by B M Carroll
‘Okay, missy, let’s go. You can look around for a little bit but then you’re going to have a nap. Agreed?’
Lucy gurgles and kicks her legs even more enthusiastically.
Alex glances down at her with a wry smile. ‘No chance. She looks ready to party.’
Jess gives her niece a look of mock sternness before leading the way to one of the flat, less challenging tracks in the national park. It’s Sunday lunchtime. There are a few other walkers around, who smile when they see the baby bouncing against Alex. The track is mostly in shade and the air is pure and sharp. Jess breathes it in. It’s good to be out in the fresh air, in nature. And it’s good to be able to help Natasha out. She and her sister have become close these last few weeks, and Natasha has become Alex’s advocate, singing his praises at every opportunity. Having Natasha onside has changed the family dynamic. Margaret seems less critical, Jess is less defensive, visits less strained.
The ground is hard and dry underfoot; there still hasn’t been near enough rain. Jess smiles as she walks. She is happy, content. More than anything, she is grateful. To Dylan for leaving that letter and supplying the answers she needed to forgive herself. To Billy, for winning his second fight, and for being exactly what Megan deserves in a partner. To Alex, who takes everything in life in his stride, and who is so thoughtful and caring when it matters.
‘Hey, Jess,’ he whispers from behind. ‘Think I heard a snore.’
Jess stops to check. Lucy’s head is pressed against his T-shirt. Eyelashes fan her soft cheeks. Her tiny mouth emits another sound, something between a sigh and a snore.
‘Fast asleep,’ Jess pronounces.
She and Alex share a proud grin. They can do this. They’ll make good parents one day. On Jess’s ring finger is a small solitaire, modest and discreet. Alex asked her to marry him last night. She said yes. Nobody knows yet. Except Lucy.
64
BRIDGET
Who knew that watering could be so therapeutic? Standing with a hose in one’s hand. Seeing the soil darken and puddle. Breathing in the scent of flowers and fresh air. The satisfaction of a green, well-tended garden. The unexpected joy it brings. The simplicity: water equals growth. Not many things in life are so simple or so responsive.
Bridget’s week off work extended into four. The case took an enormous toll, emotionally and physically: she was completely burnt out. She has spent the time nurturing her garden and her family, as well as processing the case and its many nuances. YOU HAD IT COMING: that ominous almost-undetected message etched into the smooth bark of the tree trunk. William Newson didn’t have it coming, at least not in Bridget’s view. He was doing his job, upholding his unwavering belief in the assumption of innocence, and the civil right to legal representation. The problem was that Thomas Malouf didn’t deserve his services, because Thomas wasn’t innocent. Did he have it coming? Possibly, but he was never convicted of his crimes and Bridget would much rather justice through the proper channels: another trial on the strength of that incriminating voice recording, a hefty prison sentence, his family finally capitulating to the law. And what about Dylan O’Shea? How did he get to the point where his sense of right and wrong was so warped that he thought the only answer – for all of them – was death? It’s a tragedy of epic proportions. Three families blown asunder. Why is it so hard for men to talk? Dylan’s parents were there and willing to listen, and yet he never said a word to alert them to the fact that he was in a dark, dangerous place. Men need to learn to talk, to share their problems. Bridget has used her time off to prise her way into Ethan’s internal life, coaxing him to chat after school and before bedtime. The phrase ‘getting blood from a stone’ applies. Cara has been the opposite, revelling in her mother’s presence at home, freely unloading her worries about the HSC exams and who to invite to the formal. This time with her children has been precious, and well overdue.
Despite being on leave, Bridget felt compelled to check in with everyone impacted by the case. Suzanne Newson said she was grateful to have resolution for the sake of her sons. Joshua was emotional on the phone, but still managed to ask a lot of questions, some of which Bridget is still seeking answers to. Emily Wickham has since resigned to take a position in a large city-centre law firm. Hayley Webster didn’t survive the internal review at the Ambulance Control Centre and lost her job. Bridget believes that Hayley didn’t know the specifics of what Dylan was planning, but she had facilitated and failed to report a serious crime, and Bridget had no choice but to charge her accordingly. Nevertheless, Bridget is hoping for a suspended sentence or something equally light. Hayley is a victim, too; surely, the poor girl has been through enough? The case has tested her professionalism in so many respects.
Bridget arcs the hose clockwise, showering the front garden bed with water. Last week she removed the dead wood from the underbelly of the lavender bushes; it cracked gratifyingly in her hands. A few of the gardenia bushes were beyond redeeming. She replaced them with cordylines, which have added colour and structure and fill her with pleasure every time she sees them.
She’ll never know for sure about that etching on the tree trunk. Did Dylan do it as a last-minute validation of the terrible crime he was about to commit? Perhaps he did it to stop his hands from shaking, or to make those long minutes of waiting go a little faster? Maybe it was his way of saying ‘I was here’, or even a bid to stop himself from chickening out. Bridget suspects the latter, but she will never know for certain. She can only surmise.
It’s a balmy spring afternoon. Bridget’s wearing cut-off denim shorts and a tank top, newly defined muscles on her arms and legs. She has been attending a beginners’ class at Jess’s gym. The circuit involves skipping, squats, boxing, and the agility ladder, which she never fails to get tangled in.
Bridget immediately detected Jess’s new engagement ring on Monday and offered her congratulations. Then she asked after Megan.
‘Oh, Megan is great. Madly in love. You’ve met him – Billy.’
Jess says boxing is about having someone to hate, someone you want to punch and hurt.
Bridget is not motivated by hate. The most important thing is having someone to love. Someone who can make you forget about the terrible things you see every day, who reaffirms your belief in greater goodness.
Bridget loves Shane, Cara and Ethan. Weirdly and very belatedly, she also loves her garden.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I’ll start by admitting that this was a challenging one! I never intended to have a detective as a main character, or to delve so deeply into police procedure, but the story took hold and demanded it. Maybe the fact that this is my tenth novel had something to do with it. Maybe the ‘universe’ decided it was time to shake things up a bit? Well, that certainly happened! (Says she, smoothing herself down after a wild rollercoaster ride.)
I owe a huge debt to the following people for their technical assistance and for fielding my obscure questions so good-naturedly: Kate Jenkins, Seth Gibbard, Chris Drew, Craig Campbell, Paul Anderson, Donna Heagney, Jess Wootton, Peter Yeomans and Zali Steggall. Any errors are entirely my own (however, there are several occasions when I had to stretch the truth in order to give the story momentum).
Thank you to my writer friends: Petronella McGovern, for reading the manuscript twice and giving truly excellent suggestions; Dianne Blacklock and Liane Moriarty, for being unfailingly supportive through all the ups and downs of the writing life. Thank you to the other authors who have reached out and supported me over the years. It’s so lovely to be part of this generous supportive global community.
Enormous thanks to my alpha and beta readers, who braved the early drafts and provided unflinching feedback: Erin Downey, Conor Carroll, Rob Carroll, John Newson, Christina Chipman and Merran Harte.
Thank you, Brian Cook from The Author’s Agent. Hooray: we’ve made it to the ten-novel milestone. I still remember our first phone conversation as though it were yesterday.
Thank you to my publisher, Miranda Jewess, for
always getting straight to the point and not wasting time (a lady after my own heart). Thank you to all the dedicated team at Profile, Viper and Allen & Unwin.
Thank you to my family in Ireland and Australia. I don’t think there are any family-sourced anecdotes in this book … you guys need to come up with some fresh material! Thank you, Amanda Longmore, for feeding the hordes. Thank you, Ashling Carroll, for your video-editing skills. Thank you, PJ (the family dog), whose daily walks facilitate much of my thinking and plotting.
To my readers. Thank you for your encouraging messages, reviews and word-of-mouth recommendations. This novel put me well outside my comfort zone and was a learning experience in many respects. I hope you enjoy it. xx Ber
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
B.M. Carroll was born in Blarney, a small village in Ireland. The third child of six, reading was her favourite pastime (and still is!). Ber moved to Sydney in 1995 and spent her early career working in finance. Her work colleagues were speechless when she revealed that she had written a novel that was soon to be published. Ber now writes full time and is the author of ten novels, including Who We Were, published by Viper in 2020. Find her on Twitter @bmcarrollauthor or at www.bercarroll.com.