Across the Water

by Ingrid Alexandra

  ‘It can be tough, having a little one.’

  Dee’s eyes flick to mine, suddenly alert. ‘You have kids?’

  ‘Um, no.’

  ‘Oh,’ her eyes turn dull. She chuckles darkly. ‘You’re cleverer than I am, then.’

  ‘Is she in bed?’ I ask, to change the subject.

  ‘Ruby? Oh, yes, she’d have been in bed ages ago. She’s over with Erica tonight.’

  ‘Erica’s your neighbour?’

  Dee nods and I can’t help thinking once again how strange it is for Erica to be minding Ruby’s child after the fight I witnessed.

  ‘Oh. Is your husband … away?’

  Dee’s wine glass pauses on its way to her mouth.

  ‘Sorry, I wasn’t assuming you have a … It’s just Adam mentioned your … um, I think he said his name is Rob?’

  Dee takes a deliberate sip, her eyes not quite meeting mine. When she speaks again, her tone is flat. ‘Yes. Rob’s away on business. He left last week.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’ I take a nervous gulp of wine, my mind whirring. If Rob’s not been around since Adam and I arrived, who was the man in the doorway? And where did the black eye come from? Although to be fair, it could be a week or so old if it was a bad one. It’s almost invisible now. ‘That must be tough, having to take care of Ruby all alone.’

  ‘Yes,’ she says vaguely, still in that flat tone. She seems suddenly weary. ‘Very tough.’

  Concerned by the direction of the conversation, I clear my throat. ‘Ruby’s very beautiful. She looks like you.’

  Dee smiles, then. ‘Thank you. She’s such an angel. I don’t deserve her.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure that isn’t true.’

  Dee sighs. ‘It is.’ She stares into the middle distance for a moment before shaking her head and sipping her wine. ‘Want to see some photos?’

  Without waiting for an answer, she takes out her phone and takes me through a reel of photos from newborn to recent.

  ‘Look at those little booties,’ she chuckles, pointing. ‘Erica made them for her.’

  Erica, again.

  ‘She must be very fond of her then.’

  There’s a pause before Dee replies. ‘Yes. Very.’ I can’t read her tone, but there’s something off about it.

  ‘Is she … a good friend to you?’

  Dee sighs. ‘Yes. My only one, in fact. Slim pickings around here,’ she shrugs, her expression inscrutable.

  ‘Well, I’m glad you came to visit then. It’s pretty lonely over this side.’

  We smile at each other, and then our attention turns back to the baby photos.

  ‘Gosh, she’s so lovely. Picture perfect.’

  Dee’s eyes are moist and soft with adoration as she gazes at the photo of her baby. While she may be struggling, being alone so much, it’s crystal clear that she’s in love with her child.

  Suddenly her expression changes. She eyes me strangely. ‘Hang on. How did you know what Ruby looks like? Have you been watching us?’ Her words are direct, without preamble.

  ‘Oh gosh, n-no,’ I stammer the lie. ‘We’ve met before, remember? At the pub? I know it was only briefly … but, as I said, I also ran into Erica yesterday. She had Ruby with her.’

  Dee exhales and shakes her head. ‘Right, of course. Sorry. How stupid of me. This place can get to you, can’t it? Make you paranoid.’

  An unexpected shiver moves through me. I wonder whether I remembered to bolt the door. ‘Yes. I have noticed that.’

  ‘I suppose you’re wondering about the bruise, then?’ Again, her tone is conversational, but with an edge. ‘I would be.’

  ‘I hadn’t really noticed.’ I cringe inwardly as Dee chuckles; even I could hear how feeble that lie was.

  ‘Walked into a door, didn’t I?’ she smirks, looking me in the eye as if daring me to challenge her. Then she shrugs, throwing back a slug of wine. I refill her glass and she gulps back half of that too. ‘I’m teasing. Let’s just call it … a lover’s tiff.’

  My stomach sinks. ‘Someone did this to you?’

  Dee shrugs, swirling her wine.

  ‘You know, if they did … you can tell me.’

  ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, really? I barely know you.’

  We both freeze and Dee claps a hand over her mouth. Her eyes are wide. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what made me say that. And like I can talk, showing up here to a virtual stranger’s house like a total loon. But it’s not … that’s not what’s wrong.’

  ‘Okay. So what is wrong?’

  Dee sips, peering at me over the rim of the glass. ‘It’s just … well, to be honest, things have been getting the better of me lately. Rob’s been …’ she trails off, lowering her glass. Her teeth worry her lower lip.

  Remembering my training, I say, ‘If you’re in any kind of trouble, don’t be afraid to say. Maybe I can help. I’ve had some experience with this sort of thing, you know.’

  To my horror, Dee presses a hand over her mouth and lets out a strangled sob.

  I stand so quickly my chair clatters to the floor and place my hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s okay. It’s okay. Listen, Dee. I want you to answer a question for me. Do you feel safe at home?’

  Dee hiccup-sobs and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. When she looks up at me, her eyes gleam with tears. She whispers one word. ‘No.’

  My senses go on alert. Is she lying about Rob? Is it him she’s frightened of, or is it someone else?

  ‘You know, you don’t have to go back there if you don’t want to. Shall we go and get Ruby, and you can bring her back here to stay?’

  ‘No,’ she says, shaking her head fiercely. ‘She’s safer with Erica. And I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to her. She’s my baby. My baby.’

  I’m about to question what she thinks might happen when her phone pings. She snatches it from the table and scans the screen with desperate eyes.

  ‘Dee?’

  ‘I have to go.’

  ‘But, wait!’ I place my hand over hers. ‘What are you afraid of?’

  Dee looks like a deer caught in the headlights. She stands quickly, tucking her phone into her jeans pocket. ‘I have to go.’

  ‘Was it the man in your doorway?’

  She stops and looks at me over her shoulder, her face pinched and pale. ‘What man?’ she whispers.

  ‘There was someone – a man – in your doorway earlier this evening. And then he just vanished. I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching, but it caught my eye when you lit a candle and I couldn’t help but see.’

  ‘What did he look like?’

  I shake my head. ‘I … I don’t know. It was quite dark. I just saw a silhouette in the doorway. The one on the left side of the house from this perspective. I think … I assume it’s your front door?’

  Dee’s staring into space, nodding. ‘Yes. But I always lock it,’ she murmurs, almost to herself.

  ‘Please, Dee. If you’re in any kind of trouble, you don’t need to go home.’

  She clasps my hand and squeezes so hard her knuckles whiten and I almost pull away. ‘I’m sorry.’ She looks at me, lips pressed firm. Resolute. ‘But I have to.’

  And as she leaves, she does the strangest thing. She kisses me, her lips ice-cold against my cheek.

  Chapter 15

  Liz

  June, 2017

  Thursday, 2:15am

  ‘I told you, I don’t have time at the moment,’ I say, my throat tight with frustration. It’s not that I don’t have compassion for the woman, but she’s the cause of most of her own issues as far as I can gather, and I am already extremely far behind on my work. She shouldn’t have just shown up here. That’s crossing a line.

  ‘Please,’ she grabs my arm and a surge of anger fills me. ‘I need your help.’

  I shake her hand away and turn my back.

  ‘No. PLEASE!’

  ***

  I jerk awake, heart pounding. My skin is damp with sweat.

  ‘PLEASE!’ The shout comes followed by a
high-pitched shriek.

  I’m not dreaming, I realise as my eyes adjust to the dark. The scream was real.

  I sit up and reach out for Adam before remembering he’s not here. I peer at my phone – 2:15am – throw on my dressing gown and ascend the loft stairs two at a time. As I reach the landing, there’s a clap of thunder and a millisecond later lightning streaks across the sky, illuminating the room. I shriek and skid on the floorboards in my slippers. Steadying myself, I rush across the loft and clamber onto the daybed.

  I stare out into the darkness, listening. Nothing. I jiggle the window in its frame to loosen it, slide it open an inch and press my ear to the gap. The storm seems to have been a flash in the pan, because apart from the roar and churn of the king tide retreating, and the light of the full moon reflected on the water, all is dark and still.

  Until a light blinks on across the creek, just to the right of Dee’s house.

  I fumble for the binoculars. A tall, solid figure is walking between Dee’s house and the Haddads’s house, dragging something along the ground. I squint and adjust the focus, but it doesn’t zoom in any closer. Shit. Who are they and what are they carrying this late at night?

  The figure hauls the bag over their shoulder with some difficulty, and their body is turned towards me just as they disappear behind the Haddads’s house. I recognise the face at once.

  Samir.

  Chapter 16

  Dee

  April, 2017

  Friday, 5:52pm

  The lights appear as we reach the top of the mountain. Brave Cove is a small town, really, but from up here it could almost be a city. I’m reminded of the buzz and glow of my Sydney days and feel the loss of a life left behind. Rob’s eyes are on me, but I don’t look at him. Ruby stirs and grizzles in her car-seat; the smell of baby shit wafts through the car and the spell is broken.

  It’s our anniversary. We haven’t been to Pearls since before Ruby was born, and the gesture means Rob’s trying, and I’m grateful. Because I’ve been on at him about how suffocated I feel cooped up with a four-month-old, and he’s pretended to understand. He admits I ‘do it all’ but deep down I know – oh, no matter what he says I know – that’s the way he thinks it should be.

  But then tonight he looked at me with that old twinkle, and I could almost remember a time when I knew what sleep and sanity were, could almost forget my transgressions, the ever-present fear, and for a moment there was a spark of hope. But then Rob’s mum got sick and couldn’t mind Ruby, and now Ruby’s fussy (she’s always fussy), she’s soiled her nappy twice and is overdue a feed.

  We arrive late and Rob’s smile is forced. The young waitress looks at me with my untidy hair, engorged breasts and tummy bulge with a mixture of pity and disgust and I want to tell her I was like her, once, and I didn’t actually want this and I didn’t ask for it and who the hell does she think she is?

  But it’s not her I hate, really. It’s Rob. Because she’s me a handful of years ago, and he’s smiling at her the way he used to smile at me, while I’m struggling with a breastfeeding cover. He did this to me. He wanted this. So who the hell is he to sit there gawking at a pretty girl while I feed his child? It’s as though I am the one responsible for the loss of the old days when, really, I wanted to stay there. I would have been happy to stay there.

  But it isn’t his fault. It’s mine. I’ve done this, and I’ve trapped myself and I’ve doomed us both. And there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

  They’re still talking and I’m battling the Velcro on the breastfeeding cover and Ruby’s grizzling has reached the peak of its ascent, and I swear – ‘Shit!’ – and the perky waitress glares and I’ve had enough so I throw the fucking feeding cover on the floor, yank down the strap of my dress and affix Ruby to my nipple. She sucks greedily and relief flows through me and for a moment there is peace and my mind is quiet. And then I realise they’re all staring: the childless couple at the next table, the waiter walking past with a tray of champagne flutes, the man at the lectern by the door.

  Our waitress smiles stiffly. ‘May I take your order, madam?’

  ‘I’m a bit busy,’ I say between clenched teeth. ‘Give me a minute?’

  A silver-haired woman passes us, startling as she clocks my bare breast. ‘Well, really,’ she mutters under her breath.

  ‘Sorry, what was that?’ I say in a loud voice.

  The woman scowls. ‘You know there are appropriate facilities for that.’

  I cock my head. ‘I’m sorry, I thought I was using the appropriate facilities.’ I look down at my breast. I smile.

  The woman scowls and shuffles off. I take a slug of wine and bitterly relish in the widening of several pairs of eyes. ‘Off you go then, old prude!’

  Rob’s eyes hold a warning glint. ‘That was a bit rude, Dee.’

  ‘Madam,’ says our waitress, red-faced. ‘This restaurant has strict policies. If you don’t comply, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ I am furious. Humiliated. ‘You can’t ask me to leave because I’m bloody breastfeeding.’

  Ruby senses my distress and tiny fists beat at my chest. Fire burns behind my ribs.

  ‘Dee …’ Rob starts but when I glare, he shuts up.

  ‘It’s not that, madam. We have a strict dress code and behaviour policies; if you don’t comply we’ll have to ask you to vacate—’

  ‘And if you don’t let me feed my child, I’m going to have to ask you to get fucked,’ I spit.

  The girl gasps and I feel a burst of satisfaction.

  Silence echoes and before anyone can react, Rob’s grabbing my elbow and I’m being pulled along with Ruby on my hip and my left breast hanging out, and when we burst out into the cold night air I realise Rob isn’t muttering under his breath. He’s laughing.

  ***

  8:20pm

  Ruby’s asleep; she passed out during the drive home. It’s blissfully quiet, but there’s chaos inside me. I swear at my shoes as I kick them across the bedroom, wrestle off my too-tight dress, fling my bra and underpants across the room. I stand, shoulders heaving. Livid.

  Rob’s in the doorway. I catch his eyes and recognise that spark and my chest fills in a way it hasn’t in months.

  ‘Dee …’ His eyes run down my body, then back up again to meet mine.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Delilah.’ His voice is hoarse; he sounds broken. His eyes hold mine. ‘You’re still magnificent.’

  My heart’s thumping. I wait for him to come to me, as he used to. Three seconds, four. But just as I think he’ll step forward and open his arms, a shadow passes over his face, as if he’s remembered something. He turns away and walks from the room.

  In the ensuing silence, I wonder about my husband, whose mildness I once mistook for compassion, until that loaded word sinks in. You’re still magnificent.

  Still.

  Chapter 17

  Liz

  June, 2017

  Thursday, 6:15am

  It’s dark although it’s morning and I’ve barely slept – this day-bed is a bit worse for wear, but I’ve reached the point where it’s futile to keep trying. I kept dreaming and waking, grasping at thoughts that refused to be caught. For a moment I think I’m back in our flat in London, and I reach out for the water bottle I keep beside the bed. But my hand connects with the cold, hard wall and I’m tossed back into the present.

  I stare at the ceiling. My memory of last night is foggy; I think I took an extra dose of pills by mistake, but snippets from Dee’s visit and the scream I heard reverberate around in my mind. The scream was real, wasn’t it? I ran to the loft, but when I looked out of the window, no one was there. Until Samir showed up, that is.

  It’s possible someone was just frightened by the storm, and the scream was nothing more than that. Pub Guy probably has an endless stream of backpackers in and out of his bedroom, I think with a twinge of something I don’t care to examine. I rub my eyes and sigh. But someone yelled
please, didn’t they? Or was that part of a dream?

  The more I think about it, the less sense it all makes. Why would Dee come out here in the dark in the middle of the night to talk to a complete stranger? Unless she was expecting to find Tim? She did seem surprised to see me, and that Tim had died. I found it odd she didn’t know that already. Isn’t news supposed to travel fast in small towns? Then again, Erica hadn’t known either.

  And there are other factors that don’t make sense. Would she really have risked coming across during a king tide, just for some company? It would have been so dangerous to cross the creek, even by boat, if Pub Guy is to be believed. It all seems so unlikely, and yet I can still feel the brush of her cold lips against my cheek as she said goodbye. And I can’t shake the image of that unreadable expression in her eyes. For a moment I think it might have been pity, but why should she pity me? Most likely it’s my own emotions reflected back to me. That’s what got me in all that trouble in the first place.

  But then there was Samir coming out of Dee’s house … Why would my mind conjure that up? What could he have been dragging that was so large and cumbersome?

  A body, my brain whispers, and with that thought I throw back the covers and stumble out of bed. One thing I know for certain. I have to get out of this house.

  ***

  9:50am

  The air is like ice in my lungs. It’s a shock – I didn’t count on it getting this cold in Australia – and it wakes me up, propels me forward. I haven’t eaten and my morning coffee is sloshing in my stomach with every step.

  As I approach Cockle Street, a short woman is bustling towards me, arms folded across her chest, short blonde hair fluttering in the breeze like bird’s feathers. It’s a moment before I recognise her, and as I do, she’s already passing me.

  ‘Erica?’

  The woman’s head whips around. She stops, looks at me, and tilts her head to the side. She clearly has no idea who I am, even though we met just the other day.

  Her hand is at her mouth, stubby fingers tapping at her chin. The nails have been chewed to the quick.