The Last Time
Page 17
They walked into the backyard, and she was struck by the beauty of the decorations, the shimmer of the lights, and the elegance of the tables and chairs. Her mum sure knew how to throw a party. Annie, their regular cleaner, was on the back veranda, bag slung over her shoulder, and heading for home. Charli and Ash hugged her goodbye, making her promise to return for the party at seven. She reassured them before hurrying down the side of the house and disappearing from view.
The day was hot. There was a blue sky overhead, and the sun beat down on her. She jumped off the veranda and chased Ash around the backyard. She heard him giggling; he was thrumming with excitement for the night ahead. Cicadas were singing; there was a black cockatoo on the back fence squawking every now and then. Someone was mowing his or her grass, and she inhaled the freshness of it. The jasmine in the backyard was in flower, and the fragrant perfume hung in the air. She flopped under the shade of the veranda, panting. Her eyes followed her brother around and around the tables. She remembers thinking he'd be worn out by the time the party started, knowing it wouldn’t be true, but thinking it anyway.
She lifts the chain and places it around her neck, expecting to be on the veranda when the nausea subsides. Her eyes open to the familiar dark under the fig tree, the splash cutting through her like a knife. There's no time for disappointment as she feels herself propelled forward with her shoes flying. Her legs wade into the water. Her nerves jangle as she swims, meets her other self, and drags her brother to safety, leaving her mother in the murky depths of the car. Despair engulfs her as she presses Ash's chest, praying, hoping, and giving him everything she has. Her heart drops when the dog barks, and she forces herself up, staggering towards the tree. She's sobbing as the pendant comes off, and she finds herself back in her room, the sight of Ash lying on the bank once again fresh in her mind. The pain engulfs her, tearing at her insides and leaving her with a dark, empty feeling in her gut. Awash with the pain, she closes her eyes, praying for her own demise. Hours later, she pushes herself up and opens the door to her room. She walks through the empty kitchen into the backyard.
She lies back on the grass under the dull lights and thinks of her brother. She can almost hear his squeals and cries. She wishes she'd run with him, tickled him, hugged him, and told him how awesome he was some more. Tears fall from the corners of her eyes to the grass below. Oh, Ash. Her heart squeezes, and her chest rises and falls against a weight so heavy that it's hard to move.
What was I thinking as I lay there that day? Did I know how lucky I was? What an amazing life I had? Did I say thank you for any of it? No. I lay there with expectation, not gratitude. Charli thought she was a good person, but looking back, all she can see is someone she never wanted to be.
Her head starts to ache, and she pushes herself up, her eyes blurred with tears. Her dad is sitting on the veranda step, watching her. She goes to him, and he opens his arms as she nears. They sit together, cast in stone; their grief morphs them into one.
Later, in bed, she's glad of that moment. It reminds her of being a little girl and sitting on his knee, feeling safe and loved as his arms wrapped around her. She's drifting off to sleep when there's a thud against her window. At first, she thinks she's imagining it, but it continues in a discordant way.
She tiptoes over, peering into the darkened street. She looks down and spies a shadow on the lawn. It moves, and her heart hammers in her chest. The shadow waves, and she lets out her breath as it's joined by another, taller silhouette. Tobi and Jael. Her heart sings as she opens the window to wave before flying down the stairs through the pitch black to the back veranda.
The boys are just outside the door when she swings it open, making her leap in surprise. She hears their throaty laughs as one and then the other wraps her in a hug.
'You scared the hell out of me,' she says.
'It's so easy,' Tobi laughs.
Charli puts her fingers to her lips. 'Shh, I don't want to wake Dad,' she says. 'Come in.'
They follow her into the dark kitchen, and she turns on a nightlight that gives the space a cosy glow. Jael stands inert in the middle of the kitchen; he is in awe of the opulence around him. His mouth gapes as his eyes drink in the prosperity he has never known. She offers them water, and he looks at her, grinning.
'It's so good to see you. The necklace worked then?'
She blushes, remembering the moment he gave her the cross.
'Well, not exactly,' she says, spilling water as she fills three glasses. She explains about yesterday's hearing and her release from detention. They sit on the stools at the kitchen bench, their eyes travelling over every inch of space. She feels Jael judging her by what he sees. She supposes he is wondering how fair it is that she had all this and a pendant that could make her life perfect again. He is probably thinking what a spoilt bitch she is for being so unhappy when she has the world at her feet. She tries to shake the feeling by telling them about her attempt to go back before the accident and her failure to make a difference.
Jael's warm hand is on her shoulder, burning the skin there, and her heart starts to flutter. Maybe he doesn't hate her after all. She looks up and meets his eyes, afraid of what she might see there. Her insides heat at his look, and they melt when he smiles at her. The moment those darks pools meet hers, the kitchen fades away and they are the only two people in the world. It scares her when she thinks of the person she really is, the one Jael doesn't know. She wonders if he will feel the same way when he knows her better, when he knows the real Charli. The Charli that walks straight past beggars in need, jumps the queue, and laughs at the unpopular kids sometimes instead of standing by them. That she has high expectations of everything in life and little patience for anything else. She lowers her gaze with her cheeks crimson and her hands suddenly too still. Her hands flutter to her chin and then down to her glass. She grips it, shaking and knowing what she must do, but not knowing how to find the strength to do it.
'So, ya reckon there's no way to go back sooner?' Tobi asks, breaking her misery.
'I don't think so,' she says, raising her head.' I thought if I focused on something that happened before the accident, it would work. But it was no good.' She doesn't want to tell them what she's thinking, so she lets them talk about their ideas, wanting them to feel good.
'Maybe there's another way,' Jael says.
'Hey, do ya think that old lady will be home now?' Tobi asks. 'She might be able to give you some hints.'
'Well, it's been a few days since we saw her. Maybe she is. We could try dropping in tomorrow to see if she's there.'
A noise upstairs makes Charli freeze. 'Charli?'
'It's Aunt Elizabeth,' she whispers, her panic rising. 'Quick, this way.'
She bolts to the door, and the boys just slip through as her aunt wanders into the kitchen, her dressing gown tight around her narrow waist.
'Are you all right?' she asks.
Charli touches her hair with a thumping heart.
'Yeah, just couldn't sleep,' she says, eyeing the three glasses on the bench and hoping her aunt doesn't notice.
'Tough time, huh?' Elizabeth closes the distance between them and pulls her into a warm hug. She releases her and rounds the bench to the fridge.
'Hot chocolate?' she asks.
Charli nods and clears the glasses from the bench while her Aunt is preoccupied at the microwave. She brings two mugs to the table and sits across from Charli.
'What a mess,' she says. 'I don't know what to say or do to make this any better for you, except that faith can get you through the most sticky situations. I find believing in yourself goes a long way toward the right outcome.'
Charli nods. 'Yeah, that's what mum would say if she were here,' she says, giving her aunt a hug, remembering how much she loves her. 'How's Dad?' she asks.
'Not so good,' Elizabeth replies. 'He's trying to be brave, but it's taking a toll on him, and the media is giving him a hard time.' She looks thoughtful. 'At least politics thickens your skin somewhat.'
'If you could turn back time, what would you do or say to them?' Elizabeth asks.
Charli's startled by the request. Does she know about the cross? Did Mum tell her about it? She takes her time to answer. 'I'd be a better person, more loving and caring. I would spend more time with them,' she says, tears coming unbidden and welling over her bottom eyelid. 'I'd tell them how much I love them every day and do all the things mum asked me to do with her. She was such a good person; I didn't see it when she was here, but now I know. I would also appreciate all the little things in life; the things I took for granted.' Her voice is barely a whisper; the raw emotion is almost too much. 'And I'd be less selfish and more giving.'
There's a long pause before her Aunt speaks. 'Wise words from one so young. You are your mother's daughter,' she says quietly.
Am I my mother's daughter? She doesn't think so, but in talking to her Aunt, she finds the answer she's looking for.
They finish their chocolate and say good night. Her aunt gives her a final squeeze before climbing the stairs. After a few minutes, Charli unlocks the door and lets the boys in. After one look at her face, Jael folds her into a long embrace and Tobi pats her back rhythmically.
'Everything all right?' Jael asks with concern in his eyes.
She nods. 'Just tired,' she says. 'Might call it a night and catch you guys tomorrow. Do you want some money for a cab? It's a long walk back.'
They accept the money, and she sighs as she slips the deadbolt into place after them. Climbing the stairs is an epic journey, and she's filled with gratitude for her soft mattress and quiet room.
'Tomorrow is another day,' she whispers to her mother's ghost.
Chapter Twenty-six
Something woke her. Clare's eyes flew open, and she knew there was someone in the house. She knew it was him. Her eyes strained in the dark, searching for his shadow. Her eyes adjusted slowly as her heart cantered. She was still in Ash's room, and instinct forced her away from him. She closed his door before she padded through the dark house. There was a light in the living room. She descended the stairs slowly, thinking of Charli and Ash asleep in their rooms and wanting to keep him as far from them as possible.
He was standing by the couch with a glass of whiskey in his hand, ice clinking. His lips curled into a smile; he was still handsome. She swallowed, hesitant. He held up his drink and waved her to a seat, moving towards her. She met him halfway across the room, and he forced the glass into her hand.
'Drink,' he commanded.
She stared ahead, unmoving. She was deciding what to do.
'I said drink.'
His smile dissolved, turning her insides to water. She took a sip to appease him, biding her time until Thomas returned. It was not enough, and he moved closer, putting a finger under the glass.
'Drink, chica,' he crooned, pushing the glass to her lips. Another sip. There was fire in his eyes, and in one swift motion, he had a handful of her hair and was forcing the glass to her lips. She swallowed, spluttering, and started to cough as the liquid burned her throat.
'Maybe I should have made you a cocktail,' he said, releasing her head so that she staggered back.
She continued to choke, gasping for breath between hard coughs. Ignoring her, he moved to the bar, pouring himself a drink before sliding into the couch.
'I've waited a long time for you,' he said as she lowered herself into a recliner across from him, still coughing. The leather was cool beneath her thighs. She was in pyjama shorts and a t-shirt, wishing she could cover up. Her eyes flicked around the room, searching for a weapon. He stared with his black eyes stripping her until she felt naked beneath his gaze. Although she was shrinking inside, she held his stare. Her mind went back to that night—the night.
'Beautiful, Clare,' he said, his accent thick. 'You are even more stunning than I remember. Time has been kind to you.'
Her cheeks heated.'What are you doing here? How did you find me?'
'Little birds are not hard to find,' he answered, taking a sip of his drink.
She swirled the ice in her glass before placing it on the floor; her nerves are frayed.
'And you must be wondering about the gorgeous Melissa?' he asked, a lazy smile playing on his lips.
She stared, tense. Her mind flicked back to her life-long friend.
'She is wonderfully well,' he continued, giving her a wink.
'I don't believe you,' she whispered.
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He retrieved a photo and tossed it into her lap. She picked it up with trembling fingers, turning it over in her hands. Her eyes filled when her gaze hit the photo. She didn't recognise the woman smiling back at her. She had cropped blonde hair, red lips, and sunglasses. It could be Mel, but her heart told her otherwise. Tears wet her cheeks as she placed the photo face down on the arm of her chair. It fell off and fluttered to the floor.
Her mind went back to Mel's letter. It arrived three weeks after she got home, explaining everything and begging her not to tell. She had planned her escape before she left Australia. She had met Ramon online and organised the whole thing with him. She said she was in love. Clare had no idea. She remembered how the letter chilled her and made her stomach tighten. It wasn't like Mel to keep secrets from her. They shared everything. She still couldn’t believe Mel abandoned her for love. Deep in her heart, she knew the letter was a fake, but for a time, she believed because she wanted to. It made everything better to think of Mel on the beach, soaking up the sun and drinking tequila with the handsome Ramon. It took a long time, years, to let that image go and face reality. The thought of her in Ramon and Pedro's hands lit a fire in her belly so fierce that she wanted to scream and rage. She had a million regrets over that trip, but the biggest one was not fighting harder for justice.
'Why now?' she croaked, trying to understand why he was doing this after all these years. He got away with what he did to her, isn't that enough? She started to feel dizzy.
'Revenge,' he said.
She was confused. 'For what?' she asked. 'You're walking free. You never paid for it.'
He laughed. 'This isn't about you, sweetheart.' He leaned in close. 'Although you are still delectable, it would be worse for him if I have a little fun first.'
She couldn’t focus her vision and was having trouble speaking. 'Him?'
'Oh yes, this is for Thomas.'
They were the last words Clare heard before the darkness descended. She fought the drug in her drink, but it was far too powerful and wove a spell of drowsiness over her.
'Thomas?' she slurred. 'What has this got to do with Thomas?' She drifted off then, her heart slowing and blood pressure dropping.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Charli wakes to the hum of her air conditioner; her eyes are grainy from too little sleep. She picks up her phone and squints at the screen—six am. She groans, rolling to her back and forcing her eyes closed again. That final picture of Ash is glued to the inside of her lids, and, hard as she tries to shake it, the image won't budge. She glances at the cross on her bedside table, and her first thought is to go back and try again. No. Today is a new day.
She pushes to her feet, uses the bathroom, and instead of throwing the pendant over her head, she finds her backpack and checks for the roll of money she put there before she ran away. She unfolds several notes, tucks the rest into her sock drawer, and heads downstairs. The house is quiet; both her father and aunt are still in bed. Charli scrawls them a hasty note and heads out the door, going out the back way and through Mrs P's yard to the street behind. She catches the bus downtown and starts to walk along one of the main streets. Before she gets off the bus, she loosens a few notes and shoves the rest of the money deep in her pocket. As she rounds the corner, she sees a dark-skinned man sitting on the footpath, playing an acoustic guitar. She stops to listen for a few minutes, smiling and nodding in his direction before dropping twenty dollars in hi
s guitar case. His face lights up, and a broad grin makes his eyes crinkle.
'Thank you,' he calls.
Her heart lifts and there's a skip in her step as she walks away. She makes two more stops. One to press a fifty-dollar note into the hand of a wizened man with leathery skin who is sifting through recycling bins for cans to cash in, and another into the hands of a woman with a new baby, waiting for her husband to exit the pawn shop opposite the supermarket. She carries their smiles and gratitude with her into the market, where the air conditioning blasts her face when the glass door slides open.
She spends some time filling a basket and exits the shop with two carry bags of groceries. Despite the ache in her arms, she carries the bags down to the river. On the way out the door, there's a blind man with a small money box, shaped like a guide dog, in his lap, collecting for the blind association. She lowers her bags to the floor and drops several gold coins through the slot.
Down at the river, she finds an unoccupied barbeque and starts cooking sausages, bacon, tomato, mushrooms, and eggs. On the stainless steel bench beside her is two loaves of bread, honey, peanut butter, and tomato sauce. A small group of homeless people are sprawled on the bank beneath a shady tree, their meagre possessions gathered in plastic bags at their feet. A few look her way when she begins to cook, and two eager young toddlers weave beneath her feet with their eyes large and hungry. She feeds them bits of bread, spread with honey, which they hold in clenched fists. They have delighted smiles. When the food is cooked, she tugs the toddlers by the hand toward the adult group.
'Sorry, they getting in the way?' a thin woman in a shabby dress asks. She smiles tentatively.
Charli grins back. 'Not at all,' she says. 'They've been very helpful.'
The woman smiles, and the kids run to her, each fitting under an arm. 'I've made some breakfast,' she says. 'Would you like to join me? There's plenty for everyone.'
The group eyes her in silence, and she stands smiling, wondering what to do.