‘They just want to make sure she’s not too sad about Monnie dying.’
‘They should ask me. I reckon she’s even sadder than normal. Or they should ask you, Mum.’ He ran off. ‘Can I have some chocolate cake when I’ve changed?’ he called from the passage.
‘What did Lauren say?’ Tim whispered leaning into Annie.
‘She said if I didn’t make the appointment with Dr Shepherd while she talks to Rachel, she will go back to the office and make arrangements to take Rachel to some child protection doctor. She’s serious, Tim.’
Tim rubbed the back of his neck. Paced the room. Pondered whether now was the time to finally tell Annie the entire story. Then decided that was not an option. In Rachel’s eyes, it would be yet another betrayal.
‘Can I have a piece of cake now, please?’ Ben said running in and climbing onto a stool at the breakfast bar.
Tim fished his phone from his pocket and checked the time. ‘I’ll make that appointment now, shall I?’ he said to Annie who looked up and nodded as she cut a thin wedge of cake for Ben. Scrolling through his phone’s contact list, Tim ambled out through the back door to the background noise of Ben’s energetic chirping. ‘Mum, Mandy Furtherington has a Spider-Man and an Action Man.’
‘Perhaps it was her birthday present,’ he heard Annie say.
‘No, she got a Wii for her birthday,’ Ben replied. ‘Everyone in my class has Spider-Man, Action Man and a Wii, except me.’
‘This is Tim Hooper,’ he said into the phone, staring from where he stood outside the back door towards Monnie’s forlorn stable yard. ‘I’m ringing to make an appointment for Rachel to see Doc Shepherd.’
‘Yes, Tim. Will you hold for a moment, please?’ He heard the clunk as Dr Shepherd’s wife of far too many years, who also doubled as his receptionist, put down the phone.
Almost immediately, the doctor’s assertively mellow voice came on the line. ‘Tim, this is Dr Shepherd. You will need to book a double appointment for Rachel. I can see her the day after tomorrow at 4.00. Does that suit?’
‘Yes. But why a double appointment?’ Tim said, his heart beating in his throat.
‘Child Welfare has asked me to conduct a thorough medical examination. I thought you knew.’
Tim sensed with acute clarity that there was no point in arguing or trying to convince the doctor of Rachel’s fears. Reluctantly resigned to what must be, his mind stretched for solutions and finding none, he rang off having assured Dr Shepherd that Rachel would be in his surgery on time.
Annie looked up immediately from peeling vegetables when Tim re-entered the family room and cast an eye at Ben, who seemed engrossed with his homework at the breakfast bar. ‘Doc Shepherd is adamant he is doing a full medical on Rachel,’ he muttered. ‘Her appointment is at 4.00pm the day after tomorrow.’
Annie’s cynical expression pre-empted her response, silenced by the sudden sound of Rachel’s bedroom door opening.
‘Rachel is not happy about having a medical but she has agreed it would be best,’ Lauren said as the three of them wandered into the family room. ‘Any luck with that appointment, Mrs Hooper?’ she asked, with firmly raised eyebrows.
Annie looked at Rachel, then back at Lauren. Lifted her chin. ‘Yes. Four o’clock the day after tomorrow.’
‘Mm. I would have preferred something sooner but I’m sure Dr Shepherd is very busy. The day after tomorrow at 4.00 it is then. I’ll call you sometime after that. Dr Shepherd will ask you to sign a form giving him permission to pass the results onto my department. I trust that won’t be a problem,’ she said, again raising her eyebrows.
‘Anything to get this over with,’ Annie said. ‘But I must say I fail to understand why your department is so intent on putting Rachel through all this. Enough,’ Annie said, suddenly raising a silencing hand when Lauren began to speak. ‘Rachel will have the medical and my family will finally be rid of you people.’
‘Yes. That’s exactly right, Mrs Hooper. Thank you for your time,’ Lauren said as she, Annie and the silent frizzy student made their way towards the passage and the front door.
‘They’ll know everything after the medical,’ Rachel whispered hysterically to Tim. ‘Our family will be cactus.’
Glancing over at Ben, Tim put his finger to his lips and steered Rachel towards the back door.
‘We have no choice. Just tell Doc Shepherd that you’re feeling down and convince him the injuries from horse riding have gone. Then tell him you have your periods,’ he told her softly once outside the door.’
Rachel shook her head. Tears poured down her cheeks. ‘He’ll only make me come back later. This is psycho. I don’t know what to do,’ she said suddenly rushing back inside on hearing the government car crunch along the gravel from the front of the house.
Tim caught up with her inside the back porch. Grabbed her arm. Looked her in the eye. ‘Maybe it’s time, Rach. Maybe we should tell Mum.’
Rachel pulled away, running into the family room and coming face to face with Annie.
‘I know it’s a nightmare for you, pet, but I really think it is time you saw the doctor. You’ve known Doc Shepherd since you were a baby. It won’t be that bad,’ she said, pushing Rachel’s hair back off her face and pulling a tissue from the sleeve of her jumper to dab at Rachel’s tears and snot. ‘If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me,’ she said.
Rachel took the tissue and wordlessly made her way to her bedroom.
‘What’s a medical?’ Ben asked.
‘Thanks for the lock on the door,’ Rachel said, much perkier when she peeked her head into Tim’s room after tea.
‘That's okay,’ he said closing his book as she sat down on the side of his bed.
‘Lauren Quayle asked me about it. It was the first time I’d seen it. She threw me a bit,’ she said.
‘Shit, yeah. I should have told you. I only put it on this morning. What did you say to her?’
‘I told her Ben keeps coming into my room.’
‘Poor Ben,’ Tim replied smiling. ‘He always cops it. I told Mum the same story.’
Rachel’s expression was doubtful. ‘I don’t think Lauren believed me,’ she said softly.
Tim shrugged. ‘Who cares what she believes. It could be the truth for all she knows.’
‘I’m stuffed. I’m going to bed,’ Rachel said, dragging herself to her feet.
‘Goodnight, Rach,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t worry about the doctor’s appointment. I’ve thought about it and I think it’s for the best.’
She wordlessly left his room without any sign of agreement. He listened until he heard the lock slide across on the inside of her bedroom door. Then returned to his reading.
Later, Peter stormed into the family room and fronted Annie as she watched television. Tim stopped dunking the teabag, his hand poised above the mug as he watched and wondered what Peter’s enraged posturing was about. ‘What’s that bullshit lock doing on Rachel’s door?’ he yelled pointing in the direction of her room.
‘I put it on,’ Tim said allowing the teabag to drop into the mug before slowly making his way towards Peter.
‘What if there’s a fire, lad? Or she locks herself in and we have to break the door, or a window to get her out. Have you finally lost your marbles?’ Spittle flew from his thin lips.
‘Peter, stop it,’ Annie said from where she sat on the settee.
‘No, I won’t stop it. Take the bloody thing off tonight before you go to bed,’ Peter spat, his face turning the colour of raw steak.
‘You will do no such thing,’ Annie said standing and looking Peter in the eye. ‘Rachel is a young woman and she needs her privacy.’
Peter glared at Annie’s determined scowl and then at Tim, before turning and storming out. Through the kitchen window, Tim watched him stomp across the concrete, the black hollow eyes of the little kid in the photograph revisiting him as Peter stormed into the shed and slammed the door closed.
Next morning, Rachel was even more reluctant
than usual as she dragged her feet up the school steps, following Ben. Overwhelmed by worry, Tim thought with desperation that tomorrow’s visit to the doctor could only be a good thing.
‘You never get headaches, mate. What’s up?’ Laurie said later, watching Tim take two tablets from the first-aid tin as the kettle boiled for smoko.
‘It’s giving me the shits,’ he said, tossing them into his mouth and swallowing a glass of water. ‘I didn’t know depression could be contagious.’
‘You can’t blame your sister, after all that’s happened,’ Laurie said. ‘Maybe it’s time she saw a doctor, hey? What do you reckon?’
‘She’s going tomorrow,’ Tim said, flicking the switch on the screaming kettle. ‘I reckon my grandmother had depression.’
‘Yeah,’ Laurie said, pouring the tea. ‘They called it having a nervous breakdown back then. But I reckon you could be right.’ He grabbed up the basket, today brimming with orange muffins and they sat at the table.
‘She killed herself, didn’t she, Laurie?’ Tim said, looking him straight in the eye.
‘Yeah. Bloke to bloke, she did, mate. She shot herself … that was after Peter’s old man shot through on her and left her with the kids. Irony is, after she died, the welfare tracked him down and brought him back to their farm to look after them all. But that doesn’t mean Rachel is the same as your grandmother,’ he said, raising his thick eyebrows for emphasis. ‘It’s good she’s seeing the doc, though.’
Later, as Tim watched Laurie wash his mug at the sink, he pondered what had attracted his mother to his father. I know she probably didn’t get around much. But she came from a good family. Why did she choose that drop-kick?
‘It’s my turn to get in the front,’ Ben said after Tim had pulled up that afternoon.
‘Where’s Rachel?’ Tim said peering around with a sense of déjà vu.
‘I don’t know. I didn’t see her at recess time or lunchtime or afternoon recess.’
Tim fretted for 10 minutes before he and Ben wandered over to the school garden, only to discover she wasn’t there.
‘Tim,’ Sharon Carmichael called from the top of the school steps as he and Ben were heading towards the car. She made a hand gesture for him to wait for her, hurriedly fastening the buttons on her coat as she ran down the steps towards them.
‘Go and wait in the car,’ Tim said to Ben after he had whined about the cold.
‘I’ve been trying to ring your home,’ Sharon told him as she approached, her face etched with concern. ‘Rachel wasn’t at school today — or yesterday either for that matter. I didn’t take as much notice as I normally would, because her attendance has become, well, a little erratic …’
Tim was certain Sharon was mistaken. ‘But I picked her up from here yesterday,’ Tim said. ‘We went home. She spoke to the welfare woman.’
Sharon’s voice softened. ‘I know Lauren Quayle has visited. I think it’s for the best. Rachel is very sick. She needs help.’
‘She’s seeing Doc Shepherd tomorrow,’ Tim said.
The severity of Sharon’s concerned scowl softened, replaced for a moment by a smile. But the scowl soon returned as she peered around the vacant school grounds, the empty car park. ‘Perhaps Rachel decided to catch the bus. I know a lot of kids drive their parents crazy with that little caper.’
‘Yeah, perhaps. I’ll head on home,’ Tim said.
Beside himself with worry now, Tim jumped in the car, slammed it into gear and with his wheels squealing, took off towards home.
‘Tim. You’re going without Rachel,’ Ben screamed, suddenly bursting into tears.
‘Rachel hasn’t been at school for at least two days,’ Tim shouted at Annie as he and Ben rushed inside. ‘She wasn’t there tonight and according to Sharon she wasn’t at school yesterday either.’ His head pounded with a vengeance as he paced the floor. ‘Where the hell is she? I’ve been dropping her off and picking her up every bloody day.’
With a sudden spurt of inspiration he ran over to the shed. Searched the dank greasy space, convinced his theory was correct. ‘Her old yellow bike’s gone,’ he shouted at Annie when he ran back inside. ‘She may be at the beach. I’ll take a drive and see.’
‘I’ll get Dad to help you,’ Annie said.
‘No. he’s the last person I want involved.’
There was only one cop in Ackland Point and that was Garry. Tim figured if he got pulled over because he was tearing through the town and along the road to Ackland Bay, he would drag Garry into the search for his sister. Suddenly concerned she may even have been abducted, he wondered if he should contact Garry anyway. But in his haste he found he had left his mobile at home.
The ute’s sweet burble did not assuage his fears as Tim surveyed the sweep of Ackland Bay from the head of the bluff without seeing any sign of her. Shoving the gearshift into reverse he flattened the accelerator and backed out of the parking bay, usually frequented by sightseers, and idled past the dunes — again without catching as much as a glimpse of Rachel or her bike. He gunned the car along the narrow stretch of road and reached his final destination in minutes. Idling onto the shoulder of the road above Broken Bay he cast his eyes across the rolling sandhills, the sweep of deserted beach, certain that if Rachel had been feeling melancholic she would be here in the place where she and Monnie often galloped along the sand and swam together in the sea. But again, there was no sign to be found of his little sister.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
‘She’s not in town and she’s not at the beach,’ Tim said as he tore into the kitchen to be confronted by the sight of his mother and father enjoying a coffee at the breakfast bar. He ran to the sink and filled a glass with water. ‘I can’t believe you two,’ he said between gulps, his face twisting with disgust. ‘How can you drink coffee when your only daughter has gone missing without a trace?’
‘I’ve called the police, love,’ Annie said, her eyes bloodshot and swollen. ‘They said we should stay here in case Rachel comes home.’ She shook her head. ‘I wish there was something … I don’t know what else we can do.’
‘You can just calm down and drink your coffee, Annie,’ Peter said, sipping from his mug.
‘Is that all you have to say, old man?’
‘You don’t need to take it out on me, lad. I’m as worried as you are.’
‘Is that right? Then who should I take it out on, Dad?’ Tim took slow, deep breaths acutely aware he was on the brink of saying too much. He imagined himself, in a fit of rage, spewing out the whole story about what Peter had been doing, followed by Rachel cruising in through the back door safe and sound after all. She would never understand. She would never forgive him.
‘You two freak me out,’ he spat. ‘Your only daughter is bright enough to be anything she wants in life and all you will allow her to contemplate is life as a farmer’s wife. She wants to study medicine,’ he said slowly, as though speaking to imbeciles. ‘Her teachers support her. Doctors support her — but not her parents. Well, here’s the rub. Here’s a hot newsflash for you both. Rachel does not want to dedicate her entire life to this fucking farm and neither do I. Position vacant. Get it? Jeezus. No wonder she’s depressed.’
He loped past them, glaring at their stunned pale faces as he headed towards the back door. ‘I’m going to check the paddocks. It’s the only place left that I can think of,’ he muttered.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Peter said rising from the stool.
‘No, thanks,’ Tim spat.
On his way to the bottom paddock Tim passed Monnie’s corrugated iron tackle shed and glanced in at the harness and bridles hanging from their hooks and the rug draped limp and lifeless over its rack as though waiting for the next opportunity to be of use again.
The further he walked from the house the quieter and more peaceful it seemed to become, the only sounds his jeans swishing against the long grass and the mockingly joyous squawks of the magpies and cockatoos as they soared in and out of trees.
‘Where are y
ou, Rach?’ he murmured zipping his jacket against the creeping cold and sinking his hands deep into his pockets as he studied the rolling hills before him. Reminded of the hour by the muted sky he clenched his jaw and ran down the long slope and up the side of the next hill, his boots slipping and sliding on loose pebbles and failing to give him the traction he needed in order to make real progress.
So by the time he finally stood on high ground and looked down to the site of Monnie’s grave, his breath burned and did not come easily. Ripping off his jacket and wrapping it around his waist, he hastened down the slope towards Monnie’s plot and, even before he reached his destination, he could see her grave had been carefully tended. Giving into gravity, he slid down the final few metres of the slope before getting to his feet and running towards Monnie’s final resting place, standing back to take in the freshly weeded rectangle of earth now outlined with limestone and iron rocks, a thick wreath of fresh flowering gum and wattle adding grace and beauty, making it clear that below its surface lay a being who was much-loved. ‘So this is what you’ve been doing, Rach,’ he murmured.
With his hands clasped in front of him and his head bowed, Tim stood at Monnie’s graveside and recalled the sound of pebbles hitting her bloated belly as the first loads of dirt had been poured onto her … the dull film over her once-lively eyes when Rachel and he had found her body … the countless times he had overheard Rachel chatting to her — words and thoughts she would share only with her best friend.
He swallowed hard. Wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Lifted his head and called as loudly as he could: ‘Rachel … Rachel.’ With a fearful stab of foreboding he recalled that it was in this very spot that he and Rachel had been standing when they had first spotted Monnie’s corpse.
Friends would later ask if that recollection had helped him to know where Rachel lay. whether finding Monnie had caused him to immediately glance towards the western copse — to see his sister lying in the same space among the roots and fallen branches that her beloved horse had died in only weeks before.
What Matters Most Page 19