Willow Tree Bend

by Kaye Dobbie

  The calendar might say it was spring, but it still felt like the dark heart of winter. Faith held out her gloved hands to the red embers, almost moaning with pleasure. It was cold in Kitty’s house and not much better in Ray’s, although at least there she had the option of cuddling up to him to get warm. The memory made her smile fleetingly.

  She hadn’t told Ray or Kitty or anyone else about this, but that was the way it had to be. It was something she had to see through on her own. Taking a steadying breath, Faith turned to face him.

  Avery looked even more unwell in the light from the fire. His face, his hair and his shirt, all grey. Maybe he’d been up all night. Maybe he never slept. In that little room on the third floor of the Angel, she’d imagined him to be a man who believed in the triumph of right over wrong. But was he?

  Yes, he was obsessed with Melanie, and yes, he was determined to find her killer and bring him to justice, and for that he would probably do anything within the law to get the job done. Perhaps he would also be willing to go outside it.

  He was waiting, letting her play this her way, but when she didn’t speak he grew impatient. He nodded at a chair opposite in what she guessed was an invitation for her to sit down. ‘I’ve heard things are back to normal at the Angel. If you’d call it normal to sleep with rich men to please your boss. How is your cousin?’

  Her cousin? So he knew. Well of course he did, he would have made it his business to find out all he could about her.

  Faith opened her mouth to tell him that wasn’t true, that Kitty didn’t do things like that, and then found she couldn’t say the words. Because she was no longer sure, not after that incident in the Cocktail Lounge with Bert Dalzell, and the look that had passed between Bert and Jared. Her boss had all but offered him Faith instead.

  Next time she’d quit. She’d have to. There were other jobs, and Faith no longer doubted her ability to find one, but leaving would mean abandoning Kitty to a situation she now knew to be dangerous in the extreme.

  ‘What do you want from me?’ she said at last, and those watchful eyes finally showed a gleam of warmth.

  Before he could answer, the door banged open and the waitress brought in their coffees. She clattered them onto the table, and then plonked down some teaspoons and a grubby sugar bowl, too, at the same time giving Avery the evil eye. Faith could tell that she knew him, and didn’t like him. Or was she one of his informers? He probably had dozens all over town, spies everywhere.

  So why hadn’t he closed down the Angel already? Why did he need her?

  Faith sat on a chair with a squishy vinyl seat and sipped her coffee. The beverage was hot and surprisingly good, and at least it occupied her while she sat there awaiting Avery’s answer.

  ‘I want you to be my spy, Faith. My eyes and ears inside the Angel. Tell me who comes and goes, and how important they are to Jared. Who he takes upstairs to the Penthouse, because that’s where the real action is. I know Lenny was selling drugs—he probably still is—and I know Kitty lets the street girls stay in the lounge for a percentage of their profit. That’s small fry, so don’t try to fob me off with that stuff. I need information that will give me a solid-gold reason to arrest Jared, because once I have him in custody I can make him talk.’

  ‘Talk about what?’

  He leaned towards her and she could smell the stale cigarettes on his breath.

  ‘He knows who killed Melanie, and I want him to tell me.’

  Back to Melanie again.

  Faith took another sip. ‘Mr Dalzell’s been in the Penthouse,’ she said. ‘Something special. He told Jared he wants another night like that one, but I don’t think Jared is too keen. Are you interested in Mr Dalzell?’

  Something flared in his eyes. ‘Oh yeah,’ he said quietly. His gaze slid over her and a frown cut a line between his brows. ‘You’re his sort, aren’t you? Pretty and blonde. Young. Has he noticed you yet, Faith?’

  She considered his question and then shook her head. ‘Not yet.’ She knew Dalzell was more interested in Kitty.

  Avery gave her a sour smile and glanced at his watch. He picked up the cup and drank his coffee down in one long swallow. It was a wonder he didn’t burn a hole in his throat, but maybe he was used to drinking on the run.

  ‘If he hasn’t noticed you yet then he will,’ he said with a certainty that chilled her, despite the hot cup in her hands. ‘How often does he come into the Cocktail Lounge?’

  Faith lifted her chin defiantly, so he wouldn’t know how she was really feeling. ‘Surely it’s not against the law to sit in the Angel and drink whisky? That’s all I’ve seen him do so far.’

  ‘No, but it is against the law to use your influence to protect a place that’s selling drugs and sex. He and Jared are like that.’ He twisted one finger around the other, an expression of disgust on his face.

  Carefully Faith set down her coffee. ‘The girl in the photograph? Melanie.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘Did she know Mr Dalzell?’

  He rubbed a hand over his mouth and she sensed he was taking care with his words. Because he didn’t want to frighten her?

  ‘Probably. She was his type, too.’ His hard eyes stared into hers. ‘Be careful, Faith,’ he said quietly. ‘These people don’t care what happens to you, as long as they don’t get caught.’

  ‘But this whole thing is risky, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it is. Worth it though. Jared and his mates can’t go on doing what they’re doing. As well as the protection they get from Dalzell, they have some of my colleagues in their pockets. That’s one of the reasons I’ve been shunted away from Russell Street—for asking questions they didn’t want to answer. I’m not expecting to see any of them suspended, but if I can shut down the Angel and see Melanie’s killer punished … I think that will be enough for me.’

  It sounded like a final request. Again, it was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if he was ill, but again she didn’t. If she knew then she might begin to feel sorry for him.

  ‘And if I do what you ask … You won’t involve Kitty?’

  ‘She might get caught up in the net, but I’ll see that she’s released. Might be better if she does get hauled in, otherwise they’ll be thinking she’s the informant.’

  Instead of me.

  ‘Look, I have to go, but if you need to see me then send a message that you’ll be here, waiting. I’ll make it my priority.’

  He meant it, she could see that, and although she should feel comforted by the importance he was assigning to her safety, it only made her more anxious.

  Just for an instant Faith considered changing her mind. But what then? Find herself alone with Dalzell, or come home and find Kitty had vanished, her body turning up in a packing crate?

  ‘All right?’ Avery was waiting. She could hear the rasp of his breathing above the crackle of the fire. ‘Are we on the same page, Faith? I need to know.’

  He held out his hand.

  Slowly, she did the same and felt her fingers swallowed by his big, warm palm. He didn’t crush them, something she’d been expecting. He held her gently, lightly, as if she was a fragile bird.

  ‘Thank you,’ Avery said, and nodded his head. ‘You’re a brave girl, Faith, and I won’t forget it.’

  The street was quieter now, although there were still people about. There were always people. The Angel was long closed, but Faith had been walking, thinking, wanting time on her own. She walked confidently these days, as if she belonged to this place, even if she was no longer sure she did. There was a tight feeling in her stomach tonight, after her earlier meeting with Avery.

  At one point as she’d walked through the rainy darkness, she’d thought someone was following her. And when she’d looked back, just for a second, she’d thought she saw the shape of a man against the blur of streetlights. She should have been afraid, but instead she’d felt something else altogether, because he reminded her of Joe Cantani.

  Faith told herself not to be silly. Joe was at h
ome, in bed, ready for an early start in the milk bar. Or else he was out in his car with a girl, his music forming a soundtrack to whatever they were doing. The thought of Joe and another girl—his hands on her body, her mouth on his—made her steps slow and almost stop. But then she told herself again not to be silly. Joe had never been anything more than a friend, and besides …

  She had Ray now.

  A tram rumbled past a few streets away, and Faith quickened her steps, relieved to see that her house was close. Someone had left the light on over the front door—probably because they’d forgotten to turn it off—but otherwise the place was in darkness.

  ‘Faith?’

  She jumped, thinking Joe? But it was Ray who stepped out from a newsagent’s doorway. She realised he’d been sitting on a thick pile of newspapers, delivered ready for the morning. He laughed when he saw her reaction.

  ‘I’ve been waiting for ages,’ he complained, giving her a kiss. ‘Wondered if you were ever coming home, luv.’

  The Liverpool accent was there in spades tonight and suddenly she was sick of it. Why couldn’t he just speak in his normal voice? Why pretend to her? And then her irritation faded, and she excused him in her own mind, telling herself he was just so used to doing it that he didn’t notice. Ray was like a method actor who had to remain in his role day and night, or lose focus.

  ‘Faith?’

  She hadn’t heard what he said and had to ask him to repeat himself, while she dug out her key and unlocked the door. Inside the house smelled of stale toast and damp washing.

  ‘I said did you want to come out for a drink? I looked for you at work, but Kitty said you’d left already, and the girls here said you hadn’t come home.’

  Was he checking up on her? She glanced at him sideways, but Ray was Ray, and she told herself not to be ridiculous. Ray wouldn’t hurt a fly.

  ‘I went for a walk,’ she offered. ‘I wanted some fresh air after all the smoke.’

  He laughed. ‘Gets like that, don’t it. It’s worse at the Queens.’

  Ray had been playing at the other venue for a few nights, but he’d be back at the Angel next week. Then there was a gig in Sydney, and a meeting with a record company that he was hoping would open doors for him up there. The only problem, in Faith’s eyes, was that Jared had arranged it through his contacts and that meant Ray would be indebted to him even more than he was already. Faith had made an effort to warn him off Jared, but Ray had only laughed and said he needed all the help he could get.

  The house felt empty. By now the other girls were either in bed or unlikely to be coming home. She hesitated, but then asked herself what did it matter? She wanted Ray here with her tonight. She loved him, and she wanted him to stay. Kitty wouldn’t be home before dawn, she never was these days, and even if she did turn up it would be like the pot calling the kettle black, as her mother was fond of saying.

  ‘Ray?’

  He was reaching into his jacket pocket for a cigarette, and looked up with a smile. ‘Babe?’

  Something about his inner sweetness, the warmth in his dark eyes, tugged at her heart so hard that nothing else mattered. ‘Come on,’ she said, holding out her hand.

  With the bedroom door closed, he wrapped her in his arms, his mouth finding hers. They undressed each other and fell onto the unmade bed, and she felt a desperation in the familiar movements. Perhaps it was her meeting with Avery, her determination to see the Angel closed and Jared in jail, but it was as if a timer had been set.

  ‘You all right, Faith?’ he asked her, tucking her hair behind her ear and smoothing her cheek with his thumb.

  She looked up at him, the urge to tell him the truth on the tip of her tongue. But Ray, innocent that he was, would tell Jared, and then Ray would be in danger, too.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said, stretching up her arms to draw him down to her. ‘Everything is just fine.’

  SAMANTHA

  16 January 2000, Willow Tree Bend

  The hospital insisted on keeping Gran in. Her arm was broken, quite a serious break they said, and it needed to be set under anaesthetic. But that would have to wait until the morning. They weren’t too happy about her elevated blood pressure either, oh and by the way, what was she doing wandering around alone in the dark like that?

  That was the sixty-five-thousand-dollar question, and none of us could answer satisfactorily, not even Gran. The fall had shaken her, and she was having trouble remembering much at all about her evening stroll.

  After I drove home through the rain—there wasn’t much, but I was grateful for every drop—I fell into bed, exhausted. And when I woke in the morning Hope was sipping a cup of black tea and waiting for her car. She gave me a sombre greeting. She’d tidied up the house and back verandah, and all signs of the party were gone.

  Well, almost.

  When I opened the fridge door I found that the shelves were groaning with uneaten food. But that was okay—leftovers meant I wouldn’t have to cook for days and days, always a good thing in my opinion.

  ‘I’ll ring from the hotel to find out what’s happening,’ Hope was saying as she carried her cup and saucer to the sink. ‘I’d wriggle out of this if I could, Samantha, but I suppose it’s best just to get it done. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

  ‘I’m sure Gran’ll be okay.’

  Hope nodded, but I could see how worried she was. She put the crockery down to drain and turned to face me. We were the same height.

  ‘One good thing might come out of this. I’m hoping it will bring Faith home. Make sure Joe passes it on to her, won’t you? If she happens to call him,’ she added under her breath.

  ‘Okay.’ I would have thought there was no way my mother wouldn’t come home when she heard about Gran, but then this whole situation was peculiar.

  Hope had spent some time on her makeup and clothing. She looked very elegant and professional, and her shoes looked expensive. I wondered how she did it, but maybe it was just practice. My mother always said Hope was better at dressing up than she was, but I thought Mum was pretty good at it, too. I remembered her telling me once that someone had told her that the trick was to make the most of what you had, play up your best features and play down your worst. And never try to look like someone else.

  ‘Why do you think Gran went off like that?’ I asked Hope. ‘She wasn’t making much sense last night.’

  ‘I don’t think she knew herself. At least she’ll be safe in hospital.’ She looked to the front windows, and I saw that a shiny red car had pulled up outside the gate. I moved to go out but she stopped me. ‘Don’t worry. I have everything. I’ll leave now.’

  ‘All right. Goodbye.’

  We hesitated and it felt a little awkward, and then she reached to give me a hug. I was enveloped in Shalimar, and I immediately felt a bit teary, which was ridiculous. But the brief time she’d been here seemed to have brought us closer together, and perhaps that was one good thing I could take away from all of this.

  ‘See ya later,’ she said, putting on an Australian drawl, and pausing only to give Mitch a pat.

  I watched as she picked her way across the yard to the gate, where a man in a suit helped her open and close it, took her bag, and then held the car door for her. I was still standing there when he turned his car around and drove her away.

  The house was quiet, but I told myself I’d soon get used to it again. I’d just begun preparing food for my many and varied animals when I heard the sound of another car arriving. Had Hope forgotten something? But when I went to the window it wasn’t my aunt returning, but a newish station wagon. It stopped, engine running, while the driver climbed out to open the gate, and I recognised Lincoln.

  That was a surprise.

  Maybe he’d come to see Hope? More likely he was here to ask how Gran was doing. I looked down at myself and groaned. I was still in my pyjamas and no doubt my hair looked, in Gran’s words, like I’d been dragged through a bush backwards.

  In the time it took him to open the gate, dri
ve through and close it again, I’d pulled on jeans and a tee-shirt and brushed my hair. He knocked on the door and I let him in.

  ‘How is Lily?’ He hadn’t shaved, or maybe that was just the rumpled rockstar look. It certainly suited him, I thought, and then reminded myself to behave.

  ‘She’s getting operated on today. I’ll drop in and see her a bit later this morning.’

  ‘You don’t know why …?’

  ‘No, I don’t. It’s really weird.’ I hesitated, not sure whether to say more, but he seemed like a good listener and it might be helpful to talk through some of my ideas. ‘You know my mother has gone off to Queensland?’

  He nodded, watching my face.

  ‘Right. I suppose you do. Well, when she rings Dad’s going to let her know about Gran. We’re hoping that will bring her home.’

  ‘I take it this isn’t normal behaviour for your mother?’

  ‘God no! She’s the most responsible, well-organised person I know. To just take off like this … I don’t understand it at all. It’s worrying. The other thing …’ I told him about the old Dalzell house and the photo Jason found. ‘The woman looked so much like my mother. I’m not sure what was going on exactly.’ Was I rambling? I thought he looked as if he was still interested, even sympathetic. ‘It could be a coincidence, I suppose, it seems like a stretch—Hope thinks it’s ridiculous—and yet for some reason I get the feeling that the two things are connected.’

  ‘You think your mother and this Dalzell guy were close?’

  ‘I’m assuming so. I wish I could talk to someone who worked with her, but only she would know who they were. I thought there might be something in the local newspapers about Dalzell at least. I could have a look in the archive at the library, they have old issues.’

  He nodded. ‘Do you need some help?’ he asked casually.

  I tried to read his expression. Did he mean it? He seemed to. Maybe he was bored and this offered him some distraction? Or perhaps he was just lonely. Whatever his reason, it might be good to have someone else to bounce ideas off.