by Kylie Kaden
Hannah ran her finger slowly around the rim of the glass, looked up and met Will’s gaze and asked, ‘Got time for another one?’
She couldn’t tell what his answer would be by his face. It could go either way.
* * *
Abbi’s curves were slick with suds, her hand rising from the bathwater to clutch a plastic IKEA mug full of Margaret River sauvignon blanc. Since Eadie’s arrival, she’d learned to keep things simple and use plastic. It was a habit she knew was pathetic, though, and she promised herself she’d pick up some of those stylish stemless glasses she’d seen on The Block.
She stared aimlessly at the wax that had pooled around the wick of a candle on the bath’s edge. A candle she’d lit to prove she could still find joy in the small things. But it felt as inconsequential as a tea light in a dark ocean of black. There’d been moments where she managed to forget and she hoped they’d become more frequent as time passed, but most of her days were still burdened by the truth of what she was capable of.
Footsteps approached. Will’s bulk filled the doorframe, his deep voice familiar, and Abbi’s mood lightened. He flicked his shoes off, toes to heel. ‘Missed Eadie, I take it?’
Abbi nodded. ‘Asleep. She crashed tonight.’
‘Good, she’s settling better.’ He entered and rested on the edge of the bath. ‘I saw her teacher at the meeting. Got me worried. She mentioned E’s been withdrawn in class – not running things like she usually does. Then there’s the weird synchronised walk thing. Maybe we should go in, talk to them.’
‘And make her feel like she’s in trouble, turn it into a big deal?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘It is a big deal.’ Will brushed a tidemark of suds off his wife’s collarbone.
‘She’s fine.’ Deny, deny, deny.
Will stripped off his clothes and sank into the bath, water overflowing as he lay his body over hers. Her arms encircled his neck as he lolled on top. They’d installed the oversized bath when they’d planned on converting the lower level to an Airbnb. She never really wanted to have to pretend to like strangers (not to mention, clean up after them), so the idea never went further, but the bath was a welcome addition. Abbi laughed as the soapy water sloshed, the bulk of his muscles displacing the contents, and she hoped he wasn’t too tired tonight to come visit her side of the bed.
Will feathered his hand across her, sending rivers down her cleavage. He held her face in his hands and met her eyes, a gesture that he reserved for her, to reconnect when things felt out of reach. It was working, until she smelt beer.
Abbi turned her head away from his breath. ‘They’re serving booze at the fete meetings now?’
‘They are at the pub. Don’t blame me. Hannah’s idea.’
Hannah? ‘How many did you have?’ Abbi squeezed the soaked washer on his temple.
‘One. Probably fewer than you.’ He gestured to the wine and then took a sip. ‘You can always go to the P&C.’
Abbi fake-gagged. ‘No thanks – all those power-freaks and their gossip.’
‘They can’t talk about you if you’re there.’
‘How is she?’
He skimmed his finger over the rise and fall of her breasts in the suds. ‘She reckons Blake’s bored with her.’
‘Bored? She’s only been back five seconds.’ Abbi had learned to treat Blake like a fifteen-year-old – distract him with junk food and digital devices and he’d sit for hours with limited supervision.
‘Said he’s been distant lately.’ Will’s gaze was direct, even though his words seemed to be beating around the bush.
‘And you think I know more than you about that?’ Abbi asked. ‘He’s your mate, too.’
Will twisted his lip. ‘Not really. I mean, you know it’s always been strained.’
‘Strained?’
‘You. Him. Your own personal wi-fi.’ Will smoothed a stray strand of glossy sun-bleached hair from her cheek. ‘Not a lot of fun for me.’
‘You’ve been talking to Hannah too long. You’re starting to sound like her.’
In the six years William Adams had been her husband, including the one when Blake had lived under their roof, sharing their toilet and eating their leftovers, he’d never questioned how close they were. She’d used it as further evidence he understood her, knew her to the bone. But she supposed she’d been lying to him for weeks and he was clueless about the real cause, so how well did he know her, after all? It seemed Hannah may have cottoned on to this farce quicker than Abbi’s intellectual husband. I knew Hannah Worthington was a threat.
‘She asked how we met,’ Will said.
‘What did you tell her? That you picked me up in a pub?’
‘I assumed she meant what happened after … How we got together.’
Abbi exhaled loudly. ‘Why are you talking to her about that?’ He was usually so respectful of her privacy.
‘You sound like you’re ashamed. Too proud to admit you chased after me?’
‘No. It’s just weird. You talking about me to another woman in a bar.’ For once, Will’s arrival had ruined her mood instead of improving it. ‘I’m cold.’ Abbi edged out from under him, a wave of warm water cascading onto the floor with a smack. The candle flickered with the motion, threatening to snuff.
‘Abs. Don’t be like that. I’m just stirring. I didn’t tell her anything.’
She blew out a breath. ‘I’m just cold.’
‘So that’s how we’re going to leave things? Awks?’
‘Awks? Who are you?’ She wrapped a towel around her, shiny limbs dripping water on the tiles as she sloshed her way out.
Chapter 10
30 DAYS AFTER THE MOON FESTIVAL
After Lago Point’s wettest week on record, and the final changes to the curriculum unit were done, Hannah made the most of a short break in the rain and headed into town. She picked up her father’s armload of prescriptions from the chemist and, as she left the counter, noticed her neighbour, Betty Grambower. (Grannypower, they’d called her as kids and Hannah still saw her with a cape on her shoulders.) ‘How are you, Mrs Grambower?’
‘Lovely to see you back, Hannah! Saw you and Abbi Adams at The Tavern – nice to see you girls together again and hooked up with such handsome lads.’
God forbid a thirty-something woman be single. Hannah had forgotten how claustrophobic small towns could be. Nothing was anonymous.
Betty continued with blistering politeness. Thin nose, wide-set eyes, square jaw – no part of her face was particularly unsightly but somehow none of the features went together. ‘I often see Abbi at school – I’m there with the grandkids, you see – and there’s Abbi and that skinny little thing in her blinking shoes and rainbow leggings. Doesn’t exactly run a tight ship, does she? No respect for the uniform. And it’s usually well after the bell’s gone. Working mothers today, so busy! Bet she’s hard to keep in line.’
‘Eadie’s only in prep – we don’t start caning them for tardiness until year two.’
The old bat didn’t seem to realise she was joking, and rambled on with a sweet smile. It was remarkable that anyone could fit so many scathing remarks into one minute. Betty used to work at the post office when Hannah was a girl, and she’d always suspected the cow read the town’s mail, just to keep in the loop.
‘Will probably feels like he’s got two kids – no idea how those two ended up together. And my daughter says she’s not even on the P&C, but still managed to get rather sloshed at the centenary fete!’
‘The nerve!’ Hannah scoffed dramatically, leaving the woman free to latch on to another victim. Hannah was forever rubbishing Abbi in her mind, usually out of jealousy, but somehow Grannypower’s gossip sparked an unexpected loyalty towards her friend. She was headed back through the puddled car park when a sixth sense pulled her attention towards a couple heading towards the beach.
Abbi. Blake. Together.
The goodwill she’d felt moments before evaporated.
Hannah didn’t plan on following. It was th
e way their bodies bent in unison that compelled her. There was just something in their stride: a purpose, a partnership. At first she thought they must be walking to the pub – not unheard of – but as she watched their retreating backs they charged straight past the entry, checking over their shoulders as they continued towards the beach. She slowed to maintain a buffer between them – to find out something that might explain how odd they’d been with each other. It was Eadie’s bedtime, Blake’s wind-down time. He should be home, frying something. There was simply no explanation for them being there. But there they were, strolling in synchrony. Without her.
Hannah waited the requisite three seconds before darting across the street in chase, hiding in the twisted shadows of an overgrown hibiscus shivering in the breeze. She squatted despite the damp, wishing she’d worn pants as her pencil skirt tugged tightly across her thighs. Sandy gravel pressed into her knees as she crouched, expecting, dreading what she might witness. She could barely hear over the waves, relying on Abbi and Blake’s gestures for information. She held her breath, braced herself for what she feared would play out: Blake’s arms around Abbi’s waist, his lips on her neck, her face. Hannah had imagined it a thousand times. She almost wanted to see it, just to end the torture, reveal the horror, provide indisputable evidence that she wasn’t crazy – that Blake and Abbi were sick freaks, and always had been. Maybe their mum’s passing had released long-repressed feelings they’d dared not express before? But they just stood there, at arm’s length, keeping her hanging.
Hannah wasn’t immune to the local gossip – mumbled jokes at the bar about who was going home with whom as they’d stumbled out of The Tavern as if they were the Lago Point swingers. On sport’s day, she’d overheard a parent pointing her out as Blake’s old flame. His mate had replied, ‘Hot. But isn’t the sergeant sleeping with his sister?’ The thick-waisted dads had chuckled again. ‘Only in his head.’ What did they know that she didn’t?
A whiff of dead fish wafted through the branches. Catfish hovered near the line of shrubs, faithful Scout by his side. She braced herself to be peed on but instead, the dog squatted to drop a human-sized turd only a metre from where Hannah sat and she cringed at the ridiculousness of her life.
The huge dog kicked dirt on her deed like a good citizen and pranced off in step with her owner.
Hannah’s attention returned to Blake. His hand reached up to Abbi’s face. She watched him place a windswept hair away from her full lips in that intimate, yet vaguely platonic way, then pulled her close to his chest. He kissed her hair at the crown. Hannah’s head felt heavy, her palms clammy. Surely no normal brother did that to his sister.
I knew it, you bastard. Hannah was about to barge over but, as she brushed the sand from her knees, Abbi pulled away from him, folding her arms. Hannah couldn’t remember feeling this tense. What would they do next? She had to know. She had to be sure, so she crouched down again.
The two of them started walking, drawing nearer.
Blake glanced over his shoulder. Hannah caught the clipped, last few words over the hum of the ocean. His voice was raised. ‘You need to stop calling me. Hannah’ll get suspicious.’
Abbi sighed. ‘So, what? We’ve got bigger problems than our partners finding out. Will’s worried. He wanted to go and speak to—’
‘Nope. That can’t happen. Stop all the freaking out and get your act together – if Will’s already worried it won’t be long before he starts prodding, and then you’ll cave and come clean about what we did. This has to stay between us.’
‘I’m worried it’s too late. Will’s hoodie. I was wearing it that night. When we got disturbed, I took it off and stashed it behind the hot water system. I went and looked the next day but it was gone. Did you take it?’
Hannah heard Blake exhale loudly. ‘A hoodie? I didn’t see any hoodie. Are you sure you didn’t wear it home?’
‘I’m sure. I hid it. Now it’s gone. And Blake – there’s … evidence all over it.’
‘You telling me someone else took it?’
‘It’s gone now, so they must have. Someone knows.’
Blake face-palmed. The gesture was so comical Hannah would have laughed if she hadn’t felt so unnerved. So confused. So utterly betrayed.
There was mumbling as Abbi turned and faced away.
What the hell are they talking about? Had things between them gone too far one night? Why the hell else was Abbi taking her clothes off? Hannah kept watching.
Abbi squared her shoulders and gave Blake a steely look, like a peacock trying to appear bigger than it was, but then the facade dropped. ‘It was one mistake, Blake. One poor decision. I never meant for any of this. It’s like I missed my stop and now I’ve ended up somewhere I never wanted to be.’
‘Grow up! It’s called regret, Abs. Deal with it. I am.’ Blake stormed off.
Hannah panicked as he headed in her direction.
Abbi fell to the sand, still facing away, and Hannah watched as Blake stalled, hesitated and then returned to her side. He sat next to her, crumbled in a heap on the sand. His voice lowered. A wave pounded the rocks with a rumble, muffling his words. Critical words she’d never know.
‘Damn it,’ Hannah whispered, then froze in panic.
Blake turned towards her hideout.
‘You hear that?’ He asked Abbi, the shine of his eyes glinting towards the dune.
Hannah bit her lip and winced.
‘What?’ Abbi looked around.
Blake stepped towards the scrub, moved a branch, scratched his stubble. Less than a metre from Hannah’s face. She could hear him breathing, but he failed to see her khaki skirt through the thick branches. He checked around further before returning to Abbi, guiding her back to the car park, still talking, but all Hannah could hear was the ocean. Their precious secrets were lost in the night.
When they drove off, Hannah texted Will. Still at work? Free at all?
She watched the dots on the mobile screen turn to letters. I’m about to head. You okay?
She texted back. It’s about Abbi. More dots. Hannah waited.
Come to the clinic. Staff entrance.
* * *
Hannah arrived at the The Point Family Practice and hovered around the side until Will brought her through the empty waiting area and to his consulting room. Hannah sat on the padded patient seat and looked at the clutter on his workspace. ‘You’re not exactly a neat freak, are you?’
Will’s eyebrows raised as he surveyed the piles of journals and mail covering his desk. He looked back at Hannah, leaned over and picked a leaf from her hair. ‘I could say the same about you.’
‘Oh.’ Hannah blushed, checking her hair for other offending leaves, brushing her skirt.
‘Have you been hiding in trees casing a joint?’
‘Just down the beach …’ She madly patted her shoulders for other evidence of her romp in the bushes.
When she looked up it was to find his entire focus on her. He smiled a little, and his face changed from a boring canvas to a warm welcome mat. Hannah felt a little mesmerised. It was his way. So grounded. So attentive. ‘So, um … Abbi and Blake. I saw them together.’
‘Okay.’
She had his attention. ‘Abbi was upset over some big mistake she’d made, Blake was growing impatient with her, telling her to keep quiet. Not to involve us. Any idea what that could be about?’
‘Not really.’
‘Are things okay at home?’ She could see his mind was ticking over.
‘Her cooking’s gone from ordinary to pretty bloody awful but nothing I can’t manage with a lot of takeaway.’
He’s not taking this seriously. ‘Otherwise, Abbi seem okay?’
‘She’s been getting melancholy at times, sentimental – which is unlike her. And she has been kind of overprotecting Eadie, but that’s understandable.’
‘Understandable?’
Will waved her away. ‘Mothers.’
‘Sorry. It’s none of my business, really. But I don
’t know, overhearing them today, nothing made sense. First they were talking about a missing hoodie, then something about how she had to keep it all to herself, then they said not to involve others. The school, maybe? It made me think of Eadie’s teacher saying how out of sorts she was, asked if I knew if anything was happening at home.’
Will looked as if he was contemplating something, but then he shook his head. ‘Eadie just ran into some trouble a while back. We’re handling it, though.’ He didn’t seem to believe what he said. ‘Why were you following them? Reckon they’re up to no good?’
Heat rushed to Hannah’s head. ‘I didn’t say that.’ I just feared it.
‘So, you weren’t following them because you wanted proof?’
‘No.’ It came out in guilty ten-year-old tone.
‘Blake and I have a complex relationship, mostly because he thinks he knows my wife better than I do, and maybe he’s right, but he’s a straight shooter, a decent person.’
‘So, you’re not at all concerned that they have more than an emotional bond?’ She turned to him like she would to a car crash – not wanting to see but unable to look away.
‘Do I think their relationship’s peculiar? Yes. Do I think they’re having sex? No.’
‘What else would explain that sort of talk? And why is she so upset? Something is definitely going on.’
‘Hannah, I think you’re overreacting to some little tiff you caught the wrong end of. They’re always breaking up and getting back together. The love–hate thing they do is the most sibling thing about them. Just talk to him. If people were more honest with each other, life would be simple.’
Will placed his hand, briefly, on her bare knee, nothing more than a supportive gesture, a mark to close off the conversation and send her on her merry way. But it felt intimate. It felt like something he wouldn’t have done if Abbi were there.