‘Has anything come to light yet about Mr Martin?’ Laura said to Noah at his desk, deviating on the way to her own.
‘Crikey, Laura. It’s been all of ten minutes,’ he joked. ‘But yes, one of my guys is working on it now. It looks as though Mr Martin may be using an alias. I’ll keep you posted,’ he said.
Later, as she drove through the city outskirts, Laura could physically sense her tension lifting. Until Tara’s image flashed up on her ringing phone. Tempted at first to ignore it, to have this dreaded conversation from the comfort of her own sofa, she pulled into a vacant parking space in front of a florist’s shop. ‘Hey, Tara.’
‘Hey, Mum, I’ve been meaning to ring you but things have been hectic.’
Relieved at Tara’s passive tone, Laura allowed herself to relax. ‘How are you?’ she said as a woman carrying loads of daffodils emerged from the door onto the pavement.
‘I’ve been thinking about our conversation.’ Tara paused. ‘Mum, the idea of fighting him in court and dragging Seth behind me is abhorrent. So I’ve had a chat with Seth. I figured he might have an opinion.’
‘What did Seth think?’ Laura said, her chest swelling with pride for her daughter.
‘He thinks it would be cool to meet his father. I’m not sure he gets the whole biological father thing. But I told him the truth anyway – that his father and I loved each other, that we had him, but that we couldn’t stay together because he already had a wife.’ She snorted lightly. ‘I’m amazed at how non-judgemental kids are. Seth simply asked where his wife was now, and I told him that she got sick and died.’
Laura thought she detected Tara’s voice falter. ‘Is that what happened?’ she said. She imagined Tara nodding in the silence that followed. ‘So what happens next?’ Laura said.
‘I’ve decided to meet him again before I introduce him to Seth. I want to be sure – you know, that all is well, that he’s the same person he was when we knew each other. I need to be clear that meeting his father is really in Seth’s best interests.’
‘Tara, I am so proud of you. I know how difficult this has been, and how difficult it may continue to be,’ Laura said. ‘What’s his name?’
‘Anthony Bonfils,’ Tara said.
‘You mean the famous QC? Everyone knows him from his work with immigration detention centres.’
‘The same one.’
‘He seems older than you,’ Laura said.
‘He is fifteen years older – fifty now,’ said Tara. ‘Ironically his name translates to “good son” in French.’
‘Well, as it turns out, he has the best of sons.’
‘Seth is so excited, constantly firing questions – What’s he look like? Is he kind? Does he have other kids? What computer games does he play? Can he surf? Seth hasn’t said much about Simon’s absence but I know it’s been playing on his mind.’
‘Speaking of Simon, I visited him this morning,’ Laura said. ‘Dr Cowlett said it’s possible he’ll emerge from his coma soon.’
‘I guess that’s good news,’ Tara said tentatively.
Laura took a deep breath. ‘Yes, it’s good news for Simon. But I’m not sure how I feel about it.’
‘All I can say is good luck,’ Tara said. ‘Oh, and Mum . . . Thanks.’
‘My darling, I am so proud of you,’ Laura repeated. ‘Keep me posted. I’m sort of excited about this.’
Tara chuckled. ‘Wish I could say the same. I’m bloody terrified.’
Laura knew from Tara’s tone that she was cautiously about the sudden reappearance of Anthony Bonfils, that she really had loved this man, and that it was highly likely she still did. The thought of her daughter with a loving partner and Seth having his father present in his life brought a stab of delight. Whether it was relief Tara was talking to her again, or joy at her news, Laura ran into the florist shop and emerged moments later with a bunch of poppies – Simon’s favourite flowers.
The elevator’s ting was becoming a signal for Laura to take a deep breath before walking the corridor towards Simon’s room, not knowing what to expect, not knowing whether he would be asleep or awake, dead or alive.
But of course, when she stepped into his room, his condition was unchanged. Simon’s freshly shaved skin shone and plastic tubes sprouted from each arm lying motionless at his sides. The only change was that a single strip of adhesive tape above his left ear had replaced the gauze previously swaddling his head, revealing his grey receding hair combed into a neatly parted style Laura knew Simon would never choose for himself.
She looked up from arranging the poppies in a vase when a nurse charged into the room, plump and matronly, with a pleasant enough face.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ the nurse said, suddenly stopping. ‘I was about to take Simon’s obs, but I can come back later.’
‘No. Please, go ahead,’ Laura said, wondering if this was the attentive nurse Seth had mentioned.
‘You must be Simon’s wife,’ she said as she wrapped a cuff around Simon’s bicep, giving it an affectionate pat before inserting an electronic thermometer into his ear.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Laura said, glancing at the nurse’s nametag identifying her as ‘Patrice.’
‘Well, it won’t be long now before he’s back with us,’ Patrice said, smiling down at Simon, flicking the end of the thermometer into the small bin with a clang, then ripping the Velcro cuff from his bicep. ‘We can’t wait to meet him. He’s such a handsome man. You’re very lucky,’ she said as she made notes on Simon’s chart. ‘I’ll leave you to it then.’ And she scuttled from the room.
Laura moved closer to Simon, the smiley face on his leg plaster and the name underneath taking on new significance. She leaned into his ear and whispered, ‘She can have you.’ One of the machines broke into angry beeps at that precise moment, slowly at first but quickly escalating to the point of urgency. Laura jumped from her chair, desperate to read the screens but all she saw were coloured numbers and lines that meant nothing to her. Guilt and anxiety mounting over having thrown Simon into a life-threatening episode, she scrambled through the bed linen for the nurse’s call button, pressing several times, eventually becoming so distressed by the lack of response that she ran along the deserted corridor calling for help.
Relief flooded when Patrice appeared from another room. ‘I don’t know what happened,’ Laura stammered. I was just—’
‘It’s OK,’ Patrice stepped up and peered at a plastic bag hanging above Simon’s head. ‘It’s my mistake. I should have checked this when I was in here,’ she said, glancing at Laura. ‘His fluids need topping up, that’s all.’
Laura dropped into her seat, feeling as though she had collapsed in the middle. She watched Patrice replace Simon’s fluid bag before they exchanged smiles and she left.
Again Laura bent to Simon’s ear. ‘I’m here as your friend, Simon – if you need me. But I’ll never again be here as your wife.’
Later at home, Laura put a frozen shepherd’s pie to bake in the oven, its aroma filling the kitchen. The droning of the newsreader on television and the muffled pounding of waves were splintered by a knock on the door. Laura ran her fingers through her hair, wondering who could be calling, wishing she’d changed into something other than her pilled tracksuit and ugg boots. She opened the door on the second knock, surprised to see Flynn on the other side, sensing immediately by his expression that what she was wearing was the least of his concerns.
‘Hey, Laura,’ he said with unconvincing lightness, his eyes clearly swollen even in the dim light.
‘What’s wrong?’ she said, alarmed.
‘My Dad . . . he died suddenly, about an hour ago. He’s in WA. I need to fly over there.’ His mouth took on the shape of someone forcing back tears. He cleared his throat. ‘I wish I didn’t have to put this on you, but could you possibly look after Callie and Gorgeous for two or three days, please? I’d normally ask my sister, but she’s flying to WA with me.’
‘Of c
ourse,’ Laura said, not bothering Flynn with trivial concerns about never having looked after an animal or a bird before.
‘Thanks. I owe you one,’ he said, smiling and pulling her into a hug. She and Flynn had never hugged before. But his body felt comfortable and warm against hers, natural and easy.
‘What do they eat?’ she said.
‘I’ll drop off their food in a while. Gorgeous won’t like it but she can stay in her aviary outside. I’ll leave her enough food and water to last. You won’t need to do anything other than check on her each day, if that’s OK.’
Laura poured a glass of wine while she waited for Flynn to return five minutes later, laden with dog food, frozen bones and various other pieces of dog equipment including Callie’s bed, a soft round cushion in pink.
‘Come in,’ she said, stepping aside.
‘Thanks, but I need to pack and arrange a few things before I leave. I’d better get back home, pronto.’ He grimaced, rubbing the dark stubble on his chin.
‘What time does your plane leave?’ Laura said.
‘Six am. I’ll leave home at four.’
‘You should leave Callie here now,’ she said, wondering where her madness was coming from. Knowing she would not normally do this for anyone.
‘Yeah. If that’s OK?’ he said, peering down at Callie who remained at his feet. ‘I’ll miss you, girl.’ He picked her up and held her close to his chest, nuzzling her fur. ‘I hope she won’t be too much trouble for you.’ He placed Callie in Laura’s arms. ‘She’s a good dog. She knows all the words, just say them. You two will have great fun together.’ He leaned towards Laura and kissed her cheek. ‘Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,’ he said, before giving Callie a final rub on the neck and charging down the stairs.
Laura held Callie tight. She hoped it wasn’t too tight, but it was all she could do to stop her from jumping to the ground and bolting after Flynn.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The sun had barely risen when Laura left Callie in her backyard with water, dry food and bones, hoping it was enough. Wondering what the dog would do all day, she locked the back door, patted Callie one last time and, refusing to look back, clipped along the cement path to her car, clucking as she brushed dog hair from her pants.
The sun peeked from behind the hills, a golden orb creating swirls of gold and mauve in blue skies, at odds with the landscape cast with dawn shadows. The traffic thickened as she exited the expressway, only minutes from the Bedford hospital. Feeling torn she glanced at her watch. Already running late for work her decision not to visit Simon this morning came easily.
When Noah rang, she pulled into a loading zone a few kilometres from the office to take the call.
‘We’re on our way to speak to Dwayne Malone, alias Derek Martin,’ he told her. ‘This has been one busy dude with several outstanding warrants for similar offences committed in the outback, more specifically Coober Pedy and beyond.’
‘Good work. It’ll be my pleasure to swing by Alex’s place on my way into the office and let her know,’ Laura said.
Cynthia Holt answered her call on the third ring. ‘Yes, Laura,’ she said in a monotone.
‘Are you OK?’ Laura asked.
‘Yes, yes. We’re fine. I thought it might have been Greg calling. He left very early this morning before Alex and I were out of bed. Never mind. How can I help you, Laura?’
‘I have some good news. I thought I’d drop by for a few minutes and bring you up to speed, if it’s convenient for you and Alex?’
‘Yes, that’s fine. Alex is having another day off school today.’
Cynthia’s demeanour when she opened the door was no brighter than suggested by her tone over the phone. Momentarily taken aback by her uncharacteristically dishevelled appearance – her shape lost in baggy pants hanging in folds over her bare feet, the grey windcheater giving her complexion a greenish tinge – Laura wondered what had happened here this morning.
‘How are you, Cynthia?’
‘We’re good, thanks, Laura. Come in.’ Cynthia made an attempt to sound brighter, but her expression was as she stepped aside for Laura to enter. ‘Alex, Laura’s here,’ she called as they passed Alex’s room on their way to the kitchen. ‘Would you like a tea or coffee?’ she asked, gesturing for Laura to sit.
From her seat at the table Laura glanced around the room, acutely aware of a new coldness, a morbid silence. She was about to ask again if everything was OK, when Alex wandered in wearing floral pyjamas, bleary-eyed, her hair tangled.
‘Good morning, Alex,’ Laura said, ignoring her chalky complexion, the dark shadows beneath her eyes.
‘Morning,’ Alex rasped without smiling, sitting down in the seat opposite Laura.
‘Well, I have good news,’ Laura said. ’The CIB guys are on their way to speak to Mr Martin at this very moment. He has a previous record, so he’s likely to be brought in for questioning and possibly arrest. I don’t want to get your hopes up, but this is the most likely lead we’ve had to date.’ She took in Cynthia and Alex’s expressions. They both forced a smile.
‘That’s great news,’ Cynthia said, straightening her shoulders, her smile widening. ‘You’ve all worked so hard. Alex and I are very grateful, aren’t we, Alex?’
She nodded, swallowed, her tears welling.
Laura’s heart sank, her mind scrambled for answers as to this change. ‘I get the impression there’s something very wrong here. I thought you’d both be overjoyed at hearing this news. Are you sure everything is OK?’
‘Yes, everything’s fine,’ Cynthia said, lifting her chin. ‘Just a private matter we need to sort out tonight.’ She glanced at Alex.
‘OK,’ Laura said, reluctantly deciding to drop the subject. ‘Um . . . have you been able to contact Declan O’Leary?’
‘Yes. He sounds very nice,’ Cynthia said. ‘Alex has an appointment to see him next week.’
‘The kids love working with Declan,’ Laura told Alex. ‘I’m sure you’ll like him as well.’ She waited for a modicum of enthusiasm from Alex but there was nothing. ‘Well, I guess I’d better get on my way to the office,’ she said rising, watching Alex and Cynthia pull themselves up. ‘You should perhaps stay away from the store this morning, just in case Mr Martin is there,’ she said to Alex. ‘I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear from Noah. Take care,’ she added, rubbing Alex’s arm through the soft fabric of her pyjamas, feeling grateful once again that Declan was now on board.
‘Laura – got a minute?’ Tom called through his open door as she passed on her way to the staff room after her team briefing.
She stepped into his office, hoping this would be short and simple because she had already waited too long for her first coffee of the day.
‘Have you decided yet whether or not you’re applying to study for a promotional position?’ Tom asked.
Laura’s stomach sank. ‘Yes. Of course. I thought we’d agreed on that,’ she said, ,when in reality she had no idea what she wanted to do, simply because her life was in utter turmoil. Sometimes she privately wondered if it would be easier to leave the force, take her superannuation and get a part-time job in the local nursery nearer home.
Tom peered over his glasses. ‘Then get it into me soon will ya? I want to get my bundle of applications in within the next couple of days.’
Laura was tempted to remind him the deadline wasn’t for another two weeks. ‘OK. I’ll push it through today,’ she said, turning to leave.
‘How’s Simon?’ Tom asked.
‘Much the same.’
‘You seem to be coping OK.’
She nodded.
‘Don’t forget you’re entitled to compassionate leave,’ he said. ‘Don’t let the conflict between you and Kevin get in the way of that.’ His eyes returned to the report spread open on his desk.
Laura forged her way along the corridor to the staffroom. Standing next to the whirring coffee machine, she realised Tom knew far too much. She could
see he and Kevin had been talking, probably as close as two peas in a pod, she thought. She put it out of her mind, deciding it was just as easy for her to ignore any bias Tom felt towards Kevin as it was for her to be stressed out by it. That was how she was going to see things from now on.
It was after three and Laura was typing the finishing touches to her study application, wondering what sort of day Callie and Gorgeous had been having and thinking about getting home, when Noah wandered in, his face a mask of disappointment. He sat on the edge of her desk.
She swung her chair to face him, her heart sinking at the look of him.
‘We’ve arrested Dwayne Malone for Alex’s attack and he’s been refused bail,’ Noah said, suddenly beaming.
‘Dammit, Noah,’ she said, lightly punching his arm and breaking into a smile, relief washing over her. ‘Good work.’
‘He is one stupid fuck. He had no alibi, saying only that he was at home alone, but couldn’t remember what he was doing at the time Alex was attacked. And he works voluntarily at a drug rehab centre, so he’s familiar with syringes and prescription drugs. And seriously, Laura, the stupidity of these crooks never ceases to astound me – he had a stash of women’s underwear in his garage, including a pair of underpants that fit the description Alex gave us. We have his DNA, so I’ve put a rush on getting the forensics report back on the balaclava. All good,’ he concluded, slapping his thigh and standing. ‘I’ll ring Cynthia Holt and let her know.’
‘She’ll be so relieved,’ Laura said. ‘From the look of them when I called in this morning they could both do with a bit of good news.’
‘Well, you can’t get much better news than this,’ Noah said, beaming at her again before heading towards his workstation.
Later, Laura sighed as she pulled into the hospital car park, recalling Dr Cowlett’s phone call just before she left the office, his voice joyous as he had delivered the news that Simon had been taken off the ventilator and was successfully breathing on his own. ‘Another giant step forward,’ he had said. Laura had imagined his wide smile, the tone of his voice reflecting an assumption that she shared his jubilation over Simon’s progress.
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