student Help Desk, Judy speaking. How can I help you?’
Relief flooded her as a teenage boy’s voice squeaked on the other end of the line.
‘Of course! I can help you with that. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?’
It was late-afternoon sugar-craving time when ‘Nicole’ showed up in the flesh. Judy was busy with another student; an international student from Shandong who’d enrolled in the wrong course. But she noticed the girl, lingering politely: young enough to be a student but too well-dressed. When Lana asked if she could help her, she smiled and shook her head. ‘I’m here for Judy.’
The cheek of it!
‘I should call campus security.’ Judy handed back Nicole’s business card without looking at it. ‘This is my workplace. You people can’t just come in here.’
‘Please, Judy — can I call you “Judy”?’ Nicole slipped her card back into her pocket. ‘I won’t take much of your time. Can I just buy you coffee? I saw a place around the corner.’
‘Keen Bean.’ Judy knew all the cafes on campus. ‘They’re no good.’
She gathered up her handbag, donned her sunglasses, and led the way across campus to Samsara, where the chairs were comfier and the baristas were cuter.
‘Have you worked here long?’ Nicole asked her.
‘Yes,’ Judy replied tersely. ‘How did you know I work here?’
‘A friend of mine teaches Journalism. How many years?’
‘Nine.’
‘That’s impressive!’
‘It’s not.’ Judy scowled. ‘It’s mostly students who work here. I stick out like a sore thumb. No wonder you found me.’
‘You must be very experienced, though.’
‘I’ve been a receptionist for thirty years. Just a receptionist. It’s all I’ve ever done. There’s nothing impressive about that.’
Nicole pursed her lips. Judy stole a glance at her; she was
very pretty. Pretty, petite, brown-haired — like bait.
‘Still. You’re very experienced. Where did you work before here?’
‘I started out as a medical receptionist. I married a doctor. I couldn’t stand medical stuff, after he died.’ Judy swept her sunglasses onto her head as they entered. ‘Then I worked in schools. My sister got me a job at the school where she taught. But …’
She shrugged. It was all very unimpressive.
‘… Universities are nicer. The students actually want to be here. And there’s lots of smart people walking around. I’m not very smart, but I like talking to smart people.’
Nicole found a table. ‘I think you’re selling yourself short, Judy.’
‘I’m not smart.’ Judy sat. ‘My husband was smart. Paulina was smart. I’m very average. You know, you have to order at the counter, here.’
‘I’ll go up. What do you want?’
‘A flat white.’ Judy sighed. ‘I might have to do a runner while you’re gone.’
Nicole smiled: a wide smile, full of dimples. ‘I hope not. I like talking to you, Judy.’
While Nicole ordered, Judy tried to think of something self-righteous to say.
‘You know, I think it’s very manipulative, what you’re doing.’ As soon as she said it, she felt bad. ‘Well, not you personally. But your bosses. It’s very manipulative, sending a girl like you to do their dirty work.’
Nicole sank into the chair opposite Judy’s.
‘It’s not dirty work. Can I ask what you mean by “a girl like me”?’
‘You know. All young and cute, and with the dark hair. It’s very manipulative.’
‘I’m sure your daughter and I are very different women. I’d like to know more about your daughter. I’d like our viewers to know more about her, too. In your words.’
Judy crossed her arms. ‘It’s not happening. Sorry.’
‘Anything we do would be pre-recorded. We would compensate you generously for your time. We’d arrange for media training, if you want it. You set the terms.’
A cute barista set down their coffees.
‘You’re not going to use me to make her look bad,’ Judy said. ‘I know how people talk about her. I won’t be part of it.’
‘We’re just talking,’ Nicole reassured her. ‘We’re just talking over coffee.’
Judy stared into her mug. ‘I feel very manipulated.’
‘I’m sorry you feel that way.’ Nicole gazed at her. ‘You seem like a very intelligent woman, and a very loving mother. I can see how much you love her, just sitting here.’
‘So?’ Judy took a sip of coffee. ‘All mothers love their children.’
‘Well, it doesn’t always shine through.’ Nicole broke her gaze, spooned sugar into her latte. ‘I won’t name names, but we’ve had some mothers who’ve had to go through hours of media training, just to get a ten-second sound bite. I’m not saying they don’t love their children. They just can’t articulate it, through the pain. You’re very articulate.’
‘I bet you say that to all the grieving mothers.’
‘You’re very natural.’
‘You don’t know me.’ Judy shook her head. ‘My heart’s permanently broken. It’s hard enough living day-by-day. I have nothing to give you people.’
‘Look: Judy.’ Nicole stirred her coffee. ‘I hate saying this, but we don’t need your permission to tell a story about Paulina. We don’t even need you to tell a good story — and by that, I mean a juicy story. A story people will watch.’
‘So, you’ll do it with or without me?’
‘Not necessarily. It’s TV. Things get axed all the time. We might sign you on and never do anything about it. That’s the nature of the industry.’
‘Why should I bother, then?’
‘To put it simply?’ Nicole caught her eye. ‘For her. I could give you lots of reasons, but that’s the only one that really matters.’
Judy shook her head. ‘She’d be mortified.’
‘She can’t be mortified, though. Can she? She can only be remembered. And your memories of her are more important than anyone else’s.’
‘They’re my memories. You can’t just take them and spoil them for some trashy TV show.’
‘I agree. We can’t take them. They can only be given. Shared.’
‘I take back what I said. You’re very manipulative.’ Judy took up her coffee. ‘Not just your bosses. You, personally. You’re very manipulative.’
‘Have you seen the show, Judy?’
Judy waved her hand. ‘I don’t go in for that stuff. Murder for entertainment.’
‘You might be surprised.’ Nicole leaned closer. ‘It is entertainment, don’t get me wrong. But we’re not just rehashing world-famous serial killers. We’re all about unsolved crimes, and we’re homegrown in our focus. The Beaumont children. Revelle Balmain. The Wanda Beach murders—’
‘I remember that.’ Judy grimaced. ‘That was my time. That was very close to home.’
‘Exactly. Homegrown cases. The sort of thing Bob and Lynn next door might be watching on a Sunday night and think, “oh, yes, I remember that. I know something about that.” You never know who’s watching, what they’ve been holding onto.’
‘Yes, but. They’re all still unsolved?’
‘We can’t claim to have solved anything. But you never know who’s watching. Somebody on Fairfolk could be watching. Somebody who thought, “that’s none of my business” at the time. They could see you speaking about her, with so much love. That could be the game-changer.’
Judy felt the temptation slithering in her, like a serpent in a garden.
‘No. I don’t think so.’
‘You want the case to be solved, don’t you? You want justice for Paulina?’
‘I don’t believe in justice.’
‘You don’t believe whoever killed her should pay for it?’
‘There’s no adequate payment. There’s no justice. There’s just senselessness, and living with the senselessness. That’s what you people don’t understand.’
‘So, you don’t care if her killer gets away with it? Kills again, even?’
‘I’m too broken to care. I told you. I have nothing to give.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
All at once, Judy couldn’t stand the girl: her unlined skin; her sanctimonious eyes.
‘Excuse me, but you really don’t know me.’ Judy reached for her handbag. ‘You don’t know anything. Maybe someday you’ll lose everything, then you’ll know. There’s no justice.’
She was about to stand, then realised she wasn’t done yet.
‘Let me tell you something about my daughter: she was suicidal. Did you know that? Did you know, the first thing I thought that day, when I realised something was wrong — and you know, as a mum; you just know — I thought: “oh, gawd, she’s finally done it!” Even though she seemed happy the day before. She was like that. Sunshine and stormclouds. I thought: “Baby girl, why now? Why didn’t you come to me first?” Because she had, before. She’d call me up saying, “Mum, I want to die.” Do you know what it’s like hearing your child say that? You have no idea!’
‘No,’ Nicole said politely. ‘I don’t.’
‘I’m not stupid,’ Judy continued. ‘I may only be a receptionist, but I know people. I know most people would say, “Oh, it’s not so bad, then. She didn’t even want to live.” That’s how people are; they make all these assumptions about what her life was worth.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘No you’re not! You’re loving it!’ Judy huffed. ‘My point is: she could’ve killed herself. She wanted to. Or, there was something in her brain that made her want to. I don’t fully understand. She felt the void very intensely. My therapist said she might’ve had that disorder—’
‘Bipolar?�
�
‘No, not that one. Borderline. Like Winona Ryder in that movie.’ Judy waved her hand. ‘Anyway, she was who she was. Something inside her wanted her dead, and she resisted it. She put one foot in front of the other every day. I was so proud of her.’
‘She sounds like a courageous young woman.’
‘She was.’ Judy snatched up a serviette. ‘I know you’re just saying that, but she really was. That’s the thing, though. It didn’t matter. She walked out of the house one morning, and the most senseless thing happened. I wish she’d killed herself. It would’ve hurt like hell, but it would’ve saved us both a lot of pain. I could’ve made some sense of it.’
Nicole stared at Judy until she rolled her eyes, wiped them.
‘Anyway. You’ve made me cry. Well done.’ She bundled up the serviette and shoved it in her handbag. ‘Thanks for the coffee.’
‘Thank you for speaking with me, Judy.’ Nicole stood up with her. ‘I feel very privileged, that you shared that with me. I think the people of Australia would also feel privileged … but that’s another story. Please don’t throw my card out straightaway.’
Nicole passed her another business card. This time, Judy read it.
‘“Nicole Pancik.”’ Judy glowered. ‘Pancik. Really? So you’re Slavic, too?’
‘Serbian. On my dad’s side.’
‘And that’s just a coincidence?’
‘No coincidence.’ Nicole beamed. ‘I’m the best woman for the job, don’t you think?’
‘I think you’re very manipulative.’
‘I think you should do it,’ Caro said. ‘I mean, do what you want. But I’m not going to talk you out of it, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
Quite the opposite. Judy was hoping her sister would talk her out of it.
‘But … me ?’ Judy stammered. ‘I’ll be terrible. I hate public speaking. You should do it.’
‘Mothers trump aunts. And, honestly? I don’t have the face for it.’
‘You always say my face is stupid.’
‘Oh, it is.’ Caro smirked. ‘It’s stupid and soft and tragic. I can’t stand it.’
‘Caro!’ Tim chastised from the kitchen.
‘She started it!’ Caro topped up her Riesling. ‘Trust me, nobody wants a woman who looks like me. They’ll think I did it.’
The Newcomer Page 18