Starting from Scratch

by Penelope Janu

  ‘Some of the time.’

  ‘I’ll see you here in an hour. You sure that’s long enough?’

  ‘Positive.’

  As soon as I cross the road, I see my father sitting at a table near the window. He checks his watch and raises a hand in salute, and I half-heartedly wave back. When I walk past the few patrons to his table, he stands. Our cheeks touch lightly.

  ‘Sapphire.’

  ‘Robert.’

  ‘You look well.’

  ‘As do you.’ I shrug out of my coat. ‘Sorry I’m late. I didn’t get your message until school had finished.’

  ‘I was prepared to drive to Horseshoe.’

  ‘You’ve already come a long way.’

  He pulls out a chair and gestures that I sit. ‘The wine selection is basic, but there are excellent craft beers on tap. What can I get you? Would you like a bite to eat?’

  ‘Lemon squash will be fine, thanks.’

  ‘You still don’t drink?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have started.’ He pats his stomach, perfectly flat. ‘Last year I turned sixty. I’m getting to the age where I ought to mind my weight.’

  I hang my coat over the back of my chair as he walks to the bar. He’s wearing suit pants, a cotton shirt and a navy jacket. A small gold pin, presented by the Governor-General a few years ago, sits on his lapel. Achievement and merit in services to Australia or humanity.

  His hair is grey, but thick and well cut. Not long after he’d gone into politics, a journalist, parodying his upright posture and careful wording, dubbed him Robert the Robot. The name has stuck. He chats to the barman and two other men sitting on stools at the bar. One of them slaps him on the back and all of them laugh.

  He returns with the drinks. ‘Thank you,’ I say.

  He sips froth from his glass while I swirl ice with a straw. When two of the men at the bar clink glasses, Robert glances their way before putting his glass on the coaster.

  ‘Hear me out, Sapphire.’

  I blink. ‘I haven’t said anything yet.’

  ‘You will.’ He frowns. ‘You’ve seen Matts Laaksonen?’

  ‘I’m sure you know the answer to that.’

  ‘It was good of him to brief you. I understand your reception of him was cool.’

  ‘The first or the second time?’

  ‘What?’

  I shake my head. ‘It doesn’t matter. He said he was here for work.’

  ‘He’s doing exceptionally well. How old is he? Thirty-one?’

  ‘Thirty.’

  ‘He travels widely.’

  ‘Did you come here to talk about Matts?’

  He looks towards the bar again. The two men, both dressed in black pants and white shirts, appear to be reading from a folder. Maybe they’re salesmen? Or missionaries.

  ‘This bribery allegation,’ Robert says, ‘is a nightmare.’

  I try to be fair. ‘Not everyone agrees with your politics, but most respect your commitment. This must be stressful for you and your family.’

  ‘Which is why I need your help.’

  I push my drink away and pull my coat from the chair, laying it over my knees. ‘With what?’

  ‘I have my career to consider,’ he says, ‘but also the welfare of my wife and her children. Jacqueline’s boys are still in junior school. They need my support, financially and otherwise.’

  ‘I’m sure they do.’

  ‘I would have supported you,’ he says defensively.

  ‘There were too many strings attached. Anyway, Gran left me something.’

  ‘Very little.’

  ‘Enough to allow me to go to university immediately after school. I’ve always worked. I have savings.’

  He places his beer glass exactly in the middle of the coaster. ‘You were an intelligent child. I was gratified you didn’t waste it; that you completed your education.’

  ‘I have a friend who left school early. She’s a farrier, and as smart as anyone I know.’ I glance at my watch. ‘I’m meeting Pa soon.’

  ‘You still call him that?’

  ‘Most of us do.’

  He nods brusquely. ‘It must cause confusion with so many foster children.’

  ‘Not really.’

  When he stretches out his legs, I move mine to the side. ‘There is no evidence that links me to the deposit box,’ he finally says.

  ‘So you’ll be cleared.’

  He laughs without humour. ‘When Kate, my wife of over twenty years, was the only person who opened the box? When she gave her closest friend the key?’

  I smooth my coat over my knees. ‘Mum and Inge are gone. Why would anybody bother pursuing this?’

  ‘If Kate sold confidential information, it was from documents I should have kept secure. At best, I’ll be accused of negligence. At worst, I’ll be condemned for leaking information in the expectation of reward.’

  ‘From what Matts said, none of this has been proven.’

  ‘Or disproven.’

  ‘Mum was happy before Inge died. She had everything she wanted. Why would she take such a risk?’

  He purses his lips. ‘Matts told you about the money and your mother’s note. He didn’t tell you what else was in the box.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A blue sapphire. It’s worth a small fortune.’

  The lemon squash glass, wet with condensation, seems very far away. When I wrap my hands around it, I barely feel the cold.

  My father often teased Mum about a sapphire ring, telling her it would take a lifetime to save the money for a stone impressive enough to please her. When he gave her birthday or Christmas presents, no matter the size or shape of the parcel, she’d hold them out to show me. ‘Sapphire,’ she’d whisper conspiratorially. ‘I have it at last.’

  Robert clears his throat. ‘I’m not prepared to protect Kate’s reputation at the expense of my own.’

  ‘The sapphire …’ My voice is high and shaky. ‘It could be a mistake, a coincidence.’

  He huffs. ‘Kate probably thought it was a lark. Some smooth-talking Argentinian promised her a bauble in exchange for a document I would never know had gone missing.’

  I let go of the glass and wipe my hands on my coat. ‘What are you going to say?’

  ‘To the investigating authorities? I’ve said it already. There was no bribe. If information was sold, Kate accessed it without my approval and was presumably paid in cash, and kind, for communicating it to parties unknown.’

  My fingernails dig into my palms. ‘I didn’t expect you to defend her, but …’

  He frowns. ‘It’s by far the most likely scenario.’

  Mum used to model for top-end fashion magazines like Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar. She’d say that most successful models were like actresses: they could play a part for the camera. But she was adamant she’d never had that skill. If she felt unhappy, the photographer was stuck with that look. If she felt happy, the images would reflect that emotion. She said her agent refused to send her out on important assignments without first checking her mood. If it didn’t fit the brief, the agent would have to warn whoever had commissioned the shoot.

  ‘Mum wore her heart on her sleeve,’ I say quietly. ‘I don’t believe she’d be capable of keeping something like that to herself. In the months before she died …’ I clear my throat. ‘You didn’t see her because you were in London. But Mum found a psychologist she trusted. She was taking responsibility for things she’d done wrong. What upset her most was thinking about Inge. I don’t know why, but she thought she’d let her down.’

  ‘I bet she wished she’d got her key back.’

  ‘That’s not fair!’

  He holds up his hands. ‘I withdraw it.’ He frowns. ‘I was keen to, eventually, return permanently to Canberra and enter politics. Kate was opposed to the idea, much preferring the expatriate life. Perhaps this was a way of getting back at me.’

  There are a number of people in the room now, many of them in pairs. A g
rey-haired couple hold hands across a table.

  ‘Mum had always known you wanted to go into politics.’

  ‘That didn’t equate to her liking the notion.’

  ‘Even if she was unhappy, it doesn’t make her a liar or a thief or whatever it is you think she was. Inge was always fair about everything. She wouldn’t have taken the key if Mum had done something wrong.’

  ‘She probably had no idea about it and, unfortunately, we can’t ask her to confirm that.’

  ‘Why do you trust Hernandez? He’s the one who’s been accused of bribing people.’

  ‘He knew there was a deposit box set aside in my name. Whatever happened, the evidence speaks for itself.’

  As they pass, the two men from the bar nod respectfully. Robert raises his hand and smiles. ‘Have a pleasant evening, gentlemen.’

  ‘Mum isn’t here to defend herself.’

  He lowers his voice. ‘She put me in this position, whether you care to accept that or not. To minimise the harm, I require my family’s support.’

  ‘I’m sure that you’ll have it.’

  ‘That’s not—’ He forces a smile. ‘You and I have had our differences, Sapphire, but it might be possible to use this in our favour.’

  ‘How? You know I’ll defend Mum.’

  He sips his beer before placing it back on the coaster. ‘If you and I, particularly given our fractious relationship, can present this matter as a storm in a teacup, others will follow our lead.’

  ‘Do you mean the media?’

  ‘I can’t do anything about the official inquiries.’

  I smooth my coat over my knees again. My hands are white against the red. ‘What do you propose?’

  He sits back in his chair. ‘Come to Canberra, Sapphire.’ He smiles. ‘I’d like to introduce you to Jacqueline and the boys. I want us to be seen together.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Only for a day or two.’

  ‘You want me to play happy families?’

  ‘You’re young, clever and extremely beautiful. You’re also Kate’s daughter. Your presence is likely to elicit sympathy.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it draw attention to your connection to Mum?’

  ‘That cat is well out of the bag. Confronting the issue directly is the only way to deal with it.’

  The lights from the bar are suddenly far too bright. ‘I won’t let you use me like that.’

  ‘If Kate hadn’t acted as she did, I wouldn’t have to defend myself.’

  ‘You don’t know what happened.’

  He continues as if I haven’t spoken. ‘After next year’s election, I have three more years in parliament. Provided this incident can be contained, a diplomatic posting will follow.’

  ‘I won’t do it.’

  ‘It will be an act, nothing more.’

  A vase of pink and white peonies sits on the windowsill. The flowers’ petals are made of polyester, and their green plastic stems are anchored in resin. Gran didn’t like fabric flowers, even the expensive silk ones. ‘Our flowers aren’t mass-produced,’ she’d say. ‘Every petal is different, just like the ones in my garden.’

  It’s hard to talk because my throat is so tight. ‘I’m not good at pretending.’

  ‘You’re part of my family, like it or not. A picture paints a thousand words.’

  ‘It would be dishonest. My family is in Horseshoe. I have people I’m close to there.’

  ‘You’re determined to hide forever?’

  ‘I’m not hiding. It’s my home.’

  ‘You currently live at the school, don’t you?’

  ‘At the old schoolhouse.’

  His sleeves have stiff cuffs. He flicks one button and then the other. His eyes meet mine again. ‘I know about the property where your horses are kept.’

  ‘What do you know?’

  ‘You hoped to buy it.’

  ‘I—yes. The council has agreed to sell it to me.’

  ‘Not any more.’

  An icy hand grasps my heart and squeezes. ‘What?’

  ‘Your option to purchase expired last December. I now have an option.’

  I stand so quickly that my hip bumps the table. ‘No you don’t!’

  He looks around before slowly pushing back his chair and standing. ‘Don’t make a scene, Sapphire.’

  I grasp the edge of the table. ‘The council knows I want it. I was waiting for the youth centre to open.’

  ‘You had nothing in writing. I made a higher offer. As a public authority, they had to accept it.’

  ‘You can’t do this. You can’t … they would have told me.’

  ‘I insisted on confidentiality.’

  ‘What? Why would you—’ I try again. ‘How could you do this?’

  ‘Can you sit down, please?’

  My legs are unsteady, so I do as he asks. ‘I don’t understand.’

  He sits too, and puts his hands on the table. ‘I suspected you’d refuse to cooperate. This was my fallback position.’

  I take a deep breath before slowly exhaling. ‘The farmhouse isn’t merely somewhere I’ll live. It’s more important than that.’

  ‘I understand it’s in a deplorable state.’

  ‘Who told you that?’ My voice catches. ‘It was Matts, wasn’t it?’

  He glances at his watch. ‘I arranged to meet him for dinner at seven. Would you care to join us?’

  It’s hard to think through the ache in my chest. ‘Is this how you operate? You take things that people care about in order to force them to do what you want?’

  ‘If you’d agreed to help, you might not have found out that I’d done it.’

  ‘So I’ve brought this on myself?’

  ‘Be reasonable. I want you to spend a weekend in Canberra. Not imminently—September or October would do. It’s not a great deal to ask.’

  ‘Isn’t it? To let your advisors put their spin on blaming Mum?’

  ‘Spin?’ He counts on his fingers. ‘One, there is no truth to the bribery allegation; my conscience is clear. Two, I welcome the investigation, and have cooperated fully with relevant authorities. Three, I was ignorant of my late wife’s conduct—’

  ‘You don’t know what happened!’

  He mutters under his breath, then says, ‘Three, regarding my late wife’s conduct, the facts are currently in dispute. Four, I have the love and support of my family, including my only child, and we hope to put this matter behind us as soon as possible.’ He raises his brows. ‘If those points constitute spin, so be it.’

  ‘If I refuse to do what you ask, what will you do with the farmhouse?’

  He smiles stiffly. ‘I will consider my options.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘The land can be leased, but I hope it won’t come to that.’ He leans back in his chair. ‘I’ll give you a week to decide. In the meantime, I think it’s in both of our interests to keep this to yourself.’

  It’s cold when I step outside, but I don’t take the time to button my coat, holding it closed as I run across the road. When I reach the park, I swipe my hand across my eyes and scrabble in my bag for a tissue. I blow my nose and sniff as I walk to the path that circles the pond. In daytime, it’s busy with ducks, magpie-larks and ibis. Where are they now? Tucking their heads beneath their wings as they sleep in the rushes?

  The tallest reeds cast shadows. I step over them carefully as if they might trip me.

  ‘Sapphire!’

  Matts runs towards me. Should I run in the opposite direction? Climb a tree? What would be the point? As I wipe my eyes again, he slows to a jog. When he gets close, he pushes back his hair.

  In the darkness, his eyes are black.

  Ebony, pitch, jet, onyx.

  I bunch my hands into fists. ‘What do you want?’

  He lifts an arm and drops it. He frowns. ‘Why are you crying?’

  ‘Did you know my father had taken it? What did you say to him?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘The farmhouse.’r />
  ‘I told him you worked there, and about the horses. What did he take?’

  When a gust of wind blows through the park, leaf litter cartwheels towards us. ‘The farmhouse.’

  ‘What? You said you had an agreement to buy it.’

  ‘I did, but …’ I push the heels of my hands into my eyes. ‘My option expired. He’s taken out one of his own.’

  ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘Why are you meeting him tonight? Did you know about it?’

  His lips firm. ‘No.’

  ‘What about the sapphire in the deposit box? You knew about that. Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘You were upset.’

  I wipe my eyes again. I push hair behind my ears, gather my coat around me, spin blindly and follow the path. A car horn blasts in the distance.

  ‘Sapphire, wait.’

  ‘Go, Matts. My father is expecting you.’

  ‘After we talk.’ He points to a timber seat near a junction in the path. On the backrest of the seat is a plaque, but I’m too far away to read the words.

  ‘I’m late to meet Pa Hargreaves.’

  Does he cut across my path, or do I veer into his? When we collide, my foot slips off the concrete and he grasps my arms. His body is hard. His scent, pine and something else, is unsettling. I squeeze my eyes shut. ‘Go away.’

  His fingers close and open, press and release. ‘What does Robert want from you?’

  ‘He wants me to go to Canberra, to pretend I’m part of his family.’

  ‘I’ll talk to him.’

  ‘No!’ I pull free. ‘He won’t change his mind.’

  ‘He can manage the media. He can minimise the harm.’

  ‘That doesn’t excuse what he did!’ I look past Matts to the pond. ‘He sees the farmhouse as a means to an end. I see it differently.’

  Another gust of wind sweeps through the park. When I fumble with a button on my coat, Matts mutters under his breath. And then, his movements precise and deliberate, he pushes my hands away and fastens the button.

  ‘Why did you do that?’

  ‘You couldn’t.’

  He’s dressed in black jeans and a pale blue shirt. His dark blue hoodie is unzipped. I grab the fabric with shaky hands and thread the ends of the zip together. I yank the toggle but the zip doesn’t catch. A sob works its way up my throat.