Saving Rose

by Kate Genet

  ‘So we can keep him?’

  ‘We have to see if we can find his real home.’

  ‘But if his home is broken and his mummy is dead?’

  Claire wasn’t entirely sure she knew what she was getting into here, but there was no way she could say no. Not after everything that had happened. Not when tears were dribbling down Rose’s face.

  She gave the girl a kiss. ‘Then we’ll keep him, okay?’

  ‘Mummy was reading me a book,’ Rose said. ‘It had a dog called Pilot in it.’ She bent down and kissed the fur on the dog’s head. ‘Can we call him Pilot?’

  That earned the child another squeezing hug, and a slobbery kiss from the dog. ‘Sure,’ Claire said. ‘We can call him Pilot. It’s a good name.’ It was too.

  Rose nodded, looking brighter already. ‘Can you make us some breakfast now?’

  Claire laughed, trying not to make it sound too sad. ‘I sure can,’ she said. ‘Breakfast for three coming up.’

  41

  ‘Danny. What are you doing here, son?’ The voice was rough with sleep and surprise.

  Groaning, Danny dragged himself upright, trying to figure out where he was. Peering through sleep-crusted eyes, he stared up at his father in law.

  ‘Colin,’ he said. ‘Fuck. I must have fallen asleep.’

  ‘Well, I see that. But what are you doing here?’ Colin looked down at the coffee table and scooped up the bottle of whisky and the dirty glass, his cheeks turning a dull, embarrassed red. Danny rubbed at his eyes, not giving a shit that the old coot was back hitting the bottle.

  ‘Came round last night to see if you were okay,’ he said, making it up. ‘Must have fallen asleep.’ He yawned. ‘Hell of a day.’

  The old man nodded, shuffled backwards and disappeared around the corner into the kitchen. ‘Coffee?’ he said, and Danny heard the opening and closing of cupboard doors.

  ‘Yeah, that’d be great,’ Danny said, getting up and following the old man into the other room and lowering himself onto a chair at the table.

  A silence that must have been awkward for the old guy stretched out between them. Danny stifled another yawn. ‘Don’t know what to say,’ he said in a voice of confession.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be with Rose?’ Colin asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Danny agreed. ‘Like I said, I fell asleep. Hope you don’t mind I let myself in.’ He said it not caring one bit whether the old man minded, and he didn’t bother to listen to the answer.

  ‘What did you do with Zoe?’ he said instead. ‘When I found out where she’d been killed and made my way there, she was gone.’ He paused, let that sink in. ‘All her stuff was gone too. I was hoping to, you know, get her handbag and things. Since I'm her husband and all.’ He subsided with a sniff and took the mug of coffee Zoe’s father brought over for him.

  ‘The authorities took her body to the makeshift morgue that’s been set up.’ Pain chiselled deep grooves in the old man’s skin. ‘A lot of people died yesterday.’

  ‘It was a tragedy,’ Danny said. ‘I couldn’t believe it when Claire told me what had happened.’ The lie tripped off his tongue like the dripping of honey. He didn’t bother justifying the lie, only said it at all because it was the same story he’d done with Claire. Besides, it wasn’t what he was interested in.

  ‘What happened to her stuff, Colin?’ he asked. ‘I need the stroller and car seat for Frank and Gracie to use while they’re helping us out.’ He sipped at the coffee again and his stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since god-knows-when.

  Colin was rubbing at the grey stubble on his face and shaking his head. ‘One of the blokes dealt with all that, I guess,’ he said.

  A quick flame of irritation leapt to life deep inside Danny. He took a breath and counted to three before responding.

  ‘What blokes were those?’

  More fucking head-shaking. ‘I was at an AA meeting.’ Colin gave a phlegmy cough and hid his face in his own coffee mug. ‘A couple of the guys came with me when they heard about what had happened.’

  Danny blinked at the man across the table. ‘So,’ he said slowly. ‘You’re telling me one of your alcoholic mates cleared out my dead wife’s car and made off with everything in it.’ He pressed his lips together a moment. ‘Do you even know which one of them it was?’

  Bleary and reddened eyes met his own. ‘No harm done, Danny. This is upsetting for all of us. He would have thought he was doing me a favour, dealing with stuff so that I wouldn’t have to bother.’

  The mug smacked into the table with a force that made Colin jump.

  ‘Except,’ said Danny, ‘that now I have to track down the interfering bastard and get everything back off him. And I have better things to do!’

  ‘Steady on, Danny,’ Colin said. ‘No need to fly off the handle. I know you’re grieving too, but we can work this out.’ He lifted the coffee and eyed Danny over the rim of the mug, his hand shaking. ‘Whichever one of the guys it was, he would have put the gear in my car for me. We all went together in my car to get Zoe yesterday.’

  Danny felt his mouth fall open. All day and night he’d been fretting over the bloody whereabouts of the photographs, and they’d been in the stringy geezer’s ancient automobile the whole time?

  ‘Is everything all right?’ The eyes had narrowed, perhaps seeing something in his face.

  ‘Yeah, yeah of course it is,’ Danny said. He rubbed a hand across his own face and made sure it shook convincingly too. ‘Just it’s all a little overwhelming, you know? I didn’t mean to snap.’ The apology threatened to stick in his craw, but he got it out, with an effort.

  Then he allowed himself an inward smile as the implications continued to sink in.

  No one had seen the photos after all. He’d been worrying needlessly. Zoe had taken them, but she’d been felled – most conveniently – before she could show them to anyone. And even though they’d been removed from her car, no one had paid them the slightest bit of attention.

  He wanted to burst out laughing.

  ‘Are you sure everything is all right, lad?’

  There was no knowing what his face was showing, but Danny figured it was time to move on. The old man was looking at him awful queerly.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said and slid the mug away. ‘I’d better go see Rose. Didn’t mean to fall asleep on your couch last night, Dad. Guess I was exhausted.’ The dad was a good touch, he thought. Put the old man at ease. Pretend fellowship.

  Avoid suspicion.

  ‘I’ll just get the car seat and stuff.’ He stood up and Zoe’s father joined him. ‘Guess we’ll get together and organise the funeral and things.’ He deliberately made his words sound awkward, as though he cared. In reality, he planned without a doubt to be long gone from the place before Zoe’s corpse was released for whatever stupid ritual people wanted.

  ‘I'm staying at the Wilde’s with Rose for a few days while we sort things out, so you can find us there. The house had quite a bit of damage. Chimney fell down, lots of cracks in the walls. Guess that happened all over the city yesterday.’ He looked around, thinking about it for the first time. ‘Your place looks okay.’

  Colin nodded. ‘Reckon I got lucky,’ he said, then realised what had just come out his mouth and pressed a hand against it. Danny clapped him on the shoulder.

  ‘Dark days,’ he said. ‘Real dark days.’

  Just a nod in reply from Colin, who led him in silence to his car, parked in the single garage next to the house. He waited while the old man lifted up the boot.

  Then stared down at the photo albums.

  At last, he thought. At fucking last.

  42

  The albums lay on the passenger’s seat next to him. Danny kept glancing at them, a smile of satisfaction creasing his face. All that angst, and here they had finally turned up and no one had even looked at them.

  The car rolled along the coastal road. He wasn’t going to worry about Rose yet, instead he was looking for a quiet spot out of the way. There was
some thinking to do.

  Pulling off the road with a view of Corsair Bay, he unbuckled his seatbelt and stretched. The bit of kip he’d had on old man Kennedy’s couch hadn’t quite done the trick.

  But then, it had been a very eventful few days. Very eventful indeed. He reached out a hand and laid it on top of the photographs of Rachel, feeling the smooth vinyl of the album cover beneath his palm and knowing what he had to do next.

  Losing the photographs had rattled him more than he cared to admit, even to himself. But now was not the time for obfuscation. He grinned at the big word when he said it to himself. That was a good one. Obfuscation. Awesome.

  But back on point. The photographs were a liability.

  Putting the album on his lap, he lifted the cover and breathed in the scent of old Polaroids. He imagined he could still smell the way the ink had dried, the picture appearing out of a blank fog while he held it in his hand, waiting.

  He’d bought the camera himself. Of course. His parents had never had any money for what they called extravagances. Which was fine. They’d barely noticed him anyway.

  So he’d got a job after school, stocking shelves in the local supermarket and with his first month’s paycheque he’d gone into the small-town photography shop and bought the best Polaroid camera he could afford. And five packages of film.

  Within a couple weeks he’d used them all.

  Some of those earliest photos had survived even until now. Sifting through the pages with delicate fingers, Danny stopped at one of the earliest images and gazed at it.

  Such memories.

  Rachel stared at him from the photograph, one eye covered behind a curtain of straight blonde hair. Leaning back against the headboard of her single bed, she wore the little red baby doll pyjamas he remembered vividly.

  Or at least, she wore the top. If he looked closely, he could see the frilly little shorts on the floor beside the bed. Not that those drew his eyes.

  He’d got her pose out of a Playboy magazine, which was the only thing those rags were good for, in his opinion.

  It hadn’t been until much later that he’d discovered the online versions of the magazines that specialised in girls Rachel’s age. But as exciting as that discovery had been, he’d known better than to hang around those sites too frequently. And he never downloaded anything.

  The photograph of six-year-old Rachel looked at him and Danny sighed.

  He’d been stupid to keep these mementoes. Stupid too, to fill an album with snaps of Sahara. Except of course, he hadn’t been able to help himself. She looked so much like Rachel had at that age.

  Poor Sahara. If only she hadn’t panicked. If only she’d welcomed his embrace, known that he had no intention of hurting her. He only wanted to show how much he loved her, pay her a little attention, feel the warmth and softness of her body next to his. Take her for his own special thing.

  There was a lump in his throat, and at the crotch of his jeans too. Readjusting himself, he promised he’d find relief soon enough. He just had to get through the next few days, then he and Rose would be flying out of there and getting themselves all situated and comfortable in a new life. Away from prying eyes.

  But he couldn’t take the photos with him. The ones of Rachel hadn’t been a problem to bring into the country but that had been years ago, and after Zoe’s little stunt the other day, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to risk it.

  Better to start things off clean.

  No matter how much it was going to hurt to get rid of his pictures. They were his memories. Not that he really needed the visual aid, he supposed. But it helped. Brought it all back again in full colour. Hell, looking at his photos he could almost smell Rachel’s sweet musky scent, the little noises she made, sweet and helpless, like a baby bird.

  Enough. Seatbelt back on – the last thing he needed was to get pulled over – Danny started the car again and pulled back onto the road. He knew just the right place for what he wanted to do.

  At Governors Bay he turned inland, climbing back up the switchbacks of the Pass road, hands steady on the steering wheel, face impassive. He kept his eyes on the road, driving slowly, taking care. He might have been mistaken, but he thought there was a couple more small landslides that had been there the night before.

  But they weren’t any obstacle. Only one other car passed him going the other way and he guessed most people would have found their way home by now, there to stay, shell-shocked and quivering.

  Not him. He sucked in a chestful of air and felt powerful. He didn’t like having to do what he was about to, but he’d think of it as a positive step. A new life awaited him and Rose.

  The view from the carpark on the Pass was astonishing. He didn’t know if he’d ever bothered to stop and take it in before. Lifting his arms over his head he stood facing the far-off harbour, feeling big and mighty, invincible.

  Then he looked around, saw what he needed and set about taking care of business.

  43

  ‘What’s that?’ Gracie stood stock still in the middle of the floor, eyes wide with surprise.

  Rose stood up on her chair, spoon clutched in one hand waving at her. ‘Gramma!’ she squealed. ‘It’s my doggy!’

  Claire ducked her head down into the fridge.

  ‘What?’ Gracie took a shuffling step forward.

  ‘His name is Pilot,’ Rose said. ‘I founded him.’

  It was cold in the fridge and she couldn’t hide there forever. Straightening and closing the door, Claire waved a nonchalant hand.

  ‘Coffee?’ she asked.

  Eyes like twin lasers zeroed in on her. ‘Tea?’ she tried instead. ‘Toast? I’ll make you crumpets. Pancakes. How about an omelette? Tell me what you want for breakfast.’

  Rose was looking at her as well now, still standing on the chair, still waving the spoon around. Claire didn’t dare to look down at the dog sitting beside Rose’s seat eyeing the drops of milk flying from the spoon.

  ‘Claire. A word please,’ her mother said. ‘Rose – sit down properly sweetheart, standing on chairs is dangerous.’

  The little girl plopped down on her butt and dug the spoon into her cornflakes. She held out the dripping silverware and the dog scooped up the sodden cereal with one swipe of his huge tongue. Rose giggled and gave him a second helping.

  ‘Claire?’ Gracie turned on her heel and walked into the living room. Claire, still holding the canister of coffee she’d picked up, trailed after her.

  ‘Tell me what you’re doing,’ Gracie said when they were both out of earshot of the child in the other room.

  ‘Making breakfast?’ Claire tried. Then looked down to find Pilot had abandoned his shared meal to come sit at her side. Claire sighed.

  ‘I'm sorry, Mum,’ she said. ‘We found him cowering outside behind the Ark. I reckon he ran away during the earthquakes.’

  ‘He looks very at home now.’

  Reaching down, Claire gave the animal a rub behind one of his big ears. ‘He’s been following me like a shadow. And he’s taken a real liking for Rose.’

  ‘And her to him, I see.’ Gracie was still standing hands on hips.

  ‘I know.’ Claire deflated and sat down on the arm of the sofa. ‘I didn’t know what else to do. Before I knew what was happening, she’d spotted the dog, then it was inside, and she was falling in love with it.’ She gave her mother a beseeching glance. ‘I told her we’d have to find his owner.’ The dog looked at her with his beautiful brown eyes and whined before putting his head in her lap. She couldn’t stop her fingers from seeking the warm wool of his fur. ‘He’s very well trained.’

  ‘Then someone will be missing him. What are we going to do?’

  ‘Well we can’t just shove him back outside again.’ Claire petted the giant ears and the dog leaned into her hand. ‘I mean, he was terrified, and I don’t blame him. I bet there are displaced pets all over the city.’ She bent down and put her hand gingerly on one of the huge paws. The dog obligingly lifted it up for her.


  ‘Look Mum,’ she said. ‘He’s walked a long way; his paws are all tender.’ The dog licked her fingers then her face.

  That seemed to take all the fight out of Gracie.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Frank asked, coming into the room. ‘There’s a small girl out there making cornflake collages on the table.’ He stopped and gaped. ‘That’s a big dog,’ he said after a beat.

  ‘It’s a big dog that your daughter and granddaughter have temporarily adopted.’

  Frank came closer and the dog turned his head to look at him, then got to his feet.

  ‘He’s a mighty fine-looking animal,’ Frank said. ‘Casualty of the quake, huh?’ His face was drawn and tired and Claire suspected hers looked much the same. Gracie’s did.

  ‘Found him hiding outside,’ she said. ‘Or rather, Rose did.’

  The dog sat down in front of Frank and lifted his paw. Claire’s father stared at it.

  ‘He likes to shake hands,’ she said. ‘He has very nice manners.’

  Frank took the paw in a gentle grip and gave it a little shake. ‘Nice to meet you, fella,’ he said. ‘Glad you have good manners because that is one big set of jaws on you.’

  ‘His name’s Pilot cos that’s the dog in the book Mummy was reading me.’ Rose climbed up on the sofa next to Claire then scrambled onto her lap. She wound an arm around Claire’s neck. ‘Can you finish reading me the book?’ she asked. ‘It’s under my pillow.’ She leaned closer to Claire’s ear and Claire could feel the child’s warm breath on her cheek. ‘And Daddy forgot my slippers. I need them too. We have to go get them. And my teddy. I got my dollies, but I can’t sleep without Teddy.’ There was a small hitch in her breath and Claire drew her closer.

  ‘I reckon I can get your Daddy to pick up all those things for you,’ she said.

  ‘Daddy didn’t come for breakfast,’ Rose said.

  No one was looking at the dog anymore, Claire realised a moment later. Both her parents were gazing at her holding the child in her lap. She grimaced.