‘I finished your portrait,’ he said, moving to one of the easels in front of the window and whipping off the drape with a flourish. Watching for her response. ‘From memory,’ he added.
It seemed so long ago. She studied the brutally honest, waist-high portrait of a woman in a black scooped tee, her cleavage showing signs of withering, an abundance of blemishes garnered from so many days of so many years under the sun, similarly weathered hands lying in her lap. A wall of driftwood timber behind highlighted a tanned complexion she did not recognise as her own.
‘Well?’ he said, his dark eyes shining with excitement and pride.
‘Well,’ she said, her head on the side. ‘I like what you’ve done with my hair. But I’d have preferred some artistic licence with my waistline.’
‘Yeah,’ he said, glancing at the portrait before clinically studying her waist. ‘You’ve changed your hair since then and I think you’ve lost weight as well. But you’ll put it back on again, once the stress of Simon is over.’
‘Well thank you, kind sir,’ she said, laughing. ‘I’m naturally fat, is that what you’re telling me?’
Flynn looked abashed, his expression serious. ‘No. But people our age usually thicken around the waist. It’s natural. I think it has a special type of beauty about it – as long as it’s not too thick,’ he said, smiling to reveal perfectly white teeth.
‘You haven’t thickened,’ Laura said in a matter of fact tone.
He shrugged. ‘Because I walk several kilometres every day.’
She turned to the portrait again. ‘The more I take it in, the more I like it. You did take artistic licence with my eyes though. I wish they really were that large.’
He peered at her. Then peered at the painting. ‘I have captured your eyes perfectly. Apart from your natural grace, they are the main reason I wanted to paint you.’ His gaze lingered on her face before he cleared his throat and turned back to the portrait.
‘Well, I think you’ve done an amazing job, given what you had to work with,’ Laura said, trying to ignore the tingling that Flynn’s presence brought.
‘I paint what I see,’ he said, following Laura as she wandered back into the passage, disarmed by his sensual tone. She shifted her thoughts to matters more mundane, wondering what he would do with the portrait now it was complete. Pictured her image hanging on the living room wall of a mysteriously unknown person, their guests asking Who is that woman in the portrait? To be told I have no idea. She turned to face him at the front door. The aroma of his simmering dinner and the warmth of the room washing over her and she wished he would ask her to stay.
‘Thanks for returning the casserole dish,’ he said, opening the front door.
‘Thank you for the delicious spaghetti,’ she said, swallowing her disappointment.
‘No worries,’ he said. ‘I’ll cook a bit extra and drop it in now and then. Simon will keep you really busy for a while . . . Oh, and Laura,’ he called. ‘Your hair looks great like that.’
A light breeze skimmed the ocean and filtered through the open windows to fill the house, along with the aroma of a chicken roast – Seth’s favourite. Laura had just finished setting the table, taking pride in the way the small bowl of red geraniums set off the white tablecloth, when Tara’s black SUV cruised into the driveway. Within seconds Seth thumped up the stairs and along the deck to meet Laura at the front door. ‘Hi, Lol. We’re here.’
‘Hi, you gorgeous thing,’ she said, bending and taking him into a tight hug before they both wandered over to the railing to peer down at Tara, still unpacking the car.
‘I’ve brought dessert,’ she called up to them, withdrawing a box from the passenger seat.
‘Home made?’ Laura asked.
‘Yeah, right. As if.’ Tara slung the strap of her bag over her arm and made her way across the lawn to the steps. ‘I bought ice cream to have with it.’
‘We saw Pops,’ Seth told Laura as she stood aside for them at the front door. ‘He’s still sleeping but the nurses are keeping him really, really clean and putting stuff on his skin to stop it from cracking. One of the nurses really looks after him.’
Tara raised her eyebrows at Laura and nodded knowingly as they stepped inside.
‘Can I have a leg, please,’ Seth said, climbing onto a stool at the breakfast bar as Laura placed the baking dish down, still sizzling with golden chicken and vegetables.
‘Of course you may, Seth. We’re all going to have a leg,’ Laura said, smiling.
‘But chickens only have two legs.’
‘Ah ha, I know. That’s why I go to a special three-legged chicken shop,’ Laura told him, ready for a barrage of Seth-type questions.
‘Great. If they have three wings can I have one of those too, please?’ he said.
‘Thanks for the lovely lunch, Mum,’ Tara said later. ‘It reminded me of my childhood,’ she added, smiling down at the sand as Seth raced along the deserted beach ahead.
‘My pleasure,’ Laura said. ‘I need to tell you something.’
Tara suddenly stopped walking and faced her. .
‘Simon was dealing with that website – you know, the one where attached people pay to meet other attached people for sex.’
Tara’s dark eyes widened. ‘No! I don’t believe it.’
‘Well, you’d better believe it,’ Laura said, enjoying Tara’s outrage. ‘His bank statements are clear – he was paying the fees and I assume doing the deed before he left me, and again after he returned.’
‘Oh Mum, that’s awful. I don’t know what to say.’ Tara shook her head as they slowly resumed their walk.
‘That’s not the half of it,’ Laura said. ‘Ted Branson was at the hospital last night.’ She glanced at Tara’s frown. ‘You know, Simon’s old boss. Well, apparently Simon wanted to leave for a better work/life balance and grabbed the chance when he was offered a generous package.
‘But Simon told us they forced him out.’
Laura sighed. ‘I know what he told us. Seriously, Tara, I don’t know who that man is any more. To be honest, I find it impossible to feel anything for him but contempt. Yet I am propelled to be there for him. I can’t work myself out.’
‘That comes after eight years of dedication to him,’ Tara said.
They walked in silence for a while until Tara lifted her head and called, ‘Not too deep Seth, you’ll get your jeans wet, dude . . . I don’t know what I’d do without Seth,’ she said, suddenly grave.
‘What is it, Tara?’ Laura stopped to face her.
‘Seth’s father is back on the scene. He wants to meet Seth.’
Laura gasped, knowing from years of arguing on this topic that Tara’s worst nightmare was finally coming true.
‘He’s been sending formal requests for months, which I’ve rejected. Now he’s making application through the Family Court,’ Tara said, digging at the sand with her painted toenails.
‘What’s he asking for?’ Laura said.
‘He wants increasing access to Seth, culminating in at least one weekend a month and shared custody during school holidays,’ she said sadly, gazing ahead at Seth digging in the sand.
Laura wanted to dance around Tara singing and throwing up her hands, making her understand that this was the very best thing that could happen for Seth, particularly given his age and stage of development, his dire need to know where he came from. But she knew this would only rile her daughter beyond reason. So she remained silent.
‘You think this is a good thing, don’t you, Mum?’ Tara said.
‘Yes, I do,’ Laura said softly.
‘That’s why what I’m about to ask you is really difficult.’ Tara looked up, the sound of seagulls squalling in the background adding to the despair etched on her daughter’s sweet face. ‘I want you to submit to the court that you don’t consider it to be in Seth’s best interest to have contact with his father. That you and I agreed when Seth was born there would be no contact between t
hem because his father was violent.’
‘But, Tara, I know nothing about Seth’s father. I believe no such thing. That would be perjuring myself. You can’t ask me—’
‘He was violent to me, Mum. He pushed me when I told him there was no way he was going to have access to the baby, when I was pregnant.’
Laura watched as tears shone in her daughter’s eyes, unable to remember the last time she’d seen her this way.
‘Don’t you see, Mum?’ Tara was sobbing. ‘He’ll have to come into my life – both our lives. He’ll break our hearts, again.’
‘Oh darling,’ Laura said, taking her daughter into her arms. ‘You’re a different person now, stronger. If he hurt you before, it doesn’t mean he can hurt you again.’
‘But he can, Mum,’ Tara said, pulling away. ‘Because I’m certain I’ll still love him.’ Tara sighed, swiped at her eyes. ‘Besides, I grew up fine without my father being around.’
‘You grew up always asking questions about him,’ Laura said. ‘I would have preferred you to have grown up knowing him, warts and all, but at least you had photographs and memories and we spoke about him often – you forget. Seth has nothing.’ Her voice trailed off. ‘Anyway, Tara,’ she said after a while, ‘you know how the courts feel about children being aware of their birth heritage. They’re likely to be skewed in his father’s favour, and one minor domestic incident is not likely to jeopardise that.’
‘So you won’t help me?’ Tara said through tight lips, her fists balled.
‘I can’t help you, Tara. Not if it means perjuring myself. And certainly not when I think Seth should be having contact with his father – especially now.’
‘Well, that’s that then, isn’t it?’ Tara said, turning. ‘Come on, Seth,’ she called. ‘It’s time we were going home.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
‘I hate that Mr Fuller is ignoring me,’ Alex mumbled, adjusting her backpack as they sauntered towards the front gates in a flood of navy and beige. ‘Science freaked me out today – he wouldn’t even look at me.’
‘None of the other teachers ignore us when we do something to upset them,’ Maddi said. ‘He needs to get over himself.’
Alex turned to Maddi, her eyes sharp as daggers. ‘That’s because none of the other teachers care as much as he does.’
Maddi was so over this conversation, which seemed to be happening now on a daily basis. She grabbed Alex’s arm. ‘Fullavit doesn’t care for you, Alex. He’s exploiting you, trying to get into your pants. Laura had told you the same. You just don’t get it, do you?’
‘No, Maddi, you don’t get it,’ Alex shot back. She looked around and lowered her voice. ‘I want him to get into my pants because I really like him. And he likes me.’
‘Ew,’ Maddi said, not completely surprised, but shocked nevertheless that she said this with such pride and conviction. ‘That is so gross. He’s an old man. And he’s a teacher. Plus it’s illegal, for Chrissakes.’
By the time they were away from the school, Alex had worked herself into a state of despair, her eyes streaming with tears.
Maddi stopped and rummaged in her backpack for a clean tissue and handed it to Alex as a Year 8 wandered past, staring. ‘I’m sorry if I upset you. But it’s not right that Fullavit is flirting with you and I’ll never tell you otherwise.’
Alex took a deep breath. Blew her nose into the tissue. ‘It’s more than just flirting, Maddi,’ she rasped, balling the tissue in her fist and refusing to meet Maddi’s gaze.
Birdsong and the noise of traffic did not dilute the uncomfortable silence shrouding them as they continued to saunter along the pavement. Every now and then Maddi would glance towards Alex, wondering whether she’d already done something stupid with old Fullavit. And hoping that if she had, she would keep it to herself.
‘Laura Nesci said I should change my shifts because Isaac is going psycho,’ Alex said.
‘Were they Laura’s exact words?’ Maddi said, stopping and digging into her backpack for an apple.
‘Not exactly. But she agreed that if I don’t feel comfortable around Isaac I should ask Mr Martin if I could change shifts.’
‘Is Mr Martin the one you don’t like?’ Maddi said.
Alex nodded. ‘He’s a drop kick. Like, he’s rude and bossy. But he’s the boss and he only comes into the store on Mondays. So I have to ask him tonight.’
Maddi bit into her apple and chewed. ‘You should get your mum to go with you.’
‘She said she can’t because she’s on an early shift. And I wouldn’t ask Greg. He’d lose his temper and stuff everything up,’ Alex said.
‘I can come with you.’ Maddi said shoving the half-eaten apple core into a cedar hedge as they passed.
‘Really? That’d be great.’
‘It won’t take long, will it? Like, I’ll still be home before dark, won’t I?’ Maddi said.
Alex looked up at the sky. ‘Yeah. It gets dark later now. Anyway, it won’t take long.’
Maddi and Alex stepped through the sliding doors of the store as a sulky teen chewing on her cuticle glanced up from a magazine spread open on the counter.
‘Hi, Phoenix,’ Alex said. ‘Is Mr Martin in the office?’
Phoenix nodded towards the back door. ‘He’s outside having a fag,’ she said, curtains of oily hair falling forward as, still gnawing on her cuticle, she returned to the magazine.
Alex grabbed Maddi’s hand. ‘Come with me,’ she whispered, pulling her past shelves of bread and biscuits and out through the back door.
‘Hi, Mr Martin. Can I speak to you for a minute, please?’ Alex said from the top of the landing.
A man peered up at them, the look of him reminding Maddi of a boxer on TV.
‘Yeah. But only if you come down here,’ he said, his forehead crinkling like leather, his dark hair slicked back with lashings of oil.
‘This is Maddi, my friend,’ Alex said, as they walked down the few steps to where he leaned against the red brick wall of the store.
He flicked the end of his cigarette, sending it skipping across the asphalt. ‘What do you want, Alex?’ he said, lighting another cigarette.
‘Um . . . you heard I got attacked, didn’t you?’ Alex said.
‘Yeah, yeah, I heard.’
‘Well, a police officer, Laura Nesci, has told me I should talk to you about swapping shifts,’ Alex said.
Maddi could tell by her voice that Alex’s nervousness was mounting, but Mr Martin seemed to enjoy her discomfort, his face and his tone growing even harsher.
‘And that would be because . . . ?’ he said lifting his chunky head and blowing a stream of smoke into the air.
‘Because I feel uncomfortable around Isaac.’
‘And you feel uncomfortable because . . . ?’ Mr Martin said, glaring at Alex.
‘It’s a long story, but Isaac accidentally told the police his flatmate was home with him the night I was attacked,’ Alex said, unable to meet Mr Martin’s avid gaze. ‘Then his flatmate told the police she’d lied about it. Isaac is angry with me for putting him in that position. Like he had to lie because the medical board would kick him out of his studies if they found out the police were questioning him about a crime.’
‘Come on,’ Mr Martin said, his frown vicious. ‘What the hell is Isaac on about?’
‘I don’t know, but that’s what he told me. Anyway, since then Isaac hasn’t been speaking to me. And the other day when were in the storeroom, he pushed me out of the way and I almost fell over.’
‘What else has he done?’ Mr Martin said, his attention suddenly drawn towards the car park, entranced by an unwary blond woman in tight jeans bending into the back seat of her car.
‘He makes me feel frightened. That’s all,’ Alex said.
Maddi watched Alex’s hands trembling despite them being so tightly clasped in front of her body that they were turning white.
Mr Martin reluctantly dragged his eyes aw
ay from the blonde and to Alex. ‘It’s a pissy reason for reorganising the shift roster, Alex. What have the cops got to do with it anyway?’
‘Sergeant Nesci is my victim support officer. She said I should ask you about swapping shifts if Isaac is making me uncomfortable.’
‘Did she now,’ he said, waggling his head and pulling a face. ‘Did she say they have any leads about who did it, or is she just feeding you bullshit like they always do?’
Alex shrugged.
‘I’ll need to think about it. Changing shifts might suit you but it means stuffing other people around big time,’ Mr Martin said, turning his back and wandering across the car park towards the toilets.
Alex and Maddi exchanged puzzled looks and assumed the conversation was over. They walked back to Davis Avenue along the narrow driveway at the side of the store, neither of them willing to talk until they were clear of the car park.
‘How did Mr Martin get to be a manager?’ Maddi said once they had crossed the road. ‘He’s totally gross.’
‘Who knows?’ Alex stopped to reposition her backpack before they continued along the footpath towards the corner where they would go their separate ways. ‘When Isaac used to talk to me he told me Mr Martin is like a volunteer security guy at one of those drug rehabilitation places, like if anyone gets psychotic or whatever, he’s the one who controls them because he’s so big.’
‘That’s a joke. He’d make everyone feel worse not better.’
They stopped and peered silently at gifts and cosmetics in the front window of the pharmacy before moving on again. ‘The worst part about changing shifts is that I’ll have to work with him,’ Alex murmured.
‘Maddi’s mouth dropped as she turned to Alex. ‘Are you for real? You have to work with that sloth? Seriously, Alex, I don’t get how it can be better working with him than with Isaac. Isaac must have turned really bad.’
‘Hopefully he’ll be back to normal soon,’ Alex said, as they approached the corner. ‘But for now he’s getting worse, so I don’t really have a choice, unless I quit my job.’
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