by Fiona Lowe
‘IBAC’s also for corruption in the public sector and that’s exactly what we think is happening.’
An image of a courtroom loomed large in her head. ‘Can Mr and Mrs Average Citizen make a report?’
‘According to IBAC’s website we can. And apparently I missed the announcement that we got married. Tell me I’ve still got the honeymoon to look forward to.’
She fought a reluctant smile. ‘You’d have no idea what to do if I said yes.’
‘I think you’ve got that the wrong way around, Helen. I’m the one who’d know exactly what to do.’
She cut the call, unsettled by Bob being one hundred per cent correct.
CHAPTER
37
Rafts of excitement and anticipation tingled inside Tara from the moment Jon winked at her during the chaos of breakfast and she saw him pop a blue pill into his mouth along with his other medications. Ian was taking the children to school so they could both get to work early and clear the important things before they left at eleven. On the drive into town, they kept breaking into laughter.
Jon squeezed her thigh. ‘I feel as nervous and excited as I did on our first date.’
‘I don’t remember you being nervous. You walked into the bar full of football-star swagger.’
He turned into the car park. ‘Of course I was nervous. You were unimpressed by football. What the—’
The charity bin in the car park had been upended and a mess of clothes and sundry donations were scattered across the concrete.
Jon, stressed and angry, fumbled with his seatbelt latch and swore again. Tara released it and he took a moment to get his uncooperative legs out of the car.
Red, green and blue paint was sprayed across the front of the store in familiar tags they’d seen around town for months. Sometimes the tags looked phallic, sometimes not, but the letters SUC were always incorporated inside them.
‘If they’d broken in, we’d have got a phone call from the security company,’ Tara said. ‘Let’s take it as a win.’
Jon grunted, stepped over the rubbish and opened up the store. Everything looked untouched until they reached the doors that separated the main area from the garden section. Pots lay on their sides, their contents dumped and dying. Garden gnomes wore condoms on their hats and one of the birdbaths had something in it that looked suspiciously like excrement. But it was the pungent odour of blood and bone drifting into the store from the slashed fertiliser bags that made them gag.
‘How did they get in?’ Tara asked.
They looked up simultaneously. There was a clear patch of blue at the edge of the large expanse of green shade cloth that joined the wall and the ceiling.
‘If they dropped in from that height, they should be lying on the floor with broken legs,’ Jon said.
‘They must have climbed down using that.’ Tara pointed to a ladder that didn’t belong in the section.
‘But why?’
‘No cameras? No alarm?’
‘So they risked injuring themselves to wreck the place? It doesn’t make sense.’
‘You ring the police,’ Tara said. ‘I’ll take photos.’
When she returned to the office, all the lightness and enthusiasm that had circled Jon at breakfast had been replaced by a mix of frustration and resignation. He was staring at the blank CCTV as if willing it to show him something.
Bastards! Their planned morning tryst was dead in the water.
‘Are the police on their way?’ she asked. ‘We can’t open until we’ve cleared the rubbish and they’ll want to see it before we do.’
‘Apparently, some lunatic was charging around town last night with throwdowns and a gun and setting bins on fire so we’re low on their list of priorities. North promised someone before three. We’ll clean up the front or we won’t get any customers, but keep the garden section closed.’
‘I’ll text the casuals to come in after school. They can scrub off the graffiti and get started on the garden clean-up.’
‘Oh, my God!’ Samantha appeared in the doorway holding a tissue over her mouth and nose. ‘What’s that smell?’
‘Blood and bone,’ Tara said.
The other staff arrived, all recoiling at the stench.
‘Surely, we’re not opening? No one will want to come into the store.’
‘Doesn’t worry me. I’m on timber today.’
‘We can’t work under these conditions.’
The saleyards smelled worse, but Tara knew that comment wouldn’t win her any support. ‘We’ve got masks you and the customers can wear, and I’ll get some lavender oil to put on them as well. We’ll set up fans to try to limit the smell to one area, and we’ll also provide morning tea and lunch from the bakery. Of course, if you wish to take an annual leave day or a day without pay, you can, but I’m hoping you’ll work with us and help us trade through this inconvenience. It would be a shame to let whoever did this see us close for the day.’
‘I blame the refugees and Denny North. Town’s gone to the dogs since both arrived,’ Chris Mancini said.
‘Yeah. Funny how this happened a few weeks after Amal started working here,’ Debbie Sloane added. ‘Bet you regret that now.’
Tara opened her mouth, but closed it as Jon’s hand rested on her shoulder.
‘Tara and I have no reason to suspect Amal,’ he said. ‘Just like we have no reason to suspect any of our valued team members, old or new. But if anyone heard or saw something last night when they were out walking the dog, please let us know.’
‘It was probably the same thugs who terrorised Serenity Street,’ Samantha said. ‘According to The Standard’s Facebook page, it sounded like a warzone. It’s all very well to offer people a new life but they have to live by our rules.’
‘No one is disputing living by the rules. We all have to do that,’ Tara said. ‘I doubt anyone who’s lived in a warzone would want to recreate it.’
The long blast of a horn—the morning’s timber delivery—broke up the chatter and everyone got to work.
Tara thought it might be pushing the staff a bit far by asking them to clear up the rubbish so she and Jon donned gloves and returned to the entrance. Bagging and mopping took longer than expected as a lot of rubberneckers wanted to discuss the night’s events.
‘Isn’t that your personal trainer?’ Jon said.
Tara looked up from dropping rubbish into a bag. Zac was jogging straight towards them, his tanned skin stretched over bulging muscles and slick with sweat.
Her heart kicked up—nothing to do with Zac and everything to do with Jon. A cocktail of memories was playing across Jon’s face—admiration and pride stirred with sorrow. She knew Zac was reminding him of himself at the same age. He’d been just as fit if not quite as buff.
‘Yes, that’s Zac. I thought you met him at the Chamber of Commerce dinner?’
‘Yeah, but he was wearing clothes. Should I be worried?’
Not any more. ‘Absolutely.’
‘Good to know.’ He didn’t wait for Tara to introduce them, but greeted Zac with a hearty, ‘G’day. Zac, isn’t it?’
Zac pulled an earbud out of his ear and wiped his hand on his shorts before extending it to Jon. ‘G’day, Jon. Hi, Tara. What happened here?’
They gave him the quick version and he made all the appropriate commiserations.
‘I can see why you cancelled on me this morning,’ Zac said to Tara.
Jon grinned at her, then laughed. ‘Yep, that was the reason.’
Tara’s cheeks burned from embarrassment that Jon was joking about sex in front of Zac while being delighted he had. Much of the time he managed to laugh when his tremors caused problems, but he was still raw around the issues affecting their sex life.
Zac glanced between them. ‘Am I missing something?’
‘Sorry, mate. Didn’t mean to be rude,’ Jon said. ‘Bit of a private joke.’
‘Cool.’ Zac nodded as if this sort of thing happened to him all the time. ‘My mother reckons laughing together’s the
key to staying together.’
‘Wise woman,’ Tara managed.
‘Yeah. Mum’s pretty woke.’ Zac shifted his weight. ‘I’m starting a kickboxing class, Jon. Wondered if you might be interested?’
Surprise flashed across Jon’s face at the unexpected invitation. ‘Thanks, but it’s not really my thing. I prefer team sports.’
‘Tara said.’ Zac rubbed his jaw, clearly contemplating what to say next. ‘Did you know kickboxing’s been proven to help with balance, tremors and stiffness?’
‘You and Tara talk about me when you run, do you?’
‘Nah. She runs too fast for any conversation.’ Zac’s grin faded. ‘Tara’s a mate and I wanted to help is all. She told me you wouldn’t be interested, but I thought it was worth a shot. If you change your mind, call me. Or just drop by the gym.’ He gave a nod, pushed the earbud back into his ear and took off.
Tara opened her mouth to reassure Jon that she didn’t spend all her time with Zac talking about him when he said, ‘Nice bloke.’
‘Yeah. Underneath all that body sculpting there’s a lovely kindhearted guy.’
Tara was heaving the last bag into the rubbish skip when she saw Gerry crossing the car park.
‘You’re still a bit jittery after the shock, so to avoid spilled coffee I’ll go to the bakery,’ she told Jon.
He rolled his eyes. ‘Commandeering my condition for your own nefarious means, are we?’
‘When it comes to Gerry, needs must. Don’t let him talk you into inviting him to Thursday roast. He’ll want Ian to drink and your dad’s been so good lately. I don’t need them too drunk to play Uno and have the kids pestering us to watch something.’
‘I know he’s a bugger, T, but he’s lonely.’
Tara hesitated, feeling yet again like she was looking at herself from a distance. It had been happening on and off since she’d gambled their happiness on her own needs. Since she’d skated to the point where the ice was so thin it had broken underneath her and she’d tumbled, only to have Zac steady her. Tara understood loneliness. She’d lived it for a large part of the year and, despite her and Jon working hard to be a team again, she was still lonely. She missed Shannon.
Gerry’s not your problem. Only she knew exactly what it felt like to be lost and wandering through life.
Trying to muster grace, she said, ‘Say he’s welcome, but his drinking isn’t? That way he can decide.’
Jon nodded and gave her a rueful look. ‘Sorry about our morning matinee.’
‘It’s not your fault.’
‘The fact we have to schedule sex is.’
An ache stirred, disrupting the earlier feel-good moment. It lifted the mute from her anger at the disease that had invaded their lives and the many ways it demeaned him.
‘Again, not your fault. You didn’t ask to get Parkinson’s.’
‘Yeah, but when I come to dinner or to bed, I can’t leave the Parkinson’s behind, can I?’
‘You think I’m asking too much of Gerry?’
‘I don’t know. It just got me thinking. We don’t invite him over because when he drinks he gets loud and obnoxious and we’re embarrassed for him. Sometimes I’m a danger to china and carpet. It embarrasses me but it also embarrasses other people. I’ve seen it on their faces.’
‘If you’re talking about that rude waitress at the resort, she’s not worth worrying about.’ Tara hated that he’d noticed the ignorant woman and she laid her head on his chest, welcoming the vibrations of his heartbeat.
He stroked her hair. ‘So instead of sex for morning tea, I guess we’re forced to indulge in bakery goodness.’
‘I quite fancy a long slow lick of a chocolate éclair.’ She got a delicious tingle at the flicker in his eyes and walked away laughing.
CHAPTER
38
After Tara had fought through the thick plastic strips in the bakery’s doorway, she was greeted by Nancy, the baker’s wife. ‘Oh, my God, Tara. You poor things! We heard you got attacked.’
Tara tried not to sigh at the overblown drama. ‘The store got rubbish-bombed and graffitied, but no one was attacked.’
‘But it’s still an attack.’ Nancy leaned across the counter. ‘I’m petrified. I mean, this sort of thing doesn’t happen in Boolanga.’
Tara was getting sick of this response too. ‘This is the fifth time the store’s been damaged this year. How many times has the bakery been broken into? Graffitied?’
‘Thankfully none, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen. We have to be vigilant and look out for each other. I’m only letting two of those African kids into the store at a time and all bags have to be left outside. Now, what can I get you?’
Tara knew she should challenge Nancy’s statement, but all she wanted to do was get out of the bakery as soon as possible. She reeled off a list of coffees and pastries, then ordered the sandwiches and a selection of mini quiches and sausage rolls for lunch. She handed over her credit card.
As she stepped back from the counter, she heard someone call her name. She turned and her stomach sank. Damn. It was Wednesday. Rhianna and Kelly were sitting at the table she and Shannon had shared with them for years.
‘Hi,’ Tara said.
‘Hi. Brent said you guys had another break-in last night,’ Rhianna said.
‘So we didn’t expect to see you today,’ Kelly added and gave her a tight smile. ‘Not that we’ve seen much of you lately.’
Tara bit back a rising ‘Sorry’. Instead, she said, ‘It’s all a bit of a mess. The staff are working under difficult conditions so I’m grabbing them food and coffee.’
‘Sit while you wait.’ Rhianna kicked out a chair.
‘Thanks.’ As Tara sat, she remembered the cricket barbecue. ‘Do you want me to bring a salad or a dessert on Saturday?’
‘What’s easier for you?’
‘A salad.’ She relaxed, giving Rhianna an appreciative smile at her thoughtfulness. ‘Thanks. The veggie patch is going gangbusters at the moment.’
‘Ours isn’t. What’s your secret?’
‘Worm castings.’ Rhianna gave her a blank look. ‘Worm poo. I heard about it at the community garden.’
Kelly snorted. ‘You taking advice from Muslim peasants now?’
Tara tensed. ‘Last time I looked, Lachlan McKenzie wasn’t Muslim.’
‘But Fatima is.’ Kelly glared at her. ‘I got your email. What’s this shit about inviting her to book group?’
Tara tried not to flinch. ‘She and I had a really interesting conversation on the weekend about feminism and religion.’
‘So you’re ignoring us and socialising with her now?’ Kelly’s belligerent words were laced with hurt.
‘I’m not doing either of those things. I worked on Saturday and ran into Fatima,’ Tara said wearily. ‘Didn’t Al tell you I saw him at the store?’
‘No. Oh! Did he order the teak two-seater for the garden for Christmas?’ Kelly clapped her hands over her ears. ‘No, wait. Don’t tell me. I want it to be a surprise.’
‘My lips are sealed.’ Tara wished the coffees would hurry up.
‘Tara, we’re worried about you,’ Rhianna said, her expression its usual calm.
A hundred thoughts flitted in Tara’s mind, from ‘Thank you’ to ‘I didn’t know’.
‘Yes,’ Kelly said. ‘We were just discussing it when you walked in. You’ve changed.’
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Yes, you have! First you went all early midlife crisis on us training for a marathon, but since Jon got sick …’
Unspoken words hung between them.
Rhianna sighed. ‘We’re trying hard to be there for you and Jon, but you’re not making it easy.’
Incredulity pummelled Tara. ‘I’m not making it easy?’
Kelly nodded. ‘Every time we reach out, you block us.’
Reach out? Her mind floundered, trying to find an example of them reaching out. ‘When did I block you?’
‘I’ve been asking on W
hatsApp when we’re all getting together, but you ignore me. You haven’t even set up an event.’
‘You could have done that.’
‘I’m hardly going to invite myself to your house, am I?’
It hasn’t stopped you before.
Tara spoke slowly to keep her voice even. ‘I meant you could have invited us over to your place—’
‘You know the house isn’t finished.’
The Kvant house had been in a state of permanent renovation for six years. ‘The weatherboards don’t have to be freshly painted for a barbecue!’
‘There’s no need to lash out at Kelly,’ Rhianna said. ‘This is a perfect example of what we’re talking about.’
‘And we always come to your place,’ Kelly said. ‘We even did brunch when it wasn’t convenient.’
‘I’m working.’
‘We’re all working,’ Rhianna said. ‘And to be fair, Kelly’s been working more hours than you for years.’
Tara lurched between fury and incomprehension. ‘Your husbands don’t have a chronic illness that’s changed your lives forever. You’re not constantly worried their medication is going to make them binge eat or binge shop or worse. You’re not doing the bulk of the cooking because sharp knives and hot pans need a steady hand. And you don’t have to plan your day around the hours their energy levels are at their peak and deal with the times they can’t do things everyone takes for granted.’
‘Are you sure you’re not exaggerating?’ Rhianna tapped her spoon on the edge of her cup. ‘Jon says the medication helps. He makes it sound like it’s no big deal.’
And Tara both understood and hated why he did that. ‘You’ve known him longer than me, so you know his pride is both a blessing and a curse. If you always ask him how he is in a public place, he’ll always tell you he’s fine, even when it’s obvious he’s not.’
‘Well, that’s not helpful,’ Kelly said. ‘Especially as we haven’t had any private get-togethers lately. If you’d been honest with us, we’d have known you needed help. We’re not mind-readers.’
Zac’s voice drifted into Tara’s head. Been doing a bit of reading. What did it say when her millennial personal trainer took the time to try to understand the impact of Parkinson’s, but Jon’s lifelong friends hadn’t? A flare went off behind her eyes, turning everything vermilion.