Things We Cannot See

by Dianne Maguire

  Jayne reached out and gently grasped Maddi’s wrist. ‘It seemed really significant to me, Madeline. I knew you wouldn’t be happy about it. And I must say it was a difficult decision, but it was the only adult decision – and I made it,’ she said, lifting her chin.

  ‘Well, it’s probably your fault then, that the police came to the school and told Fullavit off.’

  Jayne shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. They spoke to him because he’s keeping a particularly vulnerable student alone after class. And I think the police handled it the right way, no matter how much it upset Mr Fuller,’ she said.

  Back in her room, Maddi stood at her desk and slowly pulled her books out of her backpack, wondering how she could conjure up the energy to complete her homework. She tossed up whether to give it a miss again tonight. Pulled out a maths textbook, gasping the moment she noticed it was Alex’s. ‘Oh shoot,’ she said, hurrying along the passage to the kitchen, calling ‘Mum . . . Mum.’

  ‘What?’ Jayne said at the breakfast bar without lifting her frown from her laptop.

  ‘I’ve brought Alex’s maths book home – I borrowed it during class and accidentally kept it. Alex is already getting crap marks since the attack.’ She turned and headed towards her room. ‘I’ll change my shoes and run it over to her house.’

  Jayne flew from her seat. ‘You will do no such thing. I will not have you going there alone. Especially since we know there’s a potential rapist living so close. I’ll drive you,’ she said, grabbing up the car keys.

  If Maddi were totally honest, she enjoyed having her mother home, to talk and to solve problems together. During the drive to Alex’s house they chatted about movies, shoes, makeup – like they did sometimes when her parents had a weekend free of work.

  ‘Mm. This looks interesting. I wonder what’s going on,’ Jayne said once they turned into Alex’s street to the sight of police cars lining the road.

  Men wearing SES uniforms and high-vis vests wandered in and out of the lane, a few bent heads only just visible behind the tall fence as they seemed to be searching through the gardens either side.

  Maddi’s heart felt as though it had lodged in her throat. ‘I hope Alex’s OK. I hope she hasn’t been attacked again,’ she gasped, her hand immediately on the door handle.

  ‘I’m sure Alex is fine,’ Jayne said unconvincingly as she pulled up opposite her house.

  Maddi’s heart was pounding, her throat dry as she tore along the gravel driveway, Bruno’s barks echoing from inside the house. She slammed the iron knocker against the door and waited, relieved to hear footsteps thumping towards her.

  Alex half smiled as she took the book from Maddi’s hand. ‘Thanks for bringing it back,’ she said, peering over Maddi’s shoulder across the road. ‘And thank your mum as well.’

  ‘What’s going on in the lane?’ Maddi said.

  Alex opened her mouth to answer when Cynthia Holt appeared, dressed in the navy uniform she wore to the nursing home, wiping her hands with a tea towel. ‘Hi Maddi. Is that your mum out there in the car?’ she said straining her neck. ‘Do you want to ask her in for a cuppa? I’d like to talk to her.’

  Maddi was not certain her mother would be thrilled with the idea but felt she had no choice but to check.

  ‘Don’t worry, love. I’ll ask her myself,’ Cynthia said, handing the tea towel to Alex and smoothing the sides of her auburn bob, before rushing through the front door and over the road, where she bent at the driver’s window for a moment before Jayne climbed from her car.

  ‘I thought with Alex and Maddi being friends that you’d want to know where this awful mess is up to,’ Cynthia said over her shoulder as the four of them made their way along the passage to the kitchen. ‘I’ll make us a pot of tea.’

  Maddi watched her mother’s polite but strained smile. And from what little she knew of Cynthia Holt, Maddi could tell she was nervous.

  Jayne and the girls sat at the small table and watched Cynthia setting up mugs, a large white teapot and a white milk jug. ‘You may know that Alex had another flashback – she saw Roger Grenfell this time,’ Cynthia said from the kitchen bench, spooning tea leaves into the pot and glancing up at Jayne. ‘You know who I’m talking about, don’t you? He’s the retarded guy who lives at the other end of the lane . . . Well, Alex knows now that he was the one who attacked her. In her flashback she saw him standing over her. And he was holding the balaclava. Greg and I think it’s conclusive evidence.’ A swirl of steam rose from the pot as Cynthia added boiling water.

  ‘He’s not retarded, Mum,’ Alex said with a disgusted frown. ‘In fact in some ways he’s a genius. He’s just a bit different, that’s all. It doesn’t mean he’s any better or worse. Just different . . . And stop saying I know he attacked me. I just think I saw him standing over me.’

  Cynthia sighed. ‘Our kids are so much wiser than us,’ she said with a conspiratorial wink at Jayne, whose return smile was less than enthusiastic. ‘Roger Grenfell has admitted he was there, Alex,’ Cynthia chided before turning back to Jayne. ‘Greg and I think the police are clutching at straws. Roger claims he found Alex after she was attacked. The police say it is possible he may have disturbed her attacker, but Greg and I know it was Roger. The way he hangs around Alex is positively creepy. And we know now that he was writing her suggestive notes. We just wish they’d arrest him and get this whole thing over and done with.’

  Cynthia placed her mug on the table and sat. ‘The police are in the lane now,’ she said, nodding in the direction. They’re searching for the balaclava because Roger has conned them into believing he threw it over the fence when he heard Greg and Bruno coming.’

  ‘I guess the balaclava may have DNA – if they find it,’ Jayne said. ‘You must be pleased. This is a huge step forward.’

  Alex stood then and grabbed up the maths book from the table. ‘Come to my room, Maddi? I want you to help me with a maths problem.’

  ‘Don’t be long, Madeline. We have to go soon,’ Jayne called after her.

  ‘What’s the problem you want me to look at?’ Maddi said once they reached Alex’s room, immediately flopping down onto the white doona.

  ‘I don’t really want help with maths. I hate maths,’ Alex said pulling a face. ‘I need to tell you something in private,’ she whispered, closing the door. ‘But you have to absolutely promise you won’t tell.’

  ‘I promise,’ Maddi said, not really wanting to be tangled up in even more secrets and lies.

  ‘What do you promise on?’ Alex said.

  ‘I promise on my grandmother’s grave,’ Maddi said.

  ‘OK. Late last night someone sprayed ‘kid fucker’ totally across the front of Roger’s house, over the windows, the door, everywhere – in bright red paint.’

  Maddi gasped as her hands flew to her mouth. ‘Oh my God. Poor Roger. Especially if what he told the police is true and he’s totally innocent . . . It was probably the same gang who threw the eggs and bashed him,’ she added.

  Alex shook her head and glanced up, her blue eyes filling with tears. ‘It was Greg. He tore out of the house the second I told him I saw Roger in my flashback. I shouldn’t have said anything to him, but it really freaked me out. Greg was gone for hours. He woke me up in the middle of the night when he came home again.’ She hesitated. Picked at her nails. ‘This morning he told Mum and me everything would be fine from now on and that pretty soon Roger would either be in prison or run out of the neighbourhood.’

  Maddi screwed up her face. ‘Greg wouldn’t do graffiti. He wouldn’t know how, for a start, and besides, he’s not the type. Have you seen Roger’s house? Does the writing look like Greg’s?’

  Alex shook her head, tears still threatening, her voice thickening. ‘I haven’t seen it because I’m not allowed to go anywhere near his house. And I don’t really want to, anyway.’

  ‘None of this is your fault,’ Maddi said, stepping over to her friend’s bed and hugging her.

 
; Alex whisked a few tissues from the box on the bedside cupboard and dabbed at her eyes. ‘But it is my fault, Maddi. If Greg gets into trouble from trying to protect me, Mum and I will have to move out of this house. We like it here, especially Mum. And we have nowhere else to go,’ Alex said, leaning into the wad of tissues and quietly sobbing, eventually taking a deep breath and sitting straighter. ‘Anyway, I don’t reckon Greg did it himself. I reckon he paid some kids to do it. That’d be more his style.’

  Maddi clenched her lips together. Greg can’t be all that smart. Kids aren’t very good at keeping secrets.

  ‘I forgot to ask after you spoke to Laura today,’ Maddi said, desperate to change the topic, ‘did you tell her about Isaac’s backpack?’

  Alex rolled her eyes and dabbed at them, a slight smile creeping across her lips. ‘Yes, Maddi, I told her,’ she said. ‘But Laura didn’t say much about it. Anyway, I don’t care what happens any more. Isaac won’t talk to me or even answer my questions, but he stares at me all the time. He and everyone else is being totally weird.’

  Maddi laughed. ‘You must be watching him all the time, Alex. He probably thinks you’re acting weird as well.’

  ‘Thanks for the tea, Cynthia,’ Jayne’s voice echoed as the women wandered slowly towards the front door.

  Alex dabbed at her eyes and sniffed. Stood straight as Maddi followed her from her room into the passage.

  You’re welcome,’ Cynthia said, smiling at Jayne. ‘I hope you understand what’s going on now. Hopefully we’ll be back to normal soon. But in the meantime Greg is very protective. He won’t let anything happen to Alex or me – and the same goes for Maddi, whenever she’s here with us.’

  From the edge of the footpath they watched two police cars pull away from the kerb near the lane and drive off, a large yellow emergency services van following. A group emerged from the lane then, police officers in high-vis vests. An officer leading the way clasped a brown paper bag marked ‘Evidence’ as though it was nothing more than his lunch.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Alex whispered through pale lips. The balaclava must be in that bag.’

  Cynthia rubbed Alex’s shoulder as they watched the remaining police cars drive away.

  ‘It’s all good,’ Maddi said as she hugged her friend goodbye, alarmed at the way Alex’s body shook.

  Back in the car, Jayne cast Maddi a warning glance. ‘Do not even ask to visit Alex again until Roger Grenfell is in prison. I mean it, Madeline. Do not even ask,’ she said, her voice shaking.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Cradling a bunch of flowers Laura stepped out of the too-familiar elevator and walked towards Simon’s room, noticing the same smells, the same sounds as last time and wondering if there would ever be anything different.

  She was about to step in when Seth’s voice floated out towards her. She stopped outside the door and listened, relishing his every word.

  ‘But what happened to Pops?’ Seth was saying.

  ‘He was running on the road and a lady hit him with her car. It was an accident,’ Tara replied.

  ‘Did he forget to look each way?’

  ‘Probably,’ Tara told him, her tone soft with regret.

  It was quiet then. Yet still Laura waited outside the door, uncertain whether it was because she wanted to prolong facing Seth and his puzzled sadness, or Simon and his coma.

  ‘Is Pops going to die?’ Seth said quietly.

  ‘I hope not, Seth. But he is very sick. So no one knows yet.’

  Laura stepped into the room and Seth jumped up from where his colouring books lay spread on the floor, and hugged Laura’s legs. ‘Hi, dude,’ she said, placing the flowers on the bed and giving him a proper hug.

  ‘Hi, Mum,’ Tara said, stepping forward and pulling Laura into a tight, soulful embrace.

  ‘This is a nice surprise,’ Laura said, in as normal a voice as she could muster. She walked over to Simon and bent to kiss the less damaged side of his face, freshly shaven and soft with moisturiser. She stroked his cheek, grateful to the nurses for their limitless caring. ‘I think there’s less equipment in here now,’ she said, forcing an upbeat smile as she searched the line of overhead cupboards for a vase. ‘It seems roomier,’ she added, withdrawing a vase and filling it at the hand basin.

  ‘I suppose you’ve had a lot of people to contact,’ Tara said.

  ‘I’ve contacted close friends, but lots have been ringing me as well. The accident was on the news last night and the radio this morning.’ Laura said, unwrapping the flowers.

  ‘Was Pops on the news?’ Seth said, his brown eyes suddenly wide.

  Laura placed the vase of flowers on a shelf and recalled the shock of seeing the vision of the accident site suddenly appear. No footage could be more confronting han that taken by a mysterious stranger who was there at the scene before she’d even been told what had happened. ‘Yes, it was on the news, darling. But it made me a sad to see it.’

  ‘Did they show his face?’ Seth asked.

  ‘No, they just showed the ambulance and the road where the accident happened.’

  ‘Did they show any blood?’

  Laura shook her head and Seth, still wearing a thoughtfully bewildered expression, turned back to his colouring.

  ‘How are you, Mum?’ Tara said across the bed.

  Laura glanced at Simon, then through the window behind him at the sinking winter sun. ‘I’m really glad to be back at work,’ she said. ‘It’d be awful being here day after day.’ She lifted her eyebrows. ‘I just wish other things weren’t getting in the way. I wish I could feel something.’

  Tara glanced down at the floor where Seth was busy colouring in. ‘Other things like finding that tip in his car, you mean?’

  Laura nodded. ‘Yes. Finding that makes the three months he was away even more mysterious. And it seems to be swallowing up the present. I’m having trouble facing it all,’ she said, gesturing to Simon and the monitors and tubes that now seemed part of him.

  ‘Pops knew there was a tip in his car,’ Seth said without interrupting his colouring, without lifting his head.

  Laura and Tara exchanged puzzled looks. ‘What do you mean, Seth?’ Tara said.

  He continued colouring. ‘He always says, “I think someone’s using my car for a tip” every time we go for a ride.’

  ‘Well, it’s clean now, Seth,’ Laura said, smiling down at him. ‘Pops gave it a really good wash and vacuum while he was away from home. It looks like a different car.’

  ‘Really?’ Tara said. ‘That’s got to be a miracle.’

  ‘That’s not the half of it,’ Laura said, rolling her eyes. ‘The day of the accident, he cooked dinner and cleaned the house.’

  ‘He was trying to please you, Mum. It was a sign he wanted you to be together again.’

  Laura shrugged. ‘I guess. Perhaps I could be over-thinking. But I wouldn’t have to over-think if we talked about things more often like adults.’

  Tara frowned. ‘What things?’

  ‘Things like what happened while he was away. I cannot accept that his new dedication to us, to our marriage, has come about purely because he took time out to think.’

  Tara fell silent, glanced down at Seth. Seemed to be staring at him without seeing.

  Seth’s question broke the silence. ‘What’s this thing, Mum?’ he said, pointing to the partially coloured page.

  ‘It’s called an aubergine,’ Tara said, leaning over and lifting her handbag onto the bed.

  ‘What colour are they?’ Seth said.

  Tara withdrew her phone from her bag. ‘Purple,’ she said, her head bent as she scrolled across its screen.

  Leaving Tara to concentrate on her phone, Laura moved quietly to the floor beside Seth. Watched as he chose a lilac pencil and set about colouring the aubergine. ‘You’re great at colouring, Seth.’

  ‘I know,’ he said, turning his head on the side, the tip of his tongue moving frantically along his lips.
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br />   Suddenly aware of Tara’s ominous look directed solely at her, her phone clasped menacingly in her hand, Laura instinctively stood.

  With a deep sigh Tara handed her the phone. ‘I don’t know if this is the best thing to do or not. But I can’t keep it to myself any longer,’ she said.

  Studying the anguish etched in her daughter’s beautiful face, Laura took the phone from her outstretched hand. Sat down the edge of the bed. And stared with disbelief at what she saw.

  ‘A colleague at work sent it to me,’ Tara said. ‘It was taken about a month ago. She and her fiancé had been out at breakfast when he had proposed to her. She was just sharing the joy. She had no idea of the photo’s special significance to me.’

  The shot had been taken at an outdoor cafe; in the foreground was a couple, both smiling, both happy, obviously a couplethe friends Tara referred to. And in the background, another woman about Tara’s age, auburn-haired, leaning over and touching the chin of an older man. Both smiling. Both happy. Obviously a couple. And there could be no doubt that the man was Simon. Unable to control the trembling of her hand, Laura passed the phone back to Tara. ‘I need to go to the ladies. I’ll be back soon,’ she said, forcing a smile for the sake of Seth, who had lifted his head momentarily from his colouring. She gently squeezed Tara’s arm on noticing her daughter’s anguish etched deeper on her face.

  She wandered along the passage as though wading through mud, hoping for a place where she could simply lock herself away for just a moment. Sighing with relief she found the ladies room and pushed through the door, thankful to find it empty. She peered closely into the mirror at her slackened jawline, the brows thinning into non-existence and skin folds burgeoning like awnings over her eyes.

  ‘I know I’m getting older, Simon. But so are you. Why do you need to be with women half your age? Am I that unattractive now?’ she muttered, scrambling in her bag for her hairbrush and vigorously dragging it through her hair. ‘Did she notice your balding head, your flabby belly, your ear hair? Did she even care?’ Laura spread foundation, applied blush and mascara, a swipe of lip gloss. If only you had been honest with me. But she knew she would never have turned a blind eye to another woman. Why did I not notice?