The Winter Sea

by Morrissey, Di

  ‘I’m sorry, Papà, but sometimes Carlo really gets up my nose. It wasn’t the stupid game, it’s just that Carlo makes me see red at times and I suppose this was one of those times. But you’re right. We are getting a bit old to carry on like this.’

  ‘Yeah. And Carlo should grow up, too. You two have always been competitive since day one. I, for one, am sick of it,’ said Ricardo, but he put his arm around Patrick as the three of them walked back into the hall. ‘If you ask me I think that life’s too short to waste it fighting. Find yourself a nice girl and settle down.’

  *

  Life resumed its routine. Franco and his family returned to Wollongong and Pietro decided to go to Sydney for a few days to visit friends. When he returned the family had only a few more days of his company before he returned to Los Angeles.

  In those last days, Ricardo tried to talk Pietro into joining them all on a fishing expedition. ‘The weather is good and there are fish out there. We’ll just go out for a few hours. Come on, Pietro, you’ll enjoy it. It’s not often that we get to fish just for the pleasure of it and it would be fun if you came.’

  Pietro laughed. ‘I don’t think so. But I tell you what, anything you catch, I’ll help you eat.’

  ‘If you don’t help catch them, why should you get to eat them?’ asked Carlo.

  Joe shrugged. ‘Don’t push him, but you boys do what you want. I’m going to Wollongong to see Franco and Silvio. I expect to see a fish feast waiting when I get back this afternoon!’

  The day had started out calm and grey, the ocean flat, the air still, as if the world was holding its breath. People went about their business, though the streets were quiet at this early hour. Life in Whitby Point was going on in warm rooms, behind closed doors. As Joe drove past the harbour on his way to Wollongong he could see men working in the brisk air, dressed warmly in heavy jumpers and beanies. The water in the harbour was so still that it looked almost like a lake, the boats hardly rocking. In Wollongong a few hours later, Joe felt a change coming before he’d even looked out of the window.

  ‘I think we’re in for some nasty weather,’ said Silvio.

  Joe glanced at the sky as the clouds began to darken. From Franco’s house he could see that the surface of the sea had begun to ruffle and move in slow heaving breaths as if preparing for an outburst. The small boats around the Wollongong harbour and outside the seawall turned back into the curve of the sheltered bay. White caps started to form at the crests of rolling waves. In the distance, lightning zig-zagged behind the gathering clouds.

  ‘Think I might try to get back before the weather gets any worse,’ said Joe.

  ‘You can always stay here if you don’t want to drive in the wet,’ Franco told him.

  ‘No, but thanks anyway. I want to get back to my mother. I don’t like to leave her for too long. And Pietro only has a few more nights with us.’

  ‘We understand,’ said Silvio. ‘Drive carefully.’

  Driving back to Whitby Point in the storm reminded Joe of the night that Bridie was killed. Not that he needed reminding.

  Such a tragedy for my family, he thought sadly, the old ache for Bridie still burning.

  It was late afternoon when Joe drove into Whitby Point. The sea was churning and the wind was flinging itself at the boats, buffeting them at their moorings. Joe was relieved to see the Celestine, the boat the boys had taken out, safely tied up to the wharf.

  The boys are back. That’s one less thing to worry about, he thought.

  He let himself into the house. Patrick wasn’t there and when he looked into Emilia’s room he could see her asleep on her bed. He tiptoed away and went to pour himself a drink, but before he could take it into the study, the front door flew open and Ricardo burst in.

  ‘Papà, where are you?’

  ‘Son, son. I’m in here. What’s up? Is something wrong?’ Joe was immediately concerned by the sight of Ricardo’s dishevelled appearance and stressed face.

  ‘Yes. It’s terrible. You have to come . . .’ Ricardo took a deep breath and in a rush blurted, ‘There was an accident. Carlo has been killed. It is terrible, but it was an accident.’

  ‘Killed!’ Joe could hardly speak the word. He felt winded, as though he had been punched. He gasped for breath. ‘How? Why? Not on the boat? What happened? My son, what has happened to my son? Oh my Lord, Gail and little Greta . . .’

  ‘Papà, it was an accident. Patrick and Carlo. The boat rolled and Carlo lost his footing and fell onto Patrick who was holding the bait knife, and then it just happened.’

  Joe was speechless. He felt numb and helpless. Ricardo’s agonised words wrenched at his heart. ‘Where is Carlo? Have you told Gail? Did you get a doctor? Did you call the police?’

  Ricardo shook his head. ‘It’s too late for a doctor. As soon as we arrived back at the harbour I went up to see Gail. Her parents are with her now, and then I thought I would come and wait for you here, but you were already back. Patrick went and told the police about the accident. But Papà, there was nothing we could do for Carlo.’

  ‘Gail. How did she take it?’

  ‘She is distraught. She said that she knew that the fishing industry was dangerous, but she never thought that something would happen to Carlo when he was out fishing for fun.’

  At that moment, Emilia entered the room. As soon as they told her what had happened, she broke down and began to wail. Carlo had always been her favourite. Joe put his arms around her, but nothing he did could stem her tears and shrieking moans. Joe wondered if she would ever recover from such a blow.

  Ricardo was still white-faced when there was a rap on the front door. ‘That’ll be the police, I guess. I’ll have to speak to them and I’d rather do it here than at home in front of my family.’

  The police sergeant seemed as shocked as everyone else. He told them that Patrick had described what had happened on the boat and asked Ricardo for his version.

  ‘As I told Papà, it was an accident,’ explained Ricardo. ‘We’d had a good day. Caught quite a few fish, and then the weather started to pick up, so we turned for home. We weren’t far out of the harbour when Patrick said that he’d throw in one last line. He picked up the bait knife and then it happened. The boat suddenly rolled and it threw Carlo off balance and he sort of fell into Patrick and the knife went into him. We came back into port right away but Carlo was dead.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the police officer, ‘that’s what Patrick said, too. A terrible accident.’

  Joe became agitated. ‘Pietro, where is he? Does he know what has happened?’

  ‘No, he said he was going to the pictures, I think. Something was playing that he wanted to see. Do you want me to go and find him?’ asked Ricardo.

  ‘He’ll be back soon enough. We can tell him then. No need to hurry now,’ said Joe, his voice hoarse and barely audible. He looked across at his mother, who was still sobbing quietly in her favourite chair. ‘This family has been through some terrible times. We don’t deserve this.’

  ‘Mr Aquino, I don’t want to worry you any further. I’m sure it was an accident, but I expect that there will have to be an investigation. It’s likely that some officers from Wollongong will have to ask some questions as well, just for the record, that’s all. You understand.’

  As he was speaking, Patrick walked into the room looking pale.

  Joe leapt up and embraced him. ‘My poor boy,’ he said, ‘such an awful thing. Where have you been?’

  ‘After I spoke to the police, I went to see Gail. She’s gone with her father to see Carlo’s body. I can’t believe it. It’s a nightmare. I’m so sorry it happened. Honestly, it was an accident, though.’

  ‘Yes. Of course it was, but the police sergeant here says that the Wollongong police will want to ask questions too.’

  Patrick silently nodded his head.

  Joe shook as he said, ‘I must go and see my son. This family. So many terrible things happen to it.’

  Later that evening, after Joe and Pietro
had returned, the four men sat around the kitchen table trying to work out what to do next.

  ‘We will have to organise yet another funeral,’ said Joe, holding his head in his hands.

  ‘Don’t you think that Gail and her family will want to do that?’ said Pietro quietly. ‘But I am sure that they would be pleased if you offered your help, Papà.’

  ‘I don’t suppose we’ll be able to have one until after an autopsy, anyway,’ said Ricardo, rubbing his reddened eyes.

  ‘I don’t understand why there’s going to be an investigation if the police think that it was an accident,’ said Pietro.

  ‘I don’t know. But my concern is for you, Papà and Nonna and of course Gail. What a mess,’ said Patrick despairingly.

  The town was thunderstruck by the tragic news of Carlo’s death and although the Aquinos would have preferred a quiet funeral, the whole town turned out to show their sympathy for the family. As soon as it was over Pietro flew back to California, leaving Joe feeling even sadder. His family was disintegrating.

  The Wollongong police stayed in the background until Carlo’s funeral was over but soon after they began to ask questions. Not just of Patrick and Ricardo, who were unable to tell them more than they had already, reaffirming that the incident had been a tragic accident, but also of a lot of the townspeople as well as Joe’s employees.

  To Joe’s surprise the police let Patrick know that they wanted to interview him again. Joe was concerned and suggested that maybe Patrick should have their solicitor with him.

  ‘I’m not sure that it’s necessary, Papà, but if it makes you happy I’ll ask Mr Walker to come with me.’

  On the day of Patrick’s police interview Joe became more agitated as several hours passed and still Patrick had not come home. When there was a knock on the door Joe realised that something was very wrong. Patrick had no need to knock. When he opened the door Rodney Walker, the local solicitor, was standing on the verandah looking extremely worried.

  ‘Joe, they’ve arrested Patrick,’ he said bluntly. ‘They’ve charged him with manslaughter. The whole thing is rubbish, but that’s what’s happened.’

  Joe just stared at him. At first he could think of nothing to say, and just waved the solicitor into the house. Then he blurted out, ‘Why would they think that?’

  ‘They don’t believe either Ricardo’s or Patrick’s story. They have asked a lot of questions around town and found out that Carlo and Pat did not get on, never got on. Then they found out about the fight at the dance and they are convinced that Pat and Carlo had a fight on the boat that led to Carlo’s death and that Ricardo is covering up for Pat by saying the whole thing was an accident.’

  Joe looked at the solicitor. ‘If my sons say that it was an accident, then that is what it was.’

  ‘I agree. I don’t think that the police have much of a case at all, but they seem to think that they have enough to go ahead and charge him.’

  ‘What happens now?’ Joe asked.

  ‘For the moment I’ve got Pat out on bail. There wasn’t any problem with that and he’s gone around to see Ricardo to tell him what’s going on. He’s going to have to go to a committal hearing, Joe.’

  ‘Will he be committed?’

  ‘No, the committal hearing will listen to the police evidence against him and determine if there is enough to warrant continuing with the case. I’m not sure that there will be enough evidence, but I think it would be a good idea if we hired a barrister for Patrick, just to make sure.’

  ‘If you think that’s best then we must get one straight away. Can you recommend anyone?’

  ‘I’ll see if Mr Giles Bartholomew can take the case. He’s a QC, very expensive, but he’s one of the best.’

  ‘I don’t care about the expense. I just want Patrick cleared,’ exclaimed Joe vehemently. ‘But if your Mr Bartholomew is not successful, what will happen then?’

  ‘Then the case will have to go to trial in the district court in Wollongong.’

  ‘It will never get that far,’ said Joe, sounding a lot calmer than he felt. ‘The magistrate will know straight away that Pat, of all people, could not possibly kill his brother other than in a terrible accident. But if by chance the magistrate cannot work it out for himself, Mr Bartholomew will have to convince him.’

  *

  Joe and Ricardo went with Patrick to the local court for the committal hearing. Joe was confident that this would be the end of the matter, but the police prosecution was able to produce a string of witnesses, all of whom testified that Patrick and Carlo didn’t get on and that the arguments between the two of them were not a secret. This was enough to convince the magistrate that Patrick did have a case to answer over the death of his step-brother. Now there would have to be a jury trial in the Wollongong district court.

  Although Patrick seemed to accept the magistrate’s ruling, Joe was distraught.

  ‘I don’t understand, Rodney. Why didn’t you question those witnesses?’ he asked the solicitor.

  ‘Papà, how could he? What they said was true enough. Carlo and I often fought.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Joe. Manslaughter is a serious charge. The magistrate doesn’t necessarily think that the police case will win, but he thinks that they do have a one, so that is why he has sent the matter to trial. Mr Bartholomew will continue to represent Patrick and he is sure that the charges will be dismissed.’

  *

  It was several months before the case came up before the district court and in the meantime the Aquinos tried to get on with their lives. Patrick remained out on bail and continued to work on the fishing boats with Ricardo. Even when they were not at work they spent a lot of time together. Joe missed Carlo and was frequently around at Gail’s helping her as much as he could and playing with little Greta. He worried about Patrick and the outcome of the court case. Some days he was even relieved that Bridie wasn’t there to know what had happened. Emilia found the whole tragedy very difficult to cope with. She looked after Joe and Patrick as well as she always had, but she seemed to have very little to say to either to them or to anyone else.

  On the first day of the trial, the two brothers and Joe drove up to Wollongong together. Gail was driving up to the court with her family and Emilia refused to come at all. She would, after all, understand very little of the proceedings.

  As they neared Wollongong, Joe spoke, ‘No matter what, I know that Carlo died because of an accident, because that is what you two boys have told me. I hold no one accountable. God is the judge here and so we must allow fate to run its course.’

  When they arrived at the court, they were met by Mr Walker and Mr Bartholomew, who spoke quietly to Patrick.

  ‘Now, Patrick,’ said Mr Bartholomew, ‘as I have told you before, the police have only a lot of circumstantial evidence, which, when produced in court, might make for uncomfortable listening, but cannot of itself in any way induce a guilty verdict from the jury. Our trump card will be your brother. Ricardo’s testimony will free you. No matter what the prosecution throws at him, I am sure that he will not waver in his story.’

  Joe excused himself and went to the bathroom. On his way back he caught Ricardo and Patrick in the hallway in what looked to him like an argument.

  ‘What are you two on about? I don’t think this is the time or the place for this sort of thing. We need to be united.’

  ‘Sorry, Papà,’ said Ricardo. ‘It was nothing. We’re both nervous, I suppose.’

  ‘Come on then. Let’s go into the courtroom. Get it over with,’ said Joe.

  ‘Joe, you and Ricardo will have to stay out here, out of the courtroom, since you’ll be called as witnesses,’ Mr Walker explained. ‘I’ll keep you both filled in on proceedings and you’ll be able to talk to Pat when court is adjourned. He’s still out on bail.’

  Joe and Ricardo sat glumly on one of the benches outside the courtroom.

  ‘I think this is going to be a very long day,’ said Ricardo.

  Mr Walker was as good as his
word and came out to tell them about the proceedings whenever he got the chance. ‘The coroner gave his testimony – much the same as what he said at the committal hearing. Bit of a nuisance about the bruising, though. When he was asked about Carlo’s bruising he said that it was probably caused by being tossed around by the boat but then the police prosecutor got him to modify that testimony, questioned him so he said that it could also have been caused by a fight. Mr Bartholomew got him to retract that when he cross-examined him. Still it won’t take the idea of a fight out of the minds of the jury. Pity that. But early days. Ricardo will set the record straight when he testifies.’

  That evening, after court was adjourned for the day, they all went back to Franco’s house. Patrick was very quiet and when Joe asked him how things were going, he just shrugged. Later that night Joe again saw Patrick and Ricardo in an intense discussion.

  The next day, Joe and Ricardo had barely taken their seats in the hallway when both Mr Walker and Mr Bartholomew came storming out of the courtroom.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Joe asked Rodney Walker.

  ‘Terrible, just terrible. As soon as the judge arrived, Patrick said that he wanted to change his plea to guilty.’

  ‘Change his plea – how can he do that? Why would he do that?’ Joe stared at him, not understanding.

  ‘Joe, Mr Bartholomew advised him not to do such a reckless thing, but Patrick said that he couldn’t go on lying and he didn’t want Ricardo to perjure himself by backing his lie. He said that he had fought with Carlo but that he never meant to harm him, he was acting in self-defence.’

  Joe could not believe what he was hearing. Patrick and Ricardo had both lied to cover up what had really happened on the boat. ‘Did Patrick say what the fight was about?’

  ‘No, but he should if he wants any sympathy from the judge.’

  ‘Can I see Patrick?’ Joe asked, his distress clearly visible on his face.

  ‘I’m sorry, Joe,’ said Mr Walker. ‘He’s already been taken down.’

  At the sentencing hearing Patrick would only say that there had been an argument. Carlo had come at him and he had defended himself with the bait knife. The judge was unimpressed by the explanation, pointing out that Patrick might initially have been trying to defend himself, but he was, nevertheless, using a knife against an unarmed man. Consequently, he sentenced Patrick to nine years with a non-parole period of seven years.