On the Right Track

by Penelope Janu

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I say.

  He exhales slowly. ‘Bruised ribs.’

  Nate glances into the rearview mirror. ‘Hope you haven’t busted the one you did last year. Sorry it was five against one. Had to prioritise Golden and the old man. Garcia took his time.’

  ‘His phone rang while I was in his office. I walked into the hall when he took the call, which was when I heard the screams.’

  I have the seatbelt buckle in my hand but can’t seem to fasten it. Tor takes it away. ‘Let me,’ he says.

  As if I have no control over it, my hand grasps his and holds on tight. I watch the tips of my fingers turn white.

  ‘Golden?’ Tor says. ‘I have to do up your belt.’

  My eyes fly to his. ‘I can’t let go!’

  ‘It’s shock, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.’ He strokes the back of my hand until my fingers loosen, then he clicks my buckle, and takes my hand again. The car bumps over the grass at the side of the road as Nate makes a U-turn. A small herd of black and white cows are gathered under a stringybark tree. Eucalyptus obliqua. I ease my hand out of his, then link my hands in my lap.

  ‘Grasmere’s half an hour away,’ I say. ‘Once we reach the main road, I can direct you.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ Nate says. ‘We’ve got it on GPS.’

  I’ve always thought Nate was straightforward and easy to read. I thought he’d be a terrible spy. Maybe I was wrong.

  ‘You didn’t go to school in New York, did you? Your accent’s not right. I noticed it when we met, but I never got around to asking.’

  There’s a short silence. ‘Dad was in oil and gas and travelled a lot. He wanted Mom and his children with him so we went to international schools.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Hong Kong at first, then Beijing.’

  ‘What languages do you speak other than English?’

  Another hesitation from Nate. Tor studies my profile. ‘Tell her,’ he says.

  ‘Cantonese. And Mandarin.’

  ‘They’d be useful for spying.’

  Tor speaks quietly and calmly. ‘Golden, what we were doing in Asia is over. I’ll be back at the Disarmament Committee in New York next week. Nate will be assigned elsewhere. I’d like to see Per and Harriet too, before they have their baby. You know about that, don’t you?’

  I nod. Tor is trying to distract me but it’s not working. I close my eyes and try to conjure up my rock by the creek, but all I see is the fight.

  ‘Nate,’ I say, ‘when you threatened to dislocate the guard’s arm, he was frightened.’

  ‘Nah.’

  ‘I didn’t like it. And you, Tor. You broke that man’s nose. I think you did it deliberately.’

  ‘It wasn’t the first time it’d been broken.’

  ‘That doesn’t make it right.’ I look out of the side window. ‘What did Alessandro say about my father?’

  ‘I was about to question him when his phone rang,’ Tor says, leaning forward in his seat. ‘Nate, after you’ve dropped us off, go back to Garcia’s. Play things down. Confirm I don’t need a doctor, Ashleigh was upset and lashed out, Golden’s a devoted sister. Make it clear it’s in everyone’s interests to forget this.’

  ‘Maybe we should have stayed behind,’ I say. ‘You could have asked your questions then. You might not get the chance at the races, and you’re going away next week.’

  ‘I’ll do what I can tomorrow. You should stay at Grasmere. If the other guests talk, the media could pick up on it. Ashleigh is an actress, you’re the daughter of a prominent MP.’

  ‘Stepdaughter. I don’t care what they say. I know I made a spectacle of myself. I won’t do it again.’

  There aren’t any streetlights now we’re on the outskirts of town, but it’s surprisingly light outside. The sky is cloudless, and the moon is a giant luminous disk, almost full. Tor is considering my profile again. He’ll be trying to understand whether I’m delusional, stupid or just plain complicated.

  His tone is measured. ‘Garcia views you like Solomon does, and the Fergusons—they each have some affection for you. I agree Garcia is hiding something, but that’s in the past.’

  My hands clench into fists. ‘It would be convenient if I let this go, wouldn’t it, even though it was you who started it? Because you’ve got what you came for, your money launderers, your crime syndicates. It’s over for you.’

  He opens my hand and threads our fingers together. ‘That’s unfair,’ he says. Nate has his eyes on the road and is pretending he can’t hear us. ‘What if I want to be with you, want us to be together? What if the shit your father represents is getting in the way of that?’

  A flush creeps up my neck to my face. Tor said all we could do was pretend. So why suggest there could be more? He’s kind when I’m in shock, or sleepy, or upset. But when I’m myself he’s cold and judgemental. He thinks I have a terrible pedigree. He travels the world. He’s a diplomat spy. We’d be useless together.

  ‘I was raised on dirty money, and I hate parties. Why would you want to be with me?’

  ‘Golden,’ Nate says, ‘when Tor said you were raised on dirty money, I don’t think he meant—’

  ‘Nate! Shut up.’ Tor lowers his voice, ‘Golden, we’ll talk about this later.’

  ‘There’s nothing to talk about. I know my father did something wrong but I don’t think it was as bad as everyone thinks, or Grandpa wouldn’t have supported him like he did. I don’t care about influential people and I don’t have to worry about Eric anymore, not after what he’s done. You said you’d help me, that’s why I’m here. I want to go to the races tomorrow. I’ll speak to Alessandro if you won’t. And Tomas.’

  ‘Stay away from them.’

  My voice breaks. ‘Or what?’

  As soon as we turn off the road and bump over the cattle grid, I open my window wide. Eucalypts, mostly blue gums, grow densely near the driveway, but the land has been cleared to the east and large round hay bales dot the open fields. The homestead comes into view, its sandstone walls a buttery cream. The verandah is dressed in a cloak of wisteria, bright green leaves and lilac blossoms.

  ‘Golden?’ Tor says, touching my arm. ‘We’re here.’

  The car has stopped, and when Nate opens my door I notice my belt is already unfastened.

  Tor examines keys in the glow of the headlights as Nate hands me my bag. The weather is mild and there’s no wind, but suddenly I’m cold. I shiver and wrap my arms around my middle.

  ‘Go and warm up,’ Tor says, as I flick on the hall and kitchen lights.

  ‘The bedrooms and bathrooms are upstairs,’ I say.

  He talks over his shoulder as he walks away. ‘I’ll have a word to Nate, clean myself up and meet you down here.’

  CHAPTER

  37

  Tor, wearing an expression that’s impossible to read, lifts his eyes from his iPad when I walk into the kitchen. His hair is damp and he’s holding a cloth against his lip—I think it’s covering ice cubes. On the table in front of him there’s a platter of fruit, bread and cheese.

  ‘Where did you get that?’ I say.

  Tor lifts the cloth from his mouth. The graze above his lip has stopped bleeding and his bottom lip is only slightly swollen now.

  ‘Eric organised it,’ he says. ‘Can I get you something to drink?’

  ‘I’ll get it.’ There are a few items in the fridge—juice, milk and wine, and a carton of eggs. I pour myself a glass of milk and sit opposite Tor. ‘When will Nate get back?’

  ‘He’ll be another hour at least.’

  Even after a shower and change of clothes I’m still shaken up. I want Nate to throw an arm around my shoulders and smile encouragingly. I fiddle with the zip of my tracksuit top and study my glass, because if I reach for a piece of fruit Tor will see how unsteady my hand is. When my stomach rumbles he looks up.

  ‘Are you going to eat?’ He sips from his glass of water and winces. ‘Fuck,’ he says, pressing the cloth against his mouth a
gain.

  My words come out in a rush. ‘I shouldn’t have let Ashleigh get to me like that. Or complained about what you did.’ My voice wavers. ‘He hit you first.’

  ‘Golden?’ He speaks slowly, quietly. ‘You said Ashleigh insulted your sister. Over Khan?’

  ‘He’s a cricketer, isn’t he?’

  ‘He’s in the Australian team.’ Tor carefully adjusts his position on the chair. ‘Ashleigh said you didn’t belong?’

  ‘It was stupid to let it upset me.’

  He gets up stiffly and drags his chair around the table to sit next to me. ‘Watermelon? Strawberries?’

  When I nod he puts fruit on my plate.

  ‘Brie? Bread?’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten.’

  His plate is on the other side of the table and I don’t think he wants to make the effort to get up again, so he shares my plate. Neither of us speaks. Tor cuts his fruit into bite-sized pieces and chews slowly, meaning I eat twice the amount that he does. After a while there’s not much left on the platter and my glass is empty.

  The knuckles of his right hand are grazed and puffy. He sees me looking at them and turns his hand over.

  ‘Is your hand sore?’

  ‘I was outnumbered. I had to fight back.’

  ‘Nate said you had a broken rib last year. Did somebody kick you?’

  He doesn’t say anything, just covers my hand with the one that isn’t hurt.

  ‘You were so … angry,’ I say.

  He closes his eyes for a moment, takes a shallow breath. ‘I couldn’t see you until I’d pushed through the crowd, I could only hear your voice. And then … you were barely half his size.’

  ‘He had big hands.’

  Tor’s eyes are dark and intent. ‘You frighten me in ways I haven’t been frightened for years. You hide things. I can’t anticipate what you’ll do next, so how can I protect you?’

  ‘You thought you had to look after me because you dragged me into this, but that’s no longer the case. Anyway, what happened tonight had nothing to do with my father or Grandpa.’

  He lets go of my hand and stands. I stand too but he turns his back, stacking the glasses and plates.

  My throat tightens. ‘Can’t I even mention their names?’

  He walks to the sink. ‘We’ll leave at ten tomorrow. I’ll speak to Alessandro and others who might know about your father. Then we’ll talk about us.’

  He can only ‘talk about us’ once I’ve found out about my family, but that may never happen. I’m in love with him. Next week he’ll be gone.

  When I put my hand on his back he stiffens. Then he turns around slowly.

  I don’t quite meet his eyes as my hand flutters to his shirt button. ‘Show me your ribs.’

  ‘Golden, what are you—’

  I grasp his shirt as he steps away, and it pulls out of his jeans at the front. He stills again, his arms rigid. My hair brushes his chest as I undo the bottom button of his shirt, and the next two. There are dark hairs running in a trail from his navel. I pull his shirt up further and see the bruises. His skin is angry, red and purple.

  My eyes meet his. ‘Ow.’

  His eyes are hooded and his jaw is clenched tight. He speaks between his teeth. ‘Can I do my shirt up now?’

  I shake my head, then rest my forehead against his chest. My words are mumbled. ‘You should ice it. I can help you.’

  He puts his hands on my shoulders and leans closer, rubbing his cheek against the side of my head.

  His voice is rough, uneven. ‘You’re in shock, Golden. Go to bed.’

  My legs are weak with longing. I release a long slow breath when he wraps his arms loosely around me.

  ‘I’m not in shock; I know what I’m doing.’

  ‘Golden.’ He breathes into my hair.

  ‘I like it when you say my name like that, with shortened vowel sounds. It sounds fake when you say it the other way.’

  He makes a sound between a laugh and a groan. ‘Just one more day. We can stop pretending after tomorrow.’

  ‘Pretending that we’re only pretending to be attracted to each other?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why can’t we stop pretending now?’ When I take a step back and put my hand on the side of his face, he leans into it. ‘Please, Tor. I used to be scared but now I’m not.’

  His eyes are dark and bright. Mine are wide with wonder that I can want somebody as much as I want him.

  ‘You were in shock,’ he says. ‘My mouth is fucked up, so are my ribs. I should lock you in your room.’

  ‘Remember what I told you under the scribbly bark tree? That when you said you wanted everything, it brought back bad memories. I don’t think that’s the case anymore. I think I could have sex with you.’

  He groans a laugh. ‘That’s your pick up line?’

  When I nod, he runs his hands down my back to my bottom, bringing our bodies even closer. He breathes against my neck while I undo the remainder of his shirt buttons. His skin is smooth and his muscles are hard. I rest my face against his chest and close my eyes. I nuzzle his neck, run my teeth along his collarbone. All I hear are his breaths. My senses are flooded by the smell, touch and taste of him.

  ‘I’m sorry you got hurt.’

  He spans my waist and lifts me so I’m on my toes.

  ‘It always hurts with you,’ he says.

  My voice wavers. ‘I know.’

  I carefully open his lips with the tip of my tongue and breathe into his mouth. An ache builds, warm and intense, between my thighs. As if he’s aware of it he puts one of his legs through mine and I press against it. He growls.

  ‘Bed, Golden. Now.’

  ‘With you?’

  He hesitates. ‘Yes.’

  There are three upstairs guest bedrooms at Grasmere. I have the same room I was in when I lived here, after I was able to climb the stairs, and Tor has the large room with the en suite. Nate’s room is between our rooms. Nate?

  As if Tor has read my mind he pulls out his phone. ‘Nate, don’t come back.’

  I hear Nate say, ‘Golden okay with that?’ before Tor hangs up.

  The view through the open curtains in Tor’s room is similar to the one I have in mine. He follows me to the window and stands behind me, drawing me close by wrapping his arms around my middle. He rests his chin on my shoulder.

  I point to the stand of trees, fifty metres away, that are closest to the house. ‘See how the branches glow in the moonlight?’

  ‘Ghost gums?’

  I shake my head. ‘Grey gums. Eucalyptus punctata. They have pale smooth trunks when they shed their bark. There are lots of grey gums, and paperbarks, down by the river as well.’

  His hands move to my hips and he turns me around to face him. He searches my face. ‘You were mesmerised by this place from the moment we drove in. When were you here last?’

  ‘I’ve only stayed here once, but that was for months. It was over ten years ago, after my fall.’

  ‘Gum trees make you smile, so do children.’

  ‘I guess.’

  If it weren’t for my increased heart rate I’d hardly know I’d been kissed, the touch of his lips is so light. He murmurs against my mouth.

  ‘I’d like to make you happy, Golden.’

  I think he’s waiting for me to say something but the only thought I have is don’t break my heart. He takes a deep breath and grimaces, because it must hurt his ribs. He cups my face. Then his lips are on mine and he’s kissing me properly. At first I worry about his mouth but soon it’s impossible to think about anything else but how much I want to be with him.

  I insist on undressing him first, undoing his cuffs and turning him around so I can ease the shirt off his shoulders.

  ‘I haven’t even seen you,’ I say.

  His torso is beautiful, just like a statue. When I fumble at the button and zip of his jeans he mutters and takes over, stripping off the rest of his clothes and leaving
them in a messy pile on the floor. His body is muscled and his limbs are long; his skin is smooth.

  He faces me.

  ‘Oh!’

  He comes close, puts a hand on each shoulder and kisses me briefly on the mouth. ‘You okay?’

  One of my hands is on his chest. The other trails down his side to his hip. His skin is warm, flushed.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  He takes my hands. ‘We don’t have to—’

  ‘No!’ I yank my hands away, then stand on my toes and wrap my arms tightly around his neck. My voice is firm. ‘I told you, I want everything.’

  He kisses my mouth in a probing searching kiss. ‘Do you trust me?’

  I nod. I trust you in this.

  I take off my tracksuit top and stand in front of him. He threads his fingers through my hair, pushing it over my shoulders, then touches my breasts through my T-shirt until they’re achingly sensitive. He lowers his head and kisses my nipples through the fabric. When I yank at the T-shirt hem to give him better access he pulls it up over my head and takes off my bra. He cups my breasts.

  ‘Cream and pink and … so fucking lovely,’ he whispers, kissing my nipples and circling them with his thumbs. He trails his hands down my sides until his fingers are inside my waistband. All I see is his glossy dark head when he eases my pants past my hips, thighs and—

  I grasp his hands. ‘No.’

  ‘Golden?’

  I look at his body. Besides the bruising on his ribcage there are no imperfections, no lumps or patches or scars.

  ‘Can we turn the light off?’ I say.

  He blinks. ‘Why?’

  ‘Please.’

  He sighs and walks to the other side of the room. It takes a few seconds to adjust my eyes. The moon shines through the window. He pulls down the bed covers; the sheets are crisp and white. When I cross my arms over my breasts he gently opens them up again.

  ‘Uh uh,’ he says, pulling me towards the bed.

  I lie on my back and he lies next to me on his side, propped up on his elbow. He smooths my hair and fans it over the pillow. He kisses my neck. He brings my hand up to his shoulder. The moonlight casts shadows over his body.