I couldn’t help but admire her bravado. ‘Great. Thanks,’ I said.
Justin glared at me. Meaningfully, I suspect. I followed Sunny, partly to get Justin out of my line of sight. He followed.
‘Da-ad,’ she protested. ‘Leave us alone!’ The habitual cry of the teenage girl.
‘I checked you out,’ Justin said, pumping his fists open and closed like he was preparing for a blood donation. I hoped it was his blood he was planning to donate.
‘Good,’ I said. ‘It’s what I expected you to do.’
After a brief respite his neck and chest had mottled up again. Just looking at him made me feel tired. How boring it would be to live with someone whose first and only response to everything was anger.
‘Word is you’re legit. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t have let you in the door.’
Sunny rolled her eyes theatrically. ‘Da-ad, you promised!’ She turned her impossibly fragile little neck to look at him. ‘Please,’ she added. This time without the attitude. It worked.
‘Five minutes,’ he said, splaying his hand in front of my face for emphasis. ‘You get five minutes and that’s it.’ He turned to Sunny. ‘Anton will be right outside the door.’
‘I don’t want him there.’ Her eyes darted to the door. ‘I don’t want him …’
‘Okay, okay.’ He held up his hand in the same stop gesture Anton had used on me. ‘I’ll tell him to go back downstairs. If you want me, you just yell, honey, and I’ll be here in a heartbeat.’
Her back was to him, but she nodded.
The cappuccino was more than okay and so was Sunny. She’d built a little hard carapace about herself but it was surprisingly easy to get beneath it. We made a bit of small talk about why she didn’t drink coffee or tea and about her dad’s gym gear importing business, but we were both aware our time alone was short. I thought her first question would be, ‘What’s my mother like?’ She surprised me.
‘What’s your mother like?’ she asked.
I tried not to let the question throw me. Fair enough, I thought. She has the right to find out about me before she gives anything of herself away.
‘Well.’ I let my breath out. ‘My mother died when I was five so all my memories of her belong to a five-year-old.’
‘Same,’ she said, pulling her bare foot into her hand. ‘Only the other way round.’ I waited, not following her meaning but knowing more was coming. ‘I wish my mother was dead and Falcon was alive.’ She made it sound very matter of fact. ‘He was five when she killed him.’ She slid a little smile in my direction. ‘I’d probably hate him. If he was alive, I mean. He’d be twelve. Twelve-year-old boys are so totally disgusting.’ She hid her emotion in her oversized cup of hot water.
‘I had a little sister,’ I said, and took a sip of the coffee. ‘I thought I’d hate her but I loved her right from the start. And even when she was an annoying twelve-year-old I still loved her.’ The words were thick in my throat. The emotion surprised us both. I glanced at Sunny before adding, ‘But maybe it’s different with a brother.’
Sunny shook her head. ‘Falcon was a really cute kid,’ she said. Her eyes moved as she pictured him. She blinked slowly, shutting the image down. ‘I try not to think about him too much.’
I could understand that. ‘You get on okay with Neo?’
‘Sure,’ she said with a hitched shrug. There was a fierceness about her as she readied herself for the difficult stuff. ‘What does she want with me?’ Her eyes darted as she searched for another way to ask the question. She ended up just repeating it. ‘What does she want?’
I took my time answering, aware every word I said was loaded. ‘Karen says she wants to know you’re alright,’ I said.
‘What do you mean alright?’ she shot back. It was the first flash of anger.
‘To be honest, I don’t really know.’ She’d drawn her legs up and was hugging them with skinny little arms. ‘Are you alright?’ I asked.
Sunny opened her mouth to speak. There was something there; some thought, some secret. Her eyes darted to the door again. I wondered if Justin was outside listening. Or Anton. Or if she thought one of them was. Whatever she’d intended to say was swallowed.
‘Alright for someone whose mother tried to murder her, you mean?’ She lifted her chin in a parody of pride. ‘Oh yeah, I’m totally excellent.’ Her voice hitched.
‘I believe Karen cares about you, Sunny.’
This was pushing the limits of what I was prepared to say about Karen’s feelings for her, but I had to give Sunny something. She feigned nonchalance and nearly convinced herself.
‘Yeah, well, whatever.’ A new thought took hold. ‘You won’t tell anyone at school, will you? Promise you won’t talk to any of them. No one at school knows …’ This was clearly her worst nightmare.
‘I won’t talk to anyone …’ I began.
‘And don’t let Mum go anywhere near my friends! If she does, I’ll … I’ll …’ She tensed. I reckoned there was a fifty-fifty chance of her making a run for the door.
‘Listen to me, Sunny.’ My chair squeaked as I leaned forward. ‘I won’t tell Karen anything you say to me. I won’t tell her anything about you. Not unless you want me to. You are in charge of this. That’s the deal. I give you my word.’
The seconds ticked away while she stayed frozen and stiff with indecision. Then the hand closed over the foot again with a comforting squeeze and the tension deflated.
‘Okay.’ She shrugged as if she didn’t care. ‘Whatever,’ she added bleakly.
Suddenly the door clattered opened. Anton stepped back to allow Salena entry. ‘So you’re the person Karen sent.’ She dismissed me in a single eye movement.
There was no reason to respond and she didn’t seem to expect a reply. Neo slunk in behind her, iPad swinging casually in one hand. He perched on the sofa next to Sunny and continued his game. Anton remained in the open doorway, displaying his bulk. He was looking at Sunny in a way that made me uneasy. It was a relief when she put her feet on the floor.
‘Justin didn’t want Sunny to talk to you but I said she should. She has to come to terms with what her mother did.’ Salena didn’t even glance in Sunny’s direction.
Sunny reacted. ‘Hell-ooo,’ she called, waving her arms above her head. ‘I am actually here in the room, you know.’
Salena kept her eyes averted. ‘I know you are, darling.’
An uncomfortable silence followed; well, uncomfortable for me anyway. Sunny glared at Salena with undisguised distaste. Salena shifted papers on the desk, ignoring her. No love lost or otherwise between these two. Neo edged closer to Sunny. His attention appeared to be focused entirely on his game, but I had my doubts.
‘Are you alright, love?’ Justin pushed past Anton, looking from me to Sunny.
‘Why is everyone suddenly so interested if I’m alright. Of course I’m alright. What did you think she’d do — kill me?’
An odd boing from Neo’s iPad game was the only sound in the room. Salena threw Justin a ‘this is what I have to deal with’ gesture. He didn’t respond. My knees clicked from sitting rigid for too long. In full view of Justin, I handed Sunny my business card.
‘All my contact details are on there, Sunny. You can ring me any time you want.’
She studied the card intently, forcing the tears back. I resisted the urge to hug her goodbye. Salena called a sarcastic ‘Bye now,’ as I reached the door. Anton held it open for me. I was already anticipating the very deep breath I’d let out once my feet hit the pavement.
‘I want to meet my mother,’ Sunny said, addressing her father. I paused in the doorway, Anton’s arm hovering above my head.
‘No way, Sunny,’ he said. ‘I won’t allow it.’
‘You can’t stop me, you know,’ she said, without conviction. ‘I have a right to see her.’
Justin looked to Salena for advice. She feigned interest in the wall. Anton stared at Sunny; he seemed fascinated by her. No one looked at me, frozen in the doorway, cra
ving a cigarette for the first time in twenty months.
‘I have to, you know, confront her,’ Sunny said. ‘Tell her how much I hate her,’ she added, unconvincingly. Justin struggled to contain some emotion, his repertoire of emotions so limited I was guessing the emotion was anger. ‘You have to let me do this, Dad. Please.’
Even the iPad had stopped boinging.
‘Okay,’ he said. We all breathed again. ‘But I have to be there. I won’t let you do this on your own.’
Sunny immediately got down to practicals. ‘Not you, Dad. It would be impossible with you there. You’d just get totally angry and stuff.’ There was no heat in it. She was stating a fact. Surprisingly, Justin nodded in agreement. I saw a thought take hold.
‘You’re right, honey,’ he said, a barely repressed smile developing. ‘It should be another female with you. Someone you trust.’ Thrilled with the possibility, he looked the question at Salena. She offered a complex range of gestures in response, which I interpreted as meaning she would do it, but unwillingly.
‘I want her to come with me,’ Sunny said. Justin released the smile. He assumed she meant Salena. We all did. ‘I want Diane to come with me,’ she declared, studying the card in her hand, probably making sure she had my name right. Justin was speechless. So was I. ‘I trust her,’ she added. She might as well have said: Suck on that, Salena.
The iPad boinged.
Maybe Sunny chose me just to piss Salena off. Salena thought so, though she refused to give her stepdaughter the satisfaction of showing it. Whatever her intention, once Sunny had set the idea in motion she wouldn’t back away from it and, having agreed to the deal, Justin knew he was stuck with it. Finally, he gave in and asked me to set up the meeting. Well, ‘asked’ would be a euphemistic way of describing his belligerent demands. He made it abundantly clear that I wouldn’t have been his first or last choice as go-between. And from Salena’s cool gaze levelled in my direction, she wasn’t too big a fan of my involvement either. As for Karen, I was confident she would leap at the chance to meet her daughter.
Me? I wasn’t so sure it was a good idea for either of them — or good for me either, for that matter. Taking charge, Justin instructed me to bring Karen to the Ja Coozy restaurant in the Wynyard Quarter at one o’clock on Saturday afternoon. No doubt he’d chosen a fishbowl-style setting where he could keep a close eye on us from a chosen spot close by. He confirmed my suspicion by assuring me he would be nearby at all times.
No amount of warning from me could dampen Karen’s excitement. She was overjoyed at the prospect of meeting her daughter. Breathless with anticipation, she began planning an early flight up on Saturday morning in time to meet with me beforehand. The more she chattered eagerly about the meeting, the deeper my heart sank. Call me a pessimist but I couldn’t help thinking it would go badly. When she asked for details about Sunny I reminded her of our agreement that everything about her daughter would remain private until Sunny chose to share it with her. Karen agreed immediately, apologised for her transgression and told me I was quite right. Such was her elation and gratitude she would have agreed to anything. Try as I did to remind myself that this woman had attempted to murder her daughter and had succeeding in killing her five-year-old son it wasn’t enough to stop me feeling some compassion for her. I tried one last time to warn her that things might not go all that smoothly.
‘She has a lot of anger towards you. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Of course she does. I understand.’ But it wasn’t enough to extinguish the excitement in her voice. ‘Do you think I could bring her a gift or something?’ Before I could answer, she added, ‘Or do you think that would be wrong?’
‘I really don’t know,’ I said honestly. ‘I’ve never been in this situation before.’
I didn’t intend this as sarcastic but it must have sounded so. She was quiet for a full minute. I thought of apologising but decided not to. If she couldn’t handle what sounded like a bit of sarcasm from me, she sure as hell wouldn’t be match-fit for the meeting with Sunny.
‘Neither have I,’ she finally offered.
I’d punched the wind out of her. We wound down the conversation with me promising to get in touch if there was a change in plan. I thought there was a high probability either Sunny or her father would chicken out and call the whole thing off or Salena would decide she couldn’t allow the meeting to go ahead. Before ending the call Karen thanked me for everything I’d done.
‘Sunny must trust you to ask you to come with her.’ I couldn’t say anything without giving away more about Sunny’s relationship with her stepmother than I was prepared to. ‘Thank you,’ she added. Despite all my dire warnings, she sounded happy. No doubt passengers on the Titanic were happy before they hit that iceberg, too.
Back at the townhouse, I called Robbie. I thought he’d ask why I hadn’t phoned the day before, but that was just my own guilt talking. He said he was happy to keep Wolf until I returned on Saturday afternoon.
‘He misses you,’ he said. ‘And I do too.’
I heard the grin, pictured it, too, and felt myself grinning back. ‘Yeah, well, don’t you go chewing up the furniture now.’
There was a pause before he spoke. ‘Have you thought about my suggestion?’ I swallowed. ‘About us moving in together?’ In case I was confusing it with some other suggestion he’d made.
‘I’ve been really busy.’
Stupid and evasive. The truth was that I hadn’t thought about it at all. Not because I was too busy or had other things on my mind. I hadn’t thought about Robbie’s suggestion we move in together because I was a big fat squawking chicken in big fat squawking chicken denial.
Chapter 8
THURSDAY 22 NOVEMBER 2012
I’m blessed with being able to fall asleep anywhere. Planes, trains and automobiles, friends’ sofas, back seats of cars, motel rooms — it makes no difference to me. I put my head down and I’m out like the proverbial. No shallow sleep states for me. I’ve never experienced a stage one myoclonic jerk in my life; though I’ve had plenty of experience with the other kind. With only a brief pause at stage four, I plummet straight into stage five: REM deep dream mode. According to Sean I start sleep-talking in under thirty seconds.
Started, I mean. Sean is past tense. Present tense Robbie hasn’t mentioned my odd sleep behaviour yet. Maybe that’s the kind of conversation we’ll have if we move in together, and whether the lawns need cutting and the fridge defrosting. Or maybe not. Most people, normal people, rotate from deep stage five sleep back up to stage two and then slowly back down again throughout the night. Not me. Once asleep, I pretty much stay there, way down the hole with only the occasional holiday up to stage four for a couple of minutes’ light relief. When my brain decides it’s time to wake up I rise to the surface like an abyssal diver in need of air, straight up and awake. Just like that. But try and wake me before my brain says it’s ready — well, that’s not easy.
The reason I know all this is because when I was a kid specialists studied the hell out of me. The end result of all their prodding and probing and sleep-wave monitoring was to be told my condition has no adverse effects — on me, anyway; in fact, it apparently gives me all sorts of health benefits I’m supposed to be thankful for. When I’m dreaming of flying or winning lotto it’s an enviable little trick, alright.
But there is a downside: nightmares. When I’m in a nightmare I’m there for the long haul. I can be forced awake, jolted back to consciousness, but it takes a concerted effort. Meanwhile, until my brain says it’s time to wake up, I’m stuck in nightmare-ville. Believe me, that’s no fun place to be.
The dream started off just fine. I’m swimming through clear, lucid water. Fingers stretching ahead in long easy breaststrokes. Forehead breaching like a ship’s prow. My timing is perfect, rhythmical. I take a deep breath in, my forehead dips into the iciness. I lift my chin and breathe out as the stroke comes around again, weightless, like flying; blissful. I fill my lungs with air, flip and
kick down into the deep cold. Hands clasped together, arms out in front, I dolphin kick down further and further, undulating my body through the liquid. The water parts in front of me and then folds back as I slice through. It’s spectacularly easy. No drag. No effort. No struggle for breath. It’s like I have gills.
Then I glimpse something below. Something in the murky depths. Something falling. Bubbles nibble my skin as they rise past me to the surface. One hard kick and I’m closer. It’s a car. A car is falling below me in slow motion. Another kick down. Closer now, I make out a little white moon face, framed in the back window — Falcon. His eyes are wide; his hands are flattened against the glass. His mouth is a big ‘O’.
And then in one of those time jumps that happen in dreams, it’s me in the car. I’m not Falcon. I’m in the front passenger seat. The belt is tight across my chest. I’m wearing a pale blue cotton dress with lace trim on the hem. My knees are the knees of a young girl. Falcon is yelling something at me. He’s yelling in another language, or he’s yelling something I can’t make any sense of. The car is still falling. Lake weed droops past the window. An old supermarket trolley lies on its side in the muddy bed. We’re nearly at the bottom. We’ll stop falling soon. There will be a bump. I wonder if it will hurt. Dying — I wonder if it will hurt. The water is as thick as mushroom soup. As if an un-mute button has been pushed, Falcon yells ‘No!’ as loud as a fire alarm. Over and over he’s yelling it, ‘Nononononono!’ as if it’s one word. His little arms are tight around my neck. I want to remind him to put his seatbelt on. Stupid. The car lands, thud! A soft landing, a parachute landing. Mud billows up with a whoosh and settles on the window. Pretty soon all the windows will be covered with it. The door won’t open. I push harder but the weight of the water pushes back. Outside the car everything is soupy but the liquid that dribbles from the tops of the windows is clear. The river bubbles up through the floor. Already my ankles look wobbly and enormous.
My Brother’s Keeper Page 5