by Pamela Cook
No suspicious circumstances. Found dead. Police jargon for presumed suicide. Tess sat back and let the mellow tannins of the merlot rinse away the sting of bile. What possibly could have driven Skye to do such a thing after all this time?
Or who, was probably the better question.
Footsteps sounded from the far end of the apartment. She closed the laptop and sprang from the lounge, knocking over her wineglass as she stood. ‘Shit.’
‘Tess?’ Josh’s voice grew louder as he made his way down the hall.
Grabbing a tea towel from the kitchen, she raced back out, managing to stem the flow of crimson liquid oozing along the coffee table before it hit the edge of the shagpile rug.
‘Good save.’ A kiss to the top of her head; a broad hand, warm across her back.
‘How was your weekend?’ She shifted her computer out of the way and mopped at the wine.
‘Great. Exhausting, but we had an awesome time.’ He was in the kitchen now—rummaging around in the fridge.
‘That’s good.’ She dumped the cloth into the sink and held the half-full bottle towards him. ‘I managed to save some.’
‘Might have one with dinner. I feel a bit grotty. Think I’ll shower first.’
This was the first real communication they’d had since Friday night, apart from a few quick texts when he’d managed to get some reception. She stepped closer and kissed him, lingering. ‘You’re right, you do need a shower.’
‘That’s a nice way to greet your husband.’ He had that wounded little-boy face he was so good at, but the smile in his voice was a good sign. He seemed calm, happy after his time away. Maybe even in the mood for a civil discussion.
‘Go shower while I get dinner. Then you can tell me about your weekend.’
‘Deal. And you can tell me what you’ve been up to.’
She spun back towards the sink, flicking on the hot water. Up to? He made it sound so underhanded. Sneaky. Not that he was far off track. She rinsed the cloth, wringing it until her palms burned and Josh was out of earshot. ‘I can’t wait to tell you all about my visit to meet the kid you don’t want.’
About how she’d already booked them in to sign the official papers without bothering to consult him first.
She closed her eyes and downed the rest of her wine. She was making a complete balls-up of things. Broaching the subject again wasn’t going to be easy, but it had to be done, and it had to be done tonight. The half-full bottle was on the bench. She was already light-headed, only a few hours of sleep last night and not much to eat all day. But a little more liquid courage wouldn’t hurt.
By the time they’d finished dinner their conversation had covered the highlights of the bike trip, the pros and cons of riding in winter and the finer points of Tess’s boring weekend of housework. They were both being extremely polite and hugely interested in what the other was saying, but the one thing they needed to talk about chafed at the pauses between their sentences.
The Chill playlist on her computer shuffled onto one of her favourite Ed Sheeran songs, ‘Perfect’. Destined to be played at a zillion weddings, smitten couples gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes as Ed warbled away about them being made for each other. She looked across at Josh, his cheeks pink from hours in the sun, hair slicked back from his forehead. When they’d first met he’d been her idea of perfect. Solid. Secure. Safe. He was still the same man she’d married. Exactly the same. And therein lay the problem she needed to address.
‘Josh, we need to talk.’
‘Yeah, I guess we do.’
Don’t think about it. Just start. ‘So I—’
‘I’m sorry about the way I reacted the other night.’ His habit of talking over the top of her hadn’t changed either. ‘I was just taken by surprise, I think. In shock.’ He rested his hands on the edge of the table. ‘I know you say it’s what you want, but I’m still not convinced it’s a great idea, Tess.’
So much for the apology. Had he even bothered to think about it while he was away? She needed to stay calm if she had any hope at all of convincing him. She needed to make him see they could do this. She raised her chin, made sure her voice was low and steady. ‘I met her yesterday.’
He frowned. ‘Met who?’
‘Grace. I went to the Emergency Care Home where she’s staying.’
Josh turned one knuckled hand over and studied his fingers, as if he was contemplating the length of his nails. He inhaled slowly as he looked up. ‘And?’
‘She’s sweet. Looks exactly like Skye. It was a little freaky, to be honest.’
His eyes were dark, unfathomable. Only the set of his jaw gave away what was going on inside his head. Appealing to his sense of compassion, his basic human decency was the way to go. ‘She’s very quiet. Withdrawn. But I guess that’s understandable.’ Saliva pooled beneath her tongue at the memory of the newspaper article.
Josh rested a fisted hand against his mouth.
‘I know this isn’t what we planned, but sometimes life throws things at you and you don’t have any choice.’
‘Except we do have a choice.’
‘Do we? Really? Could you live with yourself if we say no to this, knowing that we can offer Grace a perfectly good, stable home?’ Her composure was rapidly evaporating, but the time for calm and common sense had passed. She had to make him understand. ‘What if she ends up with some dodgy foster-family?’
‘There are plenty of good people out there who want to foster kids, Tessa.’ He was using his settle-down-you’re-getting-hysterical tone. The one that made her want to punch him.
‘And there are plenty of people who are just after the money. How many stories do you hear about kids being shunted from one home to the next and ending up on the streets or emotionally damaged—or worse.’
‘From what you say, Grace is already damaged.’
‘She probably is, so why make it even harder for her?’
‘And you think we’re fully equipped to deal with a child with potentially serious issues? Us, with all of our extensive parenting skills?’
Why did he have to be such a smartarse? She scrubbed a hand across her forehead. He was right, of course, they didn’t have a clue about child rearing. Three years of an unfinished psych degree at uni hardly qualified her as an expert, but that wasn’t the point. ‘Nobody knows how to be a parent before they are one. We’re not stupid, Josh, we use common sense and FACS provide support. We wouldn’t be doing this on our own.’
The soft sounds of an acoustic guitar hummed in the background. Their wineglasses sat empty on the table. She leaned across and reached for his hand, and for a moment neither of them moved. Josh inched his hand towards hers, finally resting his palm across her fingers. He looked like a frightened little boy, perhaps the little boy he’d been when his own parents had pushed and pulled him in the tug-of-war custody battle they’d staged in his early teens. Her heart swelled. Was it fair doing this to him? Forcing him into a life he didn’t want?
But not doing it wrenched at something even deeper inside her, something she couldn’t even begin to unravel. Or explain.
She flipped her hand over and twined her fingers between his. ‘We can do this, I know we can.’
Josh let out a long sigh. ‘I guess we can give it a try.’ His voice was so low she could barely hear him.
They sat at the bench, neither of them daring to speak. The decision had been made and now everything would change. It felt like the end of something, but also a beginning, the future unfolding before them like an invisible map they would somehow have to learn how to read.
Six
‘Here we are. Let’s head up and show you your room.’ The chirpiness of Tess’s voice was all bravado. Bringing Grace home was one of the scariest things she’d ever done, but there was no way she was going to let it show.
The engine stopped and Josh climbed out, the banging of the car door jarring in the near-empty parking garage. Grace’s eyes remained fixed on a point somewhere beyond the backseat pas
senger window. Tess coaxed her out with a wave. There was no point in trying to take her hand: she’d made it clear she didn’t like being touched.
Josh popped the boot. ‘You girls go on ahead. I’ll grab the bags.’
‘Okay.’ He’d been so helpful over the last week, an absolute model of politeness through all the meetings, police checks, personality assessments and home inspections. Even meeting Grace, he’d been more than pleasant, yet there was something about his manner that didn’t seem quite right, as if he was trying too hard.
Weren’t they both?
Tess held her smile all the way to the basement foyer, Grace walking by her side and hugging her bedraggled bear.
The lift doors slid open and Grace froze.
‘In you go.’ Josh balanced a pathetically small suitcase in one hand and a plastic shopping bag with a few toys Kirsten had bequeathed in the other.
Grace’s knuckles blanched around the teddy’s arm. The doors began to close and she stumbled backwards into Josh’s legs.
‘Shit.’ The expletive fell so easily from his lips. So much for the conversation about watching their language.
As Tess pressed the button again realisation dawned: Grace may never have been in a lift before—it was probably like stepping into a spaceship for the poor kid, like being abducted by aliens.
She crouched down, tucking her hands in, resisting the urge to reach out. ‘It’s okay, Grace. Nothing will hurt you. Hop in and we’ll be up to our apartment in a few seconds.’ This time she held the door, and her breath, as Josh stepped inside and then Grace shuffled in to join them, her face ashen. No one spoke as the elevator rose, but when the doors opened again Grace was the first out. Tess moved past her and led the way along the landing. A few more seconds and the three of them would be inside the apartment, heading into the uncharted territory of being a family. A spark of adrenaline burst through Tess’s veins as she pushed the key into the lock, and her smile was completely genuine. All the checks and interviews had taken longer than anticipated, so Grace had been with Kirsten two days longer than planned, making the whole process even more nerve-racking. But they were here now and it was a new start for all of them. It needed to be positive.
‘I left the sandwich on the table next to the bed.’ Josh slouched against the back of the kitchen stool. There was a definite note of irritation in his voice; he was letting his mask slip. ‘She didn’t even look at it.’
‘Must be strange for her.’ Tess poured a second cup of coffee, slid it across the bench to him and inhaled the dreamy scent from her own mug.
‘She’s not the only one it’s strange for.’
‘We have to be patient with her, Josh. Give her some time to adjust.’
He shrugged. ‘I’ve got some work to do.’ Picking up his mug, he walked over to his desk in the far corner of the living area. He had the lean, lithe gait of a panther, almost a lope. Another one of the things she’d found attractive when they’d met. Sexy, even, along with his smouldering eyes. Funny how, now that she was starting to assess him more from a parenting perspective, none of those things mattered anymore.
Parents. They were actually parents. Not quite officially, but the paperwork was being processed and in the interim they’d been approved as legal guardians. Not of a squirming baby, one they’d conceived and watched grow, but a fully formed ten-year-old girl. Although Tess had no idea what morning sickness felt like, nausea seemed to be her default state of existence these days. Some days were worse than others and the current bout was an eight out of ten. She shot a glance up the stairs, her teeth dragging at the inside of her mouth. One of them had to try to connect with Grace and it wasn’t going to be Josh.
‘Hey, there.’ She poked her head inside Grace’s bedroom door, keeping her voice just above a whisper.
Grace was perched by the pillow on the edge of the bed, the bear in her lap, the untouched sandwich and full glass of milk still on the bedside table. ‘Not hungry?’
Only a blink.
Before she could second-guess herself, Tess took the three steps to the bed and sat down near the end. She was a big fan of personal space herself and she could sense the need for it in Grace. ‘I hope you like your room. We haven’t finished decorating it yet, thought we’d wait until you got here so we can go shopping together. I couldn’t resist the quilt cover, though. It reminded me of the one I had when I was a little girl.’ She ran her hand over the patchwork bed cover. Bouquets of dark-blue roses against a field of powdery-pink daisies.
No response.
‘It’s a new bed, too. I hope it’s comfortable.’ Converting the spare room from a storage space into a child’s bedroom had been a rush job and the smell of fresh paint lingered.
Some fresh air wouldn’t hurt. Tess walked to the window and slid it open, the usual traffic noises filtering into the room. A gruff voice yelled some sort of abuse. She and Josh had become immune to the sounds, but what would a girl who had lived in the country all her life make of them? If the noises bothered Grace she showed no sign, but then she showed no sign about anything. Beneath the window sat a set of shelves, bare except for the few books Tess had bought as welcoming gifts. It was worth a try. Selecting one, she moved back to the bed, sitting a little closer this time, but still maintaining a safe distance.
‘This was one of my favourites when I was your age.’ She angled the book so Grace could see the cover. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Her own copy was still on a shelf in her old room at her parents’ house. Re-gifting it had been a possibility, but the pages were tattered and the cover half off. You couldn’t go wrong with a new book and a classic seemed the best choice. What wasn’t there to love about Narnia?
‘Do you know this story? Would you like me to read you some of it?’
Reading aloud had been one of her favourite things to do as a kid—her mother had later used it as ammunition as to why she should go into teaching. Josh had laughed out loud when she’d once suggested she read to him in bed, saying there were plenty of things he wanted her to do in bed, but reading wasn’t one of them. Apparently, Grace didn’t have any objections, so Tess cleared her throat and began.
‘Once there were four children, whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy.’ In an instant, she too was climbing through the wardrobe, back in that fantasy world of childhood where everything was magical.
At the end of Chapter One she came up for air to find something miraculous had happened. Grace had shifted closer until their arms were almost touching. She gazed down at the book, a dreamy light in her eyes as she reached out and gathered it into her lap. Carefully, she turned one page and then the next, her reverence for the object in her hands more than obvious. She might not be speaking, but she was responding to the story. This was good. Better than good.
She had to tell Josh. Running from the room and cheering like a crazed football fan would not do much to reassure Grace. Better to stand slowly and talk very quietly.
‘I’ll leave you to yourself for a little while. If you need anything give me a shout. Or just come downstairs.’ Another page turned as Tess left, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Yes! This was an absolute win. A total buzz stayed with her all the way down the stairs, to where Josh was on a conference call. He frowned when she tried to speak and her dizzy excitement evaporated. Her news would have to wait. Now was probably as good a time as any to check her emails, to keep herself busy. She’d taken the next few weeks off work so she could settle Grace in and try to get her head around the whole mothering gig. Being your own boss had its perks, but there was still admin to be done.
She scrolled through her inbox, concentration only half on what she was doing, until she decided to empty her spam, and there it was: State Coroner’s Office: Skye Whittaker. Her stomach twisted itself into a knot. Even though she’d known this was coming, had been told to expect it and provided her email address, seeing it right there in black and white was too much. Skye’s body had been taken to Newcastle for
an autopsy and a coroner’s report had been completed. There was a backlog, it would take time, they’d told her, and she’d pushed it to the back of her mind, concentrated on getting things sorted with Grace. The room narrowed to the page in front of her, then to specific words and phrases as she skimmed the email, taking in only snippets.
Coroner’s finding.
No inquest.
Overdose of prescription medication.
Death certificate.
Funeral arrangements.
Contact mortician.
Tess sat back, absorbing the ramifications of each phrase. As practised as she was at avoidance, this was one thing she was going to have to face. She was the executor of Skye’s will, but more than that she was her friend. Giving her a proper funeral, making sure her last wishes were carried out was the least Tess could do. Right now, Skye was lying on a slab in a morgue waiting to be transferred back to the local funeral home and it was up to her to organise it.
But when?
They’d just brought Grace home. Uprooting her and dragging her back to where her mother had died could make things a whole lot worse. Ruin the chance of them building any sort of relationship. Skye had to be buried and shouldn’t Grace have the opportunity to say a proper goodbye? Bringing Skye’s body to Sydney could be an option. Tess was way out of her depth here. She looked across to Josh. He was rambling away on the phone, happily lost in discussions of budgets and financial reports. No help there. Professional advice was what she needed and there was only one person she could trust. Eleanor. Another friend she hadn’t spoken to in years. Not in person. Only the occasional ‘like’ or comment on Facebook. Now was the time to look her up.