A tiny bit of clarity made its way through Erica’s frozen form and pushed her back into the kitchen and behind the bench, where she let herself slide to the floor. She opened her mouth and took several deep breaths. What’s happening to me? Her chin wobbled and in the next moment a rush of tears poured down both sides of her face.
Against the tears and tiredness, she wondered where she’d left her phone. Bedroom? Over on the bench by the kettle? Charging on the other end of the bench? She couldn’t see anything from down there; she had to at least stand.
It took all her effort to push herself to her feet. She saw the landline phone in its cradle under the side window near the kettle where it always sat charging and couldn’t believe she had forgotten it. It had faithfully sat there for pretty much the entire time they’d lived there – a rule of the house being that at least one of the two handsets remained on charge in case of emergencies. It was rarely used or needed with all the mobile phones in the house. She picked it up and stared at it. It wasn’t the sort of emergency for triple zero. She needed to phone a friend. But which one? Renee was the most sympathetic and gentle. But did she need Steph’s no-nonsense attitude and possible scolding? Or maybe she could get Michelle to bring her dog around. Maybe she needed a cuddle. That thought made her frown slightly, unsure of where it had come from. She was forty-nine and had never owned a pet nor thought about doing so until just two days earlier.
Steph.
She pressed the green talk button. And then realised none of her friends’ numbers were saved and she didn’t know them off by heart. She looked around and couldn’t see her mobile. Think, Erica, think. But all that came to mind were the numbers to several of her childhood and teenage homes and her parents’ last landline. Completely bloody useless. She turned, needing to move at least a bit. And as she did, she felt something solid move against her upper thigh along with the terry towelling fabric. She put her hand in her robe pocket and wrapped it around the hard edges of her mobile. She brought Steph’s number up – the friend she knew the best and who knew her the best – and held her breath while it rang. She cursed when the voicemail message came on and tried to decide whether to hang up or leave a message and if a message, what? In the end it was a croaky, ‘It’s me, Erica. Can you please call me? Um. As soon as you can.’ The last words came out as a choked gasp.
She tried Renee. Same deal; message bank. She managed to sound a little clearer than on Steph’s message. Or so she thought. She wasn’t really sure of anything at all.
With another rush of tears pouring down her face, she called Michelle. And almost broke down completely when her voicemail came on. ‘Um, can you call me please? It’s Erica. I need a friend,’ she added quietly through a bout of snivelling, no longer caring how she sounded. She was desperate.
Erica wasn’t sure how long had passed but there was suddenly a ringing on the doorbell, closely followed by a pounding of a fist on the screen door frame and then Steph’s voice.
‘Erica, it’s me. Open up.’ Erica made her way around from behind the kitchen bench. Standing at the end of the hallway she could see Steph peering through the leadlight beside the door. Erica had a rush of fear engulf her at the thought of having to go past Mackenzie’s door with the beam of light underneath it. But she needed Steph. And then she had an idea. She picked up her phone and rang Steph again.
‘Where are you? What’s going on? I got your message. You sounded terrible,’ Steph said without preamble or pausing for breath.
When she could finally get a word in Erica said, ‘Can you come around the back – use the side gate?’
‘What? Why? Okay. Just hang on. Be there in a tick.’
Erica stayed silent while she waited, listening to Steph’s breathing and footsteps, the latch of the gate opening and then closing again. When she saw Steph at the glass doors she went over and opened one and practically threw herself into Steph’s arms. The relief was so great she began to sob.
‘What’s happened?’ Steph said, holding Erica and easing her inside.
‘Thank god you’re here. Thank you for coming,’ Erica was finally able to say. ‘Shh,’ she added, putting her finger to her lips.
‘What?’ Steph hissed, red-faced and a little breathless. ‘I’m sorry I missed your call. What’s going on? And why are we whispering?’
‘I’m being silly, but I’m hearing noises. And I’m sure someone’s been in the house,’ Erica said quietly.
‘What do you mean in the house? While you were out walking, or what?’ She kept hold of both of Erica’s arms, but now held her back a little and studied her face.
‘No, not this morning. I haven’t been. I can’t even …’
‘And why didn’t you open the front door?’
‘I think there’s someone down there. There was a light.’ She pointed towards the front of the house.
‘What? No way. Has a window been broken? Is anything missing? Have you called the police?’ Steph looked up the hall and then back to Erica.
‘No. I know I’m being ridiculous, but I can’t seem to help it. I’m really scared, Steph.’
‘Which room?’ Steph said, looking down the hall.
‘Mackenzie’s. Second on the left.’
‘There’s no light there now. Well, I can’t see anything. Do you have a baseball bat or golf club or something?’
‘Yes. A cricket bat. But it’s by Stuart’s side of the bed in our room,’ Erica said, nodding towards the front of the house and her bedroom.
‘Oh. Well, that’s no good. Rolling pin?’
Erica shook her head.
‘Knife,’ Steph and Erica whispered at the same time and both went to the block full of expensive knives. As Steph reached over and pulled the handle of the large steel sharpening device, Erica found herself forgetting the hallway and Mackenzie’s room for a moment to wonder where the middle-sized knife from the set was and when she’d last used it. She didn’t put these knives in the dishwasher – heat blunted good edges, they’d been told when they’d bought them – so it wasn’t in there.
‘Right,’ Steph said quietly, jolting Erica from her thoughts. Beside her Steph held the handle of the steel rod and slapped the metal against her palm several times as if testing its weight and balance, and then strode across the kitchen. She paused at the end of the hallway and behind her Erica watched her shoulders move as she took a deep breath. Erica fell in beside but a little behind her cousin, all her years of longing to be as tall as Steph melting away in an instant as she cowered, grateful for the shield.
‘Second door on the left?’ Steph whispered.
‘Yes,’ Erica whispered back in more of a hiss. She longed to be touching a part of Steph for additional bolstering and had to forcibly stop herself reaching out to grab the bottom of her jumper.
‘Is the light switch on the door frame or the wall?’ Steph said, turning her head towards Erica.
‘Door frame. About shoulder height.’
At the door into Mackenzie’s bedroom, Steph slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open ahead of her. She was right, the room was dark. Steph flicked the light switch and glanced in before stepping inside. After looking right around, she bent over and held her chest as she gasped and then took several gulping breaths.
‘Christ, my heart’s racing,’ she said with a laugh, her voice at its usual volume again. ‘Looks normal to me.’
Erica made her way into the room and stood beside Steph. ‘God, I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be. But I don’t think I need to go for a run today now after that. Jesus.’
‘Can you check the robe and en suite too?’
‘Sure.’
Again Erica stood back a little as Steph opened the door to the walk-in robe and flicked on the light and peered inside before backing out again. The door to the en suite Mackenzie shared with Issy was already open. Erica couldn’t say if that was normal or not. Steph turned on the light, looked in, turned the light off again and retreated. She looked at E
rica with raised eyebrows and shrugged.
‘Thanks, Steph.’
‘No worries.’
‘There was a full moon last night, you know. It was probably the light from the en suite window.’
Erica nodded. She wanted to accept that was the answer to or explanation for everything, but couldn’t convince herself, though it was a well-known phenomenon that weird shit happened on a full moon. Just ask any first responder or emergency department nurse.
‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘I’m going to need something a hell of a lot stronger than that,’ Steph said.
‘I don’t have anything. Anyway, it’s not even eight o’clock in the morning!’
‘So? I was nearly shitting myself and it sounds like your nerves are shot as well.’
‘They are that.’
‘But you’re right, alcohol is never the answer,’ Steph said. ‘Coffee it is, then.’
They turned off the light and closed the door. As they made their way back to the kitchen Erica teetered between being annoyed with herself and being sure she had seen a light under the door. Must have been the moonlight, she told herself as she put water in the kettle. She’d just put it on and had two mugs on the bench ready when the doorbell rang.
‘You finish the coffee, I’ll get the door,’ Steph instructed and left the kitchen before Erica could answer. She was relieved. Despite finding nothing untoward down the hall, she was dubious about going down there again.
Chapter Twenty-two
Erica heard a rabble of familiar voices at the front door – Renee and Michelle? – and caught a few words here and there: ‘Where’s Erica?’ ‘Is she okay?’ ‘What happened?’ ‘Is it the girls?’ ‘She sounded terrible on the phone.’ She could hear Steph’s voice but her answers were inaudible.
Erica felt bad about worrying them so much that they’d dropped everything to hurry around, but was also very grateful they had. She suddenly wondered what day it was. Were they supposed to be at work?
‘Thanks so much for coming,’ she said, hugging Michelle and Renee in turn when they appeared in the kitchen, followed by Steph.
‘God, you look terrible. What’s going on?’ Michelle said, holding Erica at arm’s length and peering into her face, her expression etched deeply with concern. ‘Has something happened to Mackenzie or Issy?’
‘They’re fine. Everything is fine. Well, not really, but She was suddenly too exhausted to remain standing, let alone try to explain. She moved over to the dining room table and slumped onto the nearest chair.
‘Everything is clearly not fine,’ Michelle said.
‘Erica thought someone was in the house,’ Steph said.
‘Oh shit. Really?’ Renee said.
‘God, how terrifying,’ Michelle said.
‘But it was just a light under the door – the angle of the sun. Or something,’ Steph said.
‘Really?’ Renee said again. ‘Oh. Okay, so, what’s that, then?’
They all froze and stared up at hearing a scraping sound – the same noise Erica thought she’d heard the other night. She wondered if their hearts were racing as hard and fast as hers was right now – though not as fast as it had when it was night-time and she was all alone. ‘I think I have a possum as well,’ she said.
There was a collective sigh of relief and then a series of chuckles.
‘Fuck, scared the shit out of me,’ Steph said. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that?’
‘Christ. Thank god for that. Phew,’ Michelle said.
‘You have a possum?’ Renee said. ‘Have you called someone to come and get the poor thing out?’
‘I was hoping it would just leave of its own accord. I’ve been too scared to go up there.’
‘Well, get someone in,’ Steph said.
‘I can’t, um, afford it.’ The words were stuck in her throat. As she uttered them – was finally honest – she didn’t feel unburdened, but felt the pain of her long-held pride shattering and the opening of a chasm that would soon be filled with questions and discussions she wasn’t sure she had the energy for. But there she was and there they were – her dearest friends, who had seen her through so much already.
‘I think a callout is only a couple of hundred,’ Michelle said.
‘I’m broke, Michelle. Completely broke.’ Erica sniffed.
‘What?’
Erica could sense them covertly looking around the house – the opulence surrounding them. It’s exactly what she’d be doing in their place.
‘But …’ Renee started and stopped. She was staring at the enormous artwork on the far wall. ‘I love that. I’d buy it if I could afford to – to help you out. Could you maybe sell some of the art? I know you love it, but if you need to …’
‘They’re not real. Not originals. They’re prints.’
‘What?’ Renee said. Erica sensed she wanted to walk closer to inspect the picture, but reluctantly stayed put.
‘I only just found out. Stuart had them done. Years ago, apparently.’
‘But why?’ Renee said.
‘That doesn’t make sense; who does that? I mean Steph said. ‘Oh. Oh! Shit.’
‘Erica, what’s going on?’ Michelle said.
‘Yeah, it’s not just the possibility of an intruder, is it?’ Steph said.
‘Turns out Stuart was a fraud,’ she said with a helpless shrug of her shoulders.
Saying those words actually hurt more than confessing her financial status. Tears began to pool in her eyes.
‘Look, how about I make us all a coffee and we sit down and you tell us everything. Or as much as you can or want to,’ Steph said. ‘Coffee all round, right?’
‘Thanks, Steph. Sorry, there aren’t any biscuits or cake or anything.’
‘I couldn’t eat anything; I’ve just had breakfast,’ Renee said, taking a seat at the table beside Erica.
‘Me too,’ Michelle said, also sitting down.
‘At the risk of using platitudes, it is true that sharing a problem really can be helpful,’ Michelle said.
‘And maybe it’s not as bad as you think,’ Renee said, patting Erica’s arm.
Tears of frustration rolled down Erica’s face and she swiped them away. She had to let all this pride go now because keeping it all in and trying to cope alone wasn’t working.
‘Firstly, the girls are okay, aren’t they?’ Michelle said.
‘Yes. Still off overseas having fun, as far as I know. If you guys need to go to work or whatever, go. Please. I’ll be fine. Seriously.’
‘Erica, you don’t look fine. And I’m good,’ Michelle said.
‘Me too. And, sorry, but I agree with Michelle – you’re far from fine,’ Renee said gently.
‘And I don’t need to be anywhere,’ Steph said, bringing a chopping board with steaming mugs, teaspoons, milk and sugar on it over and placing it in the middle of the table. They each took a mug and added what they wanted to it, stirred and placed the teaspoons on the board.
‘Shit, I’m really losing my mind. What day is it?’ Erica asked as she stared into her mug. Fear began to pull at her insides. She looked up again, frowning.
Michelle, Steph and Renee laughed gently as if they thought Erica was joking.
She frowned deeper. ‘No, I’m serious. I can’t remember what day it is.’ Panic began to build inside her.
‘It’s Saturday,’ Steph said.
‘Yep. All day,’ Michelle said brightly.
‘That’s right,’ Renee agreed cheerfully, though all their expressions remained grim and a little perplexed to Erica. No doubt they were trying to hide their worry from her or figure out how to deal with what she’d said. She swallowed in an attempt to stop the panic rising any further. It worked, though she remained tense.
They sipped at their coffees for a few moments before Steph spoke again. ‘So, are we just talking run of the mill menopause forgetfulness type losing your mind here or something more serious?’
‘Regardless, it’s hardly surprisi
ng you’re feeling off and thinking noises and lights might be an intruder,’ Michelle said.
‘Yes, I can only imagine what your brain is doing under the stress of losing your job on top of losing Stuart. And missing the girls,’ Renee said.
‘Please don’t say there’ll be a reason for all this, Renee, because from where I’m sitting it’s not fair,’ Steph said.
‘Oh no. I wouldn’t. Jeez.’
‘So, you said Stuart was a … fraud. What do you mean? Is that why you say you’re broke? I mean you’ve lost your job, but …’ Michelle said.
‘Oh god. I don’t know where to start. And there’s so much and I don’t know if it’s all related or if I really am losing my mind.’ Erica shut her mouth on the torrent of words and tried again. ‘What if I’ve got dementia? Or not much better, but having some sort of psychotic break, nervous breakdown or something?’ She struggled to breathe.
‘They don’t call it that any more, I don’t think. Sorry, not helpful,’ Renee said.
‘Perhaps if you can sort out your finances the other stuff will go away. Maybe you’re just trying to deal with too much. Maybe it’s like that meme that goes around about your brain being like a browser with too many tabs open,’ Michelle said.
‘Okay. First things first,’ Steph said. ‘Tell us about the financial stuff – the stuff you can put your finger on.’
‘Right. Well, that’s pretty simple, actually. It turns out Stuart, oh god, I hate speaking ill of the dead. It’s not the done thing, is it?’
‘I think you’ll find that notion is steeped in religion,’ Renee said. ‘Personally, I’m all for not hiding the truth. Why should dying give a shit a free pass into sainthood?’
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