Deep Water

by Sarah Epstein

  God, he hated this. Her superiority was so grating.

  ‘Why don’t you tell me how you think I should feel,’ he said.

  ‘Okay then.’ Chloe sized him up. ‘You should feel sorry for what you did to Henry. You should feel awful.’

  Mason shook his head at the ground. He felt awful all the time anyway, so it was hard to know where his old awful ended and his new awful began. Chloe could rest assured there was no chance he might have accidentally ever felt good about himself.

  ‘Back off, Chloe.’

  Everybody turned at these words, surprised, as Rina stepped forwards, squaring her shoulders and staring Chloe down.

  For a moment Chloe didn’t say anything. Then, ‘What?’

  ‘Everybody makes mistakes,’ Rina said. ‘You don’t need to keep having a go at Mason about what happened.’

  Even in the dim light, the colour spreading across Chloe’s skin was immediate and obvious. ‘You weren’t there, Rina. You didn’t see what happened.’

  ‘Mason explained what happened,’ Rina said. ‘He had a brain snap and he’s sorry for what he did.’

  Chloe’s gaze shifted to Mason. ‘I haven’t heard the word sorry come out of his mouth at all.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Rina snapped. ‘Let it go and move on!’ She looked beautiful and fierce, and Mason was both flattered and crushed by her loyalty. He knew he wasn’t worthy of it.

  ‘Chloe’s just watching out for Henry,’ Raf said to Rina in a placating tone. He was probably trying to defuse the situation, but Mason felt stung. Battlelines had been drawn and Raf was on the other team.

  Mason glanced again at Tom, who was still hanging back.

  ‘Stop ruining our night,’ Rina said.

  ‘I’m not ruining anything,’ Chloe replied. ‘I wasn’t the one shoving Darren Foster around and almost getting into a brawl.’

  ‘He had his hands on my mother.’

  ‘What? So you lose control again?’ Chloe said. ‘Is there anything that doesn’t set you off?’

  ‘Guys!’ Sabeen said. ‘Please.’

  Suddenly, the sky above them lit up with a glittering sphere, followed half a second later by a loud hollow boom. It vibrated through Mason’s chest and for a moment everything paused. Then the night came alive with brilliant explosions of colour. Mason stared at his friends’ upturned faces, long shadows dancing across their features as fireworks arced and shimmered across the sky.

  He turned and walked away. Tom hurried towards him, reaching a hand out. His fingers brushed Mason’s arm as he strode past, but Mason didn’t stop. When he was clear of the park, he slid the hipflask from his pocket and unscrewed the lid, tipping it into his mouth, swallow after swallow, until he’d drained the lot.

  ‘Happy New Year,’ he muttered to no one.

  Now

  It’s weird being in Sydney more than a week before I’m due to come back. And even weirder having Raf here with me – a piece of my Shallows life in my other world. I always think of my two lives and homes as separate entities because they’re so different. In Sydney my mother works long hours and is often out with her work colleagues, while my own social life consists of a quiet trio of girls from school who took pity on me when I was new and let me hang around them on the periphery. We rarely do anything together outside of school, and I spend most weekends alone in my bedroom. My urban life has a transient vibe, as though I exist simply to move myself from one required activity to the next.

  It’s also weird because my mother’s workplace is only a few blocks away, and even though it’s Saturday, it feels like I could bump into her at any second. Technically I’m not breaking any of her rules; I’m allowed to be here, although things would get tricky if she found out that Dad has no idea I’m here. He thinks Raf is taking me to the Bradman Cricket Museum in Bowral.

  ‘Why did you say we’re going there?’ Raf asked me on the train when I revealed my cover story.

  ‘It was all I could think of. I needed somewhere on the train line in case anyone saw us at the station.’

  ‘So your dad thinks I like cricket now?’ Raf said, a slightly worried look on his face. ‘Amir’s really into it and even Mum and Min watch it, but the cricket gene skipped me altogether. It’s so bloody boring.’

  ‘I know. Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘What if your dad asks me the rules and stuff? Or who won what match or whatever?’

  ‘He won’t.’ I glanced at Raf, arching an eyebrow. ‘Why does it matter so much what my dad thinks of you?’

  Turning to the window, his sunlit reflection mumbled, ‘It just does.’

  He’s yawning now as we walk up the steps of St James station, the green and cream wall tiles and questionable smell reminding me of a toilet block in dire need of a scrubbing.

  ‘Missy said eleven o’clock,’ Raf says. ‘Why did we have to leave so early?’

  ‘Be prepared, Raf,’ I tell him. ‘You were a Scout. Isn’t that the motto?’

  ‘Yeah, but there’s being prepared and then there’s being two hours early like weirdo stalkers.’

  ‘We are one hour early,’ I point out, ‘and that gives us the advantage. We can scope out the scene and find a good spot to wait and watch for her.’

  Raf yawns again, rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair as we step out of the station and into the sunshine. ‘If I’d known it was a police stakeout I would have brought doughnuts.’

  I smile and shake my head at the way he’s glancing up and down the shopping precinct on Elizabeth Street. ‘Now you want a doughnut, don’t you?’

  ‘Yep,’ he says sadly, finding nothing except designer clothing stores.

  Another text comes through from Sabeen.

  Tell me when you get to Hyde Park.

  She’s stuck helping out in the basement at Shallow Vintage Wares, so she’s insisted on constant updates. She was all set to cancel on Tom and Bernie so she could come with us today, especially since she’s still feeling doubtful about Bernie. We told Raf about the polaroids, but he thinks our suspicions are way off base. I really hope they are. In the end Sabeen’s guilty conscience got the better of her. ‘Rose called me to ask if I prefer strawberry jam or raspberry,’ Sabeen told me. ‘She’s baking scones to bring down to the shop at lunchtime because she knows they’re my favourite. How can I possibly abandon them now?’ I assured Sabeen she’s worth her weight in gold and promised we’d keep her informed.

  Raf and I curve around to the left beside the train station, following a wide paved pathway towards the Archibald Fountain. The hexagonal pool must be twenty metres across, and there are currently dozens of people sitting on it, standing alongside it, or walking around the perimeter, not to mention those wandering up and down the nearby walkways through Hyde Park. I try to take in everything all at once, my senses on high alert. I forget for a moment that we’re early, and I’m supposed to be looking for somebody in a bright red coat.

  ‘We need to stand back a bit,’ Raf says, leading me across to the nearest patch of manicured lawn. There are eight wedges of grass surrounding the fountain in a circular shape, some with park benches and flowerbeds. Raf heads towards an empty seat.

  ‘Too far,’ I say, tugging the back of his jacket. ‘Here will do.’ I sit on the pathway’s stone kerb. My view of the fountain is momentarily obstructed by a walking tour group. Once they move I’m able to survey the scene from our new vantage point.

  ‘Listen,’ Raf says. ‘Maybe don’t get your hopes up.’

  I turn to him, eyebrows raised.

  ‘I’m just saying—’ he scans the crowd, up and down, left and right, ‘—this might be a dead end.’

  ‘Why’d you bother coming then?’ I ask, unable to keep the sulk out of my voice.

  Raf pulls a pair of sunglasses from his pocket. ‘I was worried about you coming alone.’

  ‘A-ha! So you do think someone will turn up.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Maybe’s better than not at all though, right?’ />
  Raf holds my gaze for a moment before slipping his sunglasses on. ‘Maybe is what my mums used to say when we’d ask for things and they couldn’t bring themselves to say no.’

  We’re quiet for a while, people-watching, listening to the constant drone of city noise. The sun is warm on the top of my head, and Raf leans back, turning his face up towards the sky. I wonder whether, under different circumstances, I’d be brave enough to reach out and touch his hand.

  ‘You know,’ I say, ‘I feel like I need to explain a few things.’

  From the corner of my eye I see Raf ’s head tilt. ‘About?’

  ‘That night at the bush hut. Why I kind of ghosted you afterwards.’

  Raf sits up, cross-legged. ‘You didn’t really ghost me.’ He picks a blade of grass and twists it between his fingers. ‘We just never talked about it.’

  ‘I messaged you about practically everything else except my feelings for you.’

  He glances over, shoving his sunglasses onto his head, where they hold his wavy hair back like a headband. ‘You have feelings for me?’

  ‘Well, don’t get a big head about it,’ I say, blood rushing to my face.

  He grins. ‘That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.’

  Now I smile too. My heart thumps faster.

  ‘I don’t get it then,’ he says. ‘How come you dropped me like a hot potato?’

  ‘It’s not like I didn’t want the potato. I still want the potato.’

  ‘Okay,’ he says, tugging at his T-shirt, ‘let’s stop referring to me as a potato.’

  My smile fades and I shake my head. ‘I was confused. Upset about Henry. You never mentioned it, so …’

  Raf ’s lips twitch with amusement. ‘Hey, you never mentioned it. After that I was too embarrassed to bring it up.’

  I nod. ‘Things got awkward.’

  ‘Yep,’ he says quietly, rolling the blade of grass between his thumb and finger before flicking it onto the path. He lowers his sunglasses again.

  We watch the crowd again for a while, people stopping for selfies, children running off from their parents. My gaze falls on a man with salt and pepper hair in a polo shirt and blue jeans. He’s doing slow laps of the fountain.

  I nudge Raf. ‘Check it out. Navy polo seems a bit suss.’

  ‘Hipster beard?’ he says. ‘You reckon?’

  ‘Why not? You really think Missy Ellwood is a thirteen-year-old girl?’

  ‘She might be.’

  ‘Ever heard of catfishing?’

  ‘Of course. But not everyone you chat to online is pretending to be someone they’re not.’

  I stare at him, deadpan. ‘Raf, we pretended to be a thirteen-year-old boy to lure Missy here today.’

  He snorts. ‘Good point.’

  ‘Come on, let’s get closer.’ I stand slowly, half crouching.

  ‘Uh, I admire that rhinoceros stealth of yours,’ Raf says, ‘but you do realise you’re more conspicuous creeping around like that in broad daylight?’

  I straighten up, realising how silly I look.

  ‘Missy,’ he continues, ‘is searching for a thirteen-year-old boy dressed in red. So we’ll just blend into the background. We’re hiding in plain sight.’

  He slides his hand into mine and it takes me by surprise. Before I can figure out what he’s doing, he casually strolls towards the other side of the fountain, dragging me with him. He swings my arm back and forth and starts mid-conversation about some random TV series.

  Hiding in plain sight. I get it.

  I smile and nod as Raf chatters on, my eyes locking onto the bearded guy in the polo shirt. He’s texting, and I hold my breath, expecting my phone to chime with a new message in Henry’s Messenger account. It doesn’t, though. We pause right beside him while Raf pretends to take a photo of me in front of the fountain.

  I pull out my phone and type a message to Missy.

  I’m already here. Are you?

  I hit Send and watch the bearded guy. His phone doesn’t chime, but somewhere on the other side of the fountain I hear a ding. Raf and I exchange a glance. Twenty metres away, partially hidden behind one of the fountain’s bronze sculptures, is the back of a figure in a red coat.

  I’ve had it all wrong. It is a girl, with a dark curly ponytail. Missy is just some fibbing thirteen year old who is here to meet her online friend.

  ‘Come on,’ I say to Raf, grabbing hold of his hand again. We dash over to her, our footsteps heavy on the pavestones.

  Missy half-turns at the sound of us drawing close. Her thumbs are busy typing a message on her phone.

  ‘Wait …’ I say, catching sight of her profile. My lips part in surprise.

  ‘Rina?’ Raf says to her, lifting his sunglasses. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Her head turns, eyes wide. My phone dings with the message she just sent Henry.

  ‘Okay,’ she says, raising defensive hands, ‘I can explain.’

  * * *

  I want to kick myself. As soon as I see Rina’s face, so many things click into place.

  Missy’s questions about Mason. The ballerina sister. Knowing Sally is a good cook. I picture the two of us belly-down on the floor of the Scout hall as kids while her mum set-up for our jazz ballet classes. We’d trot our My Little Ponies up and down the dusty floorboards, creating jumps and obstacles out of sultana boxes and plastic drink bottles. My pony was fairy-floss pink with glittery flowers stamped across its rump, and Rina’s was powder blue with a long rainbow mane. Luisa was almost right when she recalled the name of mine: not Bowtie, but Bochel. An anagram of Chloe B. Only now, as I stare across the café table at Rina’s red face does it come back to me, along with the name she gave hers. An anagram of Rina de S.

  ‘Airsden,’ I mutter, shaking my head. ‘Airsden High.’ The fake school name she gave Missy Ellwood. She shifts uncomfortably in her chair and won’t make eye contact with me.

  At Raf ’s suggestion we’ve found ourselves an outdoor table at the café between the fountain and St James station. A garden chessboard nearby has drawn a small crowd, a patient and cautious game unfolding in complete contrast to my racing pulse and frayed nerves. The waitress who showed us to the table now returns with a bottle of water and three glasses. She’s barely poured the first glass before Rina reaches for it and bolts it down.

  Raf picks up a menu and gives me a subtle shrug, like he’s not sure how we should start. ‘Maybe we should order first. Get it out of the way.’

  Rina sheds her red coat and tentatively picks up her menu to see what’s on offer. I reach across and yank it out of her hands. ‘What the hell are you doing here, Rina?’

  She folds her arms and slouches in her chair. ‘What is this? Good cop, bad cop?’

  ‘Just answer the question,’ I say.

  Raf chuckles under his breath. ‘One guess as to which cop Chloe is.’

  This really is nothing like the lunch catch-up Luisa was hoping I’d have with her daughter.

  The waitress is back again.

  ‘Maybe a few more minutes,’ Raf says politely.

  ‘Three Cokes,’ I say. ‘Please.’ I don’t want her coming back and interrupting a second time. I return my focus to Rina and she withers under my glare.

  ‘Why were you messaging Henry?’ I say. ‘Why were you using a fake name?’

  Rina sighs. ‘Because I wanted him to talk.’

  ‘About what?’

  She hunches over the table, picking at a drip of wood lacquer. ‘Mason. I was trying to get information.’

  ‘What sort of information?’ Raf says.

  She’s having a hard time keeping eye contact. ‘I was trying to figure out if he’s been seeing someone else.’

  ‘Why didn’t you just ask him?’ I say.

  Rina makes a pffft noise like I’ve suggested the impossible. ‘Are you serious? Getting Mason to open up is like getting blood from a stone.’

  For some reason the mention of blood and stones doesn’t sit well with me. It remind
s me too much of that day at the reservoir. Devil’s Rock. Henry so upset about his mother’s blood in the kitchen.

  ‘Why do you suspect he’s seeing someone else?’ Raf asks. ‘It’s a pretty small town. Surely we’d know?’

  I arch an eyebrow at him and he stares blankly at me for a second. Then the realisation of my mum’s affair sinks in. It’s easy to keep a relationship hidden if you’re sneaky enough.

  ‘He was becoming more and more distant with me,’ Rina says. ‘He never wanted to talk, and he wasn’t showing any interest in, you know, intimate stuff.’

  Raf and I both shift awkwardly in our seats.

  ‘I thought the two of you are planning a trip overseas,’ Raf says.

  ‘We were. At the end of this year, after I finish Year Twelve. We were going to start booking everything soon.’ She sits back and folds her arms. ‘Mason pulled the plug a few weeks ago, said he didn’t want to go anymore.’

  Raf ’s gaze darts towards me. I can tell he doesn’t want me mentioning Mason’s passport.

  ‘How did you even know Henry had a Facebook account?’ he asks.

  Rina sniffs and turns away. ‘I helped him set it up.’

  ‘Seriously?’ I say. ‘You purposely helped Henry set up a Facebook account so you could catfish him?’

  ‘No! We were talking about it one day at the library. He asked me how old you have to be to join, and then I walked him through it.’ She pauses, looking from me to Raf. ‘I notice he didn’t bother friending anyone.’

  Again, I feel stung that Henry didn’t share this with me.

  ‘Judging by what he told you – told Missy – he was only using his Facebook account to search for his father,’ Raf says, as though he knows that’s what I need to hear right now. ‘He was keeping it quiet.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Rina says. ‘He did mention Chloe would take over and boss him around.’

  I raise my eyebrows. ‘Excuse me? I believe bossy was your word, not his.’

  ‘Am I wrong?’ she says, her mouth pulling down at the corners. ‘You’re always telling everyone what to do. Like when you got up in Mason’s face on New Year’s Eve. He’s been miserable ever since, completely shutting me out.’