‘No. I’ll fix it.’ She was already in the kitchen scraping the food into the bin. He pushed his chair back but she said, ‘Stay there. I’ll be right back.’
Nick waited. Her voice had an edge to it he hadn’t heard before. Anxiety. Fear, even. Had an incident such as this always triggered a fist in the face from her husband? Most likely. He’d dealt with enough domestic abuse cases to know anything could set those scumbags off. A meal not ready, a meal not to their liking, a meal overcooked or undercooked. A speck of dust. Anything. Nothing. Water ran in the sink. The cupboard opened and closed. Crockery and cutlery clinked.
A portable CD player sat on the bookshelf against the far wall with a stack of CDs beside it.
‘Shall I put some music on?’ he asked.
‘Yes, if you like. Those CDs are Petey’s, though.’ She’d regained some control. ‘Mine are in the living room unless you prefer The Wiggles.’
‘Not really on top of my favourite’s list.’ He laughed, pleased the tension had left her voice. In the living room he studied her smallish collection. Some classical, country rock, a few contemporary pop vocalists. He pulled out a Willie Nelson CD, one of his favourite albums.
When he returned his plate was back in place and Lara sat opposite, biting on her bottom lip. He started the player, adjusted the volume and sat down.
‘I hope it’s okay now.’
He met her worried gaze and said gently, ‘You’re very kind, Lara. You didn’t need to worry. I can cope with a bit of spice. But thank you.’
A tentative smile flicked on and off as though she wasn’t sure if he was being truthful or sarcastic. He picked up his knife and fork and cut into the chicken. She’d rinsed off the spicy coating and given him fresh plain rice. Regardless of the flavour he’d say it was great. He couldn’t bear the way she waited wide-eyed for his verdict, as though he was an executioner with the power to reprieve or condemn.
***
Lara held her breath. How could she have done that to Nick? She only wanted to thank him for being so kind and caring and instead she nearly choked him with her stupid over-spicy cooking. She shouldn’t have invited him. Why had she? He chewed and swallowed. She wouldn’t blame him if he refused to eat at all, if he got up and left.
‘This is delicious. Just enough flavour to give it a good tang.’ He ate another mouthful to prove it.
Lara exhaled and picked up her own knife and fork, weak with relief. He liked Willie Nelson, he liked her cooking, he hadn’t stormed off, he hadn’t choked. He hadn’t abused or hit her. He thought she was talented at drawing. He sat there smiling, eating, making her feel comfortable by just being himself. A nice cop — what a contradiction. She’d been raised to believe there was no such thing.
‘What made you become a policeman?’
‘I was brought up with a strong sense of right and wrong. My parents are very community-minded. Mum’s a schoolteacher, Dad was on the town council. Doing things for the good of the community was part of our upbringing. Joining the police force was also a good career for a country boy. Sometimes I think I’d really like to go back there one day and be the town cop. Maybe when I’m old.’ He laughed and glanced at her from under that flop of hair as though he thought she’d scoff at such a modest goal. For an instant she saw the guileless boy he once was.
‘It sounds like an ideal family.’ Nothing like her own. She couldn’t imagine what that must be like, to be as proud of your parents as Nick obviously was. Not in a boastful way, but it shone from his whole being. He’d been a happy and loved child and those parents had produced a man with strong values. Values which were the antithesis of those in her own upbringing.
‘We had our faults. Like all families,’ he said.
She returned his smile but he had no idea what bottomless chasms the faults were in her family. ‘I want to bring Petey up that way, knowing right from wrong.’
‘No reason why you can’t.’
‘I’m going to do the best I possibly can.’ Lara turned her attention to her lukewarm dinner. And if that meant leaving Sydney to escape her brother and Branko she would.
Nick really seemed to be enjoying the food now and truly didn’t seem perturbed by the disaster. The tension slowly drained from her body. Was there enough ice-cream to offer dessert? She’d bought strawberries yesterday, they’d go well with it.
‘Have you decided what to do about Brooke?’ he asked.
‘Ellie — she’s my neighbour — said if my instinct was to help I should do it and she said she’d back me up if I need a hand.’
‘Sounds like a good friend.’
‘She is. She’s about my mother’s age but yes, she’s a good friend.’
‘I’ll be around if you need me.’
‘Checking up?’ She cocked an eyebrow.
His mouth tightened. ‘If you like to see it that way. Yes.’
She’d offended him in some obscure way. Surely he meant as a police presence rather than anything personal. Didn’t he? The words had popped out before she thought. He’d dropped in tonight to check on her. She’d been pleased, surprised but pleased. Pleased to see him as a man, not because she thought he was doing his job.
‘Do you think you’ll find the guy who did it?’
‘Eventually.’
‘Eventually?’
‘Sooner rather than later, I hope. We’re following all available leads.’
‘Which are?’
‘I can’t tell you, Lara. But believe me we’re doing everything we can.’
‘Police speak.’
He nodded. ‘I’m a policeman.’
And that was something she could never allow herself to forget; no matter how kind he was, how forgiving of a badly cooked meal or how her heart somersaulted when she saw him on her doorstep. Nick was a policeman and policemen always had an agenda.
Cam had had an agenda. Cam had taken advantage of a lonely young woman married to a man she feared. Cam wasn’t even his real name. She had no idea what that was because undercover police were just that. Living a lie, infiltrating, pretending to care when they didn’t. Pretending to love when they didn’t.
‘Lara? Are you okay?’ Nick’s gentle voice roused her from the bitter memory.
‘Sorry.’ She forced a smile. ‘I was thinking.’
‘Bad thoughts by the expression on your face. I have the distinct impression the police aren’t your favourite institution.’
‘Oh…no. My brother was in a bit of trouble once, that’s all.’ She stood up. She was a good liar, he didn’t doubt her for a moment. ‘Would you like strawberries and ice-cream for dessert?’
‘Sounds good.’ He pushed his chair back. ‘Let me help.’
‘No need. I can manage.’
‘So can I. Mum trained me well.’ He picked up the empty salad bowl and followed her to the kitchen.
‘Thanks. Just leave it on the bench.’
Nick watched as she scooped ice-cream onto the two bowls of strawberries, her head bent in concentration. How much trouble had that brother been in? He’d bet it was far more than her lightly tossed off comment warranted.
‘You have the same expression as Petey in that drawing.’
‘Do I?’ She looked up, smiling. ‘I never knew how much I could love someone until I had him.’
‘It shows in your sketch.’
She dipped her head again, nervous as a deer at the compliment. His fingers longed to stroke the soft skin exposed by the short hair feathering on her neck. Her perfume drifted from her in tantalising wafts as she moved, short, jerky actions, closing the ice-cream, returning it to the freezer, collecting spoons from the drawer.
He leaned against the bench, careful to keep out of her way, careful not to intrude on her space, not to overwhelm her in anyway; but when she picked up the two bowls of dessert and turned, her eyes met his with a stab of awareness that made his breath catch. She froze. Her lips parted, he waited, barely breathing, his whole body strained towards her, aching to crush her i
n his arms and kiss her senseless while his mind screamed ‘must not touch.’
A split second later she blinked, and moved away.
Nick exhaled shakily and followed her to the table, silently congratulating himself for not blowing any whisper-thin chance he had with her.
***
Lara closed the door behind her unexpected visitor with a curious feeling of euphoria coupled with uneasy wonder. How could an evening pass so pleasantly and easily with someone she hardly knew? She used to enjoy the company of her friends the same way, back in high school before life became too complicated.
But Nick wasn’t a friend, not really. He was doing his job, making sure Brooke wasn’t walking into far deeper trouble than she was already in. There were moments this evening, however, which made her wonder if his visit was really work-driven. Looks and glances a woman recognised of old, a man’s interest. He said he was worried about her safety and her well-being. Was that true? She’d believed those words before. Interest can be faked, emotions manipulated. Sweet words can be lies. She was older and she was far, far wiser, with more at stake now than just a fragile, lonely heart.
Now she had her future and that of her son to protect.
Chapter 7
Two days later, Lara co-opted a willing Ellie to pick Brooke up from hospital in her car. She’d almost burst a gasket waiting to see Lara’s very interesting new companion. Next to a romantic entanglement this was the next best thing. Lara left her waiting impatiently in the car with Petey.
Now she was out of bed Brooke proved to be a tall girl, slim and pretty with her blonde hair brushed back from a narrow face and held with clips. Clutching a red handbag and an overnight bag she glanced warily at the people in the corridors and the crowds crossing the busy foyer. The bruising had faded to a dull yellowy grey but the dents in her psyche hadn’t and wouldn’t for a long time, the counsellor had warned Lara.
‘She may have nightmares,’ she’d said. ‘Her memory is coming back but nothing from that afternoon and night.’ Lara had nodded. She knew all about nightmares.
For her own part Lara kept a wary eye out for Branko or her brother. It was true Ivan had his appendix out, she’d rung the hospital and asked how he was. A concerned anonymous friend. He’d probably guess who, if anyone thought to tell him someone had called. He was due for release yesterday. No complications, the nurse said. A small part of her was relieved. He was her big brother, after all, and he’d endured the same parental disaster she had. The difference was he was the eldest male and in her parents eyes that made him a prince and Lara, Cinderella.
Brooke walked close by Lara’s side as they went to the car, her movements jerky and uncomfortable.
‘It feels odd to be outside. It’s hotter than I expected,’ she said. Her eyes moved rapidly, scanning the traffic and the pedestrians. Seeking out the men and watching them as they passed as though one might make a sudden lunge at her. ‘There are so many people around.’
‘None of them are interested in us,’ said Lara. ‘We’ll go home via your place to pack the things you’ll need.’
‘You’re very kind to do this for me,’ Brooke said for the umpteenth time. ‘I’ll never forget it.’
As soon as they came within sight of the parked car Ellie sprang out like a grey-haired, overweight jack-in-the-box and opened the passenger door. ‘Hello dear. I’m Ellie and this is Petey in the back.’
‘Hello, Ellie.’ Brooke bent to peer in at Petey. ‘He’s so sweet.’
Petey stared as only a toddler can, blank-faced, suspicious and unresponsive.
‘He’ll loosen up when he gets to know you,’ said Ellie. ‘He’s a chatterbox as a rule.’
Thanks to a stern talking to from Lara on the way over Ellie drove with less abandon than usual. She parked with exaggerated care outside the red brick apartment block in leafy Annandale Street and turned off the engine.
‘Petey and I will wait here,’ she said. ‘We can’t cope with lots of stairs. He’d take forever and I’d drop dead.’
‘Got the keys?’ Lara asked as she and Brooke approached the door.
Brooke nodded. ‘The police brought this handbag in for me. I mustn’t have taken it with me which was lucky because all my cards and stuff were in it. But not my phone.’
‘A lot of girls only take a small amount of cash, their phone and key with them when they go out. Safer that way.’
‘Lucky I was one of those. It was easy to get a key cut from the agents but the police organised to have the lock changed anyway just in case the guy knows where I live.’ Her voice shook on the last words. ‘I think I’ll have to move.’
‘Does it look familiar?’
‘It does. I’m on the third floor.’ Brooke led the way upstairs and turned right at the top landing. ‘Number 54.’
The poky apartment was the size of an average motel room. One room with a small kitchenette and a bathroom.
She went straight to the bed and pulled a medium-sized blue suitcase from under it. Fifteen minutes later Lara carried the bag downstairs for her. Brooke didn’t have much to pack and she was only staying a week or two at most. That had been made clear right from the start. Lara had prepared the larger of the two spare rooms at the top of the stairs but she had no intention of allowing Brooke to feel anything other than a guest. Welcome but for a finite time.
At home Ellie came in, ostensibly to help settle the visitor but really because she was a stickybeak of the highest order. Not that Lara minded. She was grateful Ellie supported the decision she still often doubted herself. Brooke seemed like a sweet, normal girl still shaken and damaged by her ordeal but who really knew? No-one. And the horrible experience she’d had could have affected her in ways yet to become apparent. Ways Lara was ill equipped to cope with, especially with a toddler to protect as well. This may prove to be a disastrous mistake.
‘I’ll make us all a cuppa,’ Ellie announced when Brooke had been shown her room upstairs and her suitcase placed on the straight-backed chair ready for unpacking.
‘I hope you’ll be all right on the stairs,’ Lara said. ‘They’re quite steep and the bathroom is on the ground floor.’
‘I’ll be fine, I’ll hold onto the railing. It’s a lovely house. My apartment is so tiny, it’s lovely to have the space.’
‘Okay. Come down to the kitchen when you’re ready.’
Lara left her to it. In the kitchen Ellie was rummaging in the cupboard looking for mugs and biscuits. Petey sat on the floor with a piece of chocolate and a massive grin.
‘Chocit, mummy.’ He held up a sticky hand.
Lara groaned. ‘You know I don’t like him to eat chocolate all the time.’
‘It’s just a little treat. It won’t hurt him.’
‘That’s not the point. He thinks he can have chocolate any old time and he can’t. I don’t want tantrums at the supermarket.’
‘I’ve never seen him throw a tantrum.’
‘No, he doesn’t as a rule but I don’t want him to start over chocolate.’
‘I love chocit,’ Petey announced and began singing a song to himself about chocolate. Lara wiped his face and fingers.
‘She’s seems like a nice girl,’ Ellie said in a loud whisper. ‘So pretty, poor lamb.’
Lara joined her at the bench and lowered her voice. ‘Yes. I hope I haven’t made a terrible mistake.’
‘You keep saying that but it’s too late now. I think you’ll all be fine. Got any biscuits?’
‘There’s banana cake in that tin.’ Lara took over making the tea while Ellie put the cake on a plate and sliced it.
Brooke appeared in the doorway. ‘My room is lovely. Thanks, Lara.’ She bent down to Petey. ‘Hello, my name’s Brooke.’
Petey studied her then shot a desperate look at Lara. He scrambled to his feet and ran for protection behind her legs.
‘Oh, I’ve frightened him.’
‘Maybe it’s the bruises,’ said Lara. The skin on her cheek and forehead was still stained. �
�Brooke’s face is sore,’ she said to him. ‘A bad man hit her.’
Petey peeped out carefully but didn’t let go. Brooke sat on a stool at the bench. ‘It doesn’t hurt much now but my ribs are still sore. They said it’s bad bruising rather than broken.’
‘Cracked ribs take weeks to heal if it’s that.’ Ellie plonked the plate of banana cake in front of Brooke. ‘I fell down some steps once years ago and cracked a rib. Couldn’t lift anything and couldn’t laugh.’
‘There isn’t much to laugh about at the moment,’ Brooke’s eyes grew large and luminous with unshed tears. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes and sniffed.
‘You’ll be surprised. Human beings are very resilient. Have some cake.’ Ellie picked up one of the mugs of tea Lara had poured. ‘Have the police told you anything? Are they getting anywhere?’
Brooke drew in a shaky breath but Ellie’s matter of fact manner was reassuring. ‘They’re not saying much beyond they’re investigating.’
‘Hmmph.’
Lara gave Petey some cake in a plastic bowl and sat him at the table. No-one knew Nick had dropped in two nights ago and she wasn’t sharing that information with these two. Ellie would grab it and go berserk with speculation, Brooke — well, she was an unknown quantity as yet. Teetering on the edge after her ordeal. No personal, private details were up for inspection just yet.
‘The detective in charge is really nice. Nick Lawson. And there’s another one, Marie something.’ Brooke’s mouth drooped. ‘If I could remember anything about that night it would help. But I can’t. I don’t remember anything after leaving work midafternoon.’
‘That’s a self-defence mechanism. Maybe if you don’t try too hard it’ll pop into your head,’ Ellie said. ‘Like when you can’t remember someone’s name and then bingo, when you’re doing something completely different there it is.’
‘Except Brooke had a whack on the head as well,’ said Lara. ‘It’s not quite the same.’ Not to mention the immense shock and trauma involved. Ellie really was a case.
‘I can remember most things now but there are still odd gaps. Plus I get headaches, which I never did before.’
Evidence of Love Page 8