‘Who is this?’ Sunny repeated, stopping in the middle of the concrete footpath on her way back to the station. She squinted, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the bright sun. Someone’s brown chicken had escaped from its yard and was waddling slowly up the green verge towards her, cocking its head to the side and staring at her with a yellow-rimmed eye.
‘My name is Vicki. I’m married to Dave Hyne.’
Sunny went rigid.
Vicki continued, her words tumbling over each other in her urgency, talking about Dave, about danger.
‘Wait,’ Sunny said. ‘What did you say about a journal?’
‘He’s been writing everything down. I knew he’d been calling you; I went through his phone. I was jealous and nervous and—anyway, your name was there over and over: Sunny, Sunny, Sunny, Sunny. I thought, who is this woman? I’d never heard him mention you before. Normally with the others—’
‘Others?’
‘—he doesn’t bother to hide it. He doesn’t care that I know. But I thought this was strange, so I…’ She paused to take a few deep breaths. ‘I went and found his journal. He writes in it every day, but I’m not allowed to look in it. He told me they’re confidential patients’ notes but…well…’
Sunny closed her mouth, which had fallen open, and gently pushed away the chicken who’d begun to tug at her laces with its beak. ‘The journal,’ she reminded Vicki. A cold shadow had passed over her, despite the bright sunshine.
‘Yes, so I found it, just today while he was out. God, I really don’t know when he’ll be back, and he can’t find me talking to you…’
‘Don’t lose your nerve now,’ Sunny commanded. ‘You called me to tell me something. What is it?’
‘It’s all there. His plan. Everything.’ Vicki started to cry. ‘I wish I’d known sooner; it’s so terrible I can barely say it.’ Her voice rose as if trying to strangle itself.
‘Say it!’
‘He’s planning on getting the children. And he’s planning on making sure you and Lara will never get them back. Look, I can’t talk, Dave’s on his way back, but I had to warn you.’
‘We know. Lara saw him today…’
‘She did?’
‘Vicki, listen to me, you are in danger. I know what Dave’s like. I know what he’s done to Lara and what he’s been doing to our family lately. He’s not going to change. You have to get away. I know you feel you can’t leave, but you have to. You have to save yourself. Right now. Just walk out the door and don’t look back.’
‘No, I can’t, he’d find me…I didn’t phone to…There’s not a lot of time.’
‘Okay, if you won’t listen to me you have to listen to Lara. She’s been where you are, she can help you.’
‘No, I can’t, please…’
‘I’m going to hang up the phone now and get Lara to call you back. Please, just hold on. You have to speak to her.’
62
Lara and Dave
Lara stood in front of the bathroom mirror, pills in her shaking hand. She stared at the reflection, barely recognising herself. Her swollen eyes, her tangled hair, her hollowed cheeks. Days of crying—rivulets of despair changing the landscape of her face.
There were other marks too. Three fingers of bruises on each of her upper arms from his tight grip when he’d tried to shake sense into her. A patch of hair missing from above the left temple where it had been ripped out by his exasperated clenched fist.
She hiccupped a sob. She felt like crying again but no tears came. There were simply no more tears left. She was empty.
Who was this person in the mirror?
She lifted the handful of pills to her mouth and forced them in, some spilling into the sink with tiny rattling noises. The others clung to her lips and tongue. She raised the glass to flush the pills down.
But she couldn’t swallow.
She gagged. Dropped the glass into the sink where it cracked in two. Tried to spit out the tablets. But they were sticking. Panicking, she cupped her hands and splashed in water, washing the last of them out into the sink.
Her legs shaking now, she gripped the sides of the sink and stared at herself again, gazing right into her own eyes.
You can do this.
A voice. Her own?
You can do this, Sprout.
Sunny!
Lara almost smiled as her big sister’s voice rose up from somewhere in her memories, floating through time to right now, right when she needed to hear it. It was exactly what she needed.
She didn’t want to die.
But she knew one thing for sure: Dave wanted her to die and to take the child with her, the child that so disgusted him. If she didn’t take care of it herself, then he would find a way to make it happen.
She had to escape, right now.
63
Lara
Lara phoned Vicki three times before she answered.
‘Hello?’ It was a voice as brittle as cracked toffee.
‘Vicki, it’s Lara.’
They were silent for a moment, a universe of shared experience swirling around them. Lara spoke again. ‘Thank you for answering. I need to speak to you.’
‘I’m so sorry. I should have known,’ Vicki said, her voice shaking.
‘It doesn’t matter, really. I understand where you are because I was there too. Dave has broken you down and you believe you can’t survive on your own, but you can. You are stronger than you think, people will help you, I’ll help you, and you will get through this.’ Lara paced the lounge room, Eliza watching on, her hand over her mouth.
‘No, it’s not that, you have to listen to me.’
‘Please, Vicki, I know that Dave will be home soon. I’ve just seen him and he’s in a mood. You and I both know what will happen. Please, just get out. Please.’
‘You don’t understand!’ Vicki’s voice was suddenly strong, desperate. ‘I have to tell you something.’
‘What is it?’ Lara asked. All she really wanted was to hear Vicki walk out that door now, because the way Dave had slammed the table and left the library…it made her sick, knowing what he’d want to do when he got home.
‘He’s going to kill them,’ Vicki said. ‘The kids. He’s going to kill them. I read his journal. It’s all there. He has maps and…’
Lara lurched to the couch and crumpled onto it, loud buzzing filling her ears.
‘It’s punishment, for you taking them away and lying, making him look like a fool and…it will look like an accident…’
‘Who are you talking to?’ It was Dave’s voice in the background.
Vicki fell silent.
Lara whimpered. Oh, God, oh, God. There was a clatter, as though the phone had fallen to the ground.
She could hear it—the scraping of feet, a sound like furniture being dragged across the floor. Muffled cries. The grunts and puffs of brute force. She felt the blows as if they were landing on herself.
Eliza stood. ‘What is it? What’s happening?’
‘Call the police,’ Lara said. ‘Dave’s got Vicki.’
64
Vicki
I can see myself down in the hospital bed, surrounded by machines, driplines and a variety of tubes and wires, blue curtains drawn around the few people by my side. My mother is holding my hand. She looks as pale as the white sheets that cover me.
There is a tube down my throat, taped at my mouth, the other end attached to the ventilator. That machine is keeping me alive.
My eyes are closed, the flesh around them swollen, red and purple, my neck too. I do remember his hands around my neck, dragging me backwards. I remember the dining room chair smashing against my spine as I struggled for air. But I don’t remember anything after that.
It looks like my arm is broken too. My writing hand, which is a shame. It is heavily bandaged and splinted, though not in a cast. That’s not their priority right now.
The doctor speaks quietly to Mum and lays her hand on Mum’s shoulder. I could never have been this sort of doc
tor, one who bears witness to such exquisite suffering, right on the precipice between life and death.
Though, of course, suffering is still something I know about.
When I met Dave I’d been an overworked doctor for so long, and had moved around the country so often, that relationships had been on the backburner. By then I was late thirties and I knew only too well that my reproductive years were almost done. I knew he was with Lara, but he kept promising me it was nearly over. He kept telling me that he had to find the right time because she was so ill and he was really her carer, not her lover. He couldn’t wait to be with me and start a family. So I kept holding on, despite the belittling words he slid into my mind, like creepy crawlies that nested in there and multiplied. I knew things weren’t right. But I’d invested so much time already. And there was just No More Time!
It was so stupid. I am a doctor! This sort of thing just doesn’t happen to people like me—educated, leaders of the community, intelligent, advocates for women and women’s health and, yes, even their safety. We are trained to look for signs. I can rattle off statistics: In Queensland, almost half of all homicides are the result of domestic violence.
If I’d been my own patient, I would have handed over the literature and given myself the phone numbers to call for help. I could have left at any time. I didn’t need him to support me. But I kept thinking there’d been some sort of mistake. Truly, this couldn’t be my life.
And yet it was.
I knew that it was a sick relationship, of course I did. But I couldn’t stop it. Like eating peppermint chocolate ice creams. I know they’re bad for me too, but still I kept bingeing. Dave kept telling me I was fat and needed to stop eating them and that when we tried for a baby I wouldn’t be able to get pregnant. But the more he said it, the more I ate them. I’d begun to realise that we were never going to have a baby; it was one of his cruel games—maybe the cruellest one of all.
Anyway, I digress.
Another man has entered the room. He reaches out to shake Mum’s hand and she reluctantly, tearfully, unclasps my wrist to take his palm in hers. He has a small book tucked under his arm. A Bible.
God. Is it really this bad? Don’t they know that I’m still right here? I’m just resting, I guess. My body is probably too banged up for me to fit in there comfortably.
I want to shout at Mum, I’m coming back soon! Oh, poor Mum. Her husband gone and her only child here so critical. I haven’t seen enough of her over the past six years. She never liked Dave and couldn’t keep that hidden, though she tried hard. It just became too difficult to be in the same room with them both.
She was right about him, though.
She’ll be so happy when I wake up and tell her that I’m leaving him. Yes, it’s taken too long, but I’ll do it as soon as the swelling comes down in my brain and I wake from this coma. I will start a new life, a free life, a life filled with joy. I’m sure Mum will let me live with her while I get back on my feet again.
I’m in a bad way. I get that. I regret that it had to come to this to make me see sense.
But I’m not sorry I phoned Sunny. I’m not sorry I warned Lara. Knowing I could protect those two innocent young lives was worth as much of a beating as Dave could deal out, which, by the looks of it, was quite a lot.
I’m glad now that I never had children with Dave. Look at what could have happened to them. My time for children has passed but there is still so much life out there for me to live. Maybe I will travel the world, join Médecins Sans Frontières, learn to scuba dive, or get a dog. Maybe one day I will even find a man who is kind and who loves me, and we will walk on the beach at sunset, and argue over whether we should holiday in Bali or South Africa, and drink wine at food festivals. And laugh. So much laughter.
I’m still young, really. There’s still so much good I can do in the world. There is still time for me to find happiness. I just need to get out of here and I’ll be on my way.
Hold on, Mum. I’m coming.
65
Lara
Lara, Sunny and Eliza sat on dining chairs in the backyard under the glorious electric-blue sky of a warm Brisbane spring day. Daisy and Hudson were playing with green magic sand at the outdoor table, building a small city of pyramids with leaves as flags on top and plastic jungle animals prowling at the base. Midnight, now at an awkward gangly stage, legs too long for her body, tripped over her feet as she chased a speedy grasshopper through the grass.
Lara clutched a pentagonal white cardboard box in her lap. She hadn’t said much all morning, which was a change from the past two and a half weeks, during which it seemed all she’d done was talk.
That was how long it had been since Dave had attacked Vicki. Lara had stayed on the line, calling out, trying desperately to get Dave’s attention, to get him to stop. Afterwards, she’d relived it in statements for the police.
Eliza had been able to get the police to send a car around to Dave’s house immediately, but it was too late. Vicki was still breathing when they’d arrived, then had stayed on life support for two more days, after which her mother had made the unbearable decision to let her go.
Apparently, Dave claimed it was an accident.
They’d all spent so much time with the police, giving statements, especially Lara, who’d not only had to describe the phone call but also testify about her own time with Dave. His journal had included alternative plans for ways to harm Lara. She’d had counselling. They’d all had counselling.
She was in shock, of course; that was what Constance had told her. ‘Knowing the very real threat Dave posed to your own life, and to your children’s lives, will affect your body as if he’d actually tried to do it. Your primal brain knows no difference. Whether it “almost” happened or did happen, the trauma is as deep and needs as much time to be healed.’
Lara knew they’d all had a narrow escape.
Vicki’s funeral was taking place today. The Foxleigh women had decided not to intrude. They had spoken to Vicki’s family in the past couple of weeks, and didn’t want their attendance to cause any more distress. Still, they needed to do something, together, to recognise this moment.
Sunny wiped under her eye and sniffed. ‘Can I say something?’ she said, watching her children. Daisy was tiring of the sand building and gazed up into the trees, daydreaming.
Sunny had brought down one of the white roses from the bouquet that had arrived this morning, along with a note from Sergeant Mitch. He’d been so wonderful, organising to have Sunny’s car trucked back to Brisbane and the caravan returned to the rental company. He’d been her rock up in Winton for a couple of days, helping to look after the kids, bringing his dog around to wear out Midnight, then helping to organise a crate for Midnight to take her first plane ride home with them all. And, of course, he’d let Sunny off with a warning.
As far as Lara knew, he and Sunny had spoken at least once a day since they’d met, long after they’d finished dealing with official business.
Now, Sunny cleared her throat, twirling the rose stem between her fingers. ‘I just wanted to say that wherever Vicki is now, I hope she’s—no, I know she’s—at peace.’ Her voice faltered, and Eliza took her hand and squeezed it. In silence, they all watched Daisy as she skipped around the yard, gathering a fistful of yellow dandelions that had sprung up with some recent rain.
‘And I hope they never let Dave out of jail,’ Sunny finished.
After a small pause, Eliza began. ‘Well, I would like to say again how grateful I am to Vicki that she gave her life to save my grand-babies.’ Her voice hitched and she pressed a fist to her mouth. ‘She was a hero,’ she whispered.
‘She is a hero,’ Lara agreed, finding her voice at last, shifting the box on her lap.
A flash of blue caught her eye and she looked over to see Hudson rushing after Daisy, who was skipping around the bushes like a nature sprite, collecting blooms. Her heart squeezed as she willed him not to hurt Daisy’s feelings or ruin her fun.
Instead, he
ducked down to the ground behind her and picked up a couple of flowers that had fallen out of his sister’s fist. ‘You dropped some,’ he called to her. Daisy turned and went back to him. Hudson took a dandelion and tucked it behind her left ear. ‘There,’ he said. ‘You look beautiful.’ Daisy’s face broke into a toothy grin and she spun around, her skirt twirling, and continued on her way.
The three Foxleigh women smiled tenderly at the kids and then at each other.
He’s going to be okay.
‘Lara, how are you feeling?’ Eliza asked.
Lara closed her eyes. What could she say? She shrugged, lost for any words.
Instead, she opened the lid of the box on her lap. Inside, six large orange and brown monarch butterflies sat waiting. The sun’s heat and light had been doing their work, waking them up from hibernation. They slowly began to stretch their wings up and down, and move their antennae, searching their surroundings. Lara dipped her hand in, knowing it was safe to touch them, and nudged one gently. It stepped up onto her fingers and continued to open its wings. She passed the box to her mother and sister and they did the same. The butterflies sat on their hands, and took little flights into the air, coming back to rest on a woman’s shoulder or head. One even paused for a moment on the soft petals of the white rose Sunny held.
Lara realised she was smiling. They were all smiling. The simple purity and hope in each of these butterflies seemed to shimmer around them.
One by one, the butterflies alighted into the air, gently, in no rush to go anywhere. They dropped onto nearby bushes, then flew a little further and landed on the swing set, on a tree, hovering in the air, beating their wings so effortlessly and gracefully. One landed on Daisy’s arm and she squealed in delight. Hudson, with extreme gentleness, cupped another in his hand and grinned at it, then let it go on its way.
‘Fly free,’ Lara said, and at last felt a tiny shift towards peace in her heart.
66
Samuel
Samuel watched Matteo close the kitchen door behind him, his face reddened from the cold outside; it was barely four degrees out there. Beside him, Gilberta hummed, her hips swaying, as she nursed along a bubbling pot of passata. Matteo balanced the logs in his arms and headed to the fireplace at the back of the kitchen. Henrik was there, stirring white bean soup over the open flame. Matteo dropped the wood into the box near Henrik’s feet, then straightened and caught Samuel’s eye.
Three Gold Coins Page 31