Home Truths

by Louise Forster

  Jennifer flicked a switch, lighting the garden in soft shades of sepia. ‘It’s always so pretty in here.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Sofie said. ‘Uncle Bob loved his cottage garden, especially his snapdragons and pansies.’

  Jennifer hurried through the puddles, her sister and niece right behind. They made it to the back door and huddled under its narrow awning. Faced with the papered-up door and windows, Jennifer felt like a trespasser.

  “Just like the front,” Claudia muttered.

  Jennifer fumbled with her uncle’s Marilyn Monroe doll key-ring, chose the most used key and slipped it into the lock. She eased the door open. They stepped across the threshold. As they entered the dim interior of the sunroom, an uneasy feeling stole through Jennifer.

  She dropped her bag near the stairs. ‘Uncle Bob only died a few days ago. The place seems empty — surely someone would’ve kept the pharmacy going?’

  ‘Yes, people need their medications,’ Sofie said. ‘Uncle Bob’s solicitor never mentioned any of this.’

  Jennifer pulled a corner of newspaper aside and scanned the courtyard through rain-spattered glass. A sense of foreboding settled inside her. Something was wrong. She felt a need to be with her sister and niece and moved away to join them in the central hallway.

  Claudia came out of the shop’s kitchenette, while Sofie emerged from the staffroom. Jennifer’s shoes squeaked on the glossy floor tiles as she walked to the main area of the pharmacy. She stopped in her tracks, unable to believe her tired eyes. Her uncle’s impressive Edwardian shop was empty. All that remained of his working life were shop fittings and display cases.

  ‘Where is everything?’ her troubled voice echoed around the walls.

  Sofie shrugged. ‘Beats me. This is eerie.’

  Underneath the grime and dust, it was obvious there’d been no change to the original cream and dark-blue mosaic tiles laid in an intricate pattern of scrolls and flowers. Jennifer marvelled at what could be an elegant room with its lofty ceiling and decorative plaster scrollwork. It gave the room an old-world elegance. This stunning shop had been empty for a long time. Now Jennifer found herself questioning her uncle’s life and sudden death.

  ‘When was the last time you saw him, Sofe?’

  ‘I think it was at school…’ Sofie trailed off.

  ‘The night of the school play,’ Claudia prompted. ‘I had a part in the chorus and Uncle Bob came down to see.’

  ‘Four weeks ago.’ Sadness etched Sofie’s face as she gripped Jennifer’s arm. ‘I wonder if he knew he was going to — you know, die?’

  Jennifer would’ve preferred it if her uncle hadn’t had imminent death hanging over him. She shook her head. ‘Of course he didn’t know. We’re his favourite girls, he would’ve said something.’

  ‘When did you see him last or hear from him?’ Sofie’s voice trembled.

  ‘We had a standing date to Skype video every two weeks. The last time we spoke was a week ago. He looked great. We spent a week together last July, remember? I sent you photos from Paris. We met an acquaintance of Uncle Bob’s.’ Jennifer paused. ‘Can’t remember his name, but he was from the Russian Embassy and invited us to a cocktail party. We had a fantastic time, and the food was delicious. That’s where I met Vlad and suggested he come to London sometime — and he did, damn it.’ Jennifer’s misgivings about her Russian boyfriend were starting to bite. ‘Claudia, never trust a man who yabbers poetry in a foreign language, he could be reciting his shopping list.’

  ‘I’m off men,’ Claudia voiced flatly. ‘Boys are okay, especially Skids.’

  “Uncle Bob was a man,” Jennifer said, “and we could always rely on him.’

  ‘Uncle Bob was — different,’ Claudia said.

  ‘True. He was a sweetie that night at the embassy. After we left, he took me to a café and we talked until the early hours, reminiscing about the clothes and gaudy jewellery he used to buy for us behind our parents’ backs.’

  ‘I remember.’ Sofie smiled. ‘Mum didn’t want you to get your ears pierced. She thought you’d end up with piercings all over your body.’

  ‘Jeez, no wonder I get funny looks from Gran,’ Claudia muttered.

  Jennifer gave her niece a sympathetic smile. ‘You’re not a good image for wannabe socialites, and I wouldn’t worry about it for a second.’

  ‘Whatever,’ Claudia said with just a hint of disappointment. ‘I don’t give a shit.’

  Jennifer put an arm around Claudia’s shoulder and kissed her cheek. ‘I like your attitude. I’m sure Uncle Bob would’ve told you that as well.’

  ‘We spoke on the phone,’ Claudia sniffed back a tear. ‘But I didn’t see him as much as I would’ve liked.’

  ‘I quizzed him about why he moved away from Sydney,’ Jennifer said. ‘But he just gave me some lame excuse. He seemed uncomfortable about it, so I let it go.’

  ‘He was the same with me,’ Sofie put in. ‘I’m just thankful we all kept in touch. Weird how Mum and Dad never let us visit him when we were little.’

  Jennifer frowned. ‘Really weird. But they couldn’t stop us in our teens. I remember making such a fuss.’ Sorrow washed over her. ‘What have we missed? What’s been going on here?’ She slid her fingers over the brass moulding that surrounded the curved glass top of a display case. The shiny surface gleamed; thoughts of a new restaurant popped into her mind and how this beautiful display case would improve its décor. Impossible to ship, she shook her head and focused back on her surroundings. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Maybe he was sick for a while but didn’t let on,’ Claudia said from the other side of the room. She held up a dusty packet of bobby pins she’d found on a shelf. ‘Remnants of a country pharmacist’s life?’

  ‘I’m sure there’s a lot more to our uncle.’ Jennifer choked back tears.

  They made their way up the creaking, dark timber stairs. In stark contrast to the shop, their uncle’s home was clean and lived in, immaculate, as if he’d only stepped out for milk and bread.

  At the top of the landing, a timber floor gleamed on either side of a Persian carpet runner. At the end of the hallway, warm streetlight poured through a tall window.

  Jennifer opened the first door on her right. She found the switch and flicked the lights on. ‘The living room hasn’t changed at all.’ A slight buzz zipped through her fingers. She eyed the old brass switch and curled her fingers protectively; perhaps her hands were a little damp. ‘This heavy timber furniture must date back to Grandma’s time,’ she said, heading for the heavy, red brocade drapes. She pulled one aside to look out through the rain trickling down the window on to Grey Street below, so quiet compared with the constant hum of London traffic. A corrugated awning stretched over the footpath below, hiding it from view. Beyond that, Jennifer could see flowerbeds and glistening trees along the central nature strip that separated the north and southbound traffic. Wet asphalt gleamed, slick with summer rain.

  Across the street, she caught sight of a stout man as he stepped under a streetlight. He looked directly up at her. A cold shiver prickled at her nape. The man adjusted his collar, ducked his head and stepped back quickly into the shadow of a shop’s doorway.

  It’s nothing, she told herself. This is a country town, bugger-all happens here. Poor bloke is sheltering from the rain, that’s all.

  Chapter 2

  Jennifer closed the drapes and walked over to where Claudia sat slumped at the dining table, chin in the palm of her hand. She tugged at her niece’s sleeve.

  ‘Come on, let’s see what else there is.’ Dead tired, but floating as if still on the plane, she tried to ignore the leather sofa that beckoned her to lie down.

  They met Sofie across the hall.

  ‘Uncle Bob’s bedroom,’ Jennifer whispered.

  ‘Great, Uncle Bob’s bed?’ Claudia whispered.

  ‘Yep,’ Sofie sighed.

  ‘He died in his sleep…heart failure on that bed.’ Jennifer said quietly.

  ‘I’m outa here.’ C
laudia shuddered.

  Jennifer turned to leave. ‘Let’s go to our old room, Sofe.’

  ‘This is creeping me out,’ Claudia muttered, hooking one arm through her mother’s, the other searching for her aunt’s.

  The three shuffled down the hall past a long oak sideboard, neatly arranged photographs in silver frames sat on top. They caught Jennifer’s eye, and she hesitated, but her sister and niece were in no mood to stop.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Jennifer said, her tone hushed. ‘Why are we sneaking around as if we might wake the dead or something? And why are we whispering?’

  Wide-eyed, the other two answered with a shrug.

  ‘Whatever, Aunt Jen, as long as I’m in the middle,’ Claudia whispered.

  ‘Okay, but we’re being silly.’

  Jennifer turned the lights on. The room eased into a muted golden glow.

  ‘Ahh, now that’s more like it.’ She smiled at memories, of weekends laughing and dressing up in this very room. ‘A bit over-the-top frilly, but hey, Uncle Bob did it all for us, God love him.’

  ‘Funny lighting in this place,’ Claudia said eyeing the pink, smoky glass ball hanging from the ornate ceiling rose. ‘It’s like they have to warm up or something.’

  The bedroom was equal in size to that of her uncle’s, with pink roses-and-vines wallpaper that Jennifer could never look at for long without feeling dizzy. Flouncy curtains hung over burgundy velvet drapes. Looking like a giant tutu, a pink bedspread covered the mattress of a gleaming antique brass bed.

  ‘So Uncle Bob decorated this for you guys?’ Claudia’s nose wrinkled in distaste. ‘Where’s the black, or at least dark purple?’

  Sofie rolled her eyes.

  ‘It’ll pass,’ Jennifer whispered to Sofie. ‘Pink will be the new black. Wait and see.’

  ‘Poor, stuck-in-a-gay-closet Uncle Bob,’ Claudia said, matter of factly.

  ‘He was, wasn’t he?’ Jennifer stated.

  ‘Yeah.’ Sofie sighed sadly. ‘He said he had girlfriends, but lately he only spoke about someone called Veronica. He often bought her presents, too. Thing is, I never met her.’

  ‘Now that you mention it,’ Jennifer said, ‘he bought Veronica a bra and panty set in Paris.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Claudia put in with a shrug, ‘his girlfriends were just that — girlfriends.’

  ‘And they stayed here, in our old room,’ Jennifer said as she scanned the excessively pink boudoir. ‘I think he missed his calling. He would’ve made a wonderful decorator.’

  ‘Yeah, look, someone threw a frog in a blender,’ Claudia said, pointing at a large pink frilly cushion surrounded by green leaves.

  ‘Claudia’s right,’ Jennifer said. ‘Many frogs gave their lives so we could have a princess bedroom.’

  ‘So many frogs.’ Claudia swiped an imaginary tear from her cheek.

  ‘Wait ‘til you see the bathroom.’ Reaching for the door, Jennifer opened it. ‘Look, green with fluffy pink accessories.’

  ‘Bless his cotton socks.’ Sofie dabbed her face. ‘He hasn’t changed anything.’

  ‘This bath is awesome,’ Claudia said, leaning over the claw-foot bathtub big enough for someone to lie down in.

  ‘Ooh, a shiver just ran over me.’ Jennifer rubbed her arms.

  ‘You’re still wet. Put something else on,’ Sofie ordered.

  ‘My suitcase is in the car.’ Jennifer peered behind the bathroom door. ‘This’ll do for the moment.’ She unhooked a large, pearl grey silk shift from a brass hook. ‘And these.’ She held up a pair of fluffy pink stiletto slip-ons. She stripped down to her panties, hung her wet clothes over the tub and slipped on the shift and stilettos. ‘Can you see my bum?’ Jennifer bent over with a hand to each cheek.

  ‘No, and anyway, who cares,’ Sofie said. ‘It’s just us.’

  Jennifer straightened and turned around to face them.

  Sofie gulped back a squeal. ‘Look,’ she said pointing at Jennifer’s chest.

  ‘I know; my nipples are sticking out, I’m cold — well, I was cold. They just haven’t caught up yet.’ Jennifer placed her palms over the little buds and rubbed.

  ‘I don’t care about your nipples, look at what’s written on the front of the slip.’

  Claudia clapped her hands and laughed. ‘It’s Veronica’s.’

  Jennifer turned to look in the mirror above the basin. There it was: Veronica, printed in a sparkly pink curly font. ‘Good grief, I hope she won’t mind.’ She looked down at the slip-ons. ‘Aren’t these just wonderfully frivolous? Every girl should have a pair.’

  ‘There’s heaps of great stuff here.’ Claudia held up scented bath oils and Chanel toiletries.

  ‘Veronica has expensive taste.’ Jennifer turned on the hot water tap over the basin. The water spluttered then trickled out. ‘I wonder if someone turned the hot water off. I’ll find the fuse box and switch it back on. A cold shower is the last thing I want.’

  ‘Damn,’ Sofie complained, frowning. ‘Getting hot water will take hours — but you can wash with the most expensive stuff in the country.’

  ‘Yeah, and I will.’ Jennifer laughed and put her arm around Sofie’s shoulder. ‘Look, we’re all dead on our feet, let’s stick to our plan. Go to the motel and I’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘Okay,’ Sofie clasped Jennifer’s cheeks and caught her eyes with hers, ‘I can’t believe my sister is opening her own restaurant at last. I want to hear all about it in the morning.’

  ‘I promise I’ll let you in on every detail. Right now, I need to sleep — alone — and you two probably snore. I may have had a catnap, but I’ve been awake for over forty hours.’

  ‘You poor thing.’ Sofie kissed her cheek. ‘We’ll come back in the morning with breakfast.’

  ‘Sounds great. Juice, strong coffee, and a bacon and egg roll.’

  ‘Yay! Jeez, finally!’ Claudia cried, swung around, headed for the stairs and the back door.

  Jennifer took Sofie’s hand and they followed Claudia to the car.

  ‘Make sure you lock all the doors,’ Sofie ordered, before getting behind the wheel.

  ‘Really, this isn’t Sydney,’ Jennifer huffed, weariness making her sound grumpy.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, do it anyway,’ Sofie ordered.

  Claudia muttered about creepy corners.

  The old station wagon moved away. The roller door creaked closed. Silence settled around Jennifer and the sense of unease stole through her again. That’s because I’m cold. And I’m cold because I’m tired. She dragged her case, its little wheels clattering, along the flagstones, pulled it into the house, and locked the back door. Don’t let their wild imaginations frighten you, she told herself.

  *

  Nikolay Bestemianov lurked in the shadows of an alcove doorway on Grey Street. He rubbed his eyes then focused on the second-storey window of the building across the road from him. He’d nearly collapsed from fright when he saw the woman looking down, directly at him. Thank heavens she’d drawn the heavy drapes again.

  Soft light still seeped out past the edges of the drapes. Nikolay sighed and massaged the back of his neck, frustrated at having to wait for the women to leave. Surely the women wouldn’t stay in a dead man’s house overnight? Perhaps they were tougher than he imagined.

  Excitement fluttered in his chest at the thought of being so close to his objective. This was different from sitting behind a computer in Canberra.

  He chuckled. His belly bounced and the chuckle became a wheeze. He went for his hip flask. A quick gulp of vodka would ease the wheeze before it became a cough. Damn, he’d left it in the car. He peered up the street at the empty police car parked a short distance away. The car worried him; the officers had to be somewhere — hmmm. If they turned up, it would be a complication he didn’t need.

  He had been tailing the three women since they left Sydney. Now he knew where Bob had lived and, with luck, this would lead him to the woman who called herself Veronica. His foolish friend and boss back at the Russian E
mbassy in Canberra would be happy about that, and eventually they would both get what they wanted.

  He felt relieved the rain had stopped. Trapped heat in tarred roads combined with the rain caused a warm mist to rise throughout town. Nikolay popped his head out of the darkened doorway, unimpressed. He risked a quick scan up and down the street. He recognised the old station wagon as it turned the corner. He watched them drive down the street. Good, that’s one problem solved: they have left the house. That just left the police officers and their whereabouts; he’d have to move carefully. He dared to step out of his hiding place and into the light. Then walking up the road as if he belonged, he headed to find the back entrance to Bob’s home.

  Nikolay reached what he hoped was the shop’s back fence. With a Herculean effort, he pulled himself up to peer over the top: yes, this was the right place. He let himself drop, and rubbed his shoulders.

  After a quick scout around, he found the keypad that would open the garage door. It took him no time to figure out the simple code and slide the roller door up. The sound of creaking, rumbling metal echoed out into the night. Panic caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. In a flash, Nikolay grabbed the door to stop the action. He shot a glance up and down the alley to see if he’d disturbed anyone. Everything was quiet. He looked down at the gap beneath the roller door, and figured he had about twenty inches. Could he make it?

  He eyed his ample belly and, with a resigned grunt, eased down on all fours to the wet ground. A jagged piece of gravel bit into his knee. Clenching his teeth against the pain, he lifted his leg, pulled the stone out and chucked it. It bounced off the fence on the other side of the lane and sent a dog into a fit of raucous barking. Nikolay held his breath and, wasting no more time, sneaked a peek inside the garage. Soft light pooled through the grimy garage window. Silly women left upstairs lights on in house. He sprawled down, his big belly flattened against the cold concrete. The pressure caused blood to pound in his ears as he began to squeeze under the door. His back hit the rubber seal along the bottom edge and stopped him cold. He tried to push through, but the metal door rumbled like a roll of thunder.