by Diane Hester
‘But you do know each other?’
Lindsay sighed. ‘Yes, we know each other.’
‘Well, what a lucky coincidence then. And how nice of him to stop and help you—he certainly deserves a meal after that.’
Ellen slipped one hand through Macklyn’s arm, the other through Lindsay’s, and marched them towards the house.
***
Mac took the seat beside Lindsay at a polished jarrah table in the dining room. The picture window offered an impressive view of Adelaide below, flanked by steeply wooded slopes in the foreground. On the opposite wall a wood fire burned in a large granite hearth.
As Ellen set the last plates of food on the table and sat down across from him, Warrick broke the uncomfortable silence. ‘So how is school?’
‘Fine. Good. I’ve been doing okay,’ Lindsay answered a bit too quickly.
Okay? Mac was tempted to query. Three and a half years of acing every subject in a double major and that was all she was going to say about it?
‘Your final year then,’ her dad said proudly. ‘Won’t be long now and you’ll be out in the world. Any idea what you might like to do?’
‘Open a rare book store and teach piano.’ The words dropped mechanically from her lips. With a sigh she seemed to reconsider them. ‘Actually I’d be just as likely to open a pet shop.’
Her parents went still, looked at each other, then laughed politely. Mac didn’t quite see the joke.
‘Well, I’m glad things are going so well for you.’ Ellen pushed an olive around her plate. ‘We’ve been a bit worried about you actually. We read in the paper about those two girls who were murdered on your campus.’
Mac caught Lindsay’s sidelong glance. ‘Yes, that was terrible.’
‘Did you know either of them?’ her father asked.
‘No.’ Again she looked aside at Macklyn. Did she think he was going to contradict her?
‘We thought perhaps …’ Ellen struggled. ‘If you were feeling anxious living so close to campus you could always come and stay with us for a while.’
Silence closed in around the question.
‘It’s a little too far to drive every day, Mum. Thanks anyway.’
‘Of course, I understand.’
‘So you’re doing all right then?’ Warrick pressed. ‘You haven’t let the matter upset you?’
‘Why would it upset me? It’s a big campus, Dad, lots going on. And like I said, I didn’t know either of them.’
It was Mac’s turn to shoot her a sidelong glance. What was she doing? Why her reluctance to tell them the truth?
‘Well the offer is there should you feel you need it,’ her mother concluded.
They ate for a while, unable to make more than trite conversation—the weather, current events, the road work that was tying up traffic through town. Mac sensed there were many things going unsaid but didn’t think his presence was the cause. Then, in one of the many silences, they heard the front door open and close.
Ellen went to the hall to see who’d come in. ‘Oh, Pamela, how nice. Now we’re all here.’
A strangled sound escaped Lindsay’s throat. Mac turned to look at her. Her head was bowed, her dark brows furrowed, and she was clutching her napkin in her lap.
‘Now who’s all here?’ came the still disembodied voice from the hall.
A thirtyish woman appeared in the doorway, balancing a toddler on her hip. Family resemblance was clear in her bone structure, the shape of her eyes. Her gaze swept over them, pausing briefly on Mac before fixing on Lindsay. Shocked hostility supplanted her smile. ‘Well, isn’t this a surprise.’
Ellen began stacking their dirty plates. ‘Lindsay phoned last night and said she wanted to come for a visit. Isn’t that wonderful?’
‘Yes, how nice.’
‘And she’s brought a friend,’ Warrick added. ‘Pam, this is Mr Macklyn.’
Mac rose in greeting. ‘Garren, please.’ Though the new arrival accepted his hand, her attention stayed firmly fixed on Lindsay.
‘And how’s my little Mishy today?’ Ellen took the baby from her daughter’s arms and cuddled it as Pam removed her coat.
Following an exchange on teething and sleeping hours, Pam took the seat across from Lindsay. ‘Is that your four-wheel drive outside?’
‘No, it’s Mac’s. We … arrived together.’
‘What’s Nan’s doll’s house doing in the back of it?’
‘Lindsay’s taking it to uni with her.’ Ellen gave the toddler back to Pam. ‘It seems she’s missed it all these years.’
‘Garren.’ Warrick reflected over the word. ‘Unusual name. Don’t believe I’ve ever heard it before.’
‘Mum wanted to call me Darren and my father liked Garry, so they compromised. Friends get around it by calling me Mac.’
‘That’s what you call him, isn’t it dear?’ Ellen said.
‘Among other things,’ Lindsay mumbled.
Pam wiped spittle from the toddler’s mouth. ‘I was going to give that doll’s house to Michelle when she got older.’
‘That’s rather hopeful of you, seeing as Nan gave it to me,’ Lindsay said.
‘She did not give it to you. There was nothing in the will about the doll’s house.’
‘That’s because she gave it to me before she left.’
‘For the home, you mean?’ Pam laughed. ‘Nan didn’t know what she was doing by then. She was as far gone from this world as you were.’
From the corner of his eye, Mac watched Lindsay’s hands in her lap, tearing another strip from her paper napkin.
‘Who wants coffee?’ Ellen said brightly. ‘Do you like chocolate cake, Mr Macklyn?’
‘I wouldn’t say no to a piece.’
The woman disappeared into the kitchen.
‘I’ve got as much right to that doll’s house as you do,’ Pam continued. ‘More in fact, seeing as I’m the oldest and have a daughter to pass it on to.’
This time Lindsay didn’t raise her eyes. ‘Nan gave me the doll’s house because she knew how much I loved it. You never showed the slightest interest in it. Or her, for that matter.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘That you were always too busy with your friends.’
‘And the only reason you spent so much time with Nan was because you didn’t have any.’
Warrick spoke up. ‘So who do you follow in footy, Mac? Port or the Crows?’
‘Well, I—’
‘What I’d like to know,’ Pamela said, ‘is how you have the hide to rock up here after all this time—what is it, going on five years now?—without so much as a card or a phone call, and take something that doesn’t belong to you.’
‘Pamela, please, let’s not fight,’ Ellen said, coming back into the room. She set a three-layer chocolate cake in the middle of the table. ‘We don’t want to put Lindsay off visiting us again.’
‘You don’t get it, do you, Mum? Lindsay didn’t come to visit you, she came because she wanted something. She came for the doll’s house.’
‘Oh, I’m sure that wasn’t the only reason.’
Lindsay looked at Pam. ‘If you wanted it so badly, if it means that much to you, why was it sitting up in the attic gathering dust?’
‘If it meant so much to you, how come you left it here all these years?’
‘Coffee, Mr Macklyn?’ Ellen inquired.
‘Yes, please. White and two sugars, thanks.’
‘I hadn’t forgotten it,’ Lindsay countered. ‘I wanted to come get it. It’s just I didn’t have the space in my flat.’
‘And you do now, eh? Your flat’s suddenly gotten larger, has it?’
‘No, it’s … I …’
All heads turned in Lindsay’s direction. She hadn’t simply stopped in mid-sentence; her voice had choked off around her words. She cleared her throat and tried again.
‘It’s just that I’ve … recently felt the need to have something of Nan’s in my life again.’
‘Oh please
,’ Pam groaned. ‘You suddenly need something of Nan’s in your life, but you can quite happily do without the rest of us.’
Lindsay tore another strip from her napkin.
‘Cake, Mr Macklyn?’ Ellen thrust a plate under his nose.
‘Uh … yes please.’
Pam sat forward. ‘I’ve as much right to that doll’s house as you do.’
‘And how do you figure that?’ Lindsay snapped. ‘Did you ever even love the woman?’
‘Are you serious? Of course I did.’
‘Funny, I don’t recall your showing it. Did you ever visit her? Did you ever spend more than two minutes of your whole week with her?’
‘If you mean, did I sit around talking to dead people for her, no. One nutter in the family is enough, don’t you think?’
‘Pamela!’ The cake knife slipped from Ellen’s hand and hit the platter. The sound of it shattering echoed to silence.
Lindsay swallowed, set her shredded napkin on the table and pushed to her feet. ‘Thanks for lunch, Mum. I have to go.’
Chapter 25
Mac got into the car beside Lindsay, pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the rain from his face. He returned the wave her parents were giving them—more easily than she did, he noted—and started the engine.
‘I’m going to have dreams about that chocolate cake, you realise.’ He headed the Prado down the driveway. ‘Looked to me like your mum spent a lot of time on it. A pity we didn’t get to hoe in.’
Lindsay sat looking out the side window. The thud of the wipers and tattoo of rain were all that eased the weighty silence.
‘I sense you don’t feel like talking about what happened,’ he said.
No response.
‘I’m pretty cluey about these things. It’s a gift really. Don’t know where it comes from but lots of people have told me I have it.’
At last she turned and narrowed a look at him, her eyes dry but filled with pain.
They’d reached the road. Mac arched his brows. ‘Would you care to tell me where we’re going at least?’
‘Back to the station to get my spare.’
‘No need. I told the bloke where your car was and paid him to change the tyre when he’d fixed it.’
‘Then take me to my car.’ She turned to look out the window again.
‘You’re welcome,’ he said, hoping to spark a bit of reaction. It had no effect. ‘Your mum’s cake sort of put me in the mood for dessert. We could always—’
‘My car. Please.’
Mac exhaled. At least she was talking. Maybe if he could keep her going …
He steered the Prado out onto the road. ‘So was there some reason you didn’t want your family to know who I was?’
‘What?’
‘You introduced me as Mister Macklyn. Was that intentional or a slip of the tongue?’
‘If they’d known who you were and what you were investigating that’s all we would’ve talked about. Since I hadn’t seen them in such a long time I thought the conversation should be about … other things.’
Like the weather. He spoke before she could turn away again. ‘So what was it like?’
‘What was what like?’
‘Seeing them again after all this time?’
Her laugh was taut. ‘Were you in the same room as the rest of us?’
‘Well, you’d have to expect it to be a little awkward.’
‘I’d have been overjoyed with awkward.’
‘Granted, there are a few problems there. But in all, no worse than a lot of families I know.’
‘Trust me. Mine is like no other family you know.’
‘And you think that’s your fault.’
She looked at her hands.
‘Actually things were going fairly well, I thought, till your sister showed up,’ Mac observed.
‘She might have reasons for the things she said.’
‘Meaning her behaviour was justified?’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t buy that and neither should you.’
‘You don’t know the history.’
‘And I don’t suppose you’d care to enlighten me.’ He let out a sigh when she didn’t answer. ‘Why’d your folks laugh when you said you might want to open a pet shop?’
She swallowed hard. ‘Because of my childhood “imaginary friend” my parents thought it best if we had no animals. They got rid of every pet we owned, even the goldfish. Including my sister’s beloved cat.’
‘Part of that history you were talking about?’
‘It didn’t exactly endear me to her, no.’
Mac drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. ‘Well, look, you’ve taken the first step at least. The worst part’s over, the next time you see them can only be easier.’
‘There won’t be a next time.’
‘Why not? Your folks seemed genuinely happy to see you.’
She stared straight ahead.
‘So your sister was right? You only came up here to get the doll’s house?’
To his surprise she didn’t take the bait.
‘I’d thought about coming to see them long before this, before any of the trouble started at uni. I hadn’t had an episode in over ten years. I’d just started to think that it might be over, that I didn’t have to wait until graduation.’
He didn’t understand some of what she said but thought it best to just let her keep talking.
‘Whatever the reason, either because I’d managed to will it away or just outgrown it, I’d begun to feel maybe …’
Mac looked over. Her voice had developed a noticeable tremor.
‘… maybe I could finally go to them and say, “Hey, remember all that trouble when I was a kid? Well, you don’t need to worry about it anymore. I’m normal now. You can come and visit me and we can go places together and I won’t embarrass you and you won’t feel ashamed of me ever again.”’
With her last words her voice broke entirely. Mac pulled over to the side of the road, prepared to wait while she vented her grief. By the time he’d turned to her she was out of the car.
Swearing, he threw open his door. ‘Lindsay, wait.’ His words were swallowed by the roar of the rain. He leaned out further and called again but she just kept walking.
Up ahead, a dark shape loomed on the side of the road. Lindsay’s car. Mac slid back behind the wheel, closed his door and eased the Prado along behind her. When she reached the Corolla he shut off his engine and sat watching her through the rain-streaked glass.
Hurrying around to the driver’s door, she slipped but managed to catch herself before falling in the mud. There she stood, fumbling in her bag as the rain pelted down, flattening her clothes and hair to her body.
He shivered just watching her but forced himself to stay where he was. She wouldn’t leave yet—the doll’s house was still in the back of his car.
Her search for the keys was taking ages, her gestures growing more and more frantic. Finally she stopped, bent down and looked through the driver’s window. Then she pulled back, slung her bag down on the roof and kicked the door.
‘Looks like someone locked their keys in their car.’ He pulled up his collar and climbed out into the pouring rain.
***
Back in the front seat of Macklyn’s car, Lindsay sat with her arms clamped around her quaking body. Water slithered through her hair and ran down her face but when she reached up to wipe it away she couldn’t feel her hand touch her cheek. Was it her hands or her face that was numb? She decided it was both. If only the cold could seep inside her and numb her heart.
They’d been driving for some fifteen minutes now, in total silence. She’d been so focused on clearing her mind, she hadn’t yet asked him where they were going.
Dimly she registered that the car was slowing and peered into the gloom beyond its headlights. The rain had brought on an early twilight but she could make out they were pulling up under a carport. What the hell? ‘Where are we?’
‘My place.’
‘You mean your h
ome?’
Mac killed the engine and pocketed the keys. ‘The RAA said they’d be at least a couple of hours. I assumed you didn’t want to sit in the freezing cold until they got there.’
‘Did you ever think to ask me?’
‘You weren’t particularly chatty at the time.’
She pursed her lips.
‘I could take you back to your folks if you want.’
She narrowed her eyes at him. He hadn’t said it in a goading tone, just low and even. A gentle reminder of her limited options. Still, gentle or not … ‘I’m not going inside.’
‘Didn’t you hear me? I said they’d be a couple of hours. At least.’
Turning away, she sat up ramrod straight in the seat.
‘Look you’re soaking wet. You’ll freeze out here. At least come in and dry your clothes, have a hot drink.’
She stared straight ahead.
***
‘I don’t believe this.’ Mac dragged a frozen hand down his face. His own clothes were wet, his shoes were muddy and he’d lost all feeling in his extremities. ‘You know this wasn’t exactly my first choice of what to do either. I don’t make a habit of bringing—’ He cut himself off.
‘Bringing what? Murder suspects into your home? If you recall, I didn’t ask for your help today. You wouldn’t have been faced with any of this if you hadn’t been stalking me.’
He waited a beat, unclenching his jaw. ‘I know you’re upset so I’m going to cut you a bit of slack on how bloody pig-headed you’re being. If you’ll just come inside—’
‘I’ll be fine right here.’ She folded her arms across her chest.
Mac squeezed the door handle in his fist. Despite her posture and caustic tone, he could see she was struggling. ‘You want to talk about what happened with your family? Believe it or not I am a good listener.’
‘Of course you are. It’s your job to get information out of people.’
He blew out a sigh. ‘You know, if you could forget, for just one instant, that I’m a cop …’
She turned to look at him. ‘I’d say the question is, can you forget it?’
Something tightened inside his chest. Even with mascara streaking her face and hair plastered against her head, she still stole his breath. The thought of bringing some colour to her lips shot through his mind. ‘The truth is,’ he whispered, ‘since I met you I’ve had the devil’s own time remembering I am one.’