It didn’t stop her worrying for the next couple of days, though.
Zara did not raise the subject of her father again but she didn’t speak to Charlotte about anything else either. In the morning, she ate her breakfast in silence. On Tuesday when she got home from school she went straight to her bedroom and closed the door. Charlotte did not see her again till dinner-time. On Wednesday, it was clear she intended to do the same thing. Charlotte was folding laundry in the living room when Zara got home. The girl gave her one mutinous look before taking herself off to her room again. Charlotte sighed as she looked down at her full basket.
I couldn’t have been this difficult as a teenager.
This was the downside of being both sister and parent. She wanted to be her friend, not just her drill sergeant, but it seemed they could find no common ground. One of them had to give a little.
What can I do?
A compromise maybe?
She put down her basket and went to knock on Zara’s door. There was no answer so she tried the handle and the door swung open. Zara, who had been rapidly texting someone, shoved her phone into her backpack.
‘You can’t just barge in like that.’
‘I didn’t.’ Charlotte tried to be reasonable. ‘I knocked first but you didn’t answer.’
Her sister didn’t respond. So she took a deep breath and took a couple more steps into the room.
‘You know, I was thinking. Why don’t you invite Rosemary over one weekend? You could have a sleepover. I can make nachos for dinner and we can eat lots of chocolate.’ She grinned. ‘I kind of need a bit of comfort food myself.’
Zara rolled her eyes. ‘No thanks.’
‘Come on, Zara.’ Charlotte sat on the bed. ‘I’m trying to make an effort here.’
‘Well, what are we going to do, Lottie? Sit in this room all day? You won’t let me out any more with the Barnes Inc crew roaming around.’
‘I told you, it’s not safe. There’s too much smoking and drinking. I worry about you.’ Charlotte tried to take her hand but Zara moved it away petulantly.
‘You’re always worried. Why can’t you just trust me? I’m not stupid, you know.’
Charlotte grabbed her by the face, a palm on each cheek, so she was forced to look into her eyes. Deep blue ones, like her own. ‘I don’t think you’re stupid. I would never think that. I know you’re a good kid, Zara. It’s not you I don’t trust, it’s them.’ Charlotte released her and put a tired hand to her temple. ‘Tell me what it is I can do to make you happy because I am sick of fighting with you.’
Zara bit her lip.
‘Tell me.’
‘I want to see my father.’
Anything but that. Lottie pursed her lips.
‘I know you can help me do it.’ Zara raised her eyes bravely. ‘We don’t have to tell Mum.’
‘That’s not my call, Zara.’
‘You say you trust me. But how can I believe you when you won’t even let me see him?’
‘You wouldn’t want to see him if you knew –’ Charlotte broke off.
‘Knew what?’ Zara demanded, with all the triumph of someone who knew they had stumbled on a secret. ‘Tell me.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Tell me or I’ll run away and ask him myself.’
‘Zara!’ Charlotte’s mouth dropped open as she was finally faced with the deadliest weapon in Zara’s arsenal.
‘Tell her.’
Both their gazes flew to the door.
‘Mum,’ Charlotte exclaimed, rising to her feet. ‘How long have you been standing there?’
‘Tell her, Lottie,’ Their mother leaned heavily against the frame. ‘Tell her.’
Sweat broke out on Charlotte’s upper lip. She hadn’t thought this hateful task would come so soon or that it would fall to her.
‘Are you sure?’
Her mother shut her eyes briefly. ‘No. Wait.’
‘Wait for what?’ Zara asked as their mother left the room. ‘She’s babbling again, Lottie. She doesn’t know where she is.’
Charlotte bit her lip. ‘We don’t know that.’ It seemed like just for a second her mother had been herself again, back in the present, where that haunted look marked her face, her shoulders drooped and her soul stepped back from her eyes. In a way, having Alzheimer’s had provided her with a means of escape and that was at least one aspect of the disease to be grateful for.
Charlotte watched the door waiting for her to return.
‘Is she going to come back?’ Zara demanded, completely oblivious to everything but her own need. ‘Or is this just a joke?’
Charlotte’s fingers dug painfully into the palm of her hand as she wondered frantically whether her mother really meant for her to tell Zara, and if she should. She’d read the studies done on this. Zara was old enough to know. She just needed some time to plan this, get Luke over, and make some bloody tea.
As if that’s going to help.
Zara stood up. ‘I’m going after her.’
Charlotte got up as well and followed her to their mother’s room. It took them about two seconds to discover that Virginia Templeton had passed out on her bed and was snoring gently.
With a heavy sigh, Charlotte put the heel of her palm to her forehead. ‘She must have had an episode and forgotten what she was doing.’ She dropped her hand. ‘Just as well, I suppose.’
At least this way she had more time. She could even contact that therapist in Mackay. After all, there was no telling whether Zara would be comfortable talking to her about it.
‘What’s this?’ Zara said, twitching what looked to be a newspaper clipping out of her mother’s hand.
Charlotte’s head snapped up, but it was too late. Zara was already scanning the article. A gut-wrenching gasp ripped from her throat. And fear, like a shaft of ice, cut straight through Charlotte’s heart.
Oh crap.
The clipping fell from Zara’s fingers, fluttered to the ground like a stray piece of ash from a bonfire that had just ignited. Charlotte snatched it up, her eyes whipping across the headline.
Serial Rapist Finally Jailed.
The photograph beneath the damning words was a black-and-white picture of a forty-something man with frizzy hair, worn too long over the ears. Instinctively, she knew this was Zara’s father even though her mother had never shown the article to her before. She looked just like him. There were many things her mother hadn’t told her. Many secrets she felt still stood between them . . . not that she wanted to know everything. But seeing him, this man, who had ruined her mother’s life and hacked away at some of her own, was a shock.
Her throat dried, her temperature fluctuated wildly between hot and cold. Putting a face to a name for the very first time was like reopening the wound.
His hands were cuffed. His dead eyes, the colour of which she couldn’t discern, stared back at her emotionlessly. He neither smiled nor frowned at the camera but his expression of contented conceit made her lunch boil in her guts. She threw the article away from her, taking in shallow wheezy breaths. She couldn’t bring herself to read the entire thing. She was so lost in her own painful memories of that time that she had forgotten her sister. Her eyes flew across the room and she found her at the foot of their mother’s bed in the foetal position, rocking on her backside.
‘Zara,’ she cried, immediately sitting down beside her.
Her sister was weeping uncontrollably.
‘Zara, talk to me.’ She tried to put her arms around her sister but Zara flailed violently and then stood up.
‘Don’t.’
‘Zara –’
Her sister’s eyes, red and raw, flicked to their mother, her hand flinging out hysterically.
‘She said he was a thief!’
‘I’m sorry, Zara.’ Charlotte made haste to explain. ‘She had to lie to protect you.’
‘No! You’re lying now!’ Zara clutched her belly and for a moment Charlotte was sure she was going to be sick. But the moment passed.
&
nbsp; ‘Zara, you need to sit down. Here,’ she grabbed a box of tissues from her mother’s bedside table, ‘let me wipe your face.’
‘You’re trying to trick me.’ Zara pushed the words out between her teeth. ‘This can’t be right.’
Charlotte felt tears on her own face now. ‘I wish it wasn’t the truth, but it is. Mum was going to tell you when you were older.’
‘I don’t believe you. You’re just trying to keep me away from him.’
‘Zara, look at me,’ Charlotte choked, holding out her hand though not daring to touch her. Zara raised her chin, defiance in the line of her jaw. ‘Do you really think we’d be that cruel?’
Zara heaved a sob so big, her whole body convulsed before she turned around and stumbled out of there.
‘Zara!’ Charlotte called. ‘Wait!’
But her sister had already broken into a wild run, fuelled by adrenaline and grief. This time she did not run to her bedroom though. She ran out the back door and onto the road. Charlotte ran after her, calling out. Zara did not stop. Instead she doubled her pace, running down the street, passed the widely spaced residential housing and then onto a lonely stretch of road leading to the jetty. It was only quarter to four in the afternoon, so the air was thick with tropical heat. Insects chirped and the smell of baked green leaves assailed her senses. Charlotte followed at least a few metres behind.
She began to sweat, her skin slick with moisture, but didn’t break pace. She panted and heaved. Each breath became more difficult to inhale as her muscles began to burn from the exertion. A stitch threatened in her side but she ignored it.
She had to catch up.
Ahead, she could see that Zara was losing momentum and fight. Her body was swaying and she had wandered into the centre of the road.
A ute came around the corner at speed.
There was no energy left to scream.
The figure was a blur on the road, which he saw mere seconds before he swerved to avoid it. His wheels hit the gravel of the shoulder in a cloud of dust as the car jerked to a halt.
‘What the fuck?!’ said Fish from the back seat, the papers he was holding flying up out of his hands and scattering on the floor. ‘Aw shiiiiiitttt.’
Ignoring him, Mark threw open his door and got out in time to see the girl in the centre of the road collapse in shock. She moaned as her legs buckled under her and connected with road. It had been a very hot day and he knew it was probably burning through her jeans. In a few strides, he was by her side, lifting her off the scorching tar.
He carried her to the side of the road and placed her on the weedy but softer ground in front of the car. Another car door slammed. ‘Well, I’ll be bloody damned,’ said Fish.
‘Is she all right, Mark?’ It was Will, who had also been in the car.
‘Bring me some water,’ he barked.
The girl slowly opened her eyes as the other two men walked over to them. They were the same miraculous blue as the ones belonging to the woman he was beginning to regard as his nemesis.
For a second, the girl’s expression was blank, before fear crowded in.
‘Here.’ He placed the bottle of water that Will had brought over near her lips.
‘Let go of me,’ she croaked, struggling to sit up.
‘I would by all means,’ Mark purred, ‘if I believed I wouldn’t have to scrape you off the road again. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s having to do the same thing twice.’
‘I’m not going to faint,’ she rasped.
‘Try to drink some more water,’ Will suggested.
Running feet sounded on the road and they all turned around to see a curvaceous figure in tight jeans and a black singlet.
Of course, who else would it be? ‘Ah, Ms Templeton. Your timing is impeccable.’
She was breathless and sweaty, strands of her auburn hair stuck to her forehead, her breasts heaving in gentle rhythm as she came to a stop, dropping immediately to her knees.
‘Thank God,’ she muttered.
‘As much as I like to be thanked,’ his lips curled, ‘prayer is quite unnecessary.’
‘Oh, just give her to me,’ Charlotte snapped rather impatiently at his quip.
He transferred the girl into her arms, noticing with interest the way she closed her eyes and squeezed her tight, like she was the most precious thing in the world. It had been so long since he had held anyone like that, or been held like that. Love was so far removed from his life that looking at it now, naked before him, made him physically ache.
‘Oh, Zara,’ Charlotte whispered hoarsely into her girl’s hair, ‘they could have killed you.’
‘I’m fine,’ the girl responded.
‘I was worried sick. Please don’t do that again.’
‘I . . . I’m sorry,’ Zara said. ‘I just lost it.’
‘I know. I’m sorry too.’ As they continued to hold each other, Mark cleared his throat and Charlotte finally opened her eyes again. ‘Er, thank you,’ she said. ‘I can take it from here.’
There was obviously more going on than she was letting on but it was none of his business. Hell, the last thing he wanted to be involved in was Ms Templeton’s personal affairs. Talk about nightmare.
He nodded curtly and was about to stand up when Zara gasped.
‘What is it?’ he asked. But she seemed too overcome to speak. Was she more hurt than he realised?
‘It’s the bird, Mark,’ Will explained. ‘I think we killed it.’
With relief, he followed the direction of Zara’s gaze back to the front wheel of his car. There, lying beside it, certainly as if it were dead, was a scrub turkey, a black-feathered native bird with a fan-like tail, a bare red head and yellow wattle. It must have been roaming in the bush by the side of the road when the car swerved onto the shoulder. It was quite impressive when standing but this one lay limp on its side.
‘Zara –’ Charlotte began but the girl ignored her.
She put out her hand to stroke it. The bird shuddered and then to all their surprise tried to stand up. Unfortunately one of its rubbery legs didn’t want to function. The limb was bent at an odd angle. It squawked in pain, the lame leg trembling as it tried to draw it up. It failed and collapsed on its side again.
Zara put the bottle of water down and scooped the bird into her arms. ‘This turkey is hurt,’ she announced quite unnecessarily.
‘Not as hurt as you could have been,’ Mark returned drily. ‘What were you doing running in the middle of the road?’
‘I wasn’t thinking,’ she muttered as she carefully felt the bird’s wings.
‘Why is it,’ Mark mused to no one in particular, ‘that people always give me that excuse? It’s not even an excuse; it is an insult to their own character.’
His words made no impression on the girl. She was examining the turkey’s wings. They didn’t appear to be broken. She didn’t look up, drawing the bird into her arms, a grim expression marking her young face. It pecked at her hand, its red head swaying about in panic. She tried to hold it close.
‘I’m so sorry.’
All these apologies. Whatever were they for? And, more importantly, why were none of them directed at him?
‘Wouldn’t do that if I were you.’ Fish looked derisively at the girl. ‘That thing’s dirty as hell. Full of germs, might catch something.’
Zara glared at his engineer. Not that Mark blamed her. He could have said the same thing about Fish. He was by far the most unkempt human being he had ever seen.
‘What?’ Fish raised bushy brows.
Will’s mouth twisted as though he were trying hard not to laugh. He put a hand on his colleague’s arm. ‘Let it go, Fish.’
‘You guys don’t have to stick around,’ Charlotte said again. ‘I’m with my sister now. I’ll make sure she’s okay.’
‘Yes, I thought she must be your sister,’ Mark murmured. ‘She looks like you.’
His casual remark seemed to have an entirely uncasual effect on the person it was directed at. Charlott
e’s wide eyes flew straight to her sister, who immediately looked up from the injured turkey, a kind of dead expression on her face.
‘Really? You think I look like her?’ Pain of some kind made Zara lose a little colour. ‘I always thought I must look most like my father. And I do. I’ve seen his photograph.’ She gulped in air but it didn’t seem to help as she practically choked on the words. ‘I . . . I look just like him.’
‘Listen,’ Charlotte interrupted her monologue to reclaim his attention, ‘you were obviously headed somewhere. We don’t want to make you late.’
‘We have a meeting with a contractor in Sarina,’ Mark told her, now wanting to stay just because he knew she wanted him to go. ‘But it doesn’t matter if we’re late. Perhaps, Ms Templeton, you would like me to drive you and your sister back to the resort?’
‘Here.’ Will kneeled down beside Zara. ‘I’ll help you.’
He tried to take the turkey from Zara but she swung her body away.
‘I’m not leaving it. Can’t you see its leg is broken? It’ll die of starvation or worse without treatment.’
Fish clucked his tongue. ‘Come on, girlie, it’s just a bush turkey. They’re a dime a dozen. Like rats, really.’
‘So you just want to abandon it?’ Her voice shook.
‘Well,’ Fish shrugged, ‘I suppose we can break its neck, if you think that would be more humane.’
Zara gasped in shock and choked back tears. ‘Yes, that’s what most people would do, wouldn’t they? Kill it. Because it’s not worth saving.’
Her eyes grew glassy and Charlotte immediately went to her side.
Mark frowned. ‘Surely this turkey can’t mean that much to you?’
‘If he wants to kill it, he’ll have to go through me.’ Zara glanced up fiercely at Fish then turned to her sister. ‘Lottie, we need to take this turkey to the vet.’
Ms Templeton, he noticed, was looking decidedly uncomfortable as she gazed down at the feathered victim no longer struggling in her sister’s arms. ‘Zara, I’m not really in a position to be footing heavy medical bills . . . or surgery for a turkey right now.’
The Girl in the Yellow Vest Page 12