The Survivors

by Jane Harper

  ‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ Pendlebury said, still staring at The Survivors.

  Kieran pictured Verity in the kitchen that morning, the milk-stained packing box where Brian had again attempted to help her, and he felt a powerful need to protect them.

  ‘Listen, if you’re thinking my parents had something to do with Bronte – or Gabby for that matter – you’re wrong.’

  ‘Am I?’ Pendlebury’s voice was neutral.

  ‘Yes. I mean, obviously. Look, I know it’s not great that my dad was out on Saturday night – I get that, we all do – but you can’t spend five minutes with him and seriously believe he’d have the presence of mind to steal a laptop and camera.’

  ‘I didn’t say he did, Kieran.’

  ‘No, okay. But were you hinting at it? Last night at the meeting when you were talking to my mum?’

  Pendlebury clicked the tablet screen off. ‘It sounds like you’ve been thinking about this a bit.’

  ‘About the consequences of my father’s irreversibly deteriorating mental health? Yeah, surprisingly, I think about it quite a lot.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Pendlebury looked at him, her hair catching in the wind as she considered. ‘So tell me this. You’re a local. If you were me, where would you be searching for Bronte’s missing laptop and camera?’

  ‘I really have no idea.’ Kieran met her gaze. ‘Although George Barlin reckons you might already know what was on them anyway.’

  ‘Does he now?’

  ‘Yes.’ Kieran nodded pointedly at the computer tablet she had been scrutinising. ‘He does.’

  Pendlebury turned back to The Survivors. A cloud cleared overhead and the water sparkled again.

  ‘Has George Barlin been saying anything else, out of interest?’

  Kieran remembered George outside the library the previous night, their conversation interrupted by Ash’s arrival. He frowned. ‘Like what?’

  ‘Anything. Just curious,’ Pendlebury said, and Kieran had the odd sense she was weighing something up.

  He waited, but when she didn’t say any more, he looked towards the path. ‘I should get back. Mia’s waiting. You probably shouldn’t stay down here alone.’

  Pendlebury nodded, and they turned and together began to walk across the sand.

  ‘Do you come down here much yourself?’ Pendlebury asked. ‘Think about your brother?’

  ‘Not really. I can think about him in other places.’

  ‘That’s true. Were you two close as siblings?’

  ‘Of course. He came out in a storm to save my life.’

  Pendlebury looked at Kieran, again with that expression he couldn’t read, then glanced back out to where the Nautilus Blue bobbed on the gentle current.

  ‘Liam spends a bit of time out there, though, doesn’t he? Helping Sean with the business. They don’t find it hard after what happened to Toby?’

  ‘You’d have to ask them.’ Kieran shrugged. ‘Look, they probably do. But the wreck is where it is, so there’s not much they can do about that.’

  ‘And it seems you all enjoyed some good times down here as well once,’ Pendlebury said, as they approached the North Cave. Even from across the sand Kieran could make out the scratched letters in the rock and as they drew closer he could see his own name clearly. Finn’s was above it and Ash’s somewhere beyond that, he knew. Years later, still there, still perfectly visible. He felt a fresh burst of irritation at his younger self.

  ‘Marking territory, was it? Whose idea was this?’ Pendlebury walked right up to the cave entrance and ran her finger over the lettering.

  ‘We all did it. I can’t remember.’

  It had been Finn’s idea. Stuff like that usually was. Kieran’s phone beeped in his pocket and he checked it. Mia.

  ‘I’m going back up,’ he said. ‘You should come too.’

  Pendlebury didn’t say anything. She was staring deep into the cave, unmoving. Kieran followed her gaze and for a moment, less than that even, Kieran again had the uneasy sensation of something waiting in the dark, holding its breath. He realised his own lungs were tight and he exhaled. Pendlebury turned suddenly, and the feeling was gone. Kieran had no idea if she’d felt it too.

  ‘Don’t keep Mia waiting,’ she said. ‘I’ll be a few more minutes yet –’ She held up a hand before he could protest. ‘Literally, a few minutes. I’m not going exploring on my own, don’t worry.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Absolutely. You go.’

  She wanted to get rid of him, Kieran thought, as his phone rang this time.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Be careful, though.’

  ‘Always,’ Pendlebury said with a smile. He could feel her watching as he trudged over the sand and started up the cliff path. As he neared the halfway point, just before the beach disappeared from view, he stopped and looked back.

  Pendlebury had turned away from the caves. She was holding up her tablet once more, standing very still as she stared out at The Survivors.

  Chapter 28

  Kieran could tell something was different as soon as he unlocked the front door. He and Mia had dissected his conversation with Pendlebury all the way back down the cliff path, pausing only to give Shifty another pat on the head as they passed the cemetery gates. The Surf and Turf had looked close to empty as they walked by, so they had stopped and ordered two takeaway coffees from a waiter Kieran didn’t know.

  Now, as Kieran used his free hand to push open the door to his parents’ place, it immediately felt odd. The door swung free and unimpeded, a shaft of daylight illuminating the hallway. Kieran’s footsteps rang out with a strange hollow echo as he walked inside. Mia was right behind him.

  ‘Oh,’ she breathed.

  The hallway was completely clear.

  Every sagging half-packed box was gone. Kieran could see the dust streaks where they had stood, and loose sand crunched under their shoes. He had grown used to the front door opening only three-quarters of the way, and to having to edge around a tower of cardboard every time he went in or out. Now, he walked straight through, his steps sounding too loud against the bare floorboards.

  ‘It’s the same in here,’ Mia said, and Kieran looked past her into the living room. The couch and coffee table were still there, but the small mountain of boxes that he had helped part-fill himself was gone. Brian was sitting in his armchair by the window. He had been gazing out, but lifted his head as he saw Kieran. He frowned as though trying to grasp a thought.

  ‘Are you all right, Dad?’ No reply. Kieran turned back to Mia. ‘What’s –?’

  He stopped and they both turned as Verity came out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a tea towel. Her face was mottled pink and she had half-moon sweat stains under the arms of her t-shirt.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Hello. Good walk?’

  Kieran stared at her. ‘Where are all the boxes?’

  ‘Some are in the other room. Some are stacked out on the back verandah.’

  Kieran waited but she said no more, just folded the tea towel into a square. ‘For God’s sake, Mum,’ he said. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘What does it look like? Getting organised.’ Verity went back into the kitchen and they followed her. She had started but not yet finished the process in there. ‘The clutter was getting ridiculous.’

  ‘You moved those boxes all by yourself, Verity?’ Mia said. ‘You should have waited until we were back.’

  ‘Most of them weren’t heavy. Cushions and ornaments.’ Verity put the kettle on. ‘I could slide the ones that were.’

  Neither Kieran or Mia said anything. As the kettle rumbled, Verity stared at the sink. At last, she turned and looked at them properly.

  ‘I’ve been trying to pretend this move isn’t happening. But it is. And ignoring it and putting things off isn’t helping. It’s bad enough having to leave her
e without half my clothes and belongings getting destroyed in the process by your dad trying to help. I need to accept this and make the best of it.’ She reached for the kettle. ‘So that’s what I’m doing from now on.’

  Kieran took a breath. What she said seemed genuine, but it was hard to tell with Verity these days. He looked at Mia, who gave a tiny nod.

  ‘I’ll get Audrey settled,’ Mia said. ‘Then we’ll give you a hand in here, Verity.’

  ‘You don’t have to. I can manage.’

  ‘We want to, Mum,’ Kieran said. ‘That’s why we came back. So you don’t have to do it all on your own.’

  It was a long afternoon, but by the end at least they could see the main surfaces and floors again. As evening rolled around, Kieran was ready to do nothing more than flop into bed and he could tell Mia felt the same way. He groaned when his phone beeped with a text. Sean.

  ‘He’s asked if we’ll go for drinks tonight at the Surf and Turf,’ he said to Mia. ‘He says it’s been dead. Julian’s worried.’

  ‘Is he? I know it was pretty empty earlier, but I didn’t realise it was that bad.’ Mia stifled a yawn. ‘Are Liv and Ash going?’

  ‘Sounds like it.’

  They looked at each other. Audrey, fractious all day, had at last settled. The bed was right there. Mia closed her eyes, but stayed standing.

  ‘We should go,’ she said. ‘If Verity feels up to babysitting.’ She still had traces of dust from the packing boxes in her hair. ‘Besides, once your mum and dad move, this might be the last time we’re here.’

  Kieran hadn’t considered that, he realised with a jolt. While he texted Sean back, he wondered if it were true. When his parents left, would there still be enough here to bring him back again? Maybe, he thought as he hit the send button. Or maybe not. He honestly didn’t know.

  Kieran and Mia didn’t talk much as they walked into town. The evening had an echo of that awful Saturday night that was impossible to ignore, and as they passed Fisherman’s Cottage, Mia looked away. A single large fresh bouquet had been placed among the wilting ones. From Bronte’s parents, Kieran guessed, but didn’t slow down to check.

  The Surf and Turf was empty in a way he had never seen it before. There wasn’t a single person on the outside deck as they approached, and through the lit windows he could see most of the tables were unused. Kieran was about to climb the steps when he felt Mia touch his elbow. She made a subtle gesture and Kieran turned to look.

  Julian was standing by the side of the road a little further along, a short way past the CCTV camera. His short silver hair was tinged yellow from the streetlight as he leaned into the driver’s side window of a white Holden four-wheel drive.

  Liam’s car, Kieran recognised straight away. Was that the car he had seen on Saturday night? he wondered again. Strangely, as he looked at it now, he could picture it almost clearly, speeding around the corner out of the blackness, a little too close for comfort. Whether the memory was real or manufactured, Kieran really wasn’t sure.

  He could make out Liam now sitting in the driver’s seat, mostly in silhouette. Liam held the steering wheel with one hand and was rubbing his eyes with the other.

  ‘Is he crying?’ Mia whispered.

  ‘I don’t know.’ He could be, Kieran thought as he watched Julian reach in through the open window and place a palm on his stepson’s shoulder. Julian was saying something now, leaning in further until his face was almost hidden.

  Liam dropped his hand from his eyes and must have spotted them through the windshield, because suddenly Julian turned their way. He straightened and both men looked directly at them, before Julian nodded in greeting.

  ‘Thanks for coming by,’ he called. He shrugged in an attempt at humour. ‘Kept the best tables for you.’

  Kieran nodded back in response and, as they climbed the steps to go in, he saw Julian lean back into the car.

  He heard Ash well before he saw him.

  ‘Seems to be taking you a very long time,’ Ash was saying. ‘Writing this book. You’ve been at it for months. Poking your nose into people’s business.’

  ‘It’s called a research phase.’ George Barlin was already half on his feet, staring at his laptop screen as he clicked a key to shut it down. A mostly full glass of red wine stood abandoned on the table. ‘I was a journo for fifteen years. I like to look into things that interest me.’

  Ash made a dismissive noise. He was leaning against George’s table, arms folded across his chest, and barely glanced over as Kieran and Mia came in.

  ‘Haven’t got writer’s block, I hope?’

  ‘Nope. Thanks for the concern.’

  ‘Just want to make sure you can keep up the mortgage repayments on that beautiful house of yours.’

  ‘Writer’s block is for amateurs, mate.’ George didn’t bother to look at Ash as he snapped his laptop shut. ‘I do this for a living.’

  Kieran shot a look across the room to where Sean was seated by the window. He was watching the exchange open-mouthed, a couple of half-empty beer glasses in front of him.

  ‘Still.’ Ash was fully focused on the author. ‘Be a real shame to turn in a dud.’

  George didn’t reply as he got out his satchel.

  Ash leaned in a little. ‘I’m just saying, letting those super-high standards of yours slip would be –’

  ‘Ash, mate,’ Kieran tried to jump in but George held up a hand.

  ‘It’s fine. The thing is, Ash, I only take criticism from people I’d go to for advice.’ George’s tone was light, but cut straight through. ‘And when it comes to writing, do you know how many people are in that group? About three, my friend. And not one of them is you.’

  ‘Hey, I’m not implying anything, mate. I don’t even read them.’ Ash took a half-step forward as George moved out from the table. ‘But I heard reviews for your last one were – what’s the polite term? – mixed.’

  ‘Well.’ George looked faintly amused. ‘That book let me buy your nan’s treasured family home for cash. So I reckon I must be doing something right.’

  Ash opened his mouth, then closed it again in such a way that Kieran almost had to smile. The door to the toilets swung open and Olivia appeared. She looked tired and her head was down. She started towards Sean’s table when she clocked Ash and George in the other corner and stopped in her tracks.

  ‘But you seem to be struggling to understand what all this means, Ash,’ George was saying. His voice was flat and slow, like he was talking to a child. ‘It means I own that house now. And the garden. It also means you’d better stop hanging around my property at all hours with that look on your face. You think I didn’t see you out there again this morning?’

  ‘I’ve been keeping an eye on the cops for you, mate. You know how they’ve been stopping by your place the last few days? Yep –’ Ash’s voice was hard. ‘I’ve seen them in there talking to you. Why are they asking you so many questions, anyway?’

  George looked at him closely, before giving a small shrug. ‘Who knows, eh? Who knows what they’ve uncovered?’

  ‘Liv says you wrote a pretty personal message in Bronte’s book.’

  ‘Hey, Ash. Don’t,’ Olivia said, but George simply frowned.

  ‘Did I?’ he said. ‘Probably. Bronte was trying to make it in a creative industry. I know what that’s like. She enjoyed my books. I thought her pictures were good. Her plans for making a living in an artistic field seemed professional and realistic, which is rare. You don’t see that a lot. So, yeah –’ George nodded. ‘If it surprises you that Bronte and I had enough in common to have some sort of loose friendship, then that says a lot more about you, Ash, than it does about me.’

  ‘I don’t know about that, mate. Not with her ending up like she did.’

  ‘Ash!’ Olivia was angry now. ‘Enough!’

  His eyes met hers and for the first time, he hes
itated. In the corner, Sean was on his feet. The sole waiter at the cash register kept looking anxiously at the door, probably wishing Julian would hurry up and return. Ash turned back to George, not quite ready to let go yet, but George had already taken a step towards the exit.

  ‘The thing is, mate –’ George put his satchel strap over his shoulder. ‘You can try to make this about Bronte – bit ghoulish and tacky, if you ask me – but we both know that’s not what’s driving this. It’s not even really about me ripping up that garden. Which, once again, I own.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re on about.’ Ash was frowning.

  ‘No?’ George’s voice was steady and soft. ‘It’s not about the fact that it annoys you that I make more money than you doing a creative job that you don’t respect? Or how you think you could have done a lot more with your life, but have realised lately that you’ll probably never leave here?’ He glanced at Olivia, her face stormy. ‘Or how you suspect your girlfriend is too good for you? Which she absolutely is, by the way. You’re right to be worried. What? –’ George gave a hard laugh at Ash’s expression. ‘It’s not magic, mate. It’s called paying attention to your surroundings. I mean, I know literally nothing about your father, other than the fact you clearly have a very poor relationship with him –’

  ‘Stop tearing up the bloody garden!’ Ash shouted. ‘Jesus, it’s not about any of that stuff. Just stop destroying my garden, all right?’

  There was a long silence. Ash rubbed his hands over his face and held them there, breathing in and out. Finally, he dropped them.

  ‘Forget it,’ he said, his voice quiet now. He looked defeated. ‘It’s too bloody late anyway.’

  No-one moved, then Ash shoved a chair out of his way with a clatter.

  ‘I need some air.’

  He let the door slam. Olivia was a few paces behind, looking upset. Through the windows, Kieran saw her follow Ash around to the side of the building. George waited only until they were clear, then adjusted his bag and walked out himself without a word, shaking his head.