by Jennie Jones
‘By the way,’ she said to Frances as she pushed open a door and ushered her daughter into the back bedroom, ‘we lock all doors and windows at night.’ She struggled for a second to find a reason Frances would believe. Someone was on her land. Nothing had been damaged though, apart from the landline telephone wires she’d noticed this morning. They’d been pulled out of the ground but not cut. The strangest thing was the drawing or scribbling on the wooden fence rails in front of the dug-up wires: animal paw prints within a square frame. Whoever had done it had no idea how to draw. They’d drawn six claws on what she presumed to be dog paw prints.
‘Mozzies find their way in through the smallest hole,’ she said lightly. ‘We don’t want you getting bitten. But there’s aircon in your room for daytime.’ It was the start of autumn but summer hadn’t ended yet and would dwindle for another couple of weeks. It was mostly a pleasant thirty-three degrees Celsius but they were getting the odd day over forty.
Frances walked to the middle of the room, perhaps assessing her new bedroom, but she still had her back to Jax so it was difficult to tell what was going through her mind.
Then she swung around, eyes stormy blue, arms braced at her sides.
‘So you had sex with him. My dad.’
Jax’s knees buckled slightly and she had to catch a breath, but she had said she’d answer any of Franca’s questions. ‘It was a one-night stand.’ Her voice came out surprisingly steady.
‘He was married—to her. To Linda.’
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘You were nineteen years younger than him. How could you have sex with him? It’s disgusting.’
Such a huge age difference, and yet she hadn’t thought about it back then. But it was best to keep this conversation about sex in general terms, and not how young Jax had been when she’d slept with Frances’s father—or how that had come about. Especially as Michael was now embroiled in a similar scenario. ‘People have sex,’ Jax said, offering a shaky smile. She’d been through this stage with her younger sister, when Rosita had turned thirteen, and where sex was a complete turn-off. ‘I understand you think sex is disgusting, but in a year or two you’ll be thinking about it differently.’ A year or two? How the hell were they going to get through the next day or two?
‘You were only a kid yourself,’ Franca said.
‘I was sixteen—seventeen when I had you, so I wasn’t legally an adult.’ Not that it had stopped Michael Fellows and his charming, ingratiating helpfulness as Jax struggled with her first job as a trainee receptionist at the accountants’ firm he’d worked at, welcoming his friendship and seeming assistance.
‘You didn’t even care—you didn’t even look at me when I was born. You just said, “take it away”.’
Shock rose inside her. Is this what Michael had told her? Or had Linda, his wife, put this rubbish into her head? ‘I held you for an hour from the second you were born. I talked to you. I told you all about myself and my younger sister, and our grandmother who more or less brought us up.’
‘And you called me Franca Adelita,’ Franca said, petulant now. Although at least they’d got off the subject of Michael Fellows and how Franca—God! Frances!—had come into existence.
‘Stupid name.’
Jax straightened. ‘It was your great grandmother’s name. It’s not stupid. Names are so important. They’re given with love.’
Frances’s eyes narrowed.
‘Adelita is a Spanish baby’s name,’ Jax said. ‘It means kind, and noble, and I called you Franca because I loved the name.’
‘Stupid bullshit names.’
‘Please, Frances …’
A slither of advice from the social worker came to her, or maybe it was her own instinct kicking in. She had brought up Rosita from a twelve-year-old to a twenty-four-year-old, and in many ways she was still bringing her up.
‘You might want to think about using that kind of language and tone,’ she said quietly. ‘Both here in the house with me, and also in town. You don’t know anybody yet and I’d like you to get along with everyone. There are some lovely people in Mt Maria. You’ll make friends—’
‘I’ll do what I want.’
‘I’m afraid you won’t.’ Give Jax a dog or an injured animal and she knew what to do and how to settle it. Give her Rosita, a livewire of a young woman, and Jax could ease her down and persuade her to see reason. What chance did she have of making a connection with her daughter if she was constantly on edge like this?
But it was only day one. And you’re a believer, remember? For Frances, this was like being adopted or fostered out—heartbreakingly difficult.
‘This is going to be hard. For both of us, but for you more than me. I understand how you must be feeling.’
Frances turned her head away.
‘We’ll get there.’ She smiled, even though Frances wasn’t looking at her, but she wanted the smile to sound in her voice. ‘Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes. We eat in the kitchen. You can shower or change if you want to. I’ve put some girly bathroom stuff out for you.’ I hope you like it, she wanted to add. I hope I got the choices right and if I didn’t please forgive me. I don’t know you yet but I long to.
She left her daughter’s bedroom, pulling the door to.
Five minutes later she put enough pasta for both of them into a pan of boiling water. She had a feeling Frances was just being ratty with her demands about being gluten intolerant. Neither Wendy the social worker nor Linda—from the brief and strained telephone conversation she’d had with Linda Fellows—had mentioned anything about her having allergies or being intolerant to some foods. But Jax would keep an eye on it.
Heading out from the kitchen to the hall, she heard the shower go on in her daughter’s small adjoined bathroom. She was flooded with relief that she had a few more minutes to herself. Right this moment, she’d like nothing better than a stiff drink, and she hardly ever drank. But better than a tall glass of iced vodka and orange, there was her friend, Rachel.
She rushed towards her own bedroom where she hoped to God she’d charged her mobile because the older Baxter boys—or whoever was messing her about—might return and cut the landline telephone cable.
She put to the back of her mind what Luke Weston’s response would be once or if he learned she’d had trouble at the house. He was officer in charge of the Mt Maria Police Department. Friends or not, he’d skin her alive for not telling him. But it was early days and she’d rather catch whoever it was in the act of destroying parts of her property so she had something firm to accuse them of. The Baxter boys weren’t dangerous; they were just irresponsible and foolish.
Luke was one of Jax’s best friends. They’d been close for the whole three years he’d been in town. But her new friendship with his girlfriend, Rachel, was more important somehow. Probably because Jax had never really had a proper woman friend before. Not stuck out here.
It felt funny calling Rachel Meade his girlfriend. She was much, much more. Jax had a feeling one of the reasons Luke was suddenly taking a few weeks’ leave was because he wanted to take her away and give her a break from the harrowing time she’d endured at the start of summer. Rachel had been through so much: hounded and on the run from an abusive past that had eventually caught up with her here, in town. Mt Maria had never experienced such police presence. Rachel hadn’t intended to stay forever, but once Luke got on the case, he’d kept her close, believing she might be causing the trouble. Who’d have thought they’d end up together, after all that?
She found her mobile, thankfully still plugged in and charging. She checked her watch without bothering to berate herself for forgetting she’d had the phone on charge for two days and nights and had probably stuffed up the battery because of it.
Five-forty-five pm. Donna, her other good friend, was on late shift so she’d be out on patrol. Senior Constable Donna Murray, and currently the town’s only female cop, was the third part of the recently formed friendship consisting of Jax, Rachel an
d Donna.
She hit the number for Rachel.
‘I’ve been glued to the damn phone!’ Rachel said after answering before the first ring finished trilling. ‘How’s it going?’
Jax sank against her dressing table. ‘I’m useless! I’ll never get this right. They arrived early and totally put me off my stride.’
‘What’s happened so far?’
Jax swallowed the sickness in her throat and told Rachel everything. ‘I don’t swear much,’ she said, ‘and I don’t drink much either, but right this second I could do with a bloody shitting vodka. Neat.’
Rachel laughed but it was caring and soft. ‘Don’t forget everything you, me and Donna discussed this last fortnight. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy. You were the one who told us that.’
‘I know, but in practice …’
‘You’re just going through what you expected.’
‘It turns out it’s not what I expected!’
‘I can’t wait to meet her!’
‘I keep calling her Franca,’ Jax said, remorse filling her about getting the child’s name wrong.
‘Perhaps she’ll come to prefer that name.’
‘She says she hates spaghetti and that’s what I’ve got for dinner.’
‘Jax—it’s okay. This is just the start. There was no way it was going to be other than difficult.’
‘But I’m always in control of myself and now I’m not.’
‘What was it Donna said to you?’
Jax let out a sigh. She’d said she’d never known anyone with such backbone. If Donna could see her now … ‘I need to ease down, Rachel, but I feel like everything’s bubbling inside me. I need to understand what it is Franca needs before I can attempt to give it.’ It seemed unfathomably difficult.
‘She’s lonely,’ Rachel said. ‘So are you, if you ever allow yourself to believe it.’
‘I’m used to being lonely.’ She’d busied herself over the years. The only living things that had ever been given an inkling that all might not be well in Jaxine Brown’s heart were her dogs—whichever latest rescue dog she’d allowed to live in the house with the idea she might keep it. That had never worked out, because she was busy all the time. Although she longed to keep the three dogs she’d earmarked as special; those she’d bonded with immediately. But she couldn’t do that if her daughter didn’t like dogs.
‘So what does she look like?’ Rachel asked, her voice full of enthusiasm. ‘What is she like?’
Jax squeezed her eyes shut. ‘She’s beautiful.’ The child was hurting so badly but she held herself with a lonely yet somehow graceful poise, although she didn’t know this was what she projected. ‘She’s absolutely beautiful.’
There was silence for a few seconds, then Rachel spoke again, her voice so quietly caring that Jax took heart that all would be well. ‘That’s all I needed to hear, Jax—that love. You’re going to be okay. Both you and Franca.’
‘Frances,’ Jax reminded. ‘I have to call her Frances.’ But how she longed to call her Franca, and hold her close and hug her until it hurt. She’d dreamed of that moment and had never thought it likely to happen. ‘I’m going to be okay,’ she acknowledged. ‘I’ll work it out. I’ll do it right for her. I promise.’
‘You don’t have to promise me anything,’ Rachel said. ‘Just look after yourself while you’re looking after everybody else.’
‘Is everything all right at the café?’ She’d taken the week off and put Rachel and Rosita in charge and on standby to stay in charge for as long as it took. Although Rachel was off on holiday in a couple of days.
‘Everything’s under control,’ Rachel said. ‘Rosita is loving being in charge and doing really well, and the two new girls you employed are more than capable.’
‘No animals brought in?’ Since she was at the café all day, most days, she kept a small animal sanctuary out the back—just a few cages and a shed with supplies.
‘Not even a mouse.’
Jax felt some of the tension fall from her shoulders. She had friends. She had love for her daughter. Surely it meant that eventually, after hard endeavour and understanding, it would work. For everyone—but for Franca the most.
‘Jax,’ Rachel said, sounding circumspect suddenly. ‘There is actually something you need to know.’
Jax’s nerves spiked and her head was suddenly filled with visions of empty vodka bottles strewn in the sink. ‘What is it?’
‘Jack’s in town.’
Her knees buckled so fast she only just managed to put a hand out to steady herself as her bottom hit the dressing table stool.
Jack Maxwell. The man who’d knocked her sideways. The man who’d put the word ‘family’ into her head on one short, disastrous date in Kalgirri almost twelve months ago.
‘Jack and Jax,’ she’d said, laughing as they dined at his hotel, enjoying his company and wondering if she might have just met her forever man—out of the blue. ‘We sound like a nursery rhyme.’
‘Then I’ll call you Isabelle.’
He’d said it so tenderly, with an equally warm smile. Then he’d taken that telephone call, and thirty minutes later any romantic notions she’d coveted had been knocked out of her.
She’d also seen him three months ago, when he’d been in town. He was a detective and he’d been helping Luke with Rachel’s case, but she’d stayed as far away from him as possible, not wanting to talk to him or listen to what he had to say about that night in Kalgirri.
What the hell was he doing back in Mt Maria?
Two
‘I trust you with my life, Jack. I trust you with Rachel’s life—but not with my town.’
Detective Senior Sergeant Jack Maxwell perched his backside on the edge of the desk and folded his arms across his chest. His mate had a lot to say, and he didn’t blame him, so he figured the best thing to do was let him talk.
It was dark outside and nearly 10 pm, but the cop shop didn’t close until around one or two in the morning and this was the first chance he’d had all day to talk privately with Mt Maria Police Department’s OIC.
Jack took his gaze to the thankfully barred window. There was a bull in the penned exercise yard normally used for those in custody. He hadn’t had a chance to ask why yet …
‘Any calls we receive after hours come direct to you,’ Senior Sergeant Luke Weston said. ‘Whether you’re asleep or not.’
‘I know that.’
Luke was filling Jack in on the expected duties his new role would give him. Jack knew what those duties were, but he was prepared to listen to the chapter and verse Luke wanted to dish out. He decided to think of it more as an unofficial handover and ignore the rebuke in his friend’s tone. There were reasons for the rebuke and Jack had to make a decision quickly on how much more he was prepared to tell Luke about the real reasons he was in town. Not much more, that was for sure, because Luke was likely to renege on the deal and cancel his leave.
‘We don’t have detectives taking over out here,’ Luke continued. ‘We see it all through ourselves.’
‘I know that, mate, and in another two hours I’ll no longer be a detective.’
Luke scoffed. ‘That’s what I’m worried about. Now.’ Luke got all businesslike again. ‘Because we’re so remote, we’ve got our own court. We use the back room, next to the kitchen. It’s got the works—it looks like a mini courtroom, apart from the gym equipment lying around. You can either link up to the magistrate at Kalgirri who hears the case via video hook-up and prosecute the offender that way, or have the offender taken to Kalgirri and let them do it.’
‘I’ll do it myself.’
‘I do it myself,’ Luke said, not hearing Jack’s response. ‘And the jail bird is available should the offender be remanded in custody.’
Jack grinned. Luke was behaving like a father leaving his only kid at boarding school. ‘Come on, I remember how to do this.’ The jail bird was a light aircraft used for flying offenders from the outback towns to the closest city of Kalgirr
i.
Luke gave him a guarded look. ‘You haven’t been in uniform in—how long? Eleven years?’
‘Thirteen.’ Unlucky for some.
‘Oh, and the car park by the town hall is being extended and resurfaced so it’s closed, which is causing a lot of parking issues. We’re trying to be lenient, but some people just take the piss and double park wherever they want.’
‘Understood.’
‘You got yourself settled at the flat?’ Luke asked, taking the conversation off policing for some reason.
‘Affirmative.’ He’d arrived that morning from Kalgirri. Arrangements had been made for him to lease the flat above the newsagent’s. He had to be close to the station for those overnight callouts. Luke had offered him the old station master’s house he and Rachel lived in, which was only a couple of minutes’ drive away—or a five-minute run if on foot—but he wouldn’t feel comfortable in someone else’s place. He was out here on a case—one he hoped to crack while Luke was away on six weeks’ leave—and preferred to keep his own counsel in his own private quarters. Plus, the newsagent’s was next to an alleyway and on the other side of the alley was the Brown Café and he had a reason for wanting to be close to the café too—if he was in the flat long enough.
‘So did you volunteer for this stint?’ Luke asked. ‘Or have you got ulterior motives? Like wanting to be close to someone who owns the café next door to the newsagent’s?’