Cross My Heart

by Pamela Cook

  Her head swam. Her vision blurred.

  Oh God. It was him.

  Her legs threatened to give way.

  She rested her head against the wardrobe as she zoomed in on the image. Yes, it was definitely him. Older, of course, his blond hair cut short now, balding in patches above his temples. Paisley tie, dark suit. The image of respectability. If she’d walked past him in the street, she never would have recognised him. She closed her eyes. A voice buzzed in her ears. She rattled her head, trying to block it out.

  ‘What are you doing?’ A smaller, quieter voice sawed through the white noise.

  Tess’s eyes flew open, the envelope and paper falling back into the box.

  Grace eyed her curiously.

  ‘I … um.’ She ripped the lid away from the base and jammed it back in place. ‘I was just seeing if your mum left any important papers. Documents. Things that would need sorting out.’

  ‘Did she?’ No inflection to her question, just a dull monotone.

  ‘Nothing much.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Just papers to do with the house, some old bills.’ She shoved the box back into the cupboard and closed the door, turned the key and pulled it from the lock, then shoved it deep into the pocket of her pants. Locking it all away again was safer. For both of them. She faked a smile as she turned around.

  ‘Okay. I’m going to do some reading.’

  ‘Do you need any help?’

  Grace shook her head and disappeared back into the kitchen. She’d accepted the explanation without question. So trusting. Skye had done everything in her power to protect her daughter from the horrible realities of the world and now it was up to Tess to do the same.

  Fire roared inside the pot-belly as a whoosh of air blew through the flue. The room was suddenly, overwhelmingly hot. Slipping off her socks, she crept outside to the quiet of the front yard. A cool breeze washed across her cheeks and she drew in a few deep breaths. The frost was dissolving, leaving the overgrown lawn wet against the soles of her feet. A thin veil of mist hovered over the garden. She stood for a long time, watching it gradually disappear, vanish into the day, until there was nothing but a wide expanse of blue sky.

  A movement in the long grass. Something brushed against her foot. She bent forward to look more closely: a rat, blood oozing from a puncture wound on its snout, writhed at her feet. A low, guttural scream burst from her lips. She kicked at the maimed creature and the cat sprang into action, pouncing, clamping her jaws down hard, and scurrying off into the bush. A crimson blotch stained the trodden-down patch of grass. Tess scrubbed at it with her toe, rubbing it away so that only a trace of it remained. So faint the violation might never have happened at all.

  Thirteen

  Silence suited Tess just fine as they drove along the main road into town. Lunch had been a late, sullen affair of sandwiches barely touched. Still reeling from the morning’s discovery and shaken by the bloodied rat, she couldn’t eat a bite; Grace had only nibbled, leaving a demolition ground of crusts on her plate. Topping up the pantry seemed as good an excuse as any to get out of the house, so she’d cajoled Grace into the car and set off for an afternoon excursion. Weerilla was only a tiny place, but there had to be a supermarket somewhere. A local version of The Gourmet Kitchen was probably too much to ask. It was her go-to on weekdays, with its delicious, healthy home-cooked meals for two. Since Grace’s arrival, Tess had had to step up in the cooking department, and tonight they needed some comfort food, something like that delicious stewy soup Jules had served. Or maybe mac and cheese, and one of those packet puddings. And chocolate. Lots of chocolate.

  The main street was almost deserted, but then it was mid-afternoon on a weekday in the middle of winter in a small country town. Bare-branched trees lined both sides of the road and a gnarly vine formed an arty sort of canopy outside a coffee shop called Café Diem, which had a handy parking space right out front. Tess pulled on her jacket and buttoned up. Grace was wearing the beanie she’d donned before breakfast and she’d added a duffle coat to complete her ensemble. She was quite the eclectic dresser, and had no problem mixing and matching colours and patterns. If she rocked up to a social gathering wearing that sort of gear in Sydney, she’d get more than a few guarded whispers, and not just from the mothers. That was one benefit of being homeschooled—no peer pressure, no judgement, no bitchy girl dramas.

  Tastebuds on high alert, Tess walked up to the cafe door. She yanked on the handle, but it didn’t budge. Grace pointed to a sign in the window: Open 8 am–3 pm Monday to Friday, 8 am–1 pm Saturdays. Closed Sundays. What kind of cafe closes mid-afternoon? Tess cupped her hands and peered through the glass. A guy cleaning the counter shrugged and shook his head, mouthing, ‘Sorry.’ If he was so sorry maybe he should try opening the door since it was only ten past bloody three. Tess kicked at the concrete wall of the building and growled, wincing when her big toe began to throb.

  The corners of Grace’s mouth curved ever so slightly. Nice that someone found the stupid opening hours amusing. Might not be so funny if the next store was closed and there was nothing for dinner.

  ‘So where’s the supermarket?’

  Grace spun on her heel and walked off down the street, stopping outside a narrow shopfront: a grocery store doubling as a newsagent. Did the place even have stock on the shelves? There was only one way to find out. Tess pushed her sunnies onto the top of her head and ventured through the doors. The store was a surprise, the aisles long and stocked with a good selection of foods, even a few things you might find hard to source in the city—organic pasta, farm-produced honey and fresh, locally grown grass-fed beef. Grace held up a few things for approval before dumping them in the trolley. The kid might have attitude at times, but her manners were impeccable. By the time they got to the checkout, they’d exchanged a total of about ten words. Not a bad tally.

  Shopping done. Now what?

  ‘Can we go and visit Jules?’

  A full-blown question instead of a barely there grunt? Grace was doing that intense-staring thing she seemed to have mastered, but the fact that she even asked was a positive. Jules, though? Was it good to encourage a connection with someone else when Tess was trying to establish herself as the key adult in the girl’s life?

  On the other hand, there was no reason to rush home. The fire had been turned to low to keep the place habitable, Tiger was safely secured indoors so she wouldn’t be murdering any more rodents, and there were still a few hours to go before dark. All that was waiting for them was the ghost of a woman yet to be buried and a locked wardrobe Tess wouldn’t be reopening anytime soon.

  And when Grace was looking up at her with those pretty-please eyes, how could she say no?

  Grace bounded out of the car as soon as it stopped outside Jules’s place and Tess’s heart sank. Walking in together would have been nice. Being the person Grace wanted to hang around with would be even nicer.

  Be the adult, Tess, her mother’s voice hummed. Even if they’d been on speaking terms, she probably wouldn’t want to ask for advice, but years of maternal wisdom was firmly wedged away inside her brain and this admonishment was well deserved. Grace was the child and she was the adult. She needed to act like one. So she mustered a smile as she joined Grace on the front porch. The bell had been rung already, but it looked like no one was home.

  ‘We can always come back tomorrow.’ Turn a negative into a positive. Another one of her mother’s pearls.

  Grace sighed.

  ‘Hello there!’ Jules appeared from around the corner of the house, an emerald-green scarf draped around her neck, gold hoops dangling from her ears, hair pinned haphazardly in a pile on top of her head. The woman was a walking work of art. ‘We’re out back in the studio. Crafty Kids is on today. Why don’t you come and join in, Gracie?’

  Socialising with other kids? This was an unexpected opportunity. Tess pressed her lips together to stop herself talking. It had to be Grace’s call.

  Jules took a small step forward. ‘We’re making
octopuses and hedgehogs.’ Her voice was softer, more enticing than when she’d greeted them. Smart move. ‘And even better, we’re drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows.’ Bribery—smarter still.

  Grace shifted from one foot to the other. With her hair pulled back and the teal beanie low on her forehead, she looked much younger than her ten years. Pale and totally vulnerable.

  Jules reached out her hand and wiggled her fingers. ‘Come on. You loved it last time.’ There was so much kindness in her expression, Tess was tempted to take her hand herself.

  Grace must have felt it, too. She didn’t reply in words, only nodded obviously enough for it to be yes. This woman was a miracle worker. Grace didn’t exactly bounce out of her skin as she trailed along behind Jules to the back of the house, but she had agreed, so that in itself was a win.

  Easy laughter drifted from inside the studio. Jules pushed open the door and clapped her hands three times, waiting to speak until the group of six children quietened. ‘Everyone, you remember Gracie?’

  She whipped out a stool from under a table bulging with fabrics, glue, paint pots, wire and tennis balls. An older teenage girl approached, two long blonde braids grazing the waistband of her patterned leggings, and sat beside Grace. The noise level in the room dimmed as the kids stopped to check out the newcomer, but gradually their attention returned to their creations and the chatter resumed.

  Jules angled her head towards the door. ‘Let’s go make that hot chocolate.’

  Tess hesitated. Was it okay to leave Grace out here on her own?

  ‘Come on, she’ll be fine. Erin will look after her.’ Jules took Tess’s arm and guided her into the main part of the house.

  Walking into the kitchen was like stepping into a toasty warm hug. Tess peeled off her coat, twisting her neck from side to side as she rested against the island bench to watch Jules make the hot chocolate. Three gigantic mugfuls: a couple of marshmallows dropped into the first, one pink and one white, then reaching into the cupboard above her head, Jules dragged out a glass decanter and tipped a slug of amber liquid into the remaining two cups.

  ‘Medicinal.’ She winked and handed one mug across to Tess, placed the second on the table and headed out the door with the other. ‘I’ll be back.’

  The rich chocolate concoction tasted like liquid silk with a strong, distinctly orange tang. Like drinking a melted jaffa. Sheer bliss.

  ‘Good?’ Jules returned and collected her own mug, smacking her lips together at the aftertaste. She waved Tess over to the table.

  ‘Heavenly. What’s the secret ingredient?’

  ‘Homemade liqueur. My own version of Grand Marnier. I like to add a dash when I need a bit of oomph.’ She peeked over the top of her glasses. ‘And you look like someone who could use a bit of oomph.’

  Was it that obvious? Probably. Being in the place where Skye had died, dealing with Grace’s issues, setting up house with a kid she barely knew in a ramshackle, isolated cabin … turning the key in the wardrobe door and finding that box. Not to mention all the crap she’d left behind in Sydney. And the impending funeral. Yeah, it was fair to say she could use some oomph. It would take a good few slurps for the elixir to do its work.

  Jules smiled, as if she’d read her mind. ‘Well, you don’t need to worry about Gracie. She’s out there making tentacles like there’s no tomorrow. It’s good for her, being around the other kids.’

  It really was. How could anyone get through childhood without friends? Tess’s own had been filled with all varieties—family, school, neighbourhood. Afternoons riding bikes, rollerblading, hanging out at the park. Simple, happy days. How things had changed. She’d be lucky to make five digits if she tallied her current friend list. Skye had always been on it, in theory. It was reality that was the problem. For both of them. She’d made herself too busy to have time for friends, while Skye had closeted Grace away and become a recluse. As well intentioned as it might have been, somehow it didn’t seem right. ‘Does she ever play with other kids … as far as you know?’

  Jules shook her head. ‘Apart from me, the pair of them barely said boo to anyone in town. I did manage to get Skye to bring her along to a couple of classes a while back. I think Gracie herself might have been the instigator. They were here one day delivering some of Skye’s pieces when one of the kids’ sessions started and the little one’s eyes lit up like beacons. She sat herself down and joined in. Didn’t say much to the others, but I think she liked being in a roomful of other children, doing something fun and communal. Skye brought her back a couple more times. Reluctantly, I think, but she could see how much good it was doing. I even suggested Gracie might enjoy being at school.’

  ‘Really? What did Skye say?’

  ‘It was quite strange.’ Jules shook her head and frowned. ‘She didn’t say anything at first, just watched Gracie sitting there painting, and then this odd look came over her face and she turned to me and said, “Once this is over.” I asked her what she meant, but she just gave me this sad sort of smile. It bothered me later, when she died. I wondered if it had been some kind of clue, you know, as to what she was planning.’

  The space between Tess’s ribs shrank. Every time Skye’s death came up, it was the same. Like she’d been put in a straightjacket and the belt was being pulled tighter and tighter. She had to get over this. Had to face up to what had happened. ‘Taking her own life, you mean?’

  Jules nodded. ‘I don’t know what was bothering her, but it must have been terrible to lead her to do something so drastic.’ She stared into her mug, but then narrowed her gaze on Tess. ‘I’m guessing you would know better than I do.’

  Heat rippled up Tess’s throat and burned her cheeks. There was nowhere to hide, no Grace to use as a diversion, but no solid answer to give, either. Everything about Skye was wrapped inside layers of carefully curated childhood memories. The older Skye was something more ephemeral, a shape-shifter Tess wasn’t sure she even knew. But how did you explain that to an outsider, to someone who assumed you were who you were supposed to be: a best friend?

  Honesty was the only way through, even if it was selective. ‘Skye took off when we were still teenagers. Travelled the world like a gypsy for years.’ All those postcards from exotic locations. Far, far away. ‘When she fell pregnant to some guy she hooked up with in an ashram in Goa she came home. She was head over heels in love with that baby from the second Grace was born.’ There was a distinct tremor in her voice, so she kept her gaze firmly on the handle of the mug she was holding.

  Jules leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. ‘She told me she didn’t have any family, said she’d come here after her grandmother died to bring Gracie up where the air was fresh and she could hear the birds singing. That was the exact phrase she used.’

  Fresh air and birdsong. It had seemed almost sensible at the time. A new start. Or was it just running away? Convenient for them both. ‘Her mother died when she was seven. That’s how we met. She went to live with her grandma and we just clicked when she arrived at my primary school. Then we went to high school together.’ She closed her eyes and waited for her lungs to fill before she continued. ‘We were always friends. But I hadn’t seen her for a while. Losing her grandmother really rocked her.’

  She ran her thumb over the shiny French polish on her ring finger. The single solitaire diamond in her engagement ring glittered brightly. Here, in the quiet simplicity of a country kitchen, it was too flashy. Too much.

  ‘Life got busy. Weerilla was a long way from Sydney. Skye didn’t use the internet, so the only contact we had was the occasional phone call, or letter. But I …’ She stopped. All she was giving was a string of lame excuses. The truth was entirely different: I was too busy living my own life. I didn’t even send her a fucking Christmas card last year and I can barely remember when we last spoke. That’s the kind of friend I was. The kind of friend who knew she was up here alone, bringing up a child by herself without a soul in the world to help, and I made zero effort to chec
k in and see if she was okay.

  She bit down hard on her lip. She could say it all now, get it off her chest, but would it change anything? Skye would still be dead. Grace would still be without a mother. Her sins would not be absolved.

  ‘Skye trusted you enough to leave her daughter in your care.’ Jules’s voice was gentle and soothing.

  A laugh tripped up Tess’s throat. There was the joke. Skye had trusted her, but for all the wrong reasons. ‘I’m doing a crash course in Parenting One-o-one.’

  ‘No kids of your own, then?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘And your husband?’

  Another tricky question. The rings had given her away. ‘Let’s just say he’s trying to get used to the idea of fatherhood.’

  ‘I see.’ Jules spread her palms against the benchtop and pushed herself up to stand. ‘Well, as they say, friends are the family we choose. Might sound corny, but it’s true. For whatever reason, Skye chose you.’

  There was no arguing with that. She’d chosen her that very first day in the playground. Or rather, they’d chosen each other. No matter what had happened since, there was still that bond to honour. ‘I have to call the funeral parlour tomorrow and finalise everything for Friday.’ Sharing that particular piece of news made the load a little lighter.

  ‘I’m happy to help.’ Jules checked the clock and collected the mugs. ‘Not the best way of saying it, but you know what I mean. I’d better go check Erin hasn’t been eaten alive by the little monsters.’