Hunting BLind: It's Every Family's Deepest Fear

by Richardson, Paddy

  ‘What I really wish, Steph, is you’d stop trying to punish me. People do the best they can. Sometimes they disappoint other people. That’s just life, okay? Can’t you let it go?’

  ‘No, I can’t.’

  Minna leans forward and looks directly into Stephanie’s eyes. ‘Have you ever thought I might have done you all a favour by leaving? At least I’ve shown you if something’s not right you can leave it behind. You don’t have to stick it out and be bloody miserable for the rest of your life.’

  ‘I’m sorry we made you miserable.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it. You wanted to meet for coffee so you could have a go at making me feel guilty?’

  Stephanie feels tears burning behind her eyes. Why is it always this way with Minna, why was it always this way? What did Dave used to say? You’re too bloody alike you and your mother, neither of you will ever give way. They’ve always fought as far back as she can remember. A part of her would like to put it away; just reach out her hand, take Minna’s, follow her through the shops, watch as she flicks through the racks, laugh as she holds up something particularly tasteless with her eyebrows raised. She’d love to do that; buy shoes, a bag, perfume; blow out the budget, drink a nice chardonnay together later in the afternoon and chat about everything and nothing. But she can‘t. She’s too angry. She missed Minna too much when she left. Missed her sharp, edgy cynicism, her quick comebacks. Missed all the things she left around the place, books, magazines, her perfume and skin stuff and crumpled-up tissues all over the vanity in the bathroom. Even though they always fought, she missed the fighting.

  She can’t stop the tears. They’re streaming in a great, relentless flood down her cheeks. Jesus. She hasn’t cried in years and look at her now, crying in a café, in public, what’s wrong with her, what in hell is wrong with her? She’s losing it, totally losing it. She can’t sleep, she’s hardly eating and she’s crying all the time. She turns her head away, tries to surreptitiously mop her face with a paper napkin.

  Minna looks at her. ‘Steph? Oh God. I’m sorry. You know me. I didn’t mean to— Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.’

  She’s sobbing. She can’t stop. Minna takes her shoulders, draws her closer – trust her to make things worse, to draw attention to them, everyone’s looking – but oh she smells the same, those strong thin arms feel the same, why did it happen, why did all this happen to them?

  She’s composed. Her face is washed and they’ve driven to the Botanic Gardens. The wind is brisk but the sky is blue. They sit on a park bench near the duck pond. Watch ducks paddle up, crowd around kids waiting with bags of grain on the side of the pond, watch the bigger brazen ducks snap up the food, push the others to the side. There’s a sign. Please don’t feed bread to the ducks. Duck food is available at the information centre.

  ‘Christ,’ Minna says, ‘everything’s so sanitised these days. Even ducks have to have the correct bloody food. Remember when Dave and I used to bring you here? We used to get stale bread for the ducks from the bakery across the road.’

  Stephanie’s silent. She wants to sleep for days and days and days. But there’s work tomorrow, work she used to love, but it seems now she can barely drag herself there.

  Minna’s close beside her on the park bench, staring straight ahead. ‘I know I haven’t been that great a mother. But don’t hate me, Steph.’

  ‘I don’t,’ Stephanie says. ‘I don’t blame you either. Not really. We’re all okay. I suppose you’re right. I just have to get over it.’

  ‘You’re not happy. What’s wrong?’

  ‘I’ve been working too hard. I’m a bit burnt out. I can deal with it.’

  ‘Nothing else?’

  She’s crying again.

  ‘If it’s about me and you want to tell me I’ve ruined your life and to piss off, I can take it. Come on, Steph, spit it out. What’s wrong?’

  Spit it out, Steph, come on sweetheart, tell me what’s wrong, come on it can’t be that bad, spit it right out now.

  ‘It’s, it’s Gemma. I keep thinking about her.’

  ‘I think about her too. Most days I think about her. You’ve got to live with it.’

  ‘I have to ask you something. It may be crazy but I have to. What was happening between you and Ed Black?’

  Minna’s face swings around and she stares at Stephanie, her eyes widening. ‘What?’

  ‘You and Ed Black. Did something happen between you? Were you having an affair?’

  ‘Jesus, Steph.’

  ‘Just answer, will you? I’m not going to judge you or hate you for it but I need to know the answer.’

  ‘That’s my business. It’s personal.’

  ‘It’s not just your business.’

  ‘Listen. You’ve got things you don’t tell me and that’s fine, that’s your choice. Just like I get to choose what I want to talk about. You’re my daughter, but like I said before, I don’t have to justify myself to you and I don’t have to talk about things I consider private.’

  ‘So you were having an affair with him?’

  ‘I’m not saying any such thing. I’m saying what I do now and what I did in the past is my own personal business.’

  ‘There was another little girl who went missing. Ed Black was there as well.’

  ‘What the hell are you saying?’

  ‘I’m saying, what if he was involved?’

  ‘No. Christ, no, Steph, you’ve got this all wrong. Let it go. Look at you. You’re tormenting yourself. For God’s sake, let Gemma go and get on with your life.’

  22.

  But she can’t let it go. Though she knows she has little chance of finding him, of finding out anything, she has to try.

  Her flat’s packed up, her skirts, jackets, shirts folded and stored in boxes in Mary-Anne’s basement. She’s sold everything else to a second-hand place, arranged for them to pick it up before she goes. She finished up at work yesterday.

  She made an appointment to see Stewart. He listened carefully as she haltingly explained, ‘I have a serious family problem and it’s affecting my work.’ As she spoke she understood that what she was saying was endangering everything she’d worked for, that she could lose it all when all she had to do was close her mind to what might or might not have happened, just turn away from it.

  Let it go. For God’s sake, let Gemma go and get on with your life.

  He looked concerned as she spoke, incredulous at the words she knew she must say. ‘I’ve considered this carefully. Since I’m not giving my best to my patients I feel I must offer you my resignation.’

  ‘I had no idea that this was the case, Stephanie. Are you getting some help with this? Have you talked it through with your supervisor?’

  ‘Partially. But it’s something so intensely personal I need to take time away from work to deal with it.’

  ‘Time away? So you don’t necessarily want to resign?’

  ‘I thought it would be fairer to the clinic if I resigned. You’ll need to find a replacement for me. I presume you’ll want to make another appointment.’

  He said emphatically, ‘I don’t want to lose you. Everyone here has been so impressed by your work: your research, your integrity and professionalism. What I suggest is that you apply for leave. I’ll recommend that it be accepted by the board and they will accept it, Stephanie, there won’t be any difficulties over that.’

  She felt her throat tightening, her eyes filling up. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Have you any idea how long you may need?’

  ‘Would six months be too long?’

  ‘Consider it done. I’ll have the forms sent over to your office. All you have to do is sign them and we’ll have your patients transferred to Leslie and Bill.’

  ‘Thank you. I didn’t want to leave. I thought it was the only alternative.’

  ‘We want you here, Stephanie. I’ll be recommending to the board that your position becomes permanent once you’re through your final year. That is if it’s what you want.’
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  ‘It’s what I want.’

  ‘Good, then. Remember we want you back.’

  Part of her longs to go back. Right now. Just go back to work and forget all this. She’s apprehensive. In fact, she’s downright bloody scared.

  But she’s excited as well; she feels released, free of everything. She’s bought an almost new, snappy red Toyota to replace the clunky old Ford she’s been driving since she graduated. Liam came with her, muttered about low mileage, economy, reliability. You don’t want a European car because if anything goes wrong the parts’ll cost you a bomb. You can’t go wrong with a Toyota, this one’s only done 30,000 k, a two-door hatch, that’ll suit you and it’s New Zealand-owned so they won’t have mucked about with the odometer. What about if I get it checked out with my mate, it looks pretty tidy, they’re asking nine, I guarantee I can get them down to eight and a half. Where did you say you were going?

  She doesn’t know. Only that she’ll start in Westport. That’s the last place he was that she knows about so it seems as good a place as any to start. And she has to make certain that Ward Black is, in fact, Ed Black. But how’s she going to find that out? She doesn’t know that either.

  She doesn’t know anything other than she has to do this.

  Is she having some sort of breakdown? If she steps back and objectively observes her conduct, she must accept she’s behaving erratically. It’s as if she’s trampling heavy, muddy boots over everything she’s lived by all these years take care, consider this from every aspect, careful now Stephanie, careful now. But she’s sleeping better, not crying so much. Now she’s made up her mind she’s more certain of herself. Though that’s ludicrous when she stops to think about it. How can she be certain of anything?

  Before she leaves she visits Beth. Which is like everything else she’s doing: outside professional parameters, totally at odds with her usual considered behaviour. But she has to. She buys a peace lily, green glossy leaves and a pure white opening bud.

  Beth opens the door. ‘Stephanie? Hey, this is great. Come in.’

  She shows her around. The tiny garden, the striped sofa with red cushions, the sun-room with the divan bed covered in a bright rug for anyone who wants to stay. There are shelves with plants and books, photographs and posters on the walls. Sun comes in through a high, wide window.

  ‘It’s so nice, Beth. You’ve already made it into a home.’

  ‘You think so? Hey, it’s so great to see you. I didn’t know you did, like, home visits.’

  ‘This isn’t actually a professional visit. Beth, I’m going away. I wanted to say goodbye to you.’

  ‘You’re leaving the clinic?’

  ‘Not for ever. Well, I hope not anyway. I know our sessions are over now but I missed seeing you last week when you were at day clinic and I wanted to tell you that you’ll have your follow-up session with Leslie. I know you’re doing fine but I just felt I needed to explain what was happening. I hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘Mind? Course not. I’ve missed seeing you. When I was with you all those weeks I felt like you were the only person I could rely on. But I knew I couldn’t really expect to be your actual friend. You’re a doctor and —’

  ‘Beth, I’d be honoured to be your friend. It’s probably not really appropriate for me to turn up like this but I’m leaving on Friday and, well, here I am.’

  ‘Who cares about what’s appropriate? You can stay for a cup of tea, can’t you? Or coffee? I’ve bought a coffee-maker, it was a real spoil but I thought I deserved it. And biscuits, I’ve got chocolate brownies, I actually made them just for me. I love brownies.’

  When’s the last time you ate chocolate, Steph, when’s the last time you had any fun?

  ‘I’d love coffee. Brownies as well.’

  ‘Cool. I can’t believe this, you being here. You know, so many really good things have happened and every time something happens you’re the person I tell first. Like, I tell you about it in my head and I suppose it’s a bit weird but it’s what I do and I was saving it all up for when I saw you again. I’m so pleased you came. I would have been gutted if I’d turned up and you weren’t there.’

  She puts beans in a grinder, makes coffee. She warms milk, froths it up, pours coffee into red mugs, arranges biscuits onto a bright yellow plate patterned with small red flowers. She places the mug in front of Stephanie, offers her the plate. ‘This plate was Mum’s. Pretty eh? I got Dad to send it. Now that I feel better about Mum I like having her things around.’

  ‘That’s one of the good things that have happened?’

  ‘One of them.’

  ‘Well? Come on, Beth, tell me all the rest.’

  She leans forward, smiling. She’s sitting opposite Stephanie and the sun falls across her face, covering it with light. ‘This place as well. I love it here.’

  ‘So you’re feeling okay about living on your own?’

  ‘Yeah. Best thing though, listen to this. I’ve joined a first-year module in ceramics at Art School. I’ve just started. What happened was I talked about it to Sally and she phoned up Art School and set up an interview for me. That really freaked me out. I didn’t want to do it but it was like it was this big, big challenge I knew I had to get through. Anyway, the director was so nice to me, he took me seriously. He said they’d be delighted to have me there. Delighted. Shit. No one’s ever said they’d be delighted to have me anywhere before.’

  ‘That’s fantastic news. What are you doing in the classes?’

  ‘I’m building big slab pots. Quite chunky and I’m having a go at making them into all these different shapes.’

  Stephanie watches Beth’s face. The luminosity in her eyes as she speaks, her hands moving as she describes the shapes, the clay and glazes she’s trying out, the tutors, the other students in the class.

  ‘At first I was scared of them. They all look, like, really clever and some of them look a bit weird. You know, tats and dreads and they wear these really bizarre op-shop clothes. But once you start talking to them they’re really nice, really open.’

  Beth’s voice slows. She glances anxiously at Stephanie. ‘All I’ve talked about is me. I just got so used to telling you things I’m still doing it. But everything’s different now isn’t it? You’re not my doctor any more.’

  ‘I’m not but it’s still good to hear how well you’re doing.’

  ‘I haven’t even asked about why you’re going away. You’re all right, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m fine. I’ve just been working quite hard and I’m due for a break.’

  Beth’s eyes run curiously over her. ‘Hey, you look so different out of your work clothes. I like your haircut.’

  Stephanie’s fingers reach up and touch her hair. ‘My mother persuaded me.’

  ‘It looks great. Where are you going? How long are you away for?’

  ‘I’m not exactly sure. I’m going to, well, I’m actually going to drive off to where the mood takes me, I suppose.’

  ‘By yourself?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You don’t even know where you’re going or how long you’ll be away?’

  ‘No, I don‘t. Sounds a bit crazy doesn’t it?’

  She takes a breath. She shouldn’t do this, she shouldn’t. She tries to sound relaxed, casual. ‘I’m thinking I might drive up the West Coast. I might stay a day or two in Westport.’

  ‘Have you been there before?’

  ‘I’ve passed through. Never stayed.’

  ‘It’s fairly quiet but there’s some really great places. Beaches and walks and some quite good cafés have opened up there now. Do you know anyone up that way?’

  ‘No I don’t.’

  ‘Hey, you have to go and see Dad. He’d show you around. He’s got the guest house next door. You could stay there.’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly intrude on your father.’

  ‘No, listen, Stephanie, I’ve told Dad about you and he knows how much you’ve done for me. This could be something we could do for you.’ />
  ‘What I did for you was what any doctor would do for someone in your situation. Nothing special.’

  ‘Bullshit, Stephanie. That’s bullshit. If I hadn’t had you I’d be dead. That’s the truth. You never gave up on me.’

  ‘Beth, it was my job.’

  ‘It was more than that and you know it. You cared about me and I knew that right from the start. Even when I was sick and really angry I knew I could count on you. I’ll work it out with Dad. I’ll give you the address and Dad’s cell. Okay?’

  ‘I’d like to meet your Dad again. I could phone him, I suppose.’

  ‘Yes you could. Promise me you will?’

  ‘All right. I promise.’

  They say goodbye. She feels faintly shabby as she leaves. She’s not been honest with Beth. But how could she be honest? How could she possibly tell Beth what she suspects?

  She sits in front of her computer. What she has to do is put herself back into that long ago summer day, write everything down she can remember. Names. Times. Questions. Lists of possibilities.

  For so long, that day Gemma was lost was all she could think about. Then she shoved it away, forced it back into the dark. Now she has to pry open the door again, try to bring into sharp focus shadows which had seemed insignificant.

  Ed Black. Lisa. They were there, some distance away from them, but still she could see them clearly. When did they leave? Before the plane came? After? She’s certain they were then when it first went down into the lake, certain she recalls Lisa standing, her body pale and narrow in a yellow bikini, shading her eyes, looking upwards. After that, though, she doesn’t know, can’t remember a time when she noticed they had gone. She can’t ask Minna; during the one or two phone calls they’ve had since her visit she’s refused to talk about it.

  You’re mistaken about this. There’s no way, Steph, no way. For Christ’s sake move on.

  So who could tell her? Who could she talk to? Dave wasn’t there. Jonny and Liam were beside the lake. The Peters? The Pattersons? But wasn’t it most likely they’d have forgotten? Anyway, how could she ask them? What would she possibly offer as an explanation for her questions? She can imagine their reactions hasn’t been here in years, not so much as the odd visit to her dad and here she is back stirring things up all over again.