‘I see Simon is home,’ he said, ignoring Callie tossing a sea sponge in the air, his dark eyes instead boring into hers.
‘Yes. He has,’ she said, turning to him again with a deliberate smile.
For a moment he studied her face. ‘That’s good. I’m pleased for you both.’ They walked a few steps in silence. ‘C’mon, Callie,’ he called. ‘This is where I leave you,’ he said to Laura, laying a hand lightly on her shoulder. He whistled again and Callie followed him across the sand towards their house. He turned back and waved. ‘See you next time.’
She had no idea what she was feeling as she turned slowly back to face the sea, her eyes brimming with tears. She wished Flynn had said something about the last time they’d spoken, the way she had left his studio so abruptly that afternoon. She had taken herself by surprise when after he had told her about the death of his wife she had blurted something about Simon leaving home, abandoning her for some unknown reason without warning.
‘What made him do that?’ Flynn had said, without lifting his eyes from the canvas.
‘I wish I knew,’ she had told him. ‘But Simon and I have never been great at communicating.’ Silence had filled the studio then, until Gorgeous had decided she would once again run along her perch to the accompaniment of shrill repetitions of ‘Naughty girl’.
‘Yeah. Good communication takes a bit of work I must admit,’ Flynn had said after a while, seemingly impervious to his bird’s antics.
She had been considering how much that simple statement had told her about Flynn’s attitude when, placing his brush between his teeth, he had strode purposefully towards her, seemingly focussed on her breasts. She had sat harder on her stool, at a loss to know what was happening. He had lifted his hand then and simply adjusted the neckline of the T-shirt, his fingers innocently brushing her skin. She had felt at once relieved, disappointed and excited. Frozen to the stool, she watched his back as he returned to the easel. Had taken several deep breaths in an attempt to bring her befuddled, chaotic thoughts back into some semblance of order.
‘I think we may have to leave it for now,’ he had said to her, having studied her face for a moment. ‘You look tired.’
Happy to acquiesce despite his sudden, curious decision to end the session, she had jumped from the stool and slipped behind the screen, returning a second later wearing her own blue polo neck, handing him the black tee.
‘Keep it. We will finish this,’ he had told her with a mischievous grin.
She’d left then, her instincts congratulating her for avoiding something she wanted with a passion but which was far too potent for her to handle in her current state.
She emerged now from the dunes to the sight of Simon’s car in the driveway, bringing her back to the present with a jolt. Despite the inherent frustrations, her marriage at least felt predictable, safe in comparison. Even when she stepped into the still untidy kitchen to the sound of Simon’s singing floating from the shower, she knew at least, that this was her reality.
With a distinct lack of enthusiasm she began clearing dishes, wiping benches, working hard to generate the energy and enthusiasm she needed to cook dinner.
‘I was going to do that,’ Simon said in the doorway moments later, rubbing his wet hair with a towel, his penis swaying from side to side with the motion.
‘How was your day?’ she said, turning back to the dishwasher.
‘Good. I had a meeting in the city. The Education Department is redrafting their Occupational Health and Safety policies. I think I have a better than good chance of winning the tender. Did you have it out with Tom today?’ he prattled, lifting his leg as he rubbed himself dry.
‘Tom did a complete about-turn. He denied what he’d said,’ she murmured, feeling her anger mount, not only at the mention of Tom’s name but also at the way Simon seemed to have slotted so easily into the new reality he had unwittingly, or wittingly, created for them both.
‘Perhaps you had misunderstood him after all,’ Simon said, wrapping the towel around his waist.
Laura turned. ‘Oh fuck off, Simon,’ she said, storming from the room.
He didn’t follow her when she threw herself down on the bed, her tears of frustration, anguish, heartache staining the quilt cover. But she didn’t expect he would. And she hoped he wouldn’t.
‘Sorry about that,’ she said several minutes later, sauntering into the freshly tidied kitchen where Simon was placing a saucepan of curry on the stove, the smell of Basmati rice already filling the space.
‘That’s OK. Tom’s a prick. I get that. I made curry earlier today. It should be really good. Sit down and I’ll pour you a wine..
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘Laptops out, please,’ Mr Fuller called over their heads as they filed into the science lab, bending to Alex as he passed and murmuring, ‘Alex, stay after class will you?’
‘What’s he want?’ Maddi whispered, pulling a face and leading the way to a workbench.
‘I don’t know, but can you wait with me?’ Alex said, frowning.
For the entire chemistry lesson Maddi gazed at the black top of their workbench, ignoring the theoretical constructs of gas expansion and contraction and pondering why Fullavit wanted to see Alex after class. ‘This is a freaking waste of time,’ she whispered to Alex as they watched their respective balloons inflate over boiling liquid nitrogen. ‘And he’s a weirdo.’
Alex glowered at her. ‘Shh,’ she hissed, her anxious blue eyes darting towards Fullavit.
‘I’m starved. I’ll get my apple and meet you back here,’ Maddi whispered once the lesson had ended. Alex turned to her with pleading eyes.
‘I’ll be right back,’ Maddi said.
Pushing past the other kids, Maddi ran from the building across the lawns to their classroom. Her feet echoing in the empty space she tore along the corridor they were not supposed to run along, grabbed her apple from her locker and tore back to the science lab. Bounding up the steps and along the corridor she was not surprised to find it empty, devoid of kids. But what did surprise her was that Fullavit and Alex were standing together outside the lab door. He was leaning down and listening to something Alex was telling him. Then he straightened and they exchanged smiles in a way that turned Maddi’s spine to ice.
‘What did he want?’ Maddi said as they walked through the double glass doors onto the verandah.
They stood on the verandah and watched the rain, the damp wind whipping at their legs. ‘He just told me I could count on him as a trusted adult if I needed to talk,’ Alex said, staring out, suddenly frowning. ‘We’re going to get wet.’
Maddi blew out the side of her mouth. ‘Seriously? Is he for real? That would be like leaving a mouse with a snake.’
Alex turned on her. ‘What the hell is your problem, Maddi? He’s offering me support. For your information it makes me feel good to know he really cares.’
By the time lessons had finished for the day the rain had passed, leaving grounds sodden, trees dripping and the sun fighting with bruised clouds for space.
‘Don’t you get sick of going home to an empty house?’ Alex said.
‘Not really. I like the freedom,’ Maddi replied.
‘But there must be times when you want to tell them something, or ask them a question.’
‘Yeah, sometimes. But I just ask them when they come home,’ Maddi said blowing her fringe from her forehead. She had walked another step or two before realising Alex had stopped. Turned back to see her frozen to the pavement. Followed her line of vision beyond the traffic to the bus shelter where Roger Grenfell waved at them, wearing a black beanie and a dark lumber jacket.
‘What’s he doing here?’ Maddi whispered.
‘I don’t know. But will you walk with me, please?’ Alex said, her fear echoing in her voice.
They waited and crossed the road, Alex’s face a mask of fear the entire time. ‘We have to pass him to get home. This is grossing me out.’
‘Come on,’ M
addi said, taking her by the arm. ‘He can’t hurt you. There are too many people around.’ She stood to her full height and steered Alex towards the bus shelter.
Roger stepped into their path as they approached, his dark eyes focussed solely on Alex. ‘Hello, Alex,’ he said, his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket, rocking from side to side as though trying to stay warm.
‘What are you doing here, Roger?’ Alex said.
‘I want to walk you home.’
‘Maddi is walking me home, but thanks anyway,’ Alex said, stepping past him.
‘The police told me to stop writing you notes,’ Roger said, taking longer strides to keep up with them. ‘They said you might be scared.’
Maddi and Alex continued walking, their feet echoing on the damp pavement, the buzz of the speeding traffic paling in significance. Maddi’s fingers felt like stalagmites in the cold air but her focus was on Alex as they gathered momentum in the hope Roger would leave them alone.
‘They said you might be scared,’ Roger repeated at Alex’s side. ‘Are you scared, Alex?’ he added, placing a hand on her arm.
Yes, friggin’ terrified, Maddi thought, eyeing his gigantic hand, her fingers feeling as though they were about to drop off, her heart pounding. She could not imagine how Alex must be feeling at this moment.
Alex stopped, pulled her arm away and turned to face Roger. ‘It would be better if you didn’t send me any more notes, Roger. My parents would spew if they found out,’ she said with impressive calm.
‘But are you scared?’ Roger persisted as Alex and Maddi walked on.
‘Yes. A bit,’ Alex said, stopping and turning to face him again. ‘It would be better if you didn’t do it. There’s no point.’
Roger rubbed the back of his head through his beanie. ‘That’s what the police said. They said I should wait until you’re seventeen.’
‘Maddi and Alex exchanged puzzled frowns. Kept walking.
‘Would it be alright then, if I walk you home after school?’ he said.
Alex rolled her eyes. ‘No.’
‘But what if that guy attacks you again? What if I’m not there to protect you?’
‘My friends and family are protecting me, Roger. You don’t need to worry,’ Alex said.
‘I thought I was your friend,’ Roger said, frowning.
‘I like talking to you when you come into the store, but not at other times.’
‘Why?’ Roger said.
‘It’s just how it is,’ Alex said, her eyes filling with tears.
Maddi glared at Roger, but he didn’t seem to notice. Hell, he didn’t seem to have noticed she was even present.
‘I thought you liked me. I don’t know what’s happened,’ Roger said, rubbing the back of his head again and accidentally knocking his beanie to the ground.
‘You need to leave her alone, Roger,’ Maddi said, watching him pull the beanie back onto his head. ‘Can’t you see how upset she is? You can talk to her when she goes back to work at the store. She wants you to stop writing her those notes. And she wants you to stop following her.’
‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Maddi – Alex’s friend.’
‘You were with Alex and the dog the other day.’
Alex turned to Roger. ‘I’m not going home tonight, Roger. So you can leave us now. OK?’
‘But you said a minute ago that Maddi was walking you home. What changed?’
‘Come on,’ Maddi said to a tearful Alex, grabbing her hand, pulling her with increasing speed towards the next intersection, bypassing the turn they would normally have taken.
‘What changed, Alex?’ Roger called after them.
They ran for several metres before slowing and looking back to where a baffled Roger, head down and hands in his pockets, turned into Davis Avenue.
‘We need a frigging sugar hit,’ Maddi said dragging Alex two shops down into their favourite chocolate shop.
‘Roger is really tall. You said the guy who did it was tall. Do you think it was Roger?’ Maddi said, pushing the marshmallow down into her hot chocolate, glancing up at the caramel and chocolate wallpaper, frantic baristas and waitresses wearing the same colours.
Alex turned back from watching the traffic outside the window and shook her head. ‘I don’t know what I think.’ She sipped her chocolate. ‘Don’t tell Mum and Greg about what just happened, OK?’
‘Why not?’
‘Because they’ll go psycho. Greg will kill him. Just promise me.’
‘But they need to know.’
Alex’s eyes widened. She leaned forward. ‘Just promise,’ she said.
‘OK, OK . . . I promise,’ Maddi told her.
‘Thanks for walking me home,’ Alex said as they turned into her street. ‘That thing back there with Roger . . . he was actually waiting for me to come out of school . . . that really weirds me out.’
‘Me too. That’s why you should tell your parents,’ Maddi said.
‘Trust me, Maddi, they do not need to know. Greg would go mental.’
‘You’re late,’ Cynthia called from the kitchen.
Bruno scrambled at their feet for a pat, the house was already warm, dinner smelled delicious, and for the briefest moment Maddi felt a stab of envy over what Alex came home to every night.
‘I’m not that late, Mum,’ Alex called back. ‘We stopped on the way for a hot chocolate.’ She pulled a face at Maddi, Bruno racing along the passage ahead of them.
Cynthia looked up from a steaming pot she was stirring at the stove. ‘Hello, Maddi. It’s nice to see you, love.’ She glanced out through the glass doors at the creeping darkness, her smile disappearing. ‘How are you getting home, Maddi?’
‘Walking,’ she said.
‘Oh no you’re not. It’s getting dark. Just wait a few minutes and I’ll drive you home.’
Maddi sat on the edge of the white doona and watched Alex set her laptop up on her desk, flowering jacarandas visible through the window.
‘There’s Greg,’ Alex said, glancing up at a big maroon car turning into the driveway as Bruno scuttled from the room towards the front door.
Maddi heard the car door thump closed, the key turning in the lock, waited for the shout of ‘I’m home’ that always came when one of her parents arrived. Waited for Alex to shout hello. But instead Greg’s footsteps thumped along the passage toward the kitchen as a now docile Bruno wandered back into Alex’s room. And then came Greg’s chilling tone.
‘Fuck’s sake Cynthia. You’re serving up crap lately. Get your act together or you’ll be out on your ear.’
Alex grimaced and lifted her eyebrows. Tried to shroud her obvious embarrassment with a feeble smile. ‘He’s been really weird since I was attacked,’ she whispered.
Maddi returned Alex’s frail smile. Wondered what her mother would have done if her father had spoken to her that way.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sensing the empty space beside her, Laura stretched and yawned, wishing she could remain in bed for the rest of the day. She slipped into her towelling robe, wandered into the lounge room and pulled the drapes to reveal small whitecaps melting back into blue sea. A magpie swooped onto the railing of the deck and stretched his neck, carolling to the blue sky. She smiled.
‘Coffee,’ she muttered to herself, wandering into the kitchen, glancing up at the clock and enjoying the sensation of knowing she did not have to be at work for several hours.
The sound of the shower streaming told her Simon had finally abandoned his desk for the bathroom. She leaned into the fridge, withdrew the milk, annoyed but not surprised to find less than a teaspoon remaining. She tossed the carton in the bin with a thud, her resentment billowing like an atomic bomb. ‘All I seem to be doing since he got home is goddam shopping,’ she hissed.
‘Simon, I’m going to the shop,’ she called through the ensuite door, ripping off her robe and pulling on a tracksuit and runners. ‘There’s no milk. Would y
ou do the shopping today, please? My calendar looks like shit.’ She listened, the only sound being the running shower. ‘Simon?’ She peered through the door. He seemed to be in a state of transcendental meditation, head down, eyes closed, water streaming in rivulets down his body. She thumped on the cubicle glass. ‘I’m going to the shop.’
Immediately startled, his frown slid into a smile. ‘Oh, great. Could you get me a pie to heat up for lunch, please?’ He picked up the soap and lathered his chest. Laura watched for a moment, then left, shaking her head.
‘Get your own effing pie, Simon,’ she rasped after taking a series of hurried strides towards the kitchen and grabbing up her keys, stepping out onto the deck, trying to take in the calming coolness of the ocean breeze, only to see Simon’s car blocking hers in the driveway rather than being where it belonged under the deck. Taking three deliberately deep breaths, she tore back into the house and grabbed up Simon’s keys. Pointed the remote at his car and climbed into the driver’s seat, looking around in astonishment at the unfamiliar sight and fragrance of its meticulously clean and buffed interior.
Within minutes she had pulled into a park outside the Ackland Point supermarket. And minutes after that she returned to the car, laden with newspapers, milk, bread, some fresh fruit, fish for dinner and a pie for Simon’s lunch. She leaned into through the passenger’s door and dumped the groceries on the seat.
About to slam the door closed, she glanced down at the passenger’s foot well where a small black item glared up at her, caught between the carpet’s edge and the side of the console and barely noticeable against the dark carpet. She leaned in and prised it free, puzzled as she held it up to daylight to see quite clearly that it was the tip of a stiletto heel – a very fine stiletto heel, finer than any she owned. She studied it from all angles, her stomach churning. Suddenly cold, she slipped it into her purse and grappled for a logical explanation as to how it could possibly have found its way into Simon’s car.
She knew from experience that Simon could be quite the predator once he turned his mind to it. He had appeared in her life like manna from heaven – an unattached, very attractive man in his late forties who, after twenty years of single life, seemed to Laura to tick all the boxes many had not. Childless, and having lost his wife suddenly through an aneurism several years earlier, he was working as HR Manager of a government department when they had found themselves members of a newly formed planning committee. Meetings had drifted to coffee dates, then dinners, rabid sex, and eventually marriage, even happiness. I should have known then she thought, climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the ignition, recalling how several months after they’d become serious Simon had finally disclosed he had been engaged to another woman when they had first met. But that didn’t mean anything. The heel tip could be a purely innocent token of a business assignation Simon had forgotten to mention.
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