Good News, Bad News

by Maggie Groff

  ‘I missed you,’ he said.

  We didn’t even make it to the top of the stairs.

  Chapter 45

  It was late Saturday afternoon and it was raining.

  Chairman Meow had been sitting on the verandah staring at the back gate for ages, probably hoping Peppy would appear. Rafe and I were lying naked in bed. He was reading Bleak House and I was nestled in the crook of his arm.

  ‘When do you have to go back to Sydney?’ I asked.

  ‘Tomorrow afternoon. When will you be back?’

  ‘Thursday.’

  ‘Who’s looking after the Chairman?’

  ‘Miles,’ I told him. ‘It’s a standing arrangement. The usual fee is a bottle of Scotch.’

  Rafe put the book down, pulled me closer and kissed my forehead.

  ‘When we’re both back, do you fancy a weekend in Lamington National Park?’ he said. ‘We can stay at O’Reilly’s and drink red wine by the fire.’

  ‘You never know,’ I joked, ‘we might even be dressed long enough to take one of the rainforest walks.’

  Rafe threw back the covers and looked at my body and smiled. ‘I doubt it,’ he said. Watching my eyes, he tenderly stroked his hand across my breasts and down to my navel.

  As always my skin electrified to his touch. ‘That’s no way to help me pack,’ I managed, and I jumped off the bed and quickly dressed before I succumbed to any more of his advances.

  While I packed, Rafe lay on the bed and read Dickens, although I knew he was watching me as he raised an eyebrow when I put a stainless-steel teapot and a selection of teas into the suitcase. Then I made up a comprehensive first-aid kit with extra goop for insect bites and a range of general medical requirements.

  ‘Are you planning on performing minor surgery on the island?’ he teased.

  ‘Read your book,’ I ordered. I didn’t want to be distracted and forget anything.

  I went to the bathroom and returned with a plastic toothpaste tube and an empty tin of talcum powder, both of which are important components of my personal risk-management plan. My comments to McCormack on knowing the specifications of a tall building before I leapt over it were no idle boast. I regarded diligent preparation and attention to security prior to going into the field as imperative.

  One of my biggest fears is to be in a dangerous situation and have my diabetic supplies taken from me. No insulin-dependent diabetic wants to be without medication or sugar pills, or an emergency glucagon shot to reverse a dangerous drop in blood sugar.

  The toothpaste tube was empty, having been previously cut open at the base and cleaned out. I sat down on the end of the bed and carefully inserted the essential diabetic supplies into the tube.

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ Rafe asked, sitting forward for a closer look.

  ‘It’s a back-up diabetic kit,’ I explained.

  ‘In addition to the pack you carry around your waist?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ I glued the base back together and then tossed the finished article over to Rafe.

  He picked it up and examined it. ‘Impressive,’ he said. He handed it back to me and I put it in my toiletries bag.

  ‘Wait till you see where I hide my emergency mobile phone,’ I said.

  ‘Surely not,’ he quipped, looking startled.

  ‘Very funny,’ I countered, and held up the tin of talcum powder, the base of which had been refashioned to open and close like a lid. I switched off the fully charged emergency mobile phone, wrapped it in tissues and pushed it into the talcum powder container, closed the lid and added it to the toiletries bag.

  Next I packed a waterproof torch, binoculars, miniature toolkit, pocket note-taker, disposable underwater camera, the necessary chargers and spare batteries for all my gizmos, a small waterproof backpack and a packet of zip-lock freezer bags.

  Rafe was still watching me. ‘Are the bags for evidence?’

  ‘No, they’re to protect equipment from salt water,’ I told him, although he had unwittingly planted an important seed in my mind, one that I hadn’t previously considered.

  ‘I’m not saying anything else,’ he said. ‘Except that the bad guys better watch out.’

  I grinned in his direction, but he was no longer watching me. His confidence in my abilities always gave me a buzz, and he had never interfered with my work or made manly comments about my taking care in the face of possible danger.

  I locked my case, put it by the front door and then returned to the bedroom, lay on the bed and told Rafe about my sister’s new stepdaughter, Saskia. When I’d finished he laughed heartily and said, ‘Just what your family needs, another gorgeous female.’

  Playfully I punched his arm and we wrestled for a while until I ended up lying on top of him. Rafe pulled my head down and gave me a smacking kiss on the mouth and said, ‘I can’t maintain standards if I don’t have food. Do you want to eat downstairs?’

  I looked outside at the rain. There was nothing appetising in the fridge. ‘Yep.’

  Half an hour later we were sitting at a table in a packed Fandango’s. Miles had recently taken the din out of dinner by removing background music and there was a pleasant, old-fashioned sound of cutlery on crockery, conversation and occasional laughter.

  We had shared a gorgonzola mousse for entrée and Rafe was now eating crayfish. I was delicately negotiating smoked rainbow trout in a dill and caper sauce. Rafe was drinking a Corona and I had a freshly made lemon, lime and bitters in a tall glass.

  Secretly I was hoping that Toby would walk in with Sonya. I wanted her to see Rafe, and I had a few pleasurable moments where I imagined poking out my tongue at her.

  It seemed an appropriate time to raise the Toby issue.

  ‘Toby knew about our relationship before he came back to Australia,’ I said matter-of-factly. ‘Some busybody told him.’

  Rafe grinned at me and said, ‘I know.’

  Surprised, I said rather crossly, ‘It’s not amusing.’

  ‘You dope,’ he said. ‘It was me who told him.’

  ‘What?’ I screeched a little too loudly, and several diners turned and stared at me. I couldn’t believe it. Why would he do such a thing and, more to the point, why hadn’t he told me?

  Rafe looked puzzled by my reaction. He put down his knife and fork and picked up both my hands and held them in his. Angrily I snatched my hands away and glared at him.

  ‘I emailed Toby after I first kissed you,’ Rafe explained calmly, and then he shrugged. ‘I thought it was the right thing to do. Give him a chance to come home and defend your honour.’

  My honour! MY HONOUR! Had I lost a century somewhere?

  Reminding myself that I was in Miles’s restaurant and that I needed to observe some semblance of decorum, I asked coldly, ‘And did the knight errant reply?’

  Rafe nodded. ‘He told me he wasn’t coming home, and that if I laid another finger on you, he’d kill me.’

  ‘But that didn’t stop you,’ I accused him.

  Rafe grinned at me. ‘No, it didn’t! And for what it’s worth, I haven’t seen you complaining.’

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ I fumed, ignoring his comment. ‘You were honest with your friend, but you weren’t honest with me?’ I was fixated on the fact that Rafe had gone behind my back.

  He hesitated. ‘I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to be hurt that Toby hadn’t dropped everything and hurried home to do battle over you.’

  While it was hurtful that Toby had been forewarned and hadn’t come home, Maid Marion here was now wondering if he hadn’t been too busy playing hide the sword with Lady Sonya in her bedchamber. Come to think of it, she was probably the reason he had extended his overseas mission. The very thought infuriated me even more and I stared contemptuously at Rafe.

  ‘Do battle?’ I questioned harshly.

  ‘Yes,’ Rafe said. He was no longer grinning. ‘I was prepared to lose my friend to keep you, if that’s what it took.’

  ‘And have you?’ I asked. ‘Lost
a friend?’ Lord knows what the two of them had discussed about me.

  Rafe drained his beer and then put down the glass. ‘I’d say so, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘How would I know?’ I shot back.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, someone had to tell him!’ Rafe exclaimed, and he leaned forward and met my eyes to drive home the point.

  Fury was bubbling in me like a steaming geyser. I brought my fist down on the table and the crockery bounced and Rafe jumped.

  ‘And that someone was me!’ I retorted sharply.

  Rafe cast his eyes upwards and, sounding annoyed at having to state the obvious, said, ‘Yes, but you didn’t tell him, did you?’

  ‘That’s beside the point!’

  Rafe shook his head, indicating that he didn’t think it was beside the point at all.

  I breathed in deeply and, mindful not to sound pathetic and defensive, said in an icy voice, ‘I didn’t think it appropriate to put in an email, and it is now too dangerous to call a mobile phone in Afghanistan. It could give away Toby’s position and get him killed.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,’ Rafe huffed, though he knew I was speaking the truth. ‘Besides,’ he added, ‘you could have emailed him and asked him to call you from a secure line and told him then.’

  Ouch! I hadn’t thought of that, truly I hadn’t, but I still didn’t think it was the sort of news one should relay by telephone.

  Leaning towards Rafe, I glowered at him and said, ‘I was going to do the right thing and tell Toby as soon as he returned. Which is what I tried to do. And which is how I found out that he already knew.’

  I was seething with anger. Consumed by it. All this time I’d been fretting over how to tell Toby about Rafe when he already knew, and Rafe knew that he knew. And who the hell did they think they were, emailing each other about who would have me? I felt like a prize Hereford.

  Restraining myself from throwing the remains of the rainbow trout at Rafe, I stood up. I needed to leave before I said or did something in Miles’s restaurant that I would regret.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I said in a tone that would have cut through steel, ‘but I am not merchandise to be bartered by alpha males via transnational electronic media. Goodbye, Rafe!’

  Then I threw fifty dollars on the table, made a stony face at the couple next to us who I knew had been eavesdropping, and walked away without looking back.

  Outside, the rain had stopped and I strode twice around the block to walk off my rage, stomping in puddles and scowling at every lamppost and car that went past. I glanced behind me a couple of times to see if Rafe had followed me, but he hadn’t. He was probably still wondering why I was cross. Had he really not expected me to be angry?

  By the time I climbed the back steps to my apartment I’d sworn off all romantic involvement with men forever. Lord knows I’d had enough sex in the past few months to last me a lifetime, and then some.

  A quiet voice reminded me that it was no longer just about sex; my feelings for Rafe went much deeper than that now. But I didn’t listen.

  Chairman Meow, my faithful companion, greeted me on the back verandah and I swept him up into my arms.

  ‘And then there were none,’ I whispered in his ear, and carried him inside.

  Chapter 46

  Contrary to my expectations I slept well, although my first thoughts on Sunday morning as I lay sprawled proprietarily across the bed were of Rafe. Proud that I hadn’t been reduced to lengthy episodes of sentimental weeping, I immediately dismissed all images of him—I had things to do, places to go.

  While I was waiting for Dave and Daisy to pick me up, I called the Longfellow house to speak to Nemony. Somehow I didn’t think she’d be at church.

  I was lucky and it was Nemony who answered.

  ‘Good to hear from you,’ she said cheerfully. ‘How’s everything going?’

  ‘I’m flying up to the reef today. I hope to find Mick and secure photographic evidence that he is alive.’

  ‘Won’t the newspaper photograph do? I identified him from that.’

  ‘I want a clearer, dated picture.’

  ‘Do you think you’ll find Lavender?’

  ‘Not after all this time,’ I said truthfully. ‘I’ll certainly be looking, though.’

  ‘Well, good luck. Did you call for anything specific?’

  ‘I did. Do you have anything that would have Mick’s DNA on it?’

  This was the seed that Rafe had planted when he’d asked about the freezer bags. Until then I had been concentrating on photographic evidence and hadn’t considered physical evidence. DNA would only be relevant if Nemony had retained something of Mick’s to match it to.

  ‘Hang on,’ she said, and I heard retreating footsteps.

  I switched the landline to speakerphone and, while waiting, took photographs of the boxes on the whiteboard in case I needed them later.

  ‘Are you still there?’ I heard Nemony ask, and I picked up, switching off the speakerphone.

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘No, sorry, I can’t locate anything just now, but I might be able to find something tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, thinking this an odd remark. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘By the way, I called the number you gave me,’ she said, ‘for assistance with Amelia.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Hermione hit the roof. She doesn’t like anyone coming to the house or knowing where we live.’

  ‘And?’ I asked again.

  ‘A case manager from one of the service providers is coming tomorrow afternoon to assess Amelia’s needs and explain how they can assist.’

  ‘What about Hermione?’

  ‘She’ll be at the North Coast Lavender Growers’ Cooperative meeting in Lismore.’

  ‘Well done,’ I said, immediately connecting Hermione’s absence from the house with Nemony’s search for something of Mick’s. ‘I’ll be back on Thursday afternoon,’ I went on. ‘I’ll call you then.’

  ‘Call my mobile,’ she said.

  ‘I didn’t think you had one!’ This was a pleasant surprise.

  Nemony laughed. ‘It would be difficult to communicate with the doc if I didn’t.’

  She had a point and I took down the number.

  ‘Don’t let Hermione know,’ she said, and I assured her I wouldn’t.

  After we’d rung off I double-checked the important stuff. Chairman Meow was fed and I’d told him to be a good boy for Miles. My diabetic pack was around my waist, the suitcase and hand luggage, which included my laptop, were by the back door and the e-tickets were in my pocket.

  A car tooted in the back lane and I kissed Chairman Meow goodbye, gathered up my luggage and went down the back steps to where Dave and Daisy were waiting.

  On the plane I brought Daisy up to date on my recent discussion with Dandy McCormack and his request for assistance.

  ‘I hope he doesn’t want you to do anything dangerous,’ Daisy said when I’d finished.

  ‘Me, too,’ I agreed.

  We both warily declined airline tea and were presented with passable coffee and a packet of cardboard biscuits.

  ‘Nemony is organising help for Amelia,’ I told Daisy, and we discussed possible options. Then I told her that Toby and I had called it a day, and that I had been seeing another man for a while, but that, too, was over. I didn’t mention Rafe by name as it was possible that Daisy knew him. Apart from that, saying his name aloud made Rafe and our parting too real, and it was a wound that I didn’t want to aggravate when I needed to concentrate on the job at hand. Before Daisy could ask searching questions, I launched into the happy news about Andrew’s daughter, Saskia.

  ‘I doubt the situation would have been resolved so soon if you hadn’t followed him,’ I said.

  ‘Do you think?’

  ‘I do. And I wouldn’t have called Andrew if I hadn’t spotted Saskia’s likeness to Jack in the photograph you took.’

  I looked at Daisy and she smiled, obviously pleased.

&nb
sp; As we descended through a cloudless blue sky into Hamilton Island, in the heart of the Whitsundays, I leaned across Daisy and stared out at the marine wonderland below.

  Scattered among the coral shoals and fringing reefs of a limpid emerald sea were myriad lush green islands with lofty peaks, blue bays, narrow inlets and sugar-white sandy beaches.

  The rest of the world could go hang itself.

  Chapter 47

  The travel brochures hadn’t lied. Hamilton Island was holiday heaven with something for everyone.

  Home to idyllic beaches and crystal-clear waters, Hamilton was also a thriving cosmos of restaurants, shops, hotels, apartments and bars nestled among spectacular tropical landscaping and natural bush. Whichever way you turned there was a picture postcard filled with people who looked like they’d stepped out of a Myer summer clothing catalogue.

  The weather was a comfortable 23°C, sunny with a light breeze. We left our luggage at the main island reception and then Daisy went to hunt for maps and something for her lunch, and I set off to find Dandy McCormack.

  It didn’t take me long. The Hamilton Island Yacht Club was one of those newfangled architecture jobs that had lots of angles and a quirky roof. It looked like it catered to the higher echelons of society. I quite liked it.

  McCormack was waiting for me outside the front entrance, wearing his corduroy jacket, a pale green shirt, a green paisley tie and grey trousers. He looked like a 1960s schoolteacher from central casting.

  ‘Can I take it off now?’ he asked as I approached.

  ‘You may,’ I said, and we both smiled politely and shook hands.

  ‘Let’s go in and grab a bite and a beer,’ he said as he removed his jacket and I followed him inside.

  He led me to an outside bar called the Bommie Deck, where the middle echelons took their refreshments. The sweeping views of the calm blue waters of Dent Passage were just about perfect.

  We ordered rare roast beef sandwiches from the snack menu, a beer for McCormack and mineral water for me.

  ‘Need a clear head?’ he said.