Lara walked Samuel across the steps and stones between the house and the feast table, feeling a little like she was walking him down the aisle. Gilberta sprang up to hug him warmly, tears pouring down her cheeks as she rocked him from side to side and murmured a joyful welcome, like a mother who’d found her lost child. For his part, Samuel seemed unable to speak, his jaw working with emotion.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ Gilberta said, kissing him on both cheeks. ‘We should never have abandoned you.’ She turned to Matteo, still holding Samuel’s hand.
Matteo smiled at Lara, and winked. Well done, it said. He held out his arms and she nestled into them, relishing the feeling of their strength around her.
Mario cheered then and began to clap approval for the newest couple in the clan. Henrik, too, raised his glass of wine from where he was sitting with his leg raised on a spare chair, grinning at them, his enviable hair tucked neatly behind his elfin ears.
Lara felt herself flush, and sneaked a sideways glance at Samuel, who raised one eyebrow at her and smiled just a little smugly. She probably did have him to thank. If he hadn’t asked her to go to Carlo with that terrible burden, she might not have found her way to Matteo. It was a small price to pay for finding such happiness.
Mario was at Samuel’s side now, hugging him—nearly lifting him off his feet!—kissing him, singing to him.
Samuel cracked. He burst out laughing. It was a stuttering laugh at first, unused for so long, then gathering force until it became a glorious belly laugh, which led to a trickle of tears. He looked stricken, that stiff-upper-lip British boy still there despite living for so long in a country so much freer with emotions. But Gilberta ushered him into a seat at the head of the table and Mario pushed a glass of wine into his hand. They sat on either side of him, flanking him protectively, talking over one another, catching up.
Lara slipped her arms under Matteo’s jacket and wrapped them around his warm body. ‘Did you get a chance to speak to your mother?’ she whispered.
‘Yes.’
‘And?’
He shook his head.
‘But did you tell her about Assunta? Did you tell her it wasn’t Samuel’s fault?’
‘Yes.’ He sounded sombre. ‘She was angry, shocked. It will take time. The whole family will need to come to terms with it.’
Lara nodded, sad despite knowing it would have taken a miracle for Lucia to come tonight. She looked at Samuel, more relaxed now, sipping his wine, chuckling at something Gilberta said as she dropped her flame-haired head back and squealed with laughter.
When Lara had first met Samuel, he was on his own. Now there were six of them here, ready to feast on homemade maltagliati, so simple with just a sprinkling of sharp parmesan cheese, followed by bitter dark chocolate and sweet juicy grapes, all washed down with fiery grappa.
Trickles. It was all trickles.
It was late. Henrik had been on coffee-making duty for a while now, limping carefully while holding cups. Samuel and Lara had shared a couple of covert looks, each expecting him to trip or drop coffee into someone’s lap. But he surprised them and each cup got to the recipient in one piece.
Lara would never forget the kindness and warmth from Gilberta and Mario, their open hearts and instant joy at embracing Samuel once more, and the smile they had brought to Samuel’s face. She could swear he was able to sit straighter in his chair, to meet their eyes and hold their hands.
She and Matteo managed to slip away, the chatter and laughter fading behind them as they sneaked down the hill towards the old lemon trees—tall, age-spotted limbs, twisted joints and thorns as long as her thumb, but with a good bounty of green fruit waiting to ripen in winter. It was cold down here, the air heavy with damp. A thick white fog would fill this hollow in the morning.
But for now they kissed, hands under shirts, beating hearts sending quivers through limbs as they leaned against the stone toolshed, the place where they had first met. Matteo tasted of coffee and wine and grappa. An owl hooted rhythmically from somewhere nearby.
Matteo broke away, breathing deeply to steady his pulse. ‘Are you happy?’
Lara nodded definitively. ‘Samuel looks so joyful. He has the start of a family again.’
‘We will keep working on my mother,’ he said, brow puckering. ‘And Carlo too.’
Her fingers fluttered to his waistband. ‘Let’s go inside,’ she whispered. ‘Come upstairs with me and stay. I’ve missed your body.’
She didn’t have to ask twice. He turned and led the way, holding her hand, slipping through the back door, down the hall, past Samuel’s room and silently up the staircase. They stepped into the darkness of her room, lights from the feast outdoors throwing golden shadows into corners. They undressed, already knowing exactly how to touch each other. As his skin pressed against hers, she felt the simple truth: if she stayed here with Matteo, everything would be okay.
But it was only a short time later, as they lay entwined sleepily in each other’s arms, the chatter and laughter from the garden having moved inside the house, downstairs where it was warm, as Lara was blissfully tracing her fingertips up and down Matteo’s chest and abdomen, and he was doing the same down her arm, that her phone rang.
The noise was painful. Her heart kicked and she pulled herself over the bed to retrieve the offending item. The caller’s name was illuminated on the screen.
‘Hi, Mum, is everything okay?’
‘Hi, love. No, I don’t think it is.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘It’s a letter,’ Eliza said. Lara could hear paper rustling. ‘It came for Sunny and it looked important, so I opened it,’ Eliza said apologetically. ‘I don’t know where she is, she’s not answering her phone, and what with everything Dave’s been doing…’
‘Dave?’ Lara sat up straight on the edge of the bed. Behind her, she felt Matteo lift himself to sitting. ‘And what do you mean, you don’t know where Sunny is?’
‘We didn’t want to upset you,’ Eliza said, her voice small.
‘About what?’
Her mother told her about Dave, each word like a steely finger closing around Lara’s throat. Lara listened and paced. She was dimly aware that Matteo had brought her a blanket to wrap around herself against the chill. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him pull on his jeans and shirt, watching her closely, on guard.
‘And then he took Midnight!’ Eliza said, her words trembling. That was when the shakes set in.
But it only got worse. Because not only was Dave stalking Sunny and the kids, but he had already armed himself with legal weaponry. Her mother read her the letter.
Dear Ms Foxleigh
I am writing to inform you that I act on behalf of Mr David Hyne who has approached me to assist him with issues relating to the paternity and custody of Daisy Foxleigh (5) and Hudson Foxleigh (5) who reside in the care of yourself, allegedly the biological aunt on their maternal side.
This letter informs you that we have initiated an application to request the Federal Circuit Court to authorise paternity tests to prove that Mr Hyne is the biological father of the children. We assume the result of this test will positively confirm this, at which time we will move to formalise Mr Hyne’s parenting arrangements with the children.
Mr Hyne alleges that your sister, Lara Foxleigh, is the birth mother. We will be contacting her in due course. If your sister cannot be contacted, we will apply for substituted service of papers to yourself as you are identified as a person concerned with the welfare of the children and who Mr Hyne reasonably believes has knowledge of Lara Foxleigh’s whereabouts.
Included with this letter you will find an information booklet about these processes and your rights and responsibilities under Australian law. I encourage you to read it and also to secure legal representation for yourself.
Sincerely
Rudolf Dunkirk
Principal Lawyer
Dunkirk & Wayne
Lara made her mother read it again, but it
was only more terrifying the second time around. How stupid Lara had been to believe for a moment that she might be alright, that there might be a bright future ahead for her, one with joy and love and family and safety. How completely in denial she’d been to trust that he would let her go. He would never let her go. Now he was coming for her, then Sunny, and worst of all, the children.
58
Lara arrived back in Brisbane on a stinking hot October day. The jacaranda trees that stood camouflaged all year long were in full bloom, turning the streetscapes purple and emitting a mauve haze across the skyline. She had the worst sleep-debt hangover she’d ever known, even when she’d been coming down from days of mania. It felt as if she’d gone through the spin cycle of the washing machine. She almost wished for an episode of mania right now, just to lift herself up.
She’d wanted to come home as quickly as possible and Matteo had helped her book a flight the very next morning, driving her to Rome later that day.
She said goodbye to Samuel on the driveway of the villa, amid whirling, frigid winds. She embraced him, his curved spine beneath her hands. He’d held her, not speaking, emotion close to the surface. She’d been brave; she refused to cry.
Henrik hugged her and Samuel gave her arm a final squeeze. ‘Come back soon,’ he said, sternly. Then he instructed Matteo, leaning against the truck, to make sure she did.
‘I will,’ Matteo said, opening the truck door for Lara to get in. She smiled gratefully at him, but the sadness in his eyes almost broke her resolve to hold it together.
Both Samuel and Henrik had stayed outside, waving to her for as long as they could see the truck.
She cried hopelessly in Matteo’s arms at the departure gate, for too many reasons to even begin to express. His face was pinched, awash with misery. He stroked her hair and loaded her up with magazines and chocolate and kissed her all over her face, and waited with his hands in his pockets until she was out of sight. As the plane ascended, she had no idea if she would ever see Matteo again, and she had no idea what would be waiting for her when she got home.
Now, she was here.
The taxi pulled into the familiar driveway and Lara paid the driver. Eliza came to meet her at the passenger door.
‘Oh, I’ve missed you,’ she said, holding Lara close before helping her up the stairs with her bags.
Lara wheeled her suitcase into the dining room and parked it parallel to the large potted peace lily, which was bathing in the strong mid-morning sunlight that sliced through the tree branches in the yard. No muted tones of the Tuscan valley here in Brisbane.
‘Any news from Sunny?’
Her mother glanced at her, then set two mugs on the benchtop. ‘Nothing.’
Lara’s chest tightened at the thought that Sunny and the kids were out there somewhere, and that no one—at least no one they knew—had any clue as to where. She just hung on to the knowledge that Sunny was the capable one, and said as much to her mother.
Eliza shook her head, switching the kettle on. ‘I’ve felt sick since we spoke.’ She stood still a moment, her hands over her face, then went to the fridge, which was still covered with photos of Daisy and Hudson as well as their messy artworks, a sight that almost undid Lara’s threads of self-control. Eliza pulled out a baker’s bag of jam and cream doughnuts and held them high. ‘Fancy one? I’ve been emotional-eating around the clock.’
‘You don’t need to ask me twice.’
The doughtnuts were plated up, the kettle boiled and teabags infused. Eliza cut into her doughnut and bright red jam oozed across the plate.
‘I need to speak to Dave,’ Lara said, blowing gently on her tea, then thought of Matteo holding his cup to his face and did the same.
‘You’re not serious.’
‘I am.’ She held her mother’s gaze. ‘It’s me he wants to hurt because he thinks he still can. He thinks he can get to me through Sunny.’
‘Because he can! And he can hurt those children.’ Eliza took off her glasses and polished them with the hem of her t-shirt, something she never normally did, rather using proper spray and cleaning cloths.
‘I know. And there’s no point in contacting the police, because we know they won’t do anything until he actually does hurt one of us.’
‘This bloody system!’ Eliza pushed herself back from the table and stood, folding her arms. ‘It let your father down, it let me down, it let you down, and now it will let Sunny and the kids down too.’ She let out a primal roar of frustration that stunned Lara. ‘How can one man get away with so much?’ She burst into tears.
‘Oh, Mum.’ Lara got up and wrapped her arms around her mother while Eliza struggled to control herself.
‘You can’t meet Dave, you just can’t,’ Eliza pleaded.
‘I’ll meet him in a public space.’
‘And what will you say that could possibly do any good?’
‘Something I should have said long ago. I’m going to tell him to leave us alone, that I’m a different person now from who I was when he knew me, and that I won’t tolerate this behaviour. I will tell him that I’m applying for an apprehended violence order.’
‘Are you?’ Eliza looked up, surprised.
‘No. But he won’t like that because it would make him look bad, and we know that appearances matter to him. He’s a doctor and something like that could damage his reputation.’
Or it might do nothing at all, of course. The man was like Teflon.
‘What about Sunny and the kids?’ her mother sniffed. ‘What if they never come back?’
‘They will,’ Lara said, determinedly, because what else could she say?
Eliza patted her younger daughter’s arm then, revealing a touch of embarrassment over her outburst. ‘What should we do now?’
Lara stepped away to give her mother some space. She studied Eliza’s blotchy, teary face and pondered this question. ‘Well,’ she said at last, ‘I guess I’m going to have to phone Dave.’
59
Sunny
Sunny turned off the engine and considered her choices.
She’d already endured over an hour of crazy-making behaviour from Hudson in the doctor’s surgery in order to get a script for antibiotics for an ear infection that was keeping him awake at night. And in their tiny caravan, that meant all three of them, and the puppy, were awake. Everyone was overtired and irritable, which didn’t help anything.
It certainly hadn’t helped her patience while he’d practically torn the doctor’s room apart, pretending to take everyone’s blood pressure, pulling the anatomy charts off the walls—and then fighting with Daisy, who screeched at him because she’d been busy studying the spinal nerve pathways with the doctor’s magnifying glass—turning the surgical light on and off, on and off, on and off, climbing up on the bed with his dirty sneakers and jumping up and down.
Sunny and the doctor—a young and probably childless woman who gawked at Hudson as though she’d never seen such behaviour before—could barely hear each other over the noise. The doctor had hardly been able to get the light into his ear with all his squirming and yelping. She’d even glanced at the clock in the room while they were there, probably wishing this consultation would end as rapidly as possible. Sunny suspected she hadn’t been able to see anything in Hudson’s ear at all but had decided a course of antibiotics probably wouldn’t hurt and it would get them out of her room.
Now it was past dinnertime. Daisy was complaining that she was hungry, and Sunny had run out of handbag snacks to thrust at her. There was nothing prepared back at the caravan. From memory, their little travelling fridge contained some milk, stale buns no one wanted to eat, a splash of wilting lettuce, and some butter, soiled by toast crumbs from knives that were never clean. Sunny had just wrangled them both back into the car, anxious to get home to Midnight, who was stuck inside the van and probably peeing all over their beds, but she really needed to rush into this town’s small general store. She could see a sign advertising hot chooks just beyond the rainbow wate
rfall of flimsy plastic streamers that hung in the doorway. She hesitated. The thought of bringing Hudson, let alone both the kids, with her was unbearable. Dave had broken her. She should have asked the doctor for sedatives while she was there.
‘Kids, I need to go into the shop for a moment, okay?’
Hudson kicked the seat in front of him. ‘I want an ice block!’
Sunny started to refuse, but the wailing and anger overwhelmed her. Then Daisy joined in. ‘I’m starving,’ she whimpered.
‘Okay, okay. I’ll get you a lemonade ice block. Here’s my phone.’ She loaded up Paw Patrol on YouTube and passed it to Hudson, the only thing guaranteed to calm him when he got worked up like this. ‘Let Daisy watch too. I’ll be back in a minute.’
She wasn’t sure if he’d heard her. He didn’t answer, totally absorbed in the most exciting thing in his world: flashing lights on a screen.
‘Daisy? Did you hear me?’
Her daughter’s head lolled back in her booster seat. ‘Yes.’
Sunny wound the windows down a few centimetres, got out and locked the doors, guiltily eyeing a couple of other cars parked nearby, their owners no doubt doing the same thing as her: trying to find something to fill empty stomachs with their children in tow. Should she take them? Yes, technically it was against the law to lock her kids in the car. But she would only be a couple of minutes. It was late afternoon and rather overcast. It wasn’t as though it was a hot summer’s day. And she honestly just couldn’t face it. Her nerves were shattered. She began to walk.
Dogs die in hot cars. That was the mantra the animal refuges promoted, trying to stop beloved pets collapsing from heat exhaustion, abandoned in cars while their owners shopped or swam or dined out. But her kids weren’t dogs. And she would only be two minutes.
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