The Good Daughter

by Brown, Honey

  ‘Don’t call me a dickhead.’

  ‘If she is alive …’ Nigel grips the steering wheel in frustration, ‘I’ll be more pissed off than if she’s dead. How hard is it to pick up the phone?’

  ‘Did you burn it?’

  ‘Teddy can think himself bloody lucky —’

  ‘You didn’t torch it?’

  Nigel shakes his head. ‘Couldn’t light the match.’

  Aden leans across and puts his hand on Nigel’s shoulder. Rebecca can smell alcohol strong on his breath. He rubs Nigel’s neck. ‘Good boy.’

  Nigel shrugs him off. ‘I need to think about this.’

  ‘She probably went to ground because Ben got to her.’

  ‘Teddy has deliberately let us think she’s dead? And your mum knew?’

  Aden dips his chin, his gaze glowing. ‘You really did shit yourself.’

  ‘Did you know?’

  ‘Girls never ring you, mate.’

  ‘I’ve taken down the shed, ripped up all the piping. All that work putting in the lines, it’s all gone now.’

  ‘Having you as her contact was always a bad idea.’

  Nigel brakes the vehicle. ‘Did you know?’

  ‘No,’ Aden says, smiling, ‘I didn’t know. I promise. They’ve done us both over. They wanted us to sweat.’

  ‘What if I’d burnt the crop?’

  ‘I’d be angry.’

  ‘I am angry. You don’t know how close I came to burning it. Do you know for sure that she’s alive?’

  ‘It was kinda funny how you panicked. The big criminal element of Kiona, and the first sign of trouble and you shit yourself.’

  ‘We can’t all play cricket and get on the piss.’

  ‘Can you imagine how stupid you would have looked? Burnt it all cause a cop told you to.’

  Nigel sits, idling the car, staring at Aden.

  ‘What!’ Aden says, slumping back into the corner. ‘You shit yourself.’

  ‘Tell me one thing you’ve done other than screw, smoke dope and make a mess of it. It’s all you ever do. You’ll take everything that comes your way, though …’

  Aden lifts his hands and links them together around the back of his head. ‘I thought you said you had Teddy wrapped around your little finger?’

  Nigel’s face is deadpan.

  ‘If a sergeant tells you to clean up your act and burn all illegal substances, aren’t you a little bit suspicious they might be … doing their job?’

  Nigel says, ‘I want to hit you so much right now.’

  Aden laughs. ‘You’re the most law-abiding drug dealer I know.’

  Nigel reaches across in front of Rebecca and grabs Aden by the shirt. He hauls him forward. Rebecca is crushed against the seat as the car lurches suddenly. She brings her knees up to protect herself. Nigel’s forearm knocks her temple. The blow throws her head back. Nigel lets Aden go.

  Aden flops into his corner. ‘Big man!’

  ‘You’re not worth it.’

  Aden pulls Rebecca onto his lap. She twists out of his hold. Her eyes are smarting.

  ‘You all right, baby?’

  ‘Don’t.’

  ‘What’s the date?’ Nigel says. ‘It’d be a week or so, wouldn’t it? Aren’t you done with Rebecca yet?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Aden says.

  Rebecca looks at him.

  ‘She’s a bit young, this one, Aden.’

  ‘Hey, you know … I hadn’t noticed!’

  ‘I’m pleased you get like this,’ Nigel says, turning to the steering wheel. ‘It reminds me you’re not worth shit.’

  ‘Love you too, mate.’

  Rebecca touches her forehead and rubs her fingers over the bump already forming.

  They accelerate off down the road.

  The dogs are gone. Rebecca knows before they pull up at the gate. The headlights swing in and shine up the driveway, illuminating their empty enclosure. Nigel cuts the engine. A thin strip of daylight lingers on the horizon. The first few stars are out. The security light over at the truck shed comes on and floods the yard with brightness.

  The side gate is open. Down beside the hakeas the side gate is open, and the top of the Kincaid farm ute is visible.

  They get out and walk together up the driveway. A night chill is in the air. A shiver of apprehension goes down Rebecca’s spine.

  The front door is open. Ben Kincaid is sitting on the couch. He gets up as they enter. If he had planned on being confrontational, aggressive, the thought leaves him in that moment. He folds his arms across his chest and looks away. There are burrs on his socks, a piece of blackberry cane stuck to his jumper. He is bruised like Nigel. They are a matching pair, two halves of a fight.

  ‘I’m here to tell Rebecca her dogs have been shot,’ he says. ‘They’re in the back of my ute.’ He runs a hand through his hair. It’s possible he’s drunk, or he’s so fatigued it’s affecting his speech and his stance. Rebecca looks down at her feet. No-one speaks. There’s the night air through the doorway, the sporadic buzz of a blowfly dying somewhere and a leaky tap dripping in the laundry.

  It gets too much for Aden and he moves forward. He has the rolling gait of someone overly confident. He leans heavily into one hip. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing here? You can’t come in here like this.’

  ‘It’s my property.’

  ‘Everything’s your property, isn’t it? Did you kill her dogs because they were your property too?’

  ‘They were out of the yard, chasing sheep.’

  ‘Were you hoping if you sat here long enough she’d come home alone and you could sort her out?’

  ‘I’m looking for Zach.’

  ‘Have you lost him too?’

  Mr Kincaid lifts his gaze.

  Aden says, ‘You’ve got balls, coming here like this.’

  Mr Kincaid shifts his focus to Rebecca. He moves like someone submerged in water, and has the flatline gaze Rebecca remembers from some of the patients in the cancer ward – wiped out inside.

  ‘Your dogs were chasing stock,’ he says. ‘There’s really nothing else to do in that situation. I’ll bury them in the bush for you. I’ve already spoken to your father.’ He looks towards the phone. ‘He rang.’

  ‘You spoke to my dad?’

  ‘So you answer her phone now as well?’

  ‘Is there somewhere Zach goes?’ Mr Kincaid asks her. ‘I thought he might turn up here?’

  Nigel has hung back, kept out of it, but now he says, ‘Zach shot the dogs, didn’t he? What did you tell him that pissed him off?’

  A muscle twitches in Mr Kincaid’s cheek. He doesn’t hold Rebecca’s gaze, but looks right through her. If you held up your hands and blocked out the rest of his face, isolated his eyes only, you wouldn’t be able to tell him and Aden apart.

  Rebecca shakes her head. ‘I don’t know where he’d be.’

  Aden says quietly, addressing Nigel, the two of them beginning to play off one another, ‘Maybe when there’s no women home, he starts on the animals?’

  ‘He might.’

  ‘That’s low,’ Aden says.

  ‘Real low.’

  They’re standing a few steps within the door, a place Rebecca’s father has always found handy to store things for the truck. There are cardboard boxes stacked up, toolboxes in a line against the skirting board, air filters wrapped in plastic, an oxyacetylene bottle strapped to a trolley and, balanced on the top of the trolley, an open ratchet set. Nigel reaches over and takes a foot-long steel extension out of the box. He swings it back and forth like a pendulum by the side of his leg. He pulls a cheerful, innocent smile. He passes the metal bar to Aden.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Mr Kincaid says.

  Aden takes the bar. He sways it to test its weight. Rebecca stares at him.

  ‘Or maybe it’s a neighbourly thing he’s doing?’ Aden says. ‘We should go out and help him bury the dogs. That would be a neighbourly thing to do, right?’

  ‘And you could get a look around
,’ Nigel says. ‘See the Kincaid property. Wait till you’ve seen the family plot.’

  ‘Any unmarked graves up there?’

  ‘Could well be now.’

  Colour is returning in patches to Mr Kincaid’s face.

  ‘Yeah, well, I guess I’m not gunna be invited back in the daytime,’ Aden says. ‘Bastard kids only get the night-time tour, I reckon.’ Aden turns to his father. ‘Is that right? Bastard kids only get the night-time tour?’ He holds the steel bar in both hands. He tosses it, and catches it.

  ‘Put that down, you fool.’

  ‘Me? Foolish? You’re the one trespassing. Renters have rights. I looked it up.’

  ‘What do you reckon you’re going to do with that?’

  ‘I dunno … Maybe you could give me some tips?’

  ‘You’ve always been a stupid kid.’

  ‘I don’t think so … I’ve not hurt anyone, I’ve got no skeletons in my closet, and I’m not gunna spend my life paying people off. I actually think I’m not gunna have to do much at all, just wait for you to keep digging yourself in the shit, and passing out dirty cheques.’

  ‘Let me tell you this,’ Mr Kincaid says, and steps forward, ‘I’ll drown in shit before I’ll give you one more cent.’

  ‘I could arrange that.’

  ‘Are you threatening me?’

  ‘Ah, yeah.’

  ‘Hit him,’ Nigel says.

  Aden steps forward.

  ‘Aden … ?’ Rebecca says, feeling her throat constrict. ‘Don’t.’

  There’s the sound of a car pulling in at the gate. Rebecca sees through the open door the reflective strips of a police car.

  Nigel says, ‘Who called them?’

  Aden puts the steel bar down, and, without warning, Mr Kincaid lunges at him. They stumble back and land heavily against the wall. Aden is winded, but manages to shove his father off him.

  He finds his balance and punches Mr Kincaid in the face. Mr Kincaid staggers. Aden walks back with him. He punches his father again, cleanly this time, and Mr Kincaid falls. Aden suddenly looks to be the true fighter among the three men. In those seconds, watching him, Rebecca questions all she knows about him. It’s as though she’s only ever seen him on his best behaviour. This Aden is a stranger to her. The two men walk into the middle of the lounge room. Mr Kincaid leans forward in early defeat. He wipes his bleeding nose as a way to wave the white flag, but Aden backs up and kicks his father square in the chest. Mr Kincaid is propelled backwards. He lands heavily against the window. It cracks with his weight but doesn’t shatter. Headlights swing across the front of the house and shine through the window. Mr Kincaid regains his balance and rushes Aden, but Aden simply braces, pulls back his fist, and punches his father in the face. Mr Kincaid stops as though he’s hit a brick wall. He topples backwards. The window takes another hit. This time the glass smashes and falls in large shards onto the floor. It splinters. Mr Kincaid slides down the wall. The glass grinds beneath his shoes. Car doors slam. The curtains are ripped from the rods as Mr Kincaid tries to stand. Aden takes a handful of his father’s hair and reefs his head back. ‘You think you’re something?’ he hisses in his face. ‘Wanna see what I can do?’

  ‘There is quite a family resemblance, isn’t there?’ Nigel says.

  Aden and his father begin to wrestle amid the broken glass. Magazines go sliding and a framed picture of a Kenworth Bulldog is knocked from the wall. The two men get up, only to crash back together into the bookcase.

  Teddy and Luke Redman walk in the door. They’re both in uniform, and have that cop attitude about them, like it would take a bomb in their lap to get them excited.

  ‘Okay,’ Teddy says, ‘that will do.’

  ‘Yeah, better pull it up when they start breaking furniture,’ Nigel says. He gives Teddy a broad smile. He squeezes one eye shut in an exaggerated wink. ‘All taken care of, by the way, sergeant. Nothing for you to worry about any more. All up in smoke.’

  ‘What’s going on here?’ Teddy asks him.

  ‘Not much,’ Nigel says. ‘Usual evening activities in Kiona.’

  Mr Kincaid gets unsteadily to his feet, but Aden grabs him around the waist and they stagger and sprawl in front of the two policemen. Teddy and Luke lift their feet as though at the beach, avoiding getting wet in the waves.

  The phone starts ringing, but it’s only a background distraction.

  Teddy steps over Mr Kincaid and puts himself between the two fighting men. Aden gets up, walks around Teddy, and kicks his father in the torso. Mr Kincaid crawls away on hands and knees. Aden kicks him again.

  ‘Aden!’ Teddy says.

  Mr Kincaid pulls himself up with the help of the kitchen table and makes his way towards the back door. He’s bent double, blood streaming down his face. Aden follows.

  ‘Aden, leave him!’

  ‘Why?’ Aden swings around and says, ‘Because you got what you wanted? Who says I’m finished?’

  ‘It’s done,’ Teddy says.

  ‘It’s not!’

  At the back step, Aden kicks his father again, and Mr Kincaid falls forward. He tumbles down the steps and out into the yard. Aden disappears into the darkness.

  At last Teddy moves with purpose. He motions for Luke to go out the front door and around the house.

  Rebecca runs to the kitchen window. Light from the open back door spills outside. It illuminates the spot where the dog died, and where Aden is kneeling with his father pinned under him, straddling his chest.

  ‘You think people don’t know what you are!’ he is shouting down at him. He grabs his father by the jumper and twists it up under his neck. ‘What makes you think you’re better than everyone else? Did you think I’d never grow up?’

  Mr Kincaid writhes under Aden. Teddy steps down into the yard. Mr Kincaid twists his body to be free. Aden has edged his hand up under his throat. Teddy takes Aden by the shoulders.

  ‘Aden, it’s over,’ he says. ‘She’s okay.’

  Aden squeezes harder. Mr Kincaid’s eyes bulge. He claws at Aden’s hand. Aden’s arm trembles with the effort of single-handed strangulation. Teddy pulls Aden off.

  Aden shoves him away. ‘Don’t tell me when it’s over!’

  37

  Two birds with one stone. Zach has them in his sights. He has the shot. The breeze blows in his face; it carries their voices to him. He is down where he should be – flattened out on his stomach, tasting rather than smelling the dirt, the dry grass. Rocks and hard bits of clay bite into him. The trees off in the distance shimmer black. The stars are bright. It’s shameful, though … because Zach can’t do it. He can’t take the shot.

  Here he is, trembling, covered in cold sweat, tears blurring his vision, panic washing over him. He rolls onto his back and lays the rifle down beside him. He puts his hands over his face and begins to cry. His breath is hot and damp between his fingers.

  He is his mother, sobbing in the bedroom, crying in the kitchen – he is as crazy. He feels her there with him, lying next to him, speaking in a soft voice, promising not to do anything quite so foolish next time … Nothing so crazy as to stage her own murder.

  A plover cries off in the distance. A sheep is bleating somewhere. A sheep is always bleating. The shouts from the yard have increased. Zach turns and looks. The men are dark, lurching shapes in the backyard, thick black figures that fall down and get up again. Aden is now fighting the copper. Rebecca is a slim outline in the doorway. Zach likes her better up close, with form and shape, colour and texture. Zach lifts the rifle to see her.

  A voice cuts through Zach’s dazed state. The voice is spoken in the dark, too close for Zach to properly grasp.

  ‘Put the weapon down,’ it says.

  Zach’s heart skips a beat. He freezes.

  ‘Put the weapon down!’ the voice screams.

  The fighting in the yard stops. The men turn and look.

  ‘Put it down! Put it down! Dad!’ the voice shouts towards the house, ‘Get down! Get down! There’s someone up
here with a gun!’

  The voice is Luke Redman’s. Zach can’t move a muscle. He can’t look. The backyard empties of men. They run for cover. It won’t get any more critical than this. Zach can’t help but feel the day has reached its logical conclusion.

  ‘Put the weapon down,’ Luke says, this time with some distance and control.

  If Zach thinks about it … yes – there’s six of them – including Zach; six males at Rebecca’s place, six dogs at her house. And which of them are the German shepherds? Which one is the boxer? And which one is the mongrel cross? Zach must be the pointer, back from the grave: a ghost. It’s retribution. In one way or another all these men have laid their boots into him. Squeezed his throat. Made it hard for him to breathe. The thing that bursts with sweet clarity at a time when he should be concentrating on other things is the irony of it. Rebecca’s not a member of this savage little pack; she’s so human. How could he have teased her for being the very thing she’s not? It’s Zach who has in him the ability to be cruel – this dog-like aggression, pack-like mentality. He can’t even guarantee he’ll be reformed when he gets back with his mates. When he’s in a group he reverts to animal behaviour. Zach struggles with the concept. He struggles with the moment.

  Luke has his weapon aimed at Zach’s body – Zach can see his silhouette out of the corner of his eye. Luke stands with his legs parted, both hands on his gun. The light from the house and yard gives one side of him more definition than the other. Half of him disintegrates into the darkness. Teddy’s figure appears by the side gate.

  If Zach knew change came with age – if he could look to his father as a source of hope, if he knew that it wouldn’t always be this confusing, this hard, this mired in the shit. But his father only confirms things never change.

  ‘Put the weapon down,’ Luke says, louder this time.

  Zach wishes Luke wouldn’t ask again … He’s making things so much worse. Each time he asks he takes things deeper, making it harder to climb out. They needn’t be so afraid. Zach has no true bad intentions. He hadn’t planned to kill.

  How will Zach face his mates after this? How will he fit in? He needn’t worry about getting back with his friends and reverting to schoolyard behaviour– there will be no mates to go to. His dad will probably go to jail. The lineage will be complete – like father, like son, like grandson. And vice versa.