The Survivors

by Jane Harper

  As Ash spoke, he made eye contact with Bronte near the bar and circled his hand in a more drinks motion at the table. She gave him a thumbs up and he winked. Her gaze snagged on Kieran and he tried to gauge her reaction to her conversation with Liam in the kitchen. Curiosity? Contempt? She looked away before he could tell.

  ‘Look, I’m not claiming any different.’ Sean was still smiling as he pointed at Ash. ‘But it’s funny how often people’s free will turns out to coincide with exactly what you want, mate.’ He grinned at Kieran, who had to force himself to focus. ‘Happens all the time at home.’

  Kieran couldn’t think of anything to say, and was relieved when Mia jumped in.

  ‘Where are you two living now?’ she said. ‘Still out by the marina?’

  Ash nodded. ‘Yeah, same place. Got a few things that need fixing, but suits us both for work.’

  Kieran pictured the sprawling beach house Ash and Sean had shared for at least the past six years. It had always been a little ramshackle, but there was no criticising the location, and it was an upgrade from the smaller and even more ramshackle place they’d shared before that.

  Mia turned to Sean. ‘How’s the business going, anyway? We saw you out there earlier. Or the boat at least.’

  After Ash had left them at the beach that afternoon, Kieran and Mia had looked at each other, then at his parents’ house where they knew a mountain of moving boxes awaited.

  ‘I guess we should go back,’ Mia had said.

  Kieran had glanced down at his baby daughter. ‘Or we could show Audrey the sights of Evelyn Bay. First time she’s been here.’

  ‘Where were you thinking?’

  ‘The lookout?’

  Mia had shrugged. ‘It’s up to you. You’re the one who’s going to have to carry her up that cliff path.’

  ‘No worries.’ Kieran had slipped on his t-shirt and shaken the sand off the baby sling before clipping it around him. ‘Too easy.’

  In fact, the well-worn trail winding up and away from the town had been harder going than he remembered with the extra weight against his chest. Part-way up they had passed the gates leading to the rear of the town’s cemetery, before the path narrowed and grew steeper. Kieran had been glad to reach the top. Twelve years ago, the former whaling lookout had been little more than a flat clearing with a single faded sign that implied, as Kieran remembered it, that it might not be the greatest idea to go clambering about on the cliffs but, hey, live and let live.

  Now the lookout was a small but formal decked area, enclosed by a wire fence topped by a thick wooden railing at waist height. Next to smart laminated boards offering illustrated information about whale migratory patterns and the nesting area of crested terns, a very legible notice warned that trespassers on the cliffs risked a $500 fine, enforceable under local by-law Section D, amendment 16.1.

  There had been no-one else up there, and Kieran had sat next to Mia on a bench that had also appeared in recent years and looked out at the sea as the wind snatched at their hair. The water, which could be a thousand different sparkling colours, was that afternoon an undulating plain of dull grey-green. Some way out beyond the rocks, an anchored catamaran listed gently. Sean’s boat, the Nautilus Blue.

  ‘Is he under?’ Mia was squinting at the deck.

  ‘Looks like it.’ Kieran could see the hoisted flag flapping its message. Blue and white. Diver down.

  Kieran had scanned the water for the dark slick of a wetsuit, a head bobbing amid the waves, but the surface remained unbroken. He wasn’t really expecting to see him. The wreckage of the doomed SS Mary Minerva lay thirty-five metres deep. Sean could be gone for a while.

  The memorial commissioned in tribute to the fifty-four passengers and crew who had lost their lives nearly a century ago now stood on a rocky outcrop, facing out towards the site of the sinking.

  The memorial was said to be visible from both land and water in all weather. It wasn’t, though, Kieran couldn’t help but think with a sting of bitterness every time he saw it now. Not all weather. Still, people seemed to like it. And it was more recognition than most shipwrecks ever got. The Tasmanian waters were notorious for having claimed more than a thousand vessels, their rusting skeletal remains decaying slowly, turning the island’s waters into an underwater graveyard.

  ‘Business is good, thanks,’ Sean was saying now, raising his voice above the noise in the Surf and Turf. ‘Had a busy summer, which helps. Glad it’s over now, though.’

  ‘Time for the fun stuff?’ Kieran said.

  ‘Yeah.’ Sean smiled. ‘First booking’s in a couple of weeks. Got a group flying out from Norway.’

  ‘You ready for them?’

  ‘Getting there.’

  This had always been a demanding time of year in the business, Kieran remembered, and nothing would have changed. Sean would have spent all summer taking tourists fishing and snorkelling and on easy shallow-water dives, making the money while it was there to be made. When autumn came and the algae that clouded the summer sea cleared, the serious cold-water divers would start flying in from around the world to take advantage of the few short months of peak underwater visibility, and Sean could do what he loved best – go deep.

  The Mary Minerva was one of the few accessible shipwrecks in the state, but it was only for divers who knew what they were doing. And divers who knew what they were doing didn’t want to waste the experience in suboptimal conditions, so the window of opportunity was limited. By July, winter sea conditions would become so treacherous that it would be impossible to reach the wreck, and the Mary Minerva would be left in its submerged solitude for another year.

  ‘I was planning to be a bit further on with the safety checks by now,’ Sean was saying. ‘The Norwegians want to get into the engine room, but I dunno about it this year. I don’t like the feel of that north-facing wall. I really need to get right in and have a look but I think my good torch has gone overboard somewhere.’

  ‘I lent it to the girls.’ Ash didn’t look up from his phone.

  ‘My yellow torch? The waterproof one?’

  ‘Yeah. Sorry, thought I said.’

  Sean blinked. ‘I’ve been looking for that for weeks, mate. I was literally about to buy another one.’

  Ash saw Sean’s face and laughed. ‘Come on, don’t be like that. I thought I’d said. Anyway, they needed it. They only had a small crappy one.’

  ‘It’s expensive.’ Sean still seemed a bit annoyed. ‘And you’re not supposed to use it for too long on land, the bulb can overheat. Hey, Liv –’ he said as Olivia brought over the tray with their drinks. ‘– are you girls finished with my torch? The yellow one?’

  ‘Oh. Yeah, I think so.’ She unloaded the tray and tucked it under her arm. ‘It wasn’t me who wanted it anyway, it was Bronte.’

  Sean frowned. ‘What for?’

  Olivia hesitated. Bronte was stacking glasses at the bar, out of earshot. ‘She thought she heard something out the back of the house a couple of nights.’

  ‘Really?’ Mia raised her eyebrows. ‘What, the bit leading onto the beach?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Olivia said. ‘I mean, if your housemate says something like that you obviously take it seriously, but –’ She leaned against the table, absently running a thumb along the chain of her necklace. ‘Look, I’m not saying she didn’t think she heard something. But I’ve been there for two years and never had any problems. Even in the summer when you’ve got people out on the sand at all hours.’ Olivia looked at Ash. ‘I mean, you’ve never heard anything either, have you, when you’ve stayed?’

  Ash shook his head. ‘I had a look around, just in case, with the tourists, you know? But nothing to see. I mean, the shed’s always unlocked, but nothing in there was gone. It was probably a dog or something.’

  Mia frowned. ‘Still. It’s a bit creepy.’

  ‘I know,’ Olivia said. ‘It was pret
ty unsettling for a while. But the window in Bronte’s room faces the sea, and you know what it can sound like with the wind and water. Especially if you didn’t grow up with it.’

  They all nodded at that.

  ‘Anyway.’ Olivia shrugged and turned to Sean. ‘She hasn’t mentioned it for a couple of weeks so I think –’ She broke off and turned as Bronte walked past. ‘Bronte, you’re finished with that yellow torch, aren’t you?’

  ‘Oh.’ Bronte stopped, a little awkward as she realised all eyes were on her. ‘Yeah. I am.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Sean said. ‘Because if you’re having trouble with noise from the beach or whatever, I’ve got a different one you can –’

  ‘No, that’s okay. Thanks, though. It’s fine.’

  ‘Did you work out what the noise was?’ Olivia asked in surprise.

  ‘I –’ Bronte’s gaze flicked to Kieran and their eyes met, long enough for him to clock her expression. Uncomfortable, definitely. Maybe a hint of pity? That wasn’t unheard of, either. From the kitchen hatch came the sound of a pan being dropped and Bronte blinked. She looked back to Olivia. ‘Yeah, I’m pretty sure it was nothing to worry about. I’d just freaked myself out.’

  She turned and headed back to the kitchen. Kieran could see Liam leaning out from the serving hatch. He murmured something as she approached and they both glanced back at Kieran.

  The way I see it, you kill someone, you deserve all the shit that’s coming your way.

  Kieran remembered Liam’s words, unmistakable as they floated out from the kitchen.

  There had been a silence, the industrial fan droning angrily. Kieran had tried to walk away. Go back to the table, he had told himself. Go back to Mia and Ash. You don’t need to hear this. He had stayed anyway, just out of sight.

  ‘Sorry. The guy with the baby?’ Bronte had said at last. ‘That guy? He killed someone?’

  At least she sounded doubtful, Kieran had thought. Wrongly so, but still.

  ‘Yeah.’ Liam was annoyed now. ‘Two people actually. One of them was my dad.’

  ‘Shit. Seriously?’ There was a stunned pause. ‘Oh my God. What happened? No, I’m sorry, you don’t have to –’

  ‘It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, obviously. But it was like twelve years ago now.’

  ‘I am so sorry, Liam.’ Bronte sounded like she meant it. ‘I was just surprised. He seems so … normal. Does his partner know?’

  ‘Yeah, of course. She was at school here too when it happened. It was the day of the storm.’

  Kieran could hear the confusion in Bronte’s silence.

  ‘Look, it doesn’t matter,’ Liam went on. ‘It was this big storm, the worst in like eighty years or something. But everyone who was here then remembers it, and they all know what he did. They could all tell you.’

  ‘What about your uncle?’

  ‘Sean?’ Liam said. ‘What about him?’

  ‘I thought Olivia said Sean was coming here to meet them all for drinks, so –’

  ‘Oh, yeah.’ Liam gave a hard laugh. ‘They’re all friends.’

  ‘But –’ She was still confused. ‘– were Sean and your dad brothers, or are you related by marriage or –?’

  ‘Yeah, my dad was Sean’s older brother.’ Kieran could imagine Liam shaking his head. ‘But Sean has – I dunno – forgiven him, or something.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘So everyone knows?’ Bronte asked.

  ‘Most people.’

  ‘But –’ A long pause. ‘I mean, why is everyone acting like nothing happened?’

  ‘Same reason that Sean is still friendly with him, I guess. People feel sorry for him. Not that they should.’ Liam’s tone was stark. ‘But they do. Because the other person the dickhead managed to kill was his own brother.’

  Chapter 4

  If Evelyn Bay had been quiet earlier, it was completely deserted as Kieran, Mia and Sean stepped out into the night air. They had stayed until closing time, with Bronte systematically clearing tables around them as other customers left one by one.

  At 11 pm on the dot, the manager had wiped his hands on his apron, flipped on the harsh overhead lights and cut the music dead. He’d come out of the kitchen, clicking his long fingers towards the supplies closet and calling something back through the serving hatch. Liam had emerged in response, scowling and clattering a mop and bucket in his wake. He kept his head down, his bulk hunched awkwardly as he splashed water on the floor.

  It had taken Kieran a moment to realise that Liam was deliberately channelling the dirty run-off water towards his feet as he waited by the cash register to pay. It was such a strangely impotent gesture that Kieran actually felt sorry for the bloke. He didn’t even bother to take a step aside, simply letting the soapy trickle seep across the tiles and pool harmlessly around the soles of his shoes. Christ, he could let the guy have this one, if he needed it that badly.

  Sean had observed the exchange, his grey eyes flicking from Liam to Kieran and back again, before getting to his feet. He’d strolled over to his nephew, put a palm on his back and said something in a low, calm tone. Liam had continued splashing water on the floor until Sean had reached out a hand and simply stopped the mop. Sean was shorter and slighter than his broad-backed nephew, but right then, Liam had looked like a child. Sean leaned in again, using the same calm voice. Finally, his nephew nodded. Sean straightened and slapped Liam gently on the shoulder.

  ‘Good man.’

  He’d let go of the mop handle and after a beat, Liam had carried on. Out of the corner of his eye, Kieran had seen Bronte watching, the cloth rag hanging limply in her hand.

  At the door, Mia stopped to hug Olivia goodbye.

  ‘Do you want us to wait and walk you home?’ Mia said. ‘We’re going right past your place.’

  ‘It’s okay, I stay at my mum’s most Saturday nights now,’ Olivia said. ‘We do Sunday morning yoga together. I think the weekend drags for her a bit otherwise. Anyway –’ Olivia brushed a stray curl off her forehead. ‘That’s all fine. Ash’ll hang around, drop me off at Mum’s. But listen, let’s arrange something again. One night when I’m not working.’

  ‘Definitely,’ Mia said, then waved a couple of baby sunhats at Bronte, who was frowning at the cash register. ‘Bye. Thanks again for these.’

  ‘Oh.’ Bronte looked up, her concentration broken. ‘No worries. You’re welcome.’ Her smile faded as she dropped her eyes from Kieran and Mia to the register, the frown a little deeper now.

  The road outside was dim compared with the brightness inside the Surf and Turf, only the occasional streetlamp casting a weak orange glow as Kieran, Sean and Mia walked through the sleeping town. Kieran could hear the wash of the tide and within minutes the sea was back in view as the shops and businesses thinned out. They passed the petrol station and the small red-brick police station and, up ahead, he could see the halo of the marina’s security lights cutting through the night.

  ‘So did Liam give you a hard time?’ Sean said. ‘Or was his revenge limited to a bucket of water?’

  Kieran shook his head. ‘We didn’t speak.’ That was true. In the dark, he felt Mia take his hand.

  ‘I meant to warn him you’d be there, but I got caught up out at the wreck.’ Sean paused. ‘Shit. Maybe I should have warned you, too.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. If I didn’t see him there, it’d be somewhere else.’ The marina was close now, the vessels still and shining white under the lights. ‘Does Liam work at the Surf and Turf full-time now?’

  ‘No, just casual shifts for the summer. Got him helping me on the boat the rest of the time.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘Yeah, well. He was at a bit of a loose end after he finished school. Anyway –’ Sean had come to a stop outside a light-brown weatherboard beach house. ‘This is me.’

  Ev
ery window was dark, but as Sean opened the gate a security light tripped on to illuminate a slightly sagging verandah and an immaculately maintained front yard. A board fixed to the fence advertised the name and website of Ash’s landscaping business.

  ‘Listen.’ Sean stopped with one hand on the gate. ‘I’m sorry about Liam. I’ll have a word with him.’

  ‘Don’t bother, mate. I heard him talking a bit to that waitress, but he didn’t even speak to me. It’ll be fine.’

  Sean didn’t reply, but ran a hand over his stubble in a way that implied he knew his nephew a bit better than Kieran did. He seemed like he was about to say something else, then changed his mind. He pulled out his phone.

  ‘I’ll have to be down at the wreck most days this week –’ He opened a weather app and checked the forecast. ‘Actually, shout out if you want to come, conditions are pretty perfect tomorrow. Not as good Monday and Tuesday, but I’ll still be there. Either way –’ Sean raised a hand in farewell. ‘– good to see you both. Like Liv was saying, let’s do it again when she’s off, yeah?’

  Kieran and Mia watched him climb the wooden steps, unlock the door and disappear inside, jangling his keys as he went. Kieran looked over at Mia. He was tired, but suddenly couldn’t remember the last time it had been just the two of them. It would only have been three months ago, he knew. It felt like a lot longer.

  ‘Quick look at the beach?’ he said.

  Mia smiled. ‘Sure.’

  They walked hand in hand towards the sound of the ocean, turning away from the marina and to the inky night beyond. They took their shoes off as they hit sand and headed down to the water. The horizon was a jet-black line, giving way above to the bright moon and a splash of stars.

  ‘Did Liam really not say anything earlier?’ Mia said.

  ‘Not to me. Just to that girl, Bronte. I overhead them in the kitchen.’

  ‘What did he tell her?’

  ‘What you’d expect.’

  They fell quiet, not needing to say anything more. Kieran was glad. That had always been one of his favourite things about Mia, right from the night they had met – re-met, technically – in a too-loud student bar in Sydney’s city centre.