Forgotten

by Neven Carr

  Saul stooped forward and caught my gaze. “You really believe that?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Not at all. I don’t believe loving someone is ever a waste. No matter how long or how short it lasts, or how it presents itself. It’s only a waste if it’s abused. To Alice, her love for you was paramount, so she did what she felt she had to do to be near you. That was her choice, and in some unconventional way it probably made her happy.”

  I wanted to believe Saul, but it still seemed all too crazy. “The more I think about it, the more I believe that the person watching me all those years, and at The Local, was Alice.”

  Saul straightened back against the bed. “It’d certainly fit. Except that it doesn’t explain why you felt the figure had changed when you returned to Nankari. Anyway, you still haven’t told me about the house. Where have you seen it?”

  This next part was difficult.

  From beneath the birthday cards in the box, I plucked a pile of photographs, secured by a gold, elasticized ribbon. I pulled at the ribbon with jittery fingers, knowing that many included my Simon, ones that I hadn’t set eyes upon in over fourteen months.

  It amazed me how the human mind functioned. To be able to lock away a cast of memories behind a solid wall of willpower, memories that included not only those best forgotten but also those that were cherished and priceless.

  In the top photo, Simon’s eyes adored me just as they had in real life. Sharp, swift pain stabbed my chest and I struggled for breath.

  “Claudia….” Saul reached out to me, but I gently nudged his hand away. I scanned the pile and found what I was after. I then gathered the remaining photos and returned them to where they belonged, deep in the box and even deeper into my mind.

  As I pulled myself together, I slipped seven photos into Saul’s hand. Six of them were photographs of me at varying ages from birth to seven years old. But it was the seventh one that was the most intriguing. It was identical to the one I had already shown Saul before.

  The one of the house with me sitting at the foot of the lion.

  Saul alternated his gaze between the photo and me. “If Alice was the only one who had photos of you during your first seven years, where did these come from?”

  Precisely what I’d thought. “These photos were a part of a surprise wedding gift from Simon,” I explained. “He was putting together an album of our life journey together. From what I can gather, he had gotten many of the photos from my family. When I discovered these particular ones….” I pointed to the early photos of me in Saul’s hand. “Well, after Simon was….” I balked. My heartbeat balked with me but I pressed on. “Well, afterwards, I was as surprised as you were. I knew my family didn’t have any. So where did Simon get these? Especially the one of the house.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m not sure, but what if someone in my family did have photos after all, and in light of what we now know about the birthday cards, it could’ve only been someone who, for whatever reasons, kept contact with Alice.”

  Saul fell silent, rubbing the side of his forehead. “Makes sense. But then one has to wonder how Simon found out about this person.”

  Of course. And that’s where my slapdash theory smacked bang into the proverbial brick wall. “I don’t know if any of this is even significant, but I get to thinking why did Alice choose, after all these years, to finally come out into the open? After all this cloak and dagger stuff, what was so important? And the house? I’m beginning to remember it. Those lions, for example, I remember playing around them, playing hide and seek, I think. And that fountain, I remember the jets of water spouting really high. I also get a strong sense that this is where I lived.”

  Saul studied the photo in silence.

  “You think this could be the place in my dream?”

  “Very likely.”

  I fell back against the bed and took a long, deep breath. Saul had begun fingering the photographs on the floor. He selected a few, spending a short time absorbed by them. He appeared detached, contemplative. When he turned to me, I spotted the clear discomfort on his face.

  I tapped him on the shoulder and said half-heartedly, “Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad and if it is, I’ll be okay. That was our agreement, remember?”

  “It’s not pleasant,” he warned.

  What was these days?

  He collected one of the photos and placed it in my hand. “That man there is Danny Souza.” The change in his voice bothered me. It was lower, more solemn. “I could ask if the name is familiar to you but I seriously doubt it.”

  He was right. I had never heard of him. Saul placed another photo on top of the previous one. It included two men; grins stretched wide, arms wrapped loosely around each other’s shoulder. “The one on the right is Johnny Hercolani, the other Ricky Taccone.”

  Again, I hadn’t heard of them.

  Saul repeated the same procedure with another photo. “That man there is none other than our Senator Macey, except his name then was Macanetti. He shortened it when he joined politics.”

  Macey? Macanetti? What the….

  “This one,” Saul said, tapping on yet another figure, “is Iacovelli.”

  All Italian names.

  My muscles tensed. My breathing became shallow.

  “There were six altogether,” Saul muttered.

  Six? Was this the supposed gun club?

  Saul paused.

  Why the pause? That was only five.

  I searched for the elusive sixth individual amongst the remainder of the photographs, but they failed to produce any such person. I began to rummage through them with more ferocity, desperately struggling against the sickening idea now taking shape in my head. “The sixth one…,” I whispered.

  “Claudia….” I heard it in Saul’s voice. No doubt, I’d see it in his face if I had the gumption to look.

  He knew who it was. And unfortunately, now, so did I.

  Friend of a friend, he had said when explaining Alice Polinski.

  My father.

  Shit.

  I shot up and began pacing. So many thoughts swarmed my brain. It was difficult to focus on any one thing. Saul was beside me, silent, but there. I tried to process.

  But process what exactly?

  That my father had lied to me yet again? That he not only knew Iacovelli, but also was involved with some overzealous gun buffs? None of it seemed real, as did a larger, more startling prospect.

  Unless it’s someone who doesn’t want her hurt, someone who wants to protect her.

  I stopped pacing and swung around to Saul. “Please, tell me my father didn’t kill Alice and Iacovelli.”

  Saul looked into my eyes, strong and unblinking. “I can’t tell you that Claudia, because I don’t know for certain.”

  I groaned and promptly made my way to the bed. I eyed off the stack of pillows blaring unconditional comfort. It was so tempting to crawl beneath them, to lie there for an eternity. I slumped myself on the edge of the bed, and threw my head in my hands. I was going to deal with this. I had said so.

  Eventually Saul joined me. He wriggled something in my face. When I focused, I realized it was a pink musk stick. I laughed, fragile sounding as it was. I took the stick and nibbled. It was perfect as always. “Don’t know how you put up with me the way you do.”

  “What?”

  “Most of the time, I’m nothing more than an emotional rollercoaster, leaving bits of me wherever I land.”

  Saul laughed and sidled up nearer, almost shoulder-to-shoulder. The mere closeness of him, that damn earthy scent of his and his chocolate-coated voice caused something warmly pleasant to take light in me.

  “Don’t be so tough on yourself,” he said. “Look at the way you handled yesterday with your father and then today with Weatherly.”

  I thought of Weatherly. I tried not to think of my father. “It’s only because of you,” I reminded him.

  “No, I may have kick started it, but you took over a
nd did the rest. You always had the ability. You just needed a little shove in the right direction.”

  I looked at him. “Is this what you do? Shove people in the right direction?”

  He tilted his head. “I help people solve their problems.”

  “No, it’s more than that, isn’t it.” It was all becoming clearer now. The reason for Saul’s bid to find the answers together. It was how he helped people to combat their own weaknesses. It was what he was doing with me. “So you think I need to stand up for myself more.”

  “Is that what you believe?”

  “Don’t give me the whole answering a question with a question thing. I want to know what you think.”

  He waited a while before replying. “With some people, yes.”

  I sat quiet.

  “Look, Claudia, you’re smart, and I’m sure you’re aware of much of this already. You also must know you have the capabilities to make your own decisions, to look after yourself quite competently. You just need the confidence and the opportunities to do so... and to lose the guilt.”

  Easier said and all that jazz.

  His eye caught something on my bedside table. It was a rag doll. It had long hair and large eyes the same color as mine and it wore the cutest green and white dress.

  “Interesting,” he said.

  I gazed at the doll and then back at Saul. “What is?”

  “The fact that you’ve singled it out.”

  I had?

  “By putting it there. You haven’t done that with anything else.”

  “I don’t know. I guess there’s something special about it.”

  “Can’t remember what?”

  I shook my head. The whole memory thing was, at times, very annoying. “I only know its name is Dolly.” I then changed the subject. “You really meant what you said before. About me being able to do all that.”

  His smile was my answer. Watching the way his lips curled at the corners, I wondered what it’d feel like to touch them, just for a moment. The thought made my heart race. Then a part of me felt horribly ashamed, even deceitful, that I was even thinking such thoughts. Wasn’t Simon still a part of me?

  Fortunately, my mobile signaled a message, hauling me back to reality. I flicked open my phone and felt immediately relieved. “It’s Milo. He wants to meet with me.”

  “Where?”

  “My place.”

  “Not a good choice. Can’t he meet you someplace else, even here?”

  I texted the suggestion to Milo. I certainly wasn’t in any hurry to return home. Seconds later, a reply bleated. I curved my shoulders. “No, he seems adamant. He says it’s really important.” I sighed. “He’s always so difficult. I have to go. I keep getting this feeling.”

  “You’re not going alone.” Saul hastily grabbed the photo of the house with the lions. “Just let me send this off to a few people first and we’ll go together.”

  Chapter 21

  Araneya Estate

  1989

  “ARE WE READY?” one of the men questioned, as he returned his shiny handgun to its velvet-lined case. His voice was especially gruff, his manner obnoxiously officious.

  Others surrounded him, clutching similar boxes, housing similar possessions. Each man expressed his readiness either verbally or with a slight nod of his head.

  “Then let’s get moving,” the gruff man ordered. He carefully secured his box into a khaki rucksack and heaved the entire bag onto his broad back.

  The afternoon sun, hidden behind a screen of darkening clouds, did little to pacify the winter chill. Perched on top of a nearby concrete fence, various children watched the detailed preparations.

  “Do you think it will rain?” asked the taller man.

  The gruff man’s laugh was full and hardy. “So what if it does? A little water isn’t going to kill us, is it?”

  The taller man appeared hesitant. “Might reduce the visibility, that’s all.”

  “What, you getting chicken in your old age?” scoffed one of the others.

  The taller man narrowed his eyes, sent unfriendly shots in the other’s direction.

  “Papa,” the little girl said, running to the tall man. “Where are you going?”

  The tall man knelt on one knee and caught her. Then he held both of her blue-gloved hands in his large ones. “I am just going into the forest for a few days, Carino.”

  Her voice quivered, her mouth curled downwards. “Why do you always go there?”

  Her father hung his head low. To relive our own private hell, he thought.

  “To do what we do best,” crooned one of the others. Loud, animated exclamations followed.

  The girl frowned. That wasn’t what Alice had told her. “This is something your Papa needs to do, little one,” Alice had explained, “to help him get better.” But the girl still didn’t understand.

  “Can I come too?”

  “Where we go is not a place for children,” he whispered in sad but kind tones. Their journey, he well knew, included more than simply the physical.

  “But, Papa, I want to be with you. I promise I’ll be very grown up.”

  Laughter erupted from behind him. “Yes, so grown up,” mocked one. “Maybe you should teach your ‘grown up’ daughter about the realities of what we do.”

  “Yeah… maybe you should teach her how to use one of these little babies,” voiced another, tapping the inside of his own rucksack. “That would be very grown up.”

  A different man with thick, fair hair spoke for the first time. “Leave him alone.”

  The girl’s face lit up with fresh hope. “Yes, Papa, please teach me. I can learn anything. I’m so smart. My teacher, Sister Paul says so. And then I could go with you.”

  Such innocence, such unconditional faith in her Papa. The father lowered his eyes. Shame spread through him, fast and thick.

  “You should,” the gruff man sniggered. “I’m already teaching my young ones.”

  The father swung to him, feeling a sudden repugnance burn his insides. “You have what?”

  The gruff man’s smile was wicked, sarcastic. “If it’s good enough for me, it’s good enough for them. Besides, what can it hurt? It may even save their lives one day.”

  “They are innocent children. Why would you bring them into a life like ours?”

  The fair-haired man agreed with the father, objecting just as strongly. The other three remained silent.

  The gruff man swore, and then swung sharply in the direction of the gates. “You can all stay and discuss the merits of this boring subject, but I’m off to do what I’m here for.” He began to march off. One by one, the others streamed after him.

  All except the father and the fair-haired man, who quickly moved to the father’s side. “Come on, my friend, let’s get going.”

  The father reluctantly complied. He gave his precious girl one last hug. He stood, turned and with long strides followed the path of the others, ignoring the painful cries from his daughter.

  By the time he entered the forest, he had discarded all images of her from his mind.

  He was now prepared.

  Chapter 22

  Claudia

  December 27, 2010

  10:55 am

  I NO LONGER saw Zephyr as a safe haven.

  Not after being the ugly backcloth for two brutal crimes.

  But as soon as I set eyes on my spacious lounge room, the crumpled but well-loved pillow laden sofa, the equally loved collection of books, the many family photographs and the glittering Nankari waters, I could sense a small part of me longing to return. “It feels so strange. Like I sort of belong but don’t.”

  There was no response from Saul. In fact, he was oddly quiet. I yanked the cap from my head, fingered my hair into place and then turned to look at him. With sunglasses shifted to the top of his head, he scanned the space. He then moved forward, pausing at some of the photographs on the walls, but eventually stopping before the bookshelves.

  In comparison to Saul’s collect
ion, my own seemed slight, but it still managed to dominate the room. Saul studied the books, touching some along the way, now and again glancing back at me. I watched him, curious about his behavior.

  “I didn’t know,” he said.

  I frowned.

  “Your love of books.”

  How could he not? The man knew just about everything else.

  “It’s good to know I can still surprise you.” I placed my bag and sunglasses on the glass coffee table.

  He continued to peruse the books. “You have some great authors here.”

  I moved closer to see which authors he was favoring. “And,” he said, shaking his head, “they’re all in alphabetical order.”

  I widened my eyes. “So were yours the last I checked.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t think anyone else would be that crazy.”

  “Well, surprise again!” A rush of emotion washed through me, warm, settling ones. It brought up images of toasty days on the beach.

  I ventured towards the double sliders, a little surprised to find them already open. Perhaps Mel had decided the unit needed a well-deserved airing. I stepped out onto the balcony. It immediately unbolted a glorious sensory experience; the hypnotizing sight of the azure sea, the unmistakable smell and taste of its salty fragrance and the entrancing sound of its waves, however small, crashing their weights upon the water’s edge. This spot had been my place of tranquility, many times. I gradually approached the railings semi-circling the balcony, knowing that Saul wasn’t far behind.

  “This is brilliant,” he said.

  “Yep.” I sighed, inhaling the brackish scent that I had missed. I turned to him. His eyes had changed; hooded and dark they were, staring at me. I stood spellbound by them, by him, not wanting to touch him, to make any unsolicited movement for fear of the moment evaporating. But to me, the silent whispers, the unspoken gestures were more provocative than anything I had ever experienced.

  It was then, I realized. This wasn’t any schoolgirl crush.

  I wanted him.

  But as quickly as the moment began, it ended. Saul severed his look from me and instead spun towards the ocean.