Who We Were

by B M Carroll

  No, no, no. The assault on Jarrod could have been the result of a business dispute. Nothing has been proved. But, oh God, what a terrible thing to happen. Annabel and the children ... Katy can imagine their horror and shock. The father of one of her students died suddenly last year. The family was devastated, still are. The effect on the whole school community was profound.

  ‘There you are!’ It’s Nina. She must be on supervising duty. Her eyes narrow in scrutiny. ‘Is something wrong?’

  Katy tries to tell her. About Jarrod. About Robbie, Mike and the detective. About her sneaking suspicion that she’s somehow responsible for this awful, awful tragedy. Everything comes out in a wail that causes students to pause and stare.

  ‘I think you need to go home,’ Nina says, taking her firmly by the arm. ‘You’ve had a bad shock. Come on, let’s get a substitute sorted.’

  It’s worse at home, not better. There’s more time to think. More time to blame herself. More time to feel scared. Mike has called twice since her chat with the detective. He seems to be extraordinarily persistent. Has the detective checked him out? Was he married to Brigette? What about his son, Toby, whom she met so briefly? Is he Brigette’s child, or the child of some other woman? Is Mike genuine or fake?

  How could you be so stupid, Katy? So trusting of someone who contacted you through Facebook?

  But what about Robbie? What’s his part in all this? Has he been motivated by unrequited love, as the detective suggested, or something altogether more sinister?

  He followed you, Katy. Stood outside your home.

  Now she has gone from scared to petrified. She jumps up, runs to the window, and frantically scans the street outside. The only person out there is a woman with a pram. Would Robbie stand in full view of her window? Wouldn’t he be more discreet? She yanks up the lower section of the window and sticks her head out, scouring potential screening offered by trees or bushes. No one there. At least not that she can see.

  She slams the window shut and her thoughts jerk around before randomly settling on David Hooper, one of the few students she couldn’t track down. Why has he come into her head so suddenly? Is her subconscious trying to tell her something? Did David have some personal issues that she can’t remember? Were his school years unhappy? Did they leave behind a residue of bitterness and a desire for revenge? All Katy can recall is that he was very good at French and used to spend lunchtimes in the library.

  She’s on her way to the bedroom, to look up David in the yearbook, when there’s a loud knock on the door, rattling her nerves even further. Who would be calling this time of day, when she’s not even meant to be home? How did they get through the security door downstairs? She tiptoes to the door and peers through the peekhole to see a magnified image of Jim’s weather-beaten face.

  ‘Just me,’ he says as she opens the door. ‘Noticed you were home early. Just popping down to the shops and wondered if you wanted anything?’

  Katy knows she is losing her grip then because she experiences a dart of pure, electrifying fear. Jim, her next-door neighbour. The man who knows her exact movements, day in and out. The man who has a spare key to her apartment, who could have easily used her laptop and accessed all sorts of information. It makes no sense why he would send terrifying notes to people he hasn’t met, but that logic does absolutely nothing to curb her terror.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she yelps and closes the door in his face.

  She doesn’t know how to stop the fear now it has taken hold. Jim, Mike, Robbie, David Hooper: their faces rotate in her head, their expressions increasingly menacing. She hates feeling like this. The fear is a mockery of her coveted independence, of what she preaches to her students about being brave and taking on the world.

  It’s 5 p.m. The evening stretches out in front of her, full of unspecified terror. What if Mike phones again? Or Jim knocks on the door for the second time? Robbie could be on his way here to take up watch. She can’t be alone tonight. She picks up her phone.

  ‘Hey, Luke, it’s me ...’

  Luke comes with a bottle of wine in each hand and Aaron carries a plastic bag filled with take-away containers. Katy has never been so happy to see them.

  They sit at the kitchen table, devouring the food, slugging the wine, talking about Jarrod. How deeply shocked they are, even though it’s been twenty-odd years since he’s been part of their lives. Jarrod was the first to get his driver’s licence, driving his father’s Toyota Camry to school every day, skidding into the unsealed car park in a billow of dust. One afternoon, Luke decided to sit on the bonnet as Jarrod reversed out of his space, and they were spotted by Mr Rowland, the principal.

  ‘We got detention and had to write an eight-hundred-word essay on road safety. Jarrod was furious because he missed rugby training.’

  Both of Luke’s bottles are empty. The alcohol has done its job. Katy feels fuzzy, affectionate, quite sheepish.

  ‘I’m so glad you’re both here,’ she blurts out, cutting Luke off mid-sentence. ‘I was so scared. Seems so silly now.’

  Luke’s face is flushed; his glass has been refilled more often than hers. The truth is, he drinks too much. Another truth is that he can be incredibly selfish at times. Luke is far from perfect and yet she still loves him and has never felt the urge to catalogue his faults the way she does with other men. Why is that?

  ‘I love you,’ she says, then turns to Aaron. ‘You too, buddy.’

  Luke and Aaron share an indecipherable look.

  ‘Tell her,’ Aaron says quietly.

  ‘Tell me what?’ she demands, looking from one to the other.

  Luke takes her hand in his. ‘Aaron and I have talked about it ...’

  ‘Talked about what? Are you getting married?’

  He laughs and throws another enigmatic glance at Aaron. ‘No, not that. But I’ll do it ... I’ll have a baby with you.’

  51

  MELISSA

  Melissa bawls her eyes out when she reads the email from Grace. She cries in the same unabandoned way she cried when Jarrod broke up with her all those years ago. She cries for the loyal caring boy who existed beneath the confident competitive exterior. She cries for the man he became, the husband and father, and for Annabel and the children. She cries until her nose begins to run and her stomach feels hollow.

  She becomes aware of her assistant hovering by the door to her office, unsure what to say or do in the face of such an outpouring of raw emotion.

  ‘Sorry.’ Melissa blows her nose loudly. ‘I’ve had some bad news.’

  ‘Is it Henry or the kids?’ Samantha asks worriedly.

  ‘No, no ... Just a boy I went to school with.’

  That makes him sound like nothing, a nobody. Jarrod was her first love and she fell hard and fast. Impulsive, adventurous, physical: he was so very different from her. He opened up her narrow existence, made her realise there was more to life than exams and academic achievement. She likes to think that she also opened up new possibilities to him, stoked his ambitions for the future, caused him to aim a little higher. For many years she compared her subsequent boyfriends to Jarrod; they always fell woefully short. Until Henry, who’s so starkly different it actually works.

  Melissa finds she is unable to refocus her attention on work. She is too deeply shaken to deal with either clients or staff.

  ‘I’m going home,’ she informs Samantha. ‘My head’s all over the place ... I’m no use here.’

  The next morning, after a few additional bouts of crying, followed by a surprisingly good night’s sleep, Melissa’s head is a lot clearer. She feels strong enough to go into the office today. But first she must follow up on something. A question that’s been nagging at the back of her mind the past few days.

  She phones Zach because he seems to be on the same page as her.

  ‘Morning, Zach. It’s Melissa Andrews ... What are you doing right now?’

  His response is wary. ‘Getting ready for work. Why?’

  ‘Can you spare a half-hour?’ />
  ‘That depends ... What are you up to, Melissa?’ Undisguised suspicion now.

  ‘I want to go to Robbie’s house. I want to talk to his sister.’

  ‘Celia?’ His tone sharpens. ‘Look, she wasn’t exactly thrilled with Katy and me the last time we went there ... She asked us in no uncertain terms to leave Robbie alone.’

  ‘No problem then,’ she states. ‘I want to talk to her, not Robbie. Can you give me the address?’

  A pause punctuated by a sigh from Zach. ‘Didn’t the detective ask that we call her directly if we have any concerns? Why are you taking this on yourself, Melissa?’

  Good question. Her only answer is that she feels compelled. Jarrod is dead, and someone out there is guilty of manslaughter or even murder. Is that not a call to action?

  ‘This isn’t a concern, as yet,’ she placates. ‘Just following my instincts. If anything eventuates, I’ll call the detective immediately ... promise.’

  ‘Melissa, I—’

  ‘Oh, whatever! I’ll go on my own.’

  ‘No, no Zach sighs again, more heavily. ‘I’ll come, okay? Even though it’s against my better judgement.’

  ‘Great, thank you ... The address?’

  She types it into her phone as he calls it out. She knows the street. That should make things faster.

  ‘I’ll meet you outside,’ she says, grabbing her car keys. ‘Hopefully, we can catch her before she leaves for work.’

  52

  ZACH

  Zach gets there before Melissa. His house is considerably closer, just a few suburbs away, whereas Melissa needs to cross the bridge. He parks a few houses down and turns off the engine. Why has he allowed her to talk him into this? Why is it imperative that it happens now, at 8.30 in the morning? He is due at the surgery in forty minutes. It seems inevitable that he’s going to be late.

  No doubt Melissa is reacting to the same emotions he had when he heard the news about Jarrod. His medical knowledge didn’t ease either the shock or the sadness. Poor Annabel. He should call to the house, see how she’s holding up and check on Daniel, too. Izzy managed to have a chat with Daniel before he was discharged from the hospital. A long honest conversation while Zach waited outside in the corridor. At certain points he could hear his wife’s soft laughter as well as sniggering from the teen, although he couldn’t imagine what was funny about the situation.

  Izzy came out about a half-hour later.

  ‘How was it?’ Zach wanted to be able to give Annabel a full account and some degree of hope.

  ‘You know teenagers ... they simply can’t imagine what it’s like in their parents’ shoes, can’t understand what all the fuss and worry are about. So I focused on his friend, Liam, and the upset he caused him. It was easier for him to understand that ... I also asked Daniel to pop in to see me every now and then at the centre. The good news is he didn’t say no.’

  This is the miracle of Izzy. Teenagers rarely say no to her. They may be obstinate, belligerent and defiant with their parents, but become oddly malleable around his wife.

  Zach kissed her on the lips. ‘You are extraordinary.’

  Now everything has turned on its head. Daniel is without a father. The grief could drive him in one direction or the other. Izzy’s magic might not be enough to save him.

  Melissa is here, her blue Mercedes coupé hard to miss as it turns into the street. She gets out of the car and smooths down her skirt. Zach jumps out to join her.

  ‘Can you explain again what we’re doing here?’

  She nods. ‘Like you, I keep coming back to Robbie. He’s the only one who had a legitimate reason to hate us all.’

  ‘Robbie has an alibi for the afternoon Jarrod was assaulted,’ Zach supplies. He heard this from Katy, who called him after the detective came to the school. Nobody has complied with the directive not to talk about the case. Zach’s guilty too: he has told Izzy every last detail.

  Melissa purses her lips. ‘Robbie may have an alibi ... But let’s see if his sister does.’

  Zach forgot about Melissa’s intellect, her ability to see things from an entirely different angle. Of course, Celia would feel aggrieved about what happened to Robbie. She watched her brother go through hell at school, and then had to cope with him disappearing from her life, not knowing where he was, if he was safe or even alive. Celia would hate them as much as Robbie does.

  Great theory. Surely deserving of at least a phone call to the person in charge of the investigation?

  ‘Shouldn’t you be relaying your suspicions to the detective?’ he asks once again.

  She tucks a strand of jet-black hair behind her ear. ‘I will ... once I’ve convinced myself there’s something worth relaying.’

  As though by mutual agreement, they turn to walk towards the front door. Melissa lifts the knocker and clangs it down twice. The door swings open remarkably fast. Celia is right in front of them, bag and car keys in hand, obviously on the verge of leaving for work.

  She stares at Zach. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, I thought I asked you to leave him alone? Anyway, he’s not here, he’s walking my son and daughter to school—’

  Melissa quickly introduces herself. ‘Actually, we were hoping to chat to you.’

  ‘Me?’ Celia holds up her keys and jangles them. ‘I’m in a rush, okay? This is not a good time. Actually, no time is a good time, I don’t want to talk to any of you.’

  ‘We’re sorry,’ Melissa cuts in. ‘We’re sorry about how Robbie was treated. We’re sorry that our actions drove him away from his family, from you ...’

  Celia is visibly unimpressed with the apology. She steps out of the house and forcefully shuts the door.

  ‘Are your parents still alive?’ Melissa falls into step next to her as she walks towards her car, a hatchback that looks like it’ll have trouble passing its next roadworthiness check.

  Celia’s profile is set in a frown. ‘My parents are frail and elderly. Please don’t go bothering them.’

  ‘Was it just you and Robbie growing up?’ Melissa is persistent, Zach has to give her that.

  ‘And Nick. He lives in Melbourne with his wife and children.’

  ‘I’m often in Melbourne with work. Which suburb?’

  Celia frowns again. Zach can tell she’s conflicted. She doesn’t want to continue the conversation but finds it difficult not to answer such a simple question. ‘Bentleigh.’

  ‘Do you see him often?’

  ‘Every few months.’

  Celia unlocks her car door, goes to get inside and then changes her mind. Her expression changes, becomes beseeching. ‘Please ... I’m begging you, please leave my brother alone. He’s feeling hounded, and when he gets like this he runs away ... If you’re really genuinely sorry, you would do the decent thing and leave him be.’

  She slips into the car, clicks on her seatbelt, and looks over her shoulder as she reverses out of the driveway. Where does she work? Going by her clothes – department-store trousers and blouse – probably an office. Going by the battered state of her car and the slightly rundown air of the house, it’s not a particularly well-paid job. Would a woman like this – with two young children, a full-time job and struggling to make ends meet – have the time and energy to orchestrate revenge on behalf of her brother? Zach recognises her demeanour from patients he sees at his surgery. People who hobble from day to day, doing the best they can in difficult circumstances. People who take each day as it comes, who rarely have the luxury of looking too far forward or too far back.

  ‘Still think it’s her?’ he asks quietly.

  Melissa shakes her head, obviously coming to the same conclusion. ‘No ... But I’d like to find out more about the parents and the brother.’

  53

  The house is full. Half the people are strangers. Friends and acquaintances of Jarrod’s parents. Tradesmen of all descriptions – plumbers, builders, tilers, carpenters – who look ill at ease in shirt and tie. Daniel’s gang from school. Jemma’s crowd from university. At first An
nabel was appalled by the idea of holding a wake and having her grief, as well as her home, invaded. Bernard, Jarrod’s father, talked her round.

  ‘It’s a chance to make sense of something that makes no sense, love. It will bring you great comfort. Being in the midst of people rather than being on your own. Realising what Jarrod meant to them. Hearing their stories and memories. Seeing them laugh and cry.’

  Bernard convinced her and now she is glad that he did. Food and drink had to be organised. The house prepared and cleaned. Jemma, Daniel and Mia pitched in to help and Bernard was right: the process has given them something to focus on, a degree of comfort as well as a reluctant acceptance that this is really happening. Jarrod is dead. His body has been buried in the local cemetery. Everyone is here to pay their respects.

  ‘Mia and I are going to make a few more sandwiches.’

  Jemma’s wearing a black dress that belongs to Annabel. The black is harsh on her fair colouring, making her look washed out. Mia has cried so much the skin under her eyes has become flaky and red. Her innocence has been shattered. Her childish belief that mummies and daddies are invincible and will live for ever. Poor, poor Mia.

  Jemma and Mia head towards the kitchen. Annabel looks around to determine Daniel’s whereabouts. There he is, clearing away empty glasses with Tom, who has been a constant fixture over the last couple of days. Tom has taken Daniel out in his ute to buy supplies for the wake. They’ve moved furniture around, borrowed extra chairs from neighbours. It’s obvious that Tom is watching out for Daniel. He is a good man. Grace chose well when she married him.