by Kylie Kaden
Will seemed to notice her elation. ‘You don’t look sorry.’
‘Sorry. I mean, I guess I was just surprised you shared that with me. We don’t know each other well.’
‘We don’t.’ Will squinted, as if it made her easier to see. ‘That’s why I was surprised you volunteered to come get the food with me. On your own. In the rain.’
‘Oh, I was just sick of those two bickering. What’s with them tonight? Lovers’ quarrel?’ She laughed.
Will shrugged. ‘All the more reason I wasn’t sure you’d be comfortable leaving them alone.’
Hannah blushed. Will’s honesty was refreshing, but she wasn’t ready to play yet – didn’t feel like she knew the rules. ‘They’re grown-ups. Why wouldn’t I want to leave them alone?’
Will’s mouth eyes softened. He leant in like an expert counsellor, mirroring her posture. Hannah could almost taste his aftershave and something stirred inside as he said, ‘I think we both know why.’
Hannah stretched her back out, hoping like hell their order number would be called so she could escape. But there was no order called, only Will, leaning casually on a plastic chair, drilling for oil inside her head.
He kept going. ‘I just sensed that part of the unease between you and Abbi related to Blake.’
She felt her neck blotching, ugly and red. ‘I’ve known them longer than you, Will. I know what I’m getting into.’ Who was he kidding? She was the original third wheel. But she had always thought she’d imagined the inappropriateness of Blake and Abbi’s relationship. That her suspicions were grounded in her own insecurities, nothing factual. Nothing others could detect.
‘I know, and I’m not suggesting anything more sinister. I’m just glad you’re secure enough to cope with their relationship complexities.’
Hannah fanned her face, rubbed her temple with her fingers. She tasted delight in their common ground, but it quickly mixed with fear. Will sharing her concern somehow gave it leverage, made denial impossible. The sudden urge to vent overwhelmed her.
‘Are you okay with it? I mean, you let him live with you – all three of you under one roof when he was renovating. Wasn’t that unbearable?’ The floodgates were open now and she might never stop. Hannah tried not to show her outrage but could feel her face squish like she’d sucked a sour worm. ‘I mean, their fierce loyalty, their stupid private jokes, the way he flicks her hair.’ She flicked her own, as if to prove a point. ‘Their little tiffs. How do you stand it?’
‘I trust her.’ So sure. So undeniable.
Hannah raised her eyebrows. The cynic inside rose to the surface. ‘Trust? That’s all you’ve got for me?’
Will shrugged. ‘That’s all you need.’
* * *
Cicadas hummed a scratchy chorus as the dregs of dreary daylight succumbed to the stormy night. Hannah and Will exchanged cursory glances when they returned to Will’s house with three bags of oily Chinese to hear the tell-tale sounds of silliness down on the lawn; Abbi had her Canon SLR slung around her neck and was making crazy faces to catch Eadie in a smile. Hannah always thought Abbi laughed too much for a grown-up – it was like no one had told her you’re supposed to grow out of that. But earlier she’d been prickly – melancholy even, and Hannah wasn’t sure which of tonight’s moods was the more real.
More unbridled laughter billowed up from the yard as she unpacked the rice, dim sims and stir-fries. It was strange. As a teacher, Hannah often felt like she was implicit in a process designed to quash this sort of exuberance out of kids so they could be better managed – like the world, with all its rules and responsibilities, slowly but surely drained children of the very magic that made them so joyous.
Eadie raced up the stairs to the deck, moseying over to her bear of a father with one finger firmly planted up her nostril. ‘Daddy, my nose hurts.’
‘Try removing Mr Finger. Then wash him and his friends, or no prawn chips.’
Eadie ran off to the bathroom.
Will called down to Abbi and Blake, ‘Kids – time for dinner.’
As soon as Eadie had come up from the yard, Hannah saw the two start whispering in a shadowy corner near the swings. She observed her friend knotting her mass of wavy hair behind her head like a sultry songstress in a video clip, the action pushing her cleavage together, round and full and sun-kissed. She felt a stab under her ribs as she watched Blake watching Abbi, her face shiny with rain, her t-shirt clinging to her curves. It was paired with a familiar, empty sensation of jealousy. She’d felt it for years but now the feeling had a name.
By saying it out loud, Will had breathed life into a ghost.
Chapter 9
29 DAYS AFTER THE MOON FESTIVAL
Despite being back three weeks, Hannah didn’t feel settled. Lago was her home, but she didn’t feel welcome in it. Everyone was civil enough, but any attempts to delve a little deeper to help her father had failed dismally and even Molly was a little flighty and distant when she asked about her life. Something was off kilter. And as for Blabby (as she had started to refer to Blake and Abbi in her wicked mind) they were completely unpredictable – one day Abbi would be her chirpy self as she picked up her daughter, but the next morning Hannah was sure she’d spied her crying in her hatchback. When Hannah started walking over to see if she was okay, Abbi literally used her hand like a blinker to cover her eyes and hurriedly drove away.
Blake, too, could be cagey one minute, warm the next, like he was compensating for an invisible something known only to him. Their rollercoaster of emotions made her think of her roommate in Brooklyn, who had a nasty but well-disguised drug habit – perhaps meth was the unexplained current sparking between the two of them?
Hannah wasn’t sure what form it took, but something stank in this town and she was keen to use her sharp nose to sniff it out.
* * *
Since their little chat, Hannah kept seeing Will’s face, and the self-assurance painted on it as he claimed to trust Abbi without hesitation. It was that same confidence, sitting across the table from her now in the dusty school library, she was drawn to. Whether it was his relationship advice or his treasurer’s report, he was so easy to believe. He exuded integrity like a cologne and made people want to follow him.
Hannah was anti-committee and wondered, not for the first time, how she managed to work in a department obsessed with them. She’d always been put off by collaboration, certain it resulted in nothing but decisions based on compromise – a diluted poor cousin of the original vision. So, she was glad when the P&C-meeting-that-should’ve-been-an-email was over.
Will stacked chairs, the fundraising committee lurking, running their ideas past him. He was like the pied piper for mothers. Hannah waited outside, unsure if she was meant to, and pretended she was checking her phone.
‘Hey.’ Will spun his keys around his finger. ‘I saw you uncharacteristically being un-opinionated in the corner.’
Hannah laughed, smoothed down her straightened-with-care auburn hair and adjusted her collar. ‘I’ve learned to be a mushroom at these things – soon as you open your mouth or have an idea, you find you’ve volunteered to manage it.’ She swallowed hard, weighing up the appropriateness of her next question. ‘Pub’s still open, if you want to grab a drink? I could probably use one, and it’s just Newman waiting for me at home. Blake’s working. Again.’
Will’s face squinted. ‘What does that involve, exactly, in Lago Point on a Tuesday night? Playing Fortnite? Can’t imagine there’s too much crime playing out.’
Hannah thought of her earlier suspicions about something feeling off in the township since she returned. ‘You can never be too sure in small towns.’
Will shrugged. ‘It’s pretty sleepy. But you know what they say—’ ‘—it’s the quiet ones you have to watch,’ Hannah added with raised eyebrows.
Will smiled, but it was unconvincing. Was he, too, aware of an undercurrent of something sinister going on?
Hannah hovered, not sure if he was going to take her up
on her offer of a drink. She hoped he would. Hannah went home back when Blake worked, and as Molly said she’d be out tonight, Hannah really didn’t want another night of small talk and ABC radio at her dad’s.
Will had changed the subject, perhaps to buy time to work out his response, so she tried to make the event seem as platonic as possible. Because it was, of course. Her nonchalance must have worked because, without arriving at a definitive decision, they wandered across the park to The Tavern. The salty breeze was sticky on her cheeks. A wire-haired dog with a bow tie pranced past with his owner. This place was so outdated that people just did what they wanted, oblivious to the fact that they were out of sync with the modern world. Perhaps she needed a little more of that attitude.
Will’s size still shocked Hannah – he was only six foot three, perhaps, but solid and strong. She never did like men whose thighs were thinner than hers. ‘Least I don’t have to worry about getting mugged walking through here with you.’
‘What, and you do with Blake? You do know he’s the town cop.’ The funny thing about Will was his self-assurance never came across as arrogance – a hard balance to master.
‘He’s had a bit of flack today, actually … Stuck over at Town Hall with some protestors. Blake and his new offsider had to manage a few builders picketing the council – they reckon they’re anti-development, killing their industry.’
Will lifted his eyebrows. ‘Lucky Penny was there to assist.’ He smiled. Constable Penny Ho was about five foot in heels but could kill you with a steely glare.
‘Remember Lakeshores Estate?’ Hannah asked.
‘The one where the builders went bust? Still have that abandoned mansion out in the bush. No one seems to remember it’s there. It’s a great hideout for blokes’ fishing trips away … I hear.’ Sheepishly, he looked away.
They reached the classic old pub, complete with wrap-around verandah, shiny pokies in the carpeted corner, and a scattering of bloated men bent over barstools. Hannah felt eyes on her and wondered if it was her conscience calling. Will this get back to Blake? Part of her hoped so, which made her feel even worse.
Will ordered drinks.
Smoothing her brow, Hannah wished she’d tried harder to find an eyebrow-threading beautician in the area. It had been a long day. Did she look a complete mess? The wine hit her empty stomach and dimmed the day’s tension. She felt small, perched on a barstool, her taut legs hanging next to his bulky frame.
‘So.’ Will looked as uncomfortable as she felt. ‘Just us. Again. Kinda weird.’
Hannah laughed. ‘The millennials call it “awks” … So I hear. “Weird” is as nineties as chambray shirts and Crowded House.’
Will huffed. ‘Now they’re words I understand.’
Hannah smiled, tucked her hair behind her ear, decided to keep things casual. ‘I know you didn’t grow up in Lago. When did you move here?’
‘Six years ago. I studied at UQ, worked at the Royal Brisbane, headed a skin cancer clinic, did a stint with the Red Cross overseas.’
‘Blake said – that must have taken some adjusting.’
‘You learn more when you don’t have the resources to test things properly, so I guess so. But to be honest, it was adjusting back that was hardest. I got used to the simple life. I should’ve been relieved to come back to electricity and hot showers, but it was tough, knowing people were dying and I’d left. Kind of puts life into perspective.’ Will wiped condensation from his glass. ‘Anyway, when we found out Abbi was pregnant, we came back. Abbi needed to be near her mum. The town needed a GP that wasn’t an alcoholic.’
‘And you needed Abbi.’ Hannah smiled.
‘Guilty.’ He sipped his beer, froth lining his lip. ‘She brought a level of chaos to my life that I got accustomed to. My life was pretty beige before her.’ The unconditional love, the tight intertwining of their lives was undeniable.
Envy flooded her, poked at the insecurity, and the throat tightening began. ‘Sounds like a bit of a backward step, career wise.’ Why does the bitch in me come out the second I’m insecure?
‘She kinda went out on a limb to be with me, so …’
‘Oh? How’s that?’ Hannah took another sip.
Will’s eyes narrowed before his gaze fell and a smile played on his mouth. ‘She never told you about that?’
Hannah shook her head.
‘Anyway, I’ll let her fill you in on that story.’ He kinked his neck, uncomfortable. ‘I’m a bit peckish. Not sure Abbi would’ve cooked anything edible. Avez-vous mangez?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Just asked have you eaten. I think. I learned a little French working in Haiti. Abbi said you studied in France?’
Hannah’s eyes fell. ‘Oh, yeah – bit rusty though.’
‘Hit me with your best.’
She brushed Will away. ‘I’m too embarrassed by how bad it would be. Blake thinks it’s romantic, always getting me to say something sexy.’
Will smiled. ‘How is living with my favourite sergeant?’
Hannah was about to give the standard response; to simply say ‘fine’ or joke about laundry missing the basket or pee missing the bowl. But she gazed up at Will’s soft eyes, his attentive stare, and honesty leaked out. ‘I hope I haven’t stuffed it up already.’
‘He seems smitten. He’s even ironing his shirts. Must be serious.’
Hannah felt her face colour. ‘The last few weeks he’s been distracted, jumpy. Always sneaking off and not coming home till hours after his shift finishes, like he’s avoiding me. Keeps telling me it’s just work, but …’
Will frowned. ‘Abbi’s been the same, actually.’
‘Really?’ Which meant what, exactly?
A look passed between them, but neither had the balls to mention it. Hannah shook off the inference. ‘It wasn’t like that when I first came back. It was like he’d been waiting all his life for me to arrive, but I’m scared … I don’t know, that I haven’t met expectation.’
‘Nah.’ Will never seemed to say two words when one would suffice.
Her mind spiralled down into a pit of memories: laughing at Blake’s first attempt to kiss her at seventeen, leaving her key to the cop-shop quarters on the bench when she’d decided she could do better than Lago Point. Better than him. ‘I guess I feel like I’ve risked everything to come home. If it backfires, where does that leave me?’
‘I think you think too much. You should just get to know each other again, make sure you’re still on the same page, that he’s still who you think he is.’
‘Do people really change that much?’ Hannah sipped her drink. ‘I mean, he’s always been kind and treated me well, but … He still eats Coco Pops for breakfast and lives for Seinfeld reruns and pizza. He’s not really someone you go out with if you’re interested in any deep and meaningful discussion.’ She hadn’t realised that bothered her, until now.
Will gulped his beer and considered her comment. ‘Is that necessary? As long as you feel understood, your views respected. You can’t expect your partner to provide you with everything. No one person can do that.’
‘I don’t know. He wouldn’t know where I stand on most things because we just don’t really get into that stuff.’
‘I think you should have the same ideals or you’ll spend your life arguing. But you’re both pragmatic, community-minded people. Seems like a lot to start with. Not to mention he adores you.’
Hannah realised how much she did care what her boyfriend thought of her. She loved Blake. She felt adored, at first, but now feared it was largely physical, and already fading. Would there be something left if it did?
Will watched her reaction.
Hannah was struck by how much she liked his attention and felt a pang of guilt for suggesting the drink. Why do I do these things? She smoothed her hand over her skirt. ‘So, you don’t sit around pondering the meaning of life with Abbi?’
Will leant back. ‘The meaning of life?’ He laughed a guttural laugh. ‘There is none. And if you tr
y to find it you’ll spend your life thinking about yourself, which is the worst way to live. Basically, I think people need to find out what they care about, and care about it. We forget that a lot of what impacts us most comes down to chance: being born in a country with running water, into a family with parents who turn up, or with disease-resistant genes – all these factors are decided by erratic, invisible luck. The only fairness in life is the random ways the luck gets dealt.’
Hannah pictured Will’s invisible luck wafting through the bar like a ghost; a twist here, a poke there – altering the course of every life here. Did one patron leave his phone at home, allowing his wife to see the text from his mistress that would end their marriage? Would another take the wrong way out of town and meet a truck head on? It was true. ‘You don’t have to tell me about bad luck. If my mother’d left home a minute later, she’d still be alive. But saying life has no deeper meaning?’ Hannah raised her eyebrows. ‘I don’t agree, and I don’t think you do either.’
‘Why? Because I supposedly have a noble profession? Life is just a big void we need to fill. And the wise fill it by helping others, using the opportunities they’re given, learning as much as they can and being grateful for every moment.’
‘Man – life’s a void we need to fill?’ Hannah stared at the shelves of spirits lining the bar. She felt like working her way through them. ‘That’s depressing.’
‘Not at all. It’s liberating.’
She was astounded by the clarity with which he held his views, and that an atheist could sound so spiritual. Hannah didn’t necessarily agree, but, she was jealous that Abbi had unlimited access to his brain, like a twenty-four-hour helpline. It was as if he provided a key to a universe more fascinating, more complex than the simple one she and Blake inhabited.
Hannah downed the remains of her wine. She felt a familiar dragging sensation that she recognised as guilt – whether it stemmed from being at a bar with her best friend’s husband, or simply from drinking to avoid her own family’s problems, wasn’t clear. Either way, this moment felt a little wrong. Her mind slipped back to the hurt she’d felt, sitting at a booth in this very tavern weeks earlier, reaching out her hand to Abbi in friendship, only to be left looking stupid and rejected.