Giovanna was probably right; he hadn’t understood her and hadn’t really tried to. He’d been a stern father, if he was honest, and hadn’t paid half as much attention to his children as he now wished he had. His relationships with them had always been strained, and sometimes he wondered if Giovanna and Gaetano had stayed in London simply to avoid him. Back when they were growing up, times were different. Men worked; women took care of the children. But he’d missed out on so much. He knew that now.
Samuel looked to the floor and scratched behind his ear, sighing with the memory.
‘Last night, I visited Matteo,’ Lara began, sniffing disconcertingly. She paused and searched her pockets, for a tissue, he assumed; when she couldn’t find one, she wiped her forearm across her nose. Samuel winced and swapped the walking stick to his left hand, holding it loosely through the mouldable splint, and reached into the pocket of his trackpants for a handkerchief. He always had one. Years ago they would have all been ironed, but now he let a few things slide. He swapped the walking stick back to his right hand so he could rest his weight on it, and stepped towards Lara, extending his clean blue hanky. She hesitated, but then reached over and took it.
‘Thanks.’ She blew her nose, noisily, then balled up the material in her fist.
Samuel hovered uncertainly for a moment, wondering if he should sit at the table with her. It wasn’t easy for him to stand still in one spot; it was easier to keep moving forward. But he didn’t want to put pressure on her, either. Finally, as her eyes welled again, he pulled out a chair and sat.
Lara slumped back in the chair, defeated by the tears that just wanted to flow.
‘There were wolves,’ she said, her voice small and pinched on the last word.
Samuel stiffened. ‘Wolves?’
She nodded, blowing her nose again. ‘They came for the goats.’
Samuel’s stomach plummeted. He turned his head towards the window in the direction of Meg and Willow’s barn, even though he couldn’t see them. He immediately began thinking of ways to improve the security of their housing. He’d need help. He couldn’t wield a hammer anymore. Once upon a time, Carlo would have come and done it with him. Now, he’d need Matteo. Or, if Matteo couldn’t help, then Henrik. He could pay Henrik. He had a little money set aside for home maintenance. He was old enough to remember the destruction wolves caused to livestock, back before the widescale trapping.
‘They tried to shoot them,’ Lara squeaked, dissolving into sobs.
‘Of course they did; they had to protect the goats,’ he said gruffly.
Lara gave him the look, the same look Giovanna would have given him. He’d misinterpreted her feelings. He rubbed his forehead. She’d shut down now, holding back her tears and folding her arms across her body, looking to the other side of the room, her chin lifted.
He tried again. ‘Look, people here in Italy, they are very much at one with the land. People still raise their own animals, tend to them from birth through to death and the dinner table. They work with the seasons and hunt for boar, pheasants and rabbits. Food is their way of life. Men are part of the ecosystem and, like it or not, sometimes other predators get in the way.’
Lara was looking at him as if he was deliberately trying to cause her more pain.
‘It’s harsh, but that’s the reality of farming,’ he said, trying to be reasonable. ‘They can’t let their stock be taken.’
‘But Matteo.’ She shook her head. ‘I thought he was different.’
‘He has a job to do, and that’s to protect his stock. End of story.’
But reason wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Her breath shuddered as she pushed herself to her feet. ‘I’m sorry, Samuel, but this isn’t the place for me. I’m going back to Rome.’ Then she rushed from the room.
32
Sunny
Sunny stared at the text message on her phone, cold dread in the pit of her stomach.
She was at one of the local parks, with Hudson scaling the house-sized spider net that enticed boys to climb higher than their mothers felt comfortable with, while Daisy, never one for climbing had given up at the third level of ropes. Instead, she was throwing sticks for Midnight and the puppy galumphed after them on her short little legs, a cluster of children and adults alike oohing and ahhing. Technically, Midnight wasn’t allowed here, inside the childproof fence that surrounded the brightly coloured climbing equipment and sensitive urban stone-scaping and green foliage. But a little of the old rebellious Sunny remained.
Sundays were always a busy day at this park, with its undercover tables and free barbecues on offer for family gatherings. But as it was late in the day, nearing dinnertime for young children, the crowds were thinning, birthday balloons and bunting being taken down and picnic rugs and tablecloths being shaken and rolled up.
Sunny probably looked no different from many other parents, sitting on a park bench and keeping one eye on her children while she scrolled through social media, occasionally taking a photo of her kids. But what those other parents didn’t know was that her world had just been shattered by four words from Dave. A day after she’d told him to go away, here he was, popping up on her phone, paralysing her like in one of those nightmares where she was being pursued by a madman, a monster or a gigantic snake, but no matter how hard she tried to run, her legs just wouldn’t move.
Somehow, Lara had kept the secret of Dave’s violence throughout their years together. It was only at the end, when the pregnancy had changed everything, that she’d been forced to flee and confess to Eliza and Sunny the true darkness under which she’d been living. Even then, it took years of therapy for it all to come out. None of them wanted to see the kids end up in Dave’s hands now.
The day after they’d run into Dave at the shopping centre, the Foxleighs had wanted to clarify their legal position. Sunny would financially qualify for legal aid—having no assets and no regular income—but it would take too long to get the forms in and be granted an appointment. Lara had a bit of money saved from her part-time job, so she’d paid for an appointment with a family lawyer.
Martha Beckett wore a white kaftan dress and her braided hair was pulled back into a ponytail, little beads at the ends clacking together as she moved about. Behind the navy-blue rims of her glasses, her eyes held decades of experience and empathy.
‘I’m sorry to hear of your situation,’ she said to the trio of women, her voice husky. ‘And I’m equally sorry to tell you that the family law court system in Australia is beyond broken and cannot help you.’
Sunny felt sick. To her right, Lara had begun to take deep breaths in an effort to calm down. Eliza had been scribbling notes with her favourite silver pen, but paused as Martha delivered her sombre assessment.
‘Look, I’m not going to beat around the bush. You don’t have many options. The family law system is, ironically, set up to support parenting arrangements rather than safety from violence. I’ve seen many a woman’s life ruined because she sold her house, lost her job because she had to take time off for court, and spent every last dollar she had trying to defend herself and protect her kids. And even if she did get what she wanted—full custody and protection for her kids—her partner simply waited until she was back on her feet to drag her through the courts all over again, financially ruining her, ruining her health with stress, forcing her into the same room with him to relive the horror again and again, and continuing to terrorise her perfectly legally through this system.’ Martha stood up and moved to the corner of the room to boil the kettle, clattering cups onto saucers and pulling teabags from a canister.
‘But Dave is violent,’ Eliza said, her voice barely audible.
Martha grunted. ‘A woman in Australia is more likely to be killed in her own home and at the hands of her partner than anywhere else and by anyone else.’ Her tone conveyed that she had sadly repeated this statistic many times.
‘He nearly…he tried to get Lara to kill herself,’ Eliza said.
Martha raised a thick eyebrow.
‘The perfect crime—and not uncommon, I’m sorry to say.’ That rendered them silent, while Martha continued to fuss at her kitchenette.
Lara began to scratch at her wrist. Sunny reached her hand over and laid it on her sister’s, giving her a small, sympathetic smile. Lara tipped her head back, staring at the ceiling.
‘We lied on the birth certificates,’ Sunny blurted. ‘I’m listed as the mother.’ Beside her, Eliza stiffened. She’d always been against the idea but they’d done it that way to add another layer of protection between the kids and Dave.
Martha eyed her steadily, then said, ‘There are two things you need to know about that. The first is that if Dave initiates paternity testing, the birth certificates won’t play any part in determining who the parents are.’
‘Really?’
‘Really,’ Martha affirmed. ‘Secondly, if this goes to court, I would have to disclose that I knew that fact. Fortunately, I am not officially representing you here today. Still, I think it’s best if we don’t talk about that particular situation any further.’
‘Okay.’ Sunny’s whole body turned white hot just imagining how much trouble they’d be in if their fraud came into play. ‘What can we do about Dave now?’ she asked at last.
‘He does have the right to seek paternity tests through the courts, but that will take him some time, which is a good thing—perhaps the only thing you have going for you. He would have to file an initiating application for paternity testing, along with an affidavit and his intentions to spend time with the children. Then he would have to wait for a court date, which could take a few months.’
‘Are you saying we shouldn’t do anything?’ Lara asked, biting a nail.
‘At this stage I would simply like to make it clear that if you officially enter into the system, things will get rough. Aside from anything else, you can burn through a hundred thousand dollars just like that.’ Martha snapped her fingers. ‘The most frustrating thing of all is that, given Lara’s medical history, the courts wouldn’t look favourably on her as a mother if parenting arrangements were to be contested.’
‘But that’s ridiculous,’ Sunny said, still hoping there was some sort of reason in this madness. ‘He took advantage of her sickness and made her worse. Sorry, Lara.’
‘It’s okay. It’s true.’
‘And now he’s a doctor,’ Martha said sadly. ‘And probably, on paper, a fine upstanding citizen with a lovely wife. And Sunny, I’m sorry to say you won’t have much sway as the acting mother in this either. Staying out of the system as long as you can will actually keep your kids safer.’
‘But that’s mad. I don’t understand,’ Eliza said, sitting forward in her chair. Her pen hung loosely in her fingers. ‘Lara has seen a psychiatrist for years. There would be reams of documentation about the things Dave did to her.’
Martha grimaced. ‘Regrettably, it doesn’t always help. His lawyers would argue that since Dave has no history of violence with the children then there would be no cause to keep them from him. If he was to be proved the father then I suspect his application for access would be granted.’
All three of the Foxleighs reacted audibly to that. Eliza reached for Sunny’s hand.
‘And if visitation rights were granted, you would have to send the kids to him, regardless of whether or not they wanted to go or whether or not you thought they’d be safe in his hands. And if you didn’t, if you went against the court orders, you would potentially lose custody.’
‘Wait,’ Sunny said, aghast. ‘The kids would become a test case to see if he hurt them or not? And the courts wouldn’t protect them until after he’d hurt them? That’s ludicrous!’
Sunny could hardly believe it had come to this so quickly. If only they’d gone to the movies yesterday instead of the shopping centre, none of this would be happening. The picture Martha had presented of the lack of support for women who wanted to protect their children was bad enough, but their situation was even worse, really, given that Sunny had no history with Dave to warrant demanding an apprehended violence order and no biological claim for parenting arrangements.
‘I am sorry,’ Martha said again. ‘This part of my job brings me no pleasure, I assure you. I would say, though, that sometimes men like this get most of their thrills from the chase and from the psychological torment they inflict. Right now, Dave believes Lara is the mother, so he’ll be coming for her. But for him to proceed through the courts, he will have to have served you with papers outlining his intentions for establishing proof of paternity. If he can’t find you, then he can’t easily ensnare you in a legal tangle. I would suggest then that if you are not easily found…’ she paused and looked at them meaningfully, ‘…there is a small chance that he may simply tire of any games he might want to play. While there are no court orders in place, you are free to go wherever you want to.’ She looked at Lara. ‘Anywhere in the world.’
Sunny looked at Lara, who was so pale she was worried she might faint. ‘What about the children? Should they leave the country too?’
‘If you can afford it, I would certainly recommend it.’
Beside Sunny, Lara’s eyes welled up. They both knew they couldn’t afford for all of them to go. And the kids couldn’t go without Sunny because Sunny was their mother. But they could make it difficult for Dave, by sending Lara overseas.
‘If I were you, I know what I would do.’ Martha delivered their cups of tea on a tray with milk and sugar and Iced VoVos. Sunny thought it was exactly what would be handed to someone in shock, then realised with a jolt that that described her.
After a few minutes of stunned, silent tea-stirring, Martha spoke again.
‘I’ve come to the conclusion that when you’re dealing with these guys, sometimes you’re better off tackling the situation on a psychological level rather than a legal one. The problem is, though, you’d have to get close enough to him to have a chance at working that out. So truly, if I were in this situation, I would simply get as far away as I could go, preferably to the other side of the world.’
Hudson called out from the top of the climbing apparatus and Sunny waved and smiled. ‘Great job!’ she called. She held her smile until he looked away and began his descent.
Then she reread Dave’s text.
I have custody rights.
33
Lara
‘Hi, Sprout.’
‘I’m so glad you finally answered,’ Lara said, sorting her clothes into two piles, one to wash and one to pack. ‘I’m not in a good state,’ she admitted, climbing into her bed and leaning against the bedhead, pulling her knees up.
‘What’s happened?’
‘How are the kids?’
‘They’re good. They’re asleep. I wore them out at the park this afternoon,’ Sunny said, her gentle smile floating down the line.
‘Oh, of course. I’d forgotten what time it was. I was hoping to speak to them, to Daisy at least, though I’m missing Hudson’s bear hugs.’ Hudson wasn’t a big hugger, but when he did, he did it well.
‘What’s happened?’ Sunny asked again.
Lara told her about Matteo and the wolves, about her upward mood swing and how she’d let it carry her away, thinking she had found someone lovely, and thinking she could just sleep with him and fix something in herself that had been broken so long ago. Sunny clucked sympathetically.
‘I think I should leave, maybe go back to Rome,’ Lara finished. ‘I’m sorting out my washing now. It shouldn’t take me long to pack.’
‘No,’ Sunny said firmly. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
‘Why not?’ Lara asked, a tad annoyed. She heard Sunny open the fridge door. It had a small magnetic cow bell on it, put there to alert them if one of the kids was breaking into the fridge unattended. Too many milk and juice spills had driven them to that.
‘Um…’ Sunny paused. ‘Hang on, I’m just pouring a wine.’
‘It’s late for a wine.’
‘I’ve had a big few days,’ Sunny said, and Lar
a could hear the heaviness in her voice.
‘Are you still working on that project for the bed and breakfast?’
‘Yeah.’ Sunny poured the wine; Lara could hear the glug glug as it filled the glass.
‘How’s it going?’
‘Good.’
Sunny was quieter than usual, Lara noted, but assumed it was because she was tired. Her sister was probably starting to feel the effects of Lara not being around to help with the kids, she realised with some guilt. That was where she was needed.
‘Look, Sprout, I think you should give Matteo another chance. Have you seen any other evidence of cruelty or violence?’
‘No. Quite the opposite.’
‘Well, there you go. It’s not like he was just randomly heading out to kill things. He wasn’t tanked on beer and riding in the back of a ute with a spotlight and a gun.’
‘No, but…’
‘He was attempting to humanely remove one animal to save the lives of many others. He was being gallant, really, trying to save his goats. From the goats’ point of view, he’s a hero.’ She paused, then added, ‘He’s not like Dad.’
‘No,’ Lara admitted.
‘I really think you should stay where you are. You’ve been doing so well there, haven’t you? Until this hiccup with Matteo, you’ve been feeling good.’
‘I guess so.’
‘You’ve been caring for Samuel and milking goats, driving into the village and to the hospital. It’s fantastic. Your moods have been steady until the other night. From my end it sounds like the country has been the best therapy you could have asked for.’
Lara had to admit that was all true. She had been feeling good. She’d been feeling proud of herself and confident and stronger than she had in…well, forever, if she was honest. And she hadn’t even really had to try to feel good; it had all happened naturally. She’d just jumped in. Samuel had taken her by surprise on her first day and she’d had no time to dwell; she’d just had to act. And she had.
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