Three Gold Coins

by Josephine Moon

  The rope was too difficult. But the bottle of pills in her hand? All too easy.

  Dave stood and kissed her on the forehead and picked up his book. ‘Goodbye,’ he said firmly, and there was no question in her mind that he wanted her gone. He left the room, leaving her to make her choice.

  29

  Sunny

  ‘Mum! There’s someone at the door.’

  Daisy’s voice rang out through the living room and into the kitchen where Sunny and Eliza had been discussing Sunny’s job offer.

  ‘I can’t go,’ Sunny said, stretching her arm out to the side. She’d been doing so much sanding of her furniture pieces that she had developed a bit of tendon strain in her shoulder.

  ‘What terrible timing,’ Eliza said.

  ‘Is it, though? I wondered if it might actually be a sign, since—you know.’

  Eliza grimaced. ‘Yes.’

  The vision of a blue car lurking outside on the street hovered before them both, Sunny was sure.

  ‘Mu-u-um! A man’s at the door,’ Daisy repeated, thundering to Sunny’s side and tugging at her arm.

  Sunny allowed Daisy to take her hand and pull her through the lounge room, towards the front door. What she saw there made her stop in her tracks, with a bolt of adrenaline so strong her hands flew up defensively. She’d thought the door was locked, but there he stood, with nothing between him and her child.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Sunny instinctively pulled Daisy to her, her hand firm on the little girl’s shoulder, pressing her slender body into her hip. Daisy must have sensed Sunny’s alarm and went quiet, wrapping her arms around her mother’s waist.

  He said nothing, but his gaze homed in on Daisy. During the ensuing silence, Eliza followed Sunny into the living room.

  ‘Who is it?’ Then, just like Sunny, she stopped dead. ‘Oh, my God.’

  It had been a wet weekend a couple of months ago that started it all. The kids were climbing the walls by half-past nine on Saturday morning, and by Sunday the three women in the Foxleigh household held serious concerns for their own safety, let alone the twins’.

  ‘They’re at such a tricky age,’ Eliza had offered sagely. ‘Too young to concentrate on a single activity and still needing to move their bodies so much.’

  ‘The movies?’ Lara suggested, vigorously playing balloon volleyball over a net formed by a string of washing hanging between two dining chairs. Sunny was impressed by just how hot and worked up Lara and the kids were getting over a ‘ball’ that could only drift through the air.

  ‘Daisy’s a chance, but not our other little friend here,’ Sunny said, motioning towards Hudson. She’d never managed to get more than twenty minutes out of him in the cinema—roughly the amount of time it took him to finish the popcorn.

  Sunny had a terrible headache, ruling out the art gallery and the museum as just too much effort and the indoor playground as way too noisy, so they’d given up and chosen the significantly easier option of taking the kids to the local shopping centre.

  ‘Right, twenty bucks to spend in Big W, sushi rolls, a play in the food court playground, and an ice cream on the way out if you’re good,’ she’d announced.

  Both kids yelled and squealed their excitement, which made Sunny wince in pain.

  ‘Poor Sunny Bear,’ Lara said. ‘Maybe a good strong coffee from a real barista would help.’

  ‘My coffee machine is perfectly good,’ Eliza huffed. ‘It’s exactly the same as you’d find in a cafe.’

  ‘I’ll take my chances in the cafe,’ Sunny muttered. She noticed her sister’s lips twitch, but dared not make eye contact in case they started laughing and offended Eliza further.

  And it was at the sushi counter in the food court, ordering teriyaki chicken nori rolls, that they ran into him.

  Lara had noticed him first. She dropped her plastic takeaway box on the ground and didn’t even try to pick it up.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Sunny had asked. Then she followed Lara’s eyes all the way to his, about ten metres away. He’d registered them too, his jaw set, his eyes sweeping between Lara and Sunny. A woman in a red cardigan chatted to him about something and ran a hand through her jaw-length black bob. Sunny caught sight of her wedding ring. So he had a wife now. A grocery bag swung from the woman’s elbow. She hadn’t yet registered Dave’s faltering step beside her.

  Dave’s mother—gosh, she’d aged—was walking alongside them, wide-eyed and smiling as if she was heavily affected by some mood-altering medication, her arms out in front of her like a zombie. Sunny took in Susan’s trackpants and ill-fitting jumper with a lightning-fast glance, but her gaze was drawn back to Dave’s face. To those almond-shaped eyes and that thick dark hair. Her heart banged just once, like a horse kicking a stable wall. Boom.

  ‘Oh, my David!’ Susan was saying, now only a few metres away, hovering over the kids. Dave regained his cool and hurried forward to catch her elbow. His wife followed him.

  ‘Mum, I’m here,’ he said, playing his role perfectly.

  Dutiful son, my arse, Sunny seethed. Behind her, she heard Lara whimper. The wife placed her hand on Susan’s back and spoke soothingly to her.

  ‘Hello,’ Daisy said to Susan. ‘I’m Daisy. I’m five and I’ve got sushi.’ Sunny’s innocent, charming daughter held up a sushi roll. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Sunny realised she must be eating one from off the floor, but that was the last thing she could worry about right now.

  ‘David, come here,’ Susan crooned, bending low and reaching forward.

  As though in a slow-motion horror movie, the other four adults followed Susan’s gaze down to where Hudson—with his almond-shaped eyes and that thick dark hair—was pushing his new Minion car along the ground.

  ‘It’s been so long since I’ve seen you,’ Susan said, her eyes filling with tears.

  Hudson jerked away from her and got to his feet, running off to the playground.

  ‘Wait for me,’ Daisy called through a mouthful of sushi, and took off after him, and for once Sunny was pleased at their impulsiveness.

  ‘Oh, come back,’ Susan called, her face crumpling, her voice choked. ‘Why is he running away? My baby. I haven’t seen him in so long.’

  Dave’s wife’s eyes flicked between them all, caught Lara’s for a moment, then looked away. Dave, clearly thrown, patted his mother’s arm. ‘Shh, Mum, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m Dave. I’m your son.’ Despite what a horrible bastard Dave had been, Sunny still found in herself a sliver of pity for him. Imagine your own mother not recognising you.

  Then his gaze snapped back to Lara. She flinched and turned away, but he stared openly at her, taking in everything about her, his lips twitching, as if unsure whether to smile or speak.

  Sunny stepped closer to her sister. It wouldn’t take Dave long to gather his wits and approach her. ‘Right, well, we need to go. Goodbye, Susan,’ she said, taking Lara by the arm and walking straight past Dave and his wife without a backward glance, though she could feel his razor-sharp glare piercing into her.

  ‘Don’t look back,’ she ordered Lara. ‘Let’s get the kids and leave by the side exit and keep going.’

  ‘He mustn’t know. He mustn’t know. He mustn’t know.’ Lara was losing her composure by the second.

  Standing in the doorway, Dave lifted his eyes from Daisy and let them rest on Sunny. Something changed in his face and he switched to charming mode. ‘Hello, Sunny, hello, Eliza. It’s nice to see you both again.’

  ‘We can’t say the same,’ Sunny said. Beside her, Eliza stiffened.

  Dave’s face twitched, his countenance ruffled.

  Sunny’s mind raced. Where was Hudson? She’d seen him just a few moments ago, downstairs in the yard on the swing set, Midnight under his arm, her little ears blowing back and forth with the pendulum movement. He loved that dog fiercely.

  ‘What a surprise it was to run into you at the shops the other weekend.’ His gaze had fallen back to Daisy, tucked into Sunny’s side.
He rubbed one palm over the other in a circle—nervous perhaps? No. Calculating, more likely. Sunny took in his trousers with the perfect crease down the centre, his shiny shoes, his shiny belt and collared shirt. He always looked so polished, so goddamn upstanding. Bile rose in her throat. Fear was flickering, but she refused to let it ignite. She straightened her shoulders.

  Dave could have crossed the entrance at any time, but he stayed where he was, as if trapped by glass, his welcome to the house revoked a long time ago. Beyond him, out on the road, cyclists and dog walkers passed by, as if this was a totally normal day.

  Hudson was the one who looked like a miniature Dave. It was the thought of Hudson that made her chest constrict.

  Her children were not really hers.

  This man could destroy everything.

  ‘What do you want?’ she demanded.

  Dave lifted his head so he could look down his nose at Sunny. ‘Let’s get to the point,’ he said, pacing a little on the porch, still rubbing his palms together, like a lawyer getting ready to deliver his speech to a court. Sunny was pleased to see him stumble against the tiny pots of pink and white dianthus flowers that she and the kids had planted a couple of days ago. He recovered himself quickly. ‘My mother, as you observed, is suffering from dementia.’

  A play for sympathy.

  ‘She was adamant that Hudson was her son, David. That is, me.’

  Cold water ran down Sunny’s spine and made her shiver. Dave had used Hudson’s name. But they hadn’t said his name in the shopping centre. How did he know?

  ‘I did some maths. Your daughter—’ he paused to give Sunny an amused smile, ‘—told us she was five.’

  ‘What’s your point?’ Sunny asked, almost unable to bear where this was going. They were her children. Hers. Not his. Not even Lara’s. Hers.

  ‘Alright.’ He stopped pacing and stood squarely facing them. ‘I believe the two children I met at the shopping centre are mine.’

  Sunny laughed, loud, empty and cutting. ‘You’re crazy. Of course they’re not yours.’

  Daisy, clinging to her leg, whispered, ‘Who is that man?’

  ‘Come with me,’ Eliza said, taking Daisy’s hand and leading her away.

  ‘Thanks,’ Sunny said, eyeballing her mother as they passed, each of them silently panicking.

  With Daisy gone, Sunny could think a little more clearly. ‘Look, Dave, your mother is obviously in a terrible state. That’s a great shame. It must be painful for you when she doesn’t even recognise you.’ Shamefully, she did actually enjoy saying that.

  Dave was standing with his hands on his hips. Her eyes flicked to the gold wedding band on his left hand. That poor woman.

  ‘But Susan was wrong. And you’re wrong. Daisy and Hudson are my children. I’m very sorry about your mother’s dementia, but you’re both barking up the wrong tree.’

  Dave said nothing, appraising her, then looked behind her into the house, taking in details, assessing, perhaps searching for evidence. She felt his gaze roaming over their home as though his hands were on her body. It was repulsive.

  ‘It’s time for you to go now,’ she said, moving closer to the front door.

  ‘Where is Lara?’

  ‘No idea.’

  He narrowed his eyes.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll understand that you’re not welcome here, given how things ended between the two of you.’ She gave him the steeliest stare she could muster over the pounding of her heart and reached across the threshold for the handle of the screen door.

  ‘Goodbye, Dave.’

  He moved back reluctantly and she closed the screen door, but he continued to stand on the porch while she locked it with the key. Then she shut the heavy wooden door from inside and turned the deadlock. She leaned against it for support, her ears thundering with her own blood, listening for him to go.

  She heard him knock over one of the children’s plant pots; she heard the terracotta smash, and his footsteps as he walked away. Then she watched through the corner of the window as he got into the blue car she’d seen idling outside their house the other day and drove away.

  Sunny unlocked the doors and stepped outside to rescue the dianthus plants that he’d kicked down the steps, cradling them to her chest. ‘It will be alright,’ she whispered. ‘It will be alright.’

  30

  Lara

  Lara started the morning in the goat barn, feeding Meg and Willow double the amount of hay they normally got, brushing them tenderly, trying not to let her tears fall into the milk pail as she imagined the terror these two might face if a pack of wolves descended onto the property. They would kick as hard as they could and use their mighty horns. But a wolf was a top-level predator, and a goat—as fierce and determined as she might be—was simply a meal. Not that it was the wolf’s fault. It had to eat to live. Everything deserved to live, didn’t it? And as for Matteo, he was a goat handler; his loyalty lay with his goats. His duty, in fact, was to protect his goats. What choice did he have?

  And yet.

  Seeing Matteo handling a gun had awoken a memory she hadn’t even realised she’d smothered. Over the past six years, she’d had to work through so much after what Dave had done to her that the childhood traumas with Leonard had paled in comparison. But…guns. There was nothing good about them. Nothing gentle or safe. She’d thought Matteo was a gentle man of the land, but he was prepared to kill. If he could kill an animal, then…

  Lara scratched at her wrist till she bled, finding some release in the pain. She’d been so stupid to think she could force herself into a better place, to force things between her and Matteo. She grieved for herself right now, for the loss of a relationship—whatever it might have been—that never even had a chance. Because how could she ever look at Matteo the same way again? The image of him last night, holding the gun, lifting it, cocking it, carrying it with purpose, made her sick to her stomach.

  The weather had changed today, as if knowing that a horrible event had happened and Lara would need extra layers around herself for comfort. She wondered if this was it, then: summer finally gone and autumn here, perhaps a sign that other things were ending too. Her time here, maybe. Samuel was much stronger than when she’d first met him. He still needed help but maybe Matteo and Henrik could fill the need until a new badante arrived. Perhaps she should go back to Rome and start again.

  31

  Samuel

  Samuel had lain a long time in bed reading while Lara had been cooking in the kitchen. He’d smelled the frying onion and garlic, heard the chopping of vegetables and the bang of the soup pot lid. He’d taken his time getting up, feeling weary for no reason that he could pinpoint other than age. But at last he’d forced himself into action.

  The temperature had dropped today, the bathroom tiles cold under his feet, and he’d pulled out his good slippers. They’d been a lucky find at the piazza markets a couple of years ago, stylish, in a buffed charcoal grey. Assunta would have hated them and teased him for being such an old man. If it were up to her, she’d have had him in something outrageous with bloody bells or tassels. But he liked these ones; they made him feel smart when he had his feet up on the footrest in front of the fireplace. He liked looking down at them, liked the way the skin around his ankles was still smooth, if a little blotchy.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to the markets unattended. He’d been sharing his space with badanti for such a long time, and had grown to need their help to get out and about more than he’d ever imagined. You could never predict what you’d go through as an old person, what you had to do simply to keep living from day to day. If you were lucky, you had someone who loved you to look after you. Like Rocco had.

  Rocco had been old when they’d got him, which made him perfect for the kids. He was unflappable, safe, slow and steady. Exactly what you wanted in a first pony for your children. But as happens to ponies, his children grew up. And then Lily was gone. Samuel and Assunta argued about what to do with Rocco, Assunta in
sisting he was too old to sell and Samuel saying it was a waste of money to keep a pony no one was using. If they couldn’t find him another home, they should call the slaughterman to come and take him away. But Assunta refused, more than once literally putting her foot down in a stomping rejection. She was fiercely protective of Rocco and said he deserved to live out his days with his family. He was a living link to their beloved daughter. By pouring love into Rocco—carrying food and water to him when he couldn’t walk easily—Assunta could keep loving Lily.

  That was what Samuel wanted, deep down, for himself. Assunta by his side, caring for him till the end. But Assunta was gone. So if not Assunta, then who? His daughter Giovanna? Perhaps, if things had worked out differently.

  He walked into the dining room where Lara was seated at the table, her head resting on her forearms. A plate of orange blossom amaretti sat in the centre of the table, golden and fragrant. Lara must have been cooking up a storm while he’d been reading. She looked up as he approached, surprise on her face. The sight of her wet, red eyes snapped him out of his reverie.

  ‘I didn’t hear you come in,’ she snuffled, wiping at her eyes with the heels of her hands.

  ‘Sorry, I couldn’t resist the aromas from the kitchen. Is it soup?’

  ‘It’s my version of a Tuscan white bean soup,’ she said quietly, then bit her quivering bottom lip.

  ‘Are you alright?’ he asked, without a clue what to do.

  She nodded, staring at him a bit too hard, her eyes fixed a bit too wide. Suddenly, Samuel was a father again of daughters—Italian daughters at that—who cried and screamed at the drop of a hat, whose emotions were only ever just under the surface at any time. Back then, he’d learned not to try to solve the problem right away. Later, maybe, over a coffee or a vino. But while there were tears he’d found the fewer words the better. He always said the wrong thing anyway, especially with Giovanna, and her tears would turn to rage as she declared that he never understood her. If the house hadn’t been made of stone, he’d have worried for the walls from all the door-slamming.