‘Mack, why have you called?’ Logan cannot hide his frustration, desperate to hear from Debbie.
There is a beat of silence at his abruptness.
‘Anyway,’ Mack continues, ‘that’s all sorted but one woman – um, Katherine West – was on your list for early this morning and she clicked extremely dissatisfied on the survey. Now I can see that the parcel hasn’t been delivered and I’m assuming that – based on the store it’s from – it’s a computer, so what I’m wondering, Logan, is… where is that computer?’
Mack’s tone is polite, just enquiring. Logan knows that anyone listening would believe that he was just trying to work out where things had gone wrong. But Logan knows that he is being accused of theft. It’s not the first time it’s happened, and he knows it won’t be the last. The matter is always cleared up quickly and his brother-in-law will say something like, ‘I knew there was an explanation,’ but Logan knows that Mack is waiting for the moment that there isn’t an explanation, that things aren’t cleared up quickly.
He is quiet for a moment as he gathers his thoughts and forcefully quashes any anger that he knows is rising up inside him.
‘I tried to deliver the computer this morning but she wouldn’t open the door. I told her it needed to be signed for but she still wouldn’t open the door. I told her I’d drop it at her nearest post office at the end of the day. It’s still in the van – just a minute and I’ll grab a picture for you.’
‘Oh,’ says Mack, ‘no, that’s not necessary…’
But Logan knows it is. He gets out of his van and slides open the side door, finding the parcel and snapping a picture so the name of the woman is clear. He sends it off to Mack. ‘Did you get it?’
‘Yeah, yeah… okay, strange then. She was probably upset that she didn’t get it today.’
‘Well, I’m hardly likely to force my way into her house, am I, Mack?’ says Logan and he tries, he really tries, to keep any menace out of his voice.
Mack clears his throat. ‘No, of course not. She may have just hit the wrong button. I’ll send her the survey again and maybe give her a call in a couple of days. I’m sure it was a mistake.’
‘Yep, sure it was. I’ll get on with my day then,’ says Logan, any thought of trying to explain about Maddy disappearing, and he hangs up.
He has no idea what to do with himself as he waits for Debbie’s call. He was heading for Katherine West’s house but from the sound of the survey, she’s probably fine and just pissed off that he wouldn’t leave the computer. He looks at his delivery list. What else can he do? What else is he supposed to do? He turns left and slaps the steering wheel as he thinks about Patrick’s face and his scraggly beard.
He thought the day couldn’t get any worse, but sometimes it feels like the whole universe is gunning for him. All he wanted was an ordinary day and a cold beer at the end with his wife. He allows the fury to reveal itself as he drives. He’s alone in his van after all. He slaps at the steering wheel a couple more times, the hard plastic stinging his palm and the slight pain tracing its way up his arm, and he mumbles to himself, incoherent vile thoughts that he would never say in front of anyone else, that he has trained himself to never say in front of anyone else. He pictures his father, a smile on his face that is more a sneer: ‘You’ll end up in prison, boy, mark my words.’ His first night in prison had been a torment of noise and fear and his father’s face, his father’s words.
‘A good parent, a parent worthy of a child, wants success for that child,’ Aaron told him. ‘You didn’t get to have that support but you can still find success in your life after this.’
Logan has to keep reminding himself of those words, repeating them when he is furious with the world and himself. He thinks about Maddy and the damage that was done to her. He tries not to allow his imagination to bruise and bloody her face and body. It makes him sick to think of her hurt, to think of her alone in a hospital bed without him there to hold her hand.
He has loved her from the moment she came home from the hospital with their disinterested mother, who cracked open her first beer when Maddy was three days old, sighing, ‘Been waiting for that.’
Maddy wouldn’t have chosen a man who would hurt her if she hadn’t been raised by parents who’d done the same. It’s as simple as that.
In his van, Logan opens his mouth and roars his frustration at what his life is, at what he has done to himself and at how difficult every day is because of choices he made, not knowing any better. He roars so loud that his throat scratches, but when he’s done, a calm settles over him.
He arrives at his next delivery, unsure as to how he has made it to the right address, and gets out of the van. While he is waiting to be allowed into the block of units he wonders if the woman, if Katherine West, just hit the wrong button on the survey. Was she angry about him not leaving the computer or was it something else? Was she trying, in some way, to make sure that she got a call or a text that she could respond to? Logan shakes his head as he is buzzed in, sure that he’s turning this whole thing into something it’s not. But he can’t help feeling that Katherine West was trying to get a message to someone. In a strange and odd way, she was attempting to alert someone that something was wrong. He is almost sure of it. The feeling that the woman is in danger will not go away, even with everything else going on in his mind.
The door to the apartment he is delivering to is standing open, a woman in a sari smiling in anticipation.
‘My spices,’ she says, ‘what perfect timing, I’ve just run out.’
Logan smiles and hands over the box, and as he does, he catches the quick glance she gives his hands and face. He feels himself flush, more from embarrassment than from the heat.
‘What intricate work,’ says the woman softly, looking at his hand where a scorpion sits – its body perfectly drawn so that every part of its skeleton is visible, its tail up, ready to strike. The woman smiles and thanks him for the delivery as she closes the door. Her voice was light and calming, her tone kind, and he feels some of his anger seep out of him. Maddy will be okay. Please let Maddy be okay. Hang in there, Maddy, I’m coming.
He heads back out to the van, and his phone lights up with Debbie’s name.
‘Okay, so I spoke to Terri,’ she says when he answers, ‘she works in emergency. Maddy is in intensive care.’
‘Oh God,’ he says, nausea washing over him.
‘Terri says she’s been put in an induced coma to allow her body to rest and heal. There’s some swelling on her brain and they’re waiting for that to go down. I’ve booked you a flight for tonight at eight. They won’t know more about her condition until tomorrow morning. I’m trying to find you a hotel near the hospital.’
‘Thanks, babe, thanks,’ he says and he’s a little ashamed of the tears that fall. His sister, his baby sister. I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him.
‘Come home,’ says Debbie.
Logan sees himself pacing up and down the living room of their small flat, waiting for the hours to pass. ‘No, I’ll finish up here. I won’t be much longer and I need something to take my mind off it. Can you call them every hour, your friend… Terri, can you call Terri every hour and get me an update?’
‘Absolutely. Try to stay calm. She’s getting the best care. There isn’t anything you can do.’
‘I love you,’ says Logan, an uncharacteristic statement. It makes him feel weird to say the words.
‘Ah babes, I love you too, and it’s going to be fine. She’ll recover. Just get through your day and I’ll pack for you.’
After Logan hangs up, he starts planning how to get Maddy back to Sydney so he and Debbie can take care of her. Looking at a future where she’s okay focuses him, and though he hears a text on his phone again, he doesn’t look at it until he’s at the next delivery.
You’re next.
Logan doesn’t recognise the number. The words are shocking in their simplicity. Next for what? Is the text meant for him? Is it a mistake?
He stares
down at the two words. There are a lot of people in his past who are capable of sending a threatening text. People he stole from, people he met in prison, even people he once considered friends like Nick, who he thinks is still in prison. He hasn’t spoken to Nick since that fateful night, refused to see him even when he tried to visit him in prison before Nick himself was caught and jailed for his crimes.
An unexpected laugh bubbles up inside Logan. He cannot believe that this is somehow still the same day. He finds himself laughing out loud as though someone has told him the greatest joke he’s ever heard. It’s only when he realises that his cheeks are wet that he stops and takes a deep breath.
What am I next for? He studies the text, trying and failing to recognise the number.
Maddy is in a hospital bed and now someone says he’s next. That can’t just be a coincidence. Is it a text from Patrick? Surely not. He’s in Melbourne, far away from here. But maybe Patrick has nothing to do with what happened to his sister. Faces and names flash through his mind. Everyone he has ever associated with knows he has a little sister who he loves. Even if Nick is still in prison, he knows everything about Logan’s life and maybe he hasn’t taken kindly to being ignored for the last few years. Maybe he’s talked about the things they did more than he should have. Nick knows people everywhere. The list of possibilities gets longer the more Logan thinks about it, his heart racing with all the things he’s done wrong.
What if this is payback? He thinks he’s left the past behind him but what if someone he stole from is making sure he understands his mistake? Hurting someone he loves would be the best possible choice. Whoever hurt his sister would know that the first thing he would do would be to get on a plane and go and see her. Hurting her would lure him down there to face whoever is waiting for him. ‘Oh God,’ he whispers, feeling his stomach churn, his forehead bead with sweat. Maddy has been hurt because of something he’s done.
Tonight, he’ll get to Melbourne and his past will be waiting for him.
He slaps at the steering wheel again, fury rising inside him as all he can think is, I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him. He just isn’t sure who exactly he is thinking about.
10
Gladys
‘I’ll tell you what they should do,’ says Lou, pointing at the television set, where a variety programme is on. ‘They should add a dog performing tricks to this.’
‘I’m sure one of the contestants did have a dog a few weeks back,’ says Gladys, ‘they voted him out.’ She doesn’t take her eyes from the television even though she’s not really watching. Occasionally she glances out of the large bay window where she and Lou have their small round breakfast table and two chairs. Sunshine streams in, colouring the timber table orange, and even though she doesn’t want to be out in the heat, the sharp green of the grass against the bright blue of the sky begs to be experienced.
‘No one appreciates true entertainment anymore.’
Gladys hates the variety programme but Lou refuses to watch anything else, despite every streaming platform available to them. He doesn’t seem to be able to concentrate on a movie long enough to keep the characters straight, and he nods off during series, waking only to get angry at her for continuing to watch without him. She is only sitting with him in the cool living room because he has been calling for her all morning. He seems to need her right next to him today. She thinks it may be because his routine with Peter has been interrupted. He prefers Peter to help him bathe and shave and Gladys has not made a good job of it. There are two cuts on his chin from the razor.
‘Don’t you think?’ he asks, and she realises that she hasn’t replied to him.
‘Probably not,’ she agrees. ‘It’s time for your medication, Lou. Do you want to have a snack with it?’
‘I wouldn’t say no to a nice peach. Do we have any peaches?’
‘We do,’ says Gladys, and she hears the small sigh from Lou. He wanted there to be no peaches so that he could protest and fuss. Before he can say anything else, she leaves the living room and goes to the kitchen, where she selects and washes a peach, cutting it up into pieces that are easy for Lou to eat but big enough for his trembling hands to pick up. She pops a piece into her mouth, savouring the tangy sweet taste that always feels like summer in a mouthful. Gladys feels the peach stick in her throat at the idea that there is nothing to look forward to except the loss of Lou. Stop being silly, she admonishes herself.
She takes the peach back to Lou and hands him his pills, watches in silence as he swallows them like a child.
‘Where are you going now?’ he asks when she leaves again.
‘The tumble dryer is done. I’m just going to take the linen upstairs and put it away.’
‘You never sit still for a second,’ he says irritably.
Gladys bites down on her harsh words. ‘I’ll only be a minute,’ she says.
Once the linen is safely and neatly put away, she goes into the guest bedroom to see if Katherine has finally opened the blinds in the children’s rooms but they remain closed, the house silent and glowering in the hot morning.
She studies them for a minute, wondering why this is bothering her so much. She can think of a hundred reasons why she should not even be thinking about this but something keeps niggling at her and she has no idea what. What did Sophie mean by something strange going on in the house? Has the child also felt the tension between her parents?
Gladys rubs at a spot on the window. Are the Wests planning to divorce?
Does Katherine want the divorce or does John? Or both of them? She hopes they don’t do it, if only for the sake of the children. Katherine would put the twins’ needs first. Gladys knows that she’s a very passionate and loving mother. She’d had the help of her own mother until the middle of last year, when Janet lost her life to a heart attack. Katherine was devastated. Perhaps losing her mother has made her question everything in her life. Losing a loved one can make a person look at everything differently. Even the understanding that Lou will not be around for many more years has changed the way Gladys approaches her own life. Nothing seems to interest her that much anymore.
One of the blinds twitches a little and, to her amazement, as she watches, two small hands appear holding a white piece of paper. There is something written on the paper in thick blue marker, but Gladys can’t see what it says. She needs her glasses for everything but she left them by the television set. She looks frantically around the guest room and is overjoyed to remember that Lou keeps his birdwatching binoculars in the guest room cupboard. ‘Don’t go away, don’t go away,’ she repeats as she frantically untangles the strap and puts the binoculars against her eyes, adjusting the lenses until she can see what’s written on the paper in shaky letters.
Halp Us
Help us. It says help us in a child’s handwriting. A chill goes through Gladys as she pulls her phone out of her pocket – meaning to take a picture to show Lou so he believes something is going on – but the little hands with the sign disappear abruptly and the blinds remain closed.
Gladys waits, her heart thudding in her chest, but there is no more movement from the house, and the longer she stares at the closed blinds, the more she questions what just happened.
She goes back downstairs on shaky legs. ‘You won’t believe what I’ve just seen,’ she says to Lou.
‘The linen cupboard, I imagine,’ says Lou, a spark of his old humour flaring up.
‘No, I’m being serious, Lou. I was in the spare bedroom checking if the blinds were open in Katherine’s house—’
He frowns and interrupts her. ‘What is your obsession with her blinds? You sound a bit mad, Gladys. She’s keeping them closed to keep out the heat, it’s a simple thing. Why won’t you leave it alone?’
‘Now you listen to me, Lou Philips, stop interrupting me! You’re being very rude,’ says Gladys, her voice sharp and high.
Lou’s shoulders bow a little and he sinks further into his chair. He hates it when she shouts at him. ‘Sorry, old girl,’ he
mumbles, an unusual thing for him to say, and Gladys feels a familiar tap of guilt on her shoulder. He doesn’t mean to be like he is.
She goes over to sit next to him in her own leather chair. ‘It’s fine, love, but I wanted to tell you what I saw, so let me explain.’
‘All right, then.’ He gives her his full attention, still contrite about yelling at her.
‘One of the children held up a sign in the window, a handwritten sign, and it said, “Help us.” I mean “help” was spelled incorrectly but it definitely said, “Help us.”’ She takes out her phone, wishing she had a picture, and then shoves it back into her pocket, stands up and sits down again, the image of the sign appearing before her. Did she see what she thinks she saw?
‘That’s a bit odd,’ he concedes.
‘I know,’ says Gladys, relieved that he believes her even as she questions herself. ‘I told you something odd was going on over there. I think I should march over and demand Katherine open the door, or maybe I should just call the police.’
‘Listen, love,’ says Lou kindly, ‘I know that it’s hard being here with me all day, especially when you would rather be out. I know that but I think that you might need to take a little walk or something. I’ll be fine on my own for a bit.’
Irritation flares in Gladys at being dismissed as simply imagining things because she’s cooped up in the house. She thought he was on her side in this now. She struggles for a moderate tone, knowing that he is attempting kindness. ‘Something is happening in that house. I just know it.’ Gladys twists her hands together, anxiety gnawing at her. Yesterday –the thing she didn’t tell Lou about – comes back to her. But it’s obviously nothing to do with what’s happening at Katherine’s and she sees no reason to worry Lou when there is little he can do about it.
‘Maybe she and John had a big fight and they’re all just having a day to calm down. That might be why the kids are unsettled and making a game out of it. Remember when you thought I was flirting with the new secretary at work?’
The Family Across the Street Page 8
