by Ann Turner
Both kids peeled off and stared at me like I was a nuclear bomb.
‘Like what?’ asked James.
‘Your dad took a hit on the stock market. He was trying to make money to look after us but things went the wrong way.’
Everyone in the room was watching the children.
Erin shrugged. ‘Doesn’t that happen all the time?’
‘How bad?’ asked James. ‘If we’re in trouble I can help cover things. I’ve saved a bit from my part-time jobs and I’ve still got some money left after paying for our tickets over here.’
‘I can help, too,’ said Maria and my lips quivered and tears tried to flow. Maria was as poor as a church mouse and James’s casual jobs paid appallingly – he couldn’t possibly have put much away.
‘I’ve already offered,’ said Burton proprietorially.
‘I would if I had anything. I could get a job,’ said Erin.
Again tears welled.
‘You’re all terribly kind and I’m very grateful but that won’t be necessary,’ I replied, knowing none of them could help given the extent of our perished finances and Stephen’s massive debt.
‘But if Dad did run away we need to tell him we’re here to support him,’ persisted Erin.
‘Get word to him that it’s okay,’ added James.
‘Honestly, your dad may have drowned and we need to understand that,’ I announced, more honestly than I’d planned.
‘But he may not have,’ said James emphatically.
‘If he’d drowned, wouldn’t his body have turned up like Granddad’s?’ Erin hugged me.
‘Usually. Yes, I agree,’ said Marco. ‘We would expect a body to float to the surface. We’ve looked in all the coves, from my boat. And we’ve dived. The police have too.’
‘They found his clothes in a crevice at the private beach here,’ I added. James and Erin went very still. ‘But one ray of hope is that your dad’s passport is missing.’
‘What does it mean that they found his clothes?’ asked Erin.
‘I don’t know. But I think it’s good that his passport has gone.’
‘What if someone stole it and got rid of Dad?’ asked James. ‘The mafia or something?’
Marco was affronted. ‘This is a very safe part of the world. No one would do that here. We all know each other,’ he said, pride tinged with anger.
‘Then, I can see why you think Dad’s done a runner,’ concluded Erin. ‘Have you any idea where he might go?’
I sighed. ‘Well, nowhere he needs his passport at the moment, because the police would be flagged.’
‘Mum, in Australia they said on the news that you were under suspicion for murder. Why would they say that?’ James blinked vulnerably.
‘Because . . .’ I stopped to choose my words. ‘Because they’re trying to work out what happened. They don’t know me. I guess they have to keep all avenues open.’
‘That’s right,’ Marco agreed fulsomely. ‘They’re just doing their job.’
‘But how can they say it? Isn’t that defamatory?’ pursued James, aggression biting into his words.
Marco shifted uneasily. James glowered.
‘You must be exhausted,’ I said. ‘James and Erin, why don’t you sleep in here with me?’
‘I’m not tired at all, I slept on the plane.’ James was clearly lying.
‘We’d like to go diving ourselves,’ said Erin. ‘I want to see where Dad went swimming. And we want to make sure no one’s missed anything. Sorry, no offence, Marco, I’m really grateful for all you’ve done. But I’d just like to check for myself. I can’t really think until I’ve done that.’
Marco looked to me for permission. The kids were experienced divers, having received their qualifications years ago. ‘I’m coming on the boat too, then,’ I said, and they reacted with surprise. ‘I’m not going to let anything happen to you.’
‘And, Burton, would you be able to set up a social network site asking people for help, see if anyone’s seen Dad?’ asked Erin.
‘Good idea,’ replied Burton. ‘Onto it.’
‘Do you really want to do that?’ said Maria worriedly. ‘You’ll get a lot of nutty people.’
‘But we have to, it’d be crazy not to have a site,’ replied Erin firmly.
I knew it was going to be a long day – but I would never have guessed how long.
23
Lack of sleep made my head thick and lumpy as I gazed out at limestone cliffs plunging into the indigo sea. On any other occasion it would have been a sight of inspirational beauty. Now in a haze I watched for a corpse, bloated and savaged. The remains of Stephen.
Marco was behind the wheel of his long, sleek boat. My children, as black as seals, were perched astern in wetsuits, their eyes intent on the water and rocks that stuck out like jagged teeth near the base of the mountain. Every so often there was a tiny, pebbled beach in a cove and Marco would carefully guide the boat towards shore. He was patient and thorough as he continued down the coastline.
‘I’d like to go in now, Marco, if I could, please?’ James’s voice was brusque with exhaustion.
‘Why here?’ questioned Erin. ‘I would have thought further back?’
‘The current’s going this way, isn’t it, Marco?’
‘Yes, this is the prevailing current.’
‘And three days ago?’
‘The same.’ Marco cut the engine and we started to drift, surprisingly quickly for what appeared to be a calm sea.
‘Then, wouldn’t he be further away by now?’ reasoned Erin.
‘He could be snagged,’ said James.
Clearly they were in deep shock, talking about Stephen as casually as if they had lost a flipper. I was devastated they’d found out through the media and astonished they didn’t seem remotely angry with me for not telling them sooner. But it was a great comfort to have them here now; in spite of how difficult it was, it felt right to be searching as a family.
‘I’m going in,’ James announced.
I stood and held him, the wetsuit rubber cold and unyielding to my touch. ‘Please be careful.’
‘Help me get this on, Mum?’ I took the air tank while James fitted his arms into the harness. I tightened the belt. His cheeks were pink and eyes wide with adrenalin.
Erin walked up, having quickly donned her own scuba gear. They sat in silence as they squashed their feet into flippers. Marco dropped anchor and came back and stood over them.
‘No more than fifteen minutes, okay?’
They nodded.
‘I’m coming in with you,’ continued Marco and quickly slipped on a scuba tank. ‘You’ll be all right?’ He turned to me.
‘I’ll be expecting you all up in fifteen.’ It was hard to keep my voice from cracking. It hadn’t occurred to me I’d be alone on a boat. I tried to quell my fear, attempting to convince myself it was insignificant compared to everything else that was happening.
As they splashed into the sea one by one I wanted to grab them, make us all return to dry land. Instead, I sat on my hands and pressed my lips closed, praying for their safe return.
Erin waved and then their masked faces submerged. The surface retracted back to a glassy calm and they were gone, black bodies swimming out of sight down into the dark blue depths.
I watched the clock. The first five minutes were an eternity. I paced up and down the deck, forcing images of my father the day he drowned out of my mind as quickly as they came bubbling up.
Ten minutes. The late afternoon was still, as though the day were holding its breath. I fought back claustrophobia: even though I was in the open I felt a crushing sense of enclosure. I wished for a breeze, to move the oppressive air that sucked like warm tar in my lungs.
Twelve minutes. Still no sign of them. Panic rose, irrational, uncontrollable.
‘Erin? James? Marco?’ My voice flew mockingly back off the cliffs.
I forced myself to sit down. Still three minutes to go. I welded my eyes to the sea, straining for visibilit
y. It was very deep here. I wondered with dread why James had chosen this spot. Did he have a sixth sense about his father’s resting place?
Thirteen minutes. Still no sign. Fourteen. I resolved to dive in myself and look for them. I hadn’t swum since I was a teenager but I used to be strong.
Fifteen minutes. Bile stuck like glue to the sides of my mouth.
Sixteen minutes. I’d trusted them. How could they have let me down?
Seventeen. I called again, my voice echoing forlornly.
Eighteen. Two more minutes and I was going in.
Nineteen. I saw a black shadow rising, then another, and just as Erin broke the water a third diver rose into view. Marco surfaced and seconds later, James came up with a refreshing splash. They swam to the boat and I hauled them in, my precious, glistening catch of the day.
‘Nothing,’ announced Erin as she dropped beside me and peeled off her mask, her cool body touching mine.
‘Thank God,’ said James, sitting close on my other side.
Marco smiled. ‘Okay, Becca?’
‘Okay.’
He padded to the prow and lifted anchor, clanking the tri-forked monster on board and stowing it away. He gunned the engine and we glided further along the coast. I dreaded the moment they would be underwater again but the kids’ faces were alive with hope. It was helping them; the best thing they could do.
With each dive they grew more elated. Every time we stopped I had to battle my demons all over again while they swam into deep caverns, searching everywhere for clues.
There was a growing sense of euphoria. No body meant that Stephen could be alive.
Finally we all agreed it was time to head home.
‘I just don’t feel Dad’s here,’ said Erin suddenly.
‘Me neither, I know what you’re saying,’ echoed James as he sat looking back at the white, churning water behind the boat. ‘You think that too, don’t you, Mum?’
‘I want to.’ They stared, shocked by my tone. ‘We mustn’t rule anything out,’ I sighed tiredly. ‘It’s easy to convince ourselves of anything at the moment.’
‘Are you trying to tell us you think Dad’s dead?’ said Erin as tears sprang hotly.
‘Shh, no, no.’ I wrapped her into my arms. ‘All my instincts tell me your father’s alive, but I don’t want to lead you on and give you false hope.’
‘Why not?’ said James. ‘It couldn’t make it any worse than it is.’
• • •
We were all sunburned, and salt stung our skin as we traipsed up the mountain from where Marco had harboured his boat at a tiny beach at the base of the cliff. At a fork we went left and silently, like a line of goats, scrambled along a thin dirt track to come out finally at Della Mare’s private beach. The line of white buoys bobbed rhythmically in the gentle swell and a fine blue haze was forming on the horizon. James put his hands on his hips and pulled himself up to full height. ‘So, this is where Dad went swimming?’ He stared at the sea like a beast he was about to conquer.
‘It was hotter than today and even calmer.’ My voice rang high and hollow in the still air. I took Erin’s hand, her fingers slick with sweat going limp in my grasp. I desperately wished I could say something to make her feel better.
James strode to the rusty ladder that plunged into the water.
‘When it’s rough, this whole area blasts,’ I said, turning to Marco. ‘Is it still dangerous when it’s calm? Can it suddenly fire up?’
Marco thought for a moment. ‘Not usually, but I suppose it’s possible.’
‘Like a rogue wave?’ asked James.
Marco squinted at the glassy sea, silver in the evening light. James kicked the ladder, which held firm.
‘It’s very unlikely,’ Marco finally declared. ‘No, it was calm that day. That’s why it’s so unusual that a strong swimmer might have drowned.’ His last words were almost lost beneath a cacophony of barking dogs. Within seconds, enormous German shepherds bounded down the mountain, running fast, their howls building to a crescendo as they reached me and dropped to their haunches. Erin ran squealing in fright and James and Marco moved quickly to stand between me and the dogs, whose powerful jaws hung open revealing gleaming fangs. Two uniformed police stumbled forward, breathless. They stopped abruptly when they saw the dogs at my feet.
Erin stood stock-still at the end of the rocky ledge.
‘We’re looking for a man,’ the shorter policeman said, perspiration slicking his upper lip. He turned and stared at me.
‘Signor Stephen Wilding,’ said the taller cop, who was thickset and toned like the dogs.
‘He’s not here,’ said James, giving a wild look.
‘Rebecca must have his scent,’ said Marco calmly. ‘Are you wearing something of Stephen’s?’
I looked at my clothes, surprised.
‘Mum, you’re wearing Dad’s watch,’ said James.
‘Of course!’ I quickly unbuckled the leather band.
‘Was he not wearing this when he disappeared?’ quizzed the taller policeman, taking the watch and holding it to the dogs, who barked, tails wagging. He handed them small dark biscuits of reward.
‘He’d left it by the bed.’
‘Why had you not mentioned this before? I take it that you are Signora Wilding?’
‘I hadn’t thought to.’
‘If he’d run away as you told the Commissario, would he not have been wearing it?’
That hadn’t crossed my mind, but it now seemed of vital concern. ‘He didn’t take anything else,’ I reasoned, as much to myself as to the cop.
‘Except his passport?’ added James.
‘If he was trying to make it look like he drowned, wouldn’t he leave his watch?’ asked Erin, walking back to join us.
‘You should have told the Commissario you were wearing your husband’s watch,’ barked the shorter cop and both dogs looked up at him then back at me, tails wagging. I went to pat the closest and it growled.
‘Don’t do that, signora,’ snapped the taller cop, and I muttered an apology as I pulled my hand to safety.
‘Shall we head back?’ Marco spoke pleasantly but authoritatively.
‘We’ll be staying here,’ said the short cop.
The hair rose on the back of my neck as we left the police. If they had sent out the canine squad, they really believed that Stephen was dead.
• • •
‘Here she is! They’re back!’ A vision dressed in white from top to toe stood dramatically at the top of the hill then tore down to meet us.
‘Rebecca!’ Arms were flung around me in a bear hug. ‘I’m so sorry. It’s just awful.’
‘Sally Chesser, what on earth are you doing here?’
‘Didn’t you get my messages?’
‘What messages?’
‘I called when I saw it all over the news. If they’re accusing you of murder you’re going to need a good lawyer.’ She draped a tanned arm across my shoulder and walked me up the hill. ‘You must tell me everything, Bec. I’ve heard a bit from your friends up here, but I need to go through it with you. Every detail you can think of.’ She nodded to my children. ‘You must be Erin and James? I’m Sally Chesser, a mate of your parents.’
They greeted her shyly, overwhelmed.
‘Did you fly from home?’ asked James.
‘As luck would have it – not that luck’s the right word – I was in Rome for a conference. I left several messages for you, Bec, because I didn’t want to turn up unannounced. But when I hadn’t heard back I thought I’d better come down.’
‘It’s strange I didn’t get your messages. I’ve been checking my phone all the time.’ My stomach lurched. ‘Sally, can you tell me exactly when you rang, because if I haven’t got your calls, then maybe I’ve missed Stephen.’ In a fog of tiredness I realised I didn’t have my phone.
‘Meet you all in the restaurant,’ I called back and ran to my room, which was engulfed in long shadows. I snatched up my phone and checked the calls. No messages fr
om Sally. And nothing from Stephen.
If Sally was telling the truth, and I had no reason to doubt her, then my phone service wasn’t working properly. My heart pounded as I re-checked everything. Still I found nothing from Stephen – but there was a new email from DiStasio.
Dear Professor Wilding,
I have now completed my initial investigation and strongly believe that you have a case to answer on the matter of alleged fraud. At this point you need to be aware that there appears to be extensive evidence of activities undertaken by you that constitute serious misconduct. If you cannot give evidence explaining how your conduct fits within university guidelines, I will be recommending to the Vice-Chancellor that your employment with Coastal University be terminated. The police have been advised that substantial fraud has allegedly occurred and been asked to take the matter further.
I suggest that it would be in your interest to have your lawyer present when we meet. Given the serious nature of the allegation your interview cannot wait until your return from overseas. We will need to organise a time to have a telephone conference and perhaps a visual link-up. Please contact my assistant in the next forty-eight hours to set up a time.
Yours faithfully,
Professor Margaret DiStasio.
I raced out to the balcony, desperately in need of air. I forced myself to breathe deeply as I perched on the edge of a sun lounge and re-read the email.
My head spun. I needed sleep.
I knew the others were waiting.
Quickly I tapped a reply, requesting an extension of thirty days to organise the interview, given the circumstances of my husband’s disappearance.
‘Yoo-hoo?’ Sally was outside my door.
‘I’m coming,’ I snapped, rising, but Sally was halfway across the room before I’d even stepped in from the balcony.
‘Just wanted to check you’re okay?’
‘I didn’t get your messages. What day did you leave the first one? Can you tell me what time?’
‘Let’s see.’ Sally whipped out her phone and retrieved the details of her calls. I checked against the times and dates.
‘I haven’t received a single one. Should I try calling my phone company? Will they be able to tell me everyone who’s phoned?’