‘Yes, he did, in a male sort of way,’ Laura said, wiggling her tangerine polished toenails on the arm of the lounge chair, the glittering sea visible through the window beyond.
‘And . . . ?’ Tara prompted.
‘And . . . he said his time away has made him realise how much our marriage means to him. And that he understands now that everyone has imperfections and he needs to tolerate mine.’
‘What imperfections would they be?’
Laura noted the annoyance in her daughter’s voice. ‘Don’t worry, darling, we discussed his imperfections as well.’
Tara’s voice softened. ‘You sound happy to have him back, Mum.’
Laura grappled with how she should explain her confused state without lying, without creating false expectations. ‘It’s still early days, but I think it’s worth giving our marriage another go. Is Seth there?’ she said, as eager to speak with her grandson as she was to change the topic.
‘Yes, he is,’ Tara said, uncertainty curdling her voice. ‘But I’m watching this space, Mum. I’m not convinced Simon is being straight with you.’
The sound of Seth’s voice always brought immeasurable cheer to Laura. ‘Is Pops back?’ he said.
She pictured the glee on his round face. ‘Ah ha. He sure is.’
‘Can I see him?’
‘Sure. We’ll arrange something really soon. How was your ice skating adventure?’
‘I don’t like ice skating any more,’ Seth said.
‘I know it’s not as easy as it looks, darling,’ she said. ‘Maybe you’ll like it more when you’re bigger.’
‘I’m big enough now. It’s just heaps boring,’ he said. ‘And Mum’s not very good at it.’
‘Maybe you can teach her,’ Laura said, smiling.
‘No, I don’t want to. Hey, Lol, do you have octopuses in your sea?’
‘Yes, I’m sure we do, why?’
‘Have you ever seen one?’ he went on, his voice rising with excitement.
Laura thought about it. ‘Oh yes, I have. There was a small one washed up on the beach last summer.’
‘Cool. Did you see his testicles? Our teacher said octopuses have testicles with sucking cups. She said octopuses can hang onto anything with their testicles – like they could even hang off a plane while it was flying if they had to.’
‘That’s awesome, Seth,’ Laura said.
‘Why are you laughing?’ he asked.
After more discussion about school and school friends, Laura called Simon to the phone for Seth’s long awaited chat. She left the room and sat out on the deck, unable to bear witness to a conversation that brimmed with the joy Simon and Seth obviously found in each other’s presence.
It was with a mixture of anger, determination, and anxiety that Laura sat and watched the roller door grind upwards Monday morning. She drove into the car park, climbed from her car, and with a deep breath straightened her coat covering her uniform, deliberately chosen over plain clothes for today. With her bag tossed over her shoulder and her fists clenched, she marched across the concrete car park, through the secure back entrance and along the corridor towards the elevator. Her first job for the day was to confront Tom Baker over what he had said to her Friday evening.
‘That’s ageist bullshit,’ Simon had said over the breakfast table when she had told him, his outrage fuelled by his sophisticated understanding of human resources and industrial relations. ‘Tom has encouraged insubordination in Kevin. And on top of that he’s denying you any opportunity for promotion based solely on your age and gender. He’s bloody arrogant and he’s breaching regulations,’ he had said, his hands forming fists. ‘You can’t let him get away with it, Laura. You’re a bloody good officer and he knows it.’
‘Can I have a word,’ she said at Tom’s open door.
Tom glanced up momentarily from his computer. ‘I’ll be finished this in five. Go grab a coffee. Get one for me and we’ll talk then.’
The vision hit her of tearing towards him, ripping at his thinning hair and slapping his ruddy cheeks, screaming like a banshee that no, she could not wait another five minutes because she had already had a tortuous bloody weekend of not knowing. But instead, she cleared her throat, straightened her shoulders. ‘OK. I’ll see you in five,’ she said with as much assertive calm as she could muster.
Laura stepped into the tearoom to the indiscernible rumblings of Kevin, immediately followed by eruptions of laughter. Kevin, Jenny and Mel instantly turned beaming faces towards her from where they huddled at the coffee machine.
‘Morning, Laura,’ Jenny said, her plump cheeks glowing and her smile widening. ‘How was your weekend?’
‘It was good, thanks,’ Laura said, watching Kevin scuttle from the room like a cockroach, unable to resist the urge to glimpse at his own reflection as he passed the full-length mirror by the door.
‘Your hair looks awesome, Laura.’ Mel stepped up for a closer look as she sipped from her mug.
Laura forced a smile and set about making coffee. ‘Thanks. I had it done on the weekend.’
‘Are you OK, Laura?’ Jenny said, once Mel had left. ‘You don’t seem yourself.’
Laura turned towards Jenny’s soulful brown eyes, suddenly angry for allowing Tom such power and influence over her. ‘I’ll be fine, Jenny. But thanks for asking.’
‘We missed you at drinks Friday night,’ Jenny said, wandering from the room. ‘If you need to talk just say the word,’ she added over her shoulder.
Laura pulled up to her full height, rapped on Tom’s door and walked in. She made her way to his desk, placing his coffee down on one of the few clear spots beside his computer, while Tom remained focussed on his screen.
‘Tom, I’ve been concerned all weekend about what you said Friday night,’ she addressed to the top of his head.
Lifting his watery eyes, he peered at her over the half-moon glasses he wore for reading.
‘You said you needed to think about supporting my application for training and promotion,’ she continued. ‘I’d like to know what you have concluded.’ Laura met his gaze, her heart thumping in her chest, her mind struggling for logical explanations as to why this toad in cufflinks rankled her so.
Tom pushed away from his computer, rested his elbows on the desk, his sausage fingers folded under his chin.
‘That’s not what I said, Laura. I said I would consider your views about Kevin’s promotion and I would consider your promotion as well. I’m very sorry you have taken our conversation out of context and that you are obviously upset,’ he concluded in his most officious superintendent’s voice.
She pushed her tongue hard against the top of her mouth as a means of controlling it and lifted her chin. Waited for Tom to continue.
He cleared his throat, as though about to issue some monumental announcement – like the name of the next Pope. ‘I have concluded that I am prepared to support both you and Kevin in your individual pursuits for career advancement.’
Laura’s jaw clenched. It was clear to her that Tom had finally realised his reaction Friday night could get him into serious trouble and he’d made a definite about-face. Now she knew for certain she could never trust him. ‘Thank you, Tom,’ she said. ‘I trust I have your word that what you’re saying to my face at this moment is what you will also be saying behind closed doors.’
Tom blinked and cleared his throat. ‘Of course.’
‘In that case my application will be on your desk within the week.’ She stood up from her chair, certain in the knowledge there was no more to be said. Delighted she had knocked him even if only a little sideways. She turned her back, suppressing her smile.
‘Oh, Laura,’ he called as she walked through the door, his voice suddenly more cheery.
She turned.
‘Close the door.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Once she had reached her desk, Laura breathed long and deep before gathering up her bag and her mobile phone.
Driven by her immediate need for solitude, and her embarrassment in the face of the degree of interest her meeting with Tom had generated on the floor, she retreated to the staffroom where she poured a mug of fresh coffee.
Back at her desk again, she glimpsed out at the cloudless silver grey sky. Watched pedestrians tear along the footpaths below. She lifted her phone and dialled the call she’d missed while she had been in with Tom.
‘Cynthia Holt,’ a tired voice answered.
With a jolt of fear that something had happened to Alex, she said, ‘It’s Laura Nesci.’
‘Oh. Thank you so much for ringing back, Laura. I’m driving Alex to school as we speak. She has something to tell you, no matter how unwillingly. And the sooner the better. I’ll put her on.’
After a bout of terse whispering, Alex came on the line. ‘I wanted to tell you this when you ring me later, but Mum insisted I do it now. Sorry,’ she said.
‘That’s OK. What’s on your mind?’
‘Well . . . I saw him again on Saturday night – in a nightmare. He was walking towards me . . . taking really big steps like last time. I tried to see his face but I couldn’t. But I did see . . . I know for sure now that he was wearing a dark balaclava.’ Laura could hear she was swallowing tears.
Cynthia eventually came back on the line.
‘Are you there, Laura? Alex is upset. It was a shocking nightmare. Her friend Maddi was over that night. It was horrific for her as well.’ She paused. ‘Do you think the information about the balaclava will help your investigation? It’s been almost a week . . . and, well, we’re all getting more anxious by the day.’
‘This new information will certainly help,’ Laura said, not knowing what else she could say to reassure the family that Noah and his team were working as hard as they could to solve this mystery. But there was something even more pressing gnawing at her. ‘Um . . . about this nightmare, has Alex had them before?’
‘No, never. It was shocking, alarming for us all. Do you think what she saw in the nightmare is what actually happened?’
‘Yes. I think it’s very possible that, like the flashbacks, she’s recalling the event from her subconscious. Keep an eye on her, won’t you, Cynthia? We should arrange for her to see a counsellor if these nightmares persist, if there are any changes to her appetite, or if her schoolwork starts to slip.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘I’ll ring Alex tomorrow. But if anything happens in the meantime, please call me.’
Laura placed her mobile down on her desk, considering whether she should arrange for Alex to see a counsellor regardless. She knew from previous discussions with the teen that she was vehemently afraid of the perceived stigma. But Laura was guessing Alex was afraid of the unknown – the questions to be asked, the depths to be probed.
She had just finished noting her conversation with Cynthia when her landline rang.
‘Hello, Sergeant Nesci. My name is Jayne Sterling from Sterling Real Estate. My daughter Madeline is Alex Holt’s friend,’ the cultured voice said. ‘Madeline begged me not to call you, but I really think you should know what happened this weekend during her sleepover at Alex’s house.’ She expelled a deep breath.
As Laura was about to tell her that she already knew about Alex’s nightmare, Jayne continued. ‘The girls were returning home from the store late Saturday afternoon, taking the same route home that Alex had taken the night she was attacked. Anyway, Madeline said that just after they left the store, Alex suddenly lapsed into some sort of dream state.’ She paused again.
‘What do you mean, Mrs Sterling?’
‘Well, Madeline said Alex simply stopped walking and turned very pale. She was apparently staring straight ahead and her eyes glazed over. Madeline said it was awful. She thought Alex was about to collapse right there in front of her on the footpath.’
‘Did Madeline say Alex was staring ahead at anything in particular?’
‘She didn’t think so. But she said the girls’ science teacher, Clive Fuller, happened to be walking towards them, but that he was some distance away. I know he lives in the area. He was apparently on his way to the store.’
Laura picked up her pen. ‘Do you know anything about Mr Fuller?’
‘Yes. By all accounts he’s a very good teacher. The girls certainly like him anyway – except Madeline. She says he’s creepy. She says he stands so close that the hairs on his arms touch hers and that freaks her out. I must admit, he does have exceptionally hairy arms and he tends to wear short sleeves in summer. Anyway, Madeline said Alex really likes him. Many of the other girls do as well. To be quite frank with you, some of the mothers go a bit crazy over him too. I don’t think there’s anything particularly sinister about the poor man, but I felt you needed to know about Alex’s little turn, especially since it actually occurred on the very same street she was walking that night.’
‘Could you describe Mr Fuller for me please, Mrs Sterling?’
‘Well, yes . . . Um, he is about my age, late thirties, early forties. He’s tall with a medium build. Quite fit looking actually. A good head of thick grey hair. Dark brown eyes. He is quite good looking, I must admit. He’s a bit secretive about his personal life, so we mothers have no idea whether he’s married or single, straight or gay.’
Even before she and Jayne Sterling had finished their discussion, including a reiteration of Maddi’s distress over Alex’s nightmare, Laura had searched the database to find nothing on record for anyone by the name of Clive Fuller who fitted Jayne’s description.
‘Will miracles never cease? You are actually at your desk,’ Laura said when Noah answered his phone. ‘I’m rushing out to buy a lottery ticket.’
‘Buy a ticket for me while you’re at it. By the way, before we talk about why you’ve phoned, what’s this I hear about you and Tom Baker having some sort of confrontation in his office?’
‘News travels fast,’ she said, rolling her eyes. She knew it was inevitable that people would be talking. But for someone who usually displayed arguably too much reverence towards authority figures, Laura was proud of the way she had tackled Tom Baker head on. ‘Tom said something Friday night that made me think he was gunning for me. Now he’s denying what he said. It makes me think that I need to watch my back from now on.’
Noah snorted lightly. ‘Sadly, Tom tends to behave like an insensitive baboon. And you tend to shoot from the hip with great aplomb. I’m sure Tom is secretly quivering in his size thirteen boots.’
Laura chuckled, secretly surprised and pleased over the perception Noah had of her. ‘Now, the reason for my call,’ she said. ‘I have just spoken with Cynthia Holt and a woman named Jayne Sterling respectively. Jayne is the mother of Madeline Sterling, Alex’s friend. ‘According to Cynthia . . .’ Laura outlined her conversations with Cynthia Holt about Alex’s nightmare of her attacker in a balaclava, and Jayne Sterling’s account of the girls encounter with Clive Fuller.
‘What do we know about this Clive Fuller?’ Noah said.
Laura repeated Jayne Sterling’s description. ‘According to my data,’ she concluded, ‘he’s a clean skin, but I’m sure you’ll be digging deeper.’
‘You can bet on it. Ciao,’ Noah said a split second before the line went dead.
Laura signed the last of a leviathan pile of declarations for court and dropped them into the out basket. She glanced at her watch, wondering where the day had gone, and dialled home. ‘You’ve reached Simon and Laura. Please leave a message,’ Simon crooned over the landline, shocking Laura into the realisation that here was yet another indicator they were sliding back into the status quo without any noticeable signs of beneficial change – at least not from her perspective.
‘It’s me,’ she said into the message bank through terse lips. ‘I’m going to the gym. I’ll be home before dinner.’
Two hours later, Laura drove into their paved driveway to the sight of Simon’s empty car space. Gathering up her bag and the files she wou
ld be working on that night, she cast her eyes over the lawn that looked as though it had grown centimetres since she had left Simon sleeping that morning. Milk thistles on stalks as thick as arms still flourished in the garden beds.
At least the back door locks again now, she thought, stepping into the laundry and through to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway at the gobsmacking sight of countless dirty dishes littering benches, the overflowing garbage bin left open on the kitchen floor. In the lounge room, discarded newspapers and shoes, even a used pair of jocks, were scattered across the carpet. She stomped back into the kitchen, yanking the dishwasher open, tossing in cutlery and plates, saucepans and glasses with a vengeance. Then she stopped. Slammed the dishwasher door closed. This was Simon’s mess and she would not be cleaning it up.
She thumped along the passage, still in her gym clothes, and changed into ski pants, a red polo neck and a black sleeveless quilted jacket, determined to spend the last sliver of daylight on the beach. The vision of Simon’s face over their pub dinner revisited her as she ran through the dunes. His earnest promise that in future he would be more house-friendly and less scathing of her orderliness ringing in her ears. You are such a fool, Laura, she thought..
The muffled, almost indiscernible crunch of her runners on the stippled sand comforted her. She glanced to the west, the first signs of the sun sinking below the horizon causing her to stop and simply stay in that moment. She breathed deep and slow, tranquillity overtaking her.
‘Hey,’ a voice said from behind.
Laura turned, clutching her chest. ‘Oh my God, Flynn. Sorry. I was miles away.’
‘Sorry,’ he said, smiling in that way he had. ‘I shouldn’t have sneaked up on you.’ He turned and whistled, motioning for Callie to catch up. The terrier flattened to the ground and tore towards them.
‘How have you been?’ Flynn said in a way that made Laura think he was being more curious than sociable.
‘I’m good.’ She looked down at her runners. At his bare tanned feet, wondering if they ever felt the cold.
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