Nine Years: A novel (Beneath the Clouds Book 1)

by Jessica Leed

  She had bigger things to think about. Curiosity had been eating at her for far too long.

  She would keep trying.

  Maybe Nolan would open up and share more than Miranda ever would. Sparking a conversation with him would be the easy part, they had broken down the wall of communication months ago. Going deeper was the tricky part.

  Tuesday was lunch duty day. As usual, she found him in the locker breezeway sitting against the brick wall with his pile of library books. As usual, her heart crumbled at the sight of him hunched in the same position as every other lunch time; his skinny legs folded under his chin with his book rested on the ground beside him.

  He looked up at her as she moved closer, the jingle of her keys around her neck having been a dead giveaway. His big brown eyes widened through his thick rims as his face lifted. ‘Hello Miss Henderson.’

  Always so polite.

  ‘Hello Nolan. How’s your reading going?’

  ‘Well, thank you.’ His smile broadened. ‘I’m reading about the planets.’ He turned the book around showing a page of pictures surrounded by tiny black text.

  ‘That looks like it’s a bit of a tricky book. Are you sure you’re able to follow ok?’

  He pulled out a dictionary from the middle of his tower of books. ‘This thing is a life saver.’

  ‘I’m impressed,’ she said brightly. ‘Any words you need help on?’

  He shook his head. ‘I think I’ve got them all covered, thank you.’ He flipped through the pages. ‘What’s your favorite planet Miss Henderson?’

  She thought for a second. ‘I think it would have to be Saturn. I think the ring system is very beautiful.’

  ‘It’s also huge,’ he added thoughtfully. It’s the second biggest planet after Jupiter, although colder than Jupiter. We’d freeze there.’

  ‘Yes, we would certainly turn to ice cubes! What’s your favourite planet, Nolan?’

  ‘Mars. Definitely Mars.’ He yanked up his sleeve slightly and took a sip of soup from the canister. ‘Because the planet shows evidence that there may have been water there in the past. It has river valleys and channels in its surface which I find pretty fascinating. It also has the largest volcano in the solar system, Olympus Mons, which is about three times the size of Everest!’

  She was impressed by the depth of his knowledge and use of vocabulary before being distracted by the purple mark imbedded in his left forearm. Without trying to be too obvious, she took a step out of the sunlight to inspect the print closer. If she didn’t know any better, she would have passed it off as a fall. But the print held a peculiar shape, joining together the many dots in her head. This wasn’t a bruise from the playground, or from some rough play in PE class. The blotchy mark looked like hand print. Could it be?

  The prospect made her want to be sick.

  ‘Nolan, what happened to your arm?’

  He stopped talking then and followed her eyes. He rolled down his sleeve and wiped his mouth with it. ‘I tripped over playing soccer.’ He placed the book down and began taking hurried gulps of his soup. He barely swallowed before shoving the next heaped spoonful in.

  ‘I didn’t know you played soccer. When did you hurt yourself?’ She tested him.

  He shrugged, unable to meet her eye. ‘Ummm … a couple of days ago. It’s no big deal, it doesn’t hurt that much.’

  She kneeled down to his level and reached for his sleeve.

  He jerked back abruptly. ‘It’s fine.’

  This wasn’t like Nolan.

  ‘I just want to have a look at it. We might be able to put something on it to help it heal faster.’

  ‘No, I’m fine Miss Henderson,’ he reassured her. ‘Please, I’m fine.’

  She hated how panicked he sounded. He was hiding something. Were his parents hurting him? The nauseous feeling churned away in her stomach. Surely not. But there was no way of knowing for sure. It was clear Nolan wasn’t going to tell her, even if it was the truth. If such speculation got back to Miranda, she would kick up a fuss and maybe even pull Nolan from the school. Then what?

  He would disappear into the hands of a child abuser.

  ‘Ok, its ok, I’ll leave it.’ She stood to her feet. ‘Does your Aunt Lindsey play soccer with you?’ She wasn’t ready to leave this alone.

  He took the planet book back out and turned to a random page, bouncing his knees as his legs folded under him in a cross position. ‘Sometimes.’

  For someone who liked to talk a lot, he suddenly had very little to say.

  ‘Did she take you to the soccer at all when you were younger?’ If he was still with a foster family then he wouldn’t have had much of a history with his so called ‘family’. Without reading the page he was on, he turned another.

  ‘No.’

  ‘What about your parents? Did they take you to any games?’

  He shook his head.

  Think.

  She smoothed her lips together tightly. ‘What were some of your favorite things you did as a family when you were little Nolan?’ Far out, she was prying, and Nolan knew it.

  He looked up at her and frowned. ‘No offence Miss Henderson, but you’re asking a lot of questions today.’

  ‘I’m sorry I’m quizzing you so much,’ she said with a little laugh. ‘Your mum mentioned you’re leaving us soon and would love to get to know you a little more before that happens.’

  Suspicion darkened his face. ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Los Angeles? ‘Surely this wasn’t news to him. Had she just put her foot in it again?

  He didn’t respond, but instead studied the ground harder, longer this time.

  ‘Nolan?’

  It was then his little body began to tremble. What had she done? A little sob escaped. She regretted pushing him for answers. Seeing him broken in tears would never make it worth it.

  She squatted down and lowered her bum onto the cold cement. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, buddy. I shouldn’t have asked you so many questions like that.’

  They lapsed back into silence. He sniffed a little more before wiping his nose with his sleeve. She took a tissue from the first aid bag she had clipped around her hip. ‘You know I’m always here for you Nolan. There’s nothing you can say or do that would ever change that. Not even being on the other side of the world.’ She didn’t know if she was saying the right things, but his sobs seemed to be easing.

  He uncovered his face from his arms and shook his head. ‘You … don’t … know,’ he managed to spit out.

  She crouched down closer to him. ‘I promise you Nolan. You have my word. I’ll always be here for you, you don’t need to worry—’

  ‘No, you don’t understand.’

  ‘What don’t I understand?’ She asked gently.

  He didn’t answer, but stared out ahead at the brick wall. She gently touched his arm. He yanked it back and muttered a groan.

  ‘Nolan, I need to see this bruise.’ She was firm now. She had to be. ‘Nolan.’

  He shook his head with little conviction, then reluctantly, pulled up his sleeve. What was uncovered was no accident. Up close the jagged bruise wrapped around his forearm formed a clear shape of a hand print.

  Chills passed over her. ‘Did someone do this to you?’

  He wrinkled his nose, his bouncing knees accelerated in pace. He looked down again, wanting to formulate a lie. But she knew he wouldn’t.

  She drew a steady breath. ‘Did your parents do this to you?’ she lowered her voice. ‘It’s ok, you can talk to me, Nolan.’

  He jerked his head up with wide eyes, his breathing dangerously strained. Just when she thought he was going to answer her, he scooped his books in his arms and bolted down the breezeway. He disappeared around the corner before she had a chance to get to her feet.

  She was now convinced that her speculations this whole time were tr
ue.

  She didn’t care that Damian wouldn’t look at her. She had to report what she has seen. It was vital that he knew about it and to see the bruise for himself. But by the time the bell went, Nolan still hadn’t returned to the classroom. She panicked. The last thing she wanted to do was to call someone to go out searching for him. But even if she did, she knew he wouldn’t talk to anyone else. Thankfully one of the library staff saw her desperation and had offered to step in.

  She was able to breathe again when she found him in the library, sitting in the same aisle as last time. It was almost as though he wanted to be found. He wasn’t crying anymore, just rocking slowly forward and back, over and over again, staring out the window that overlooked the playground.

  ‘I’ll be ok. I just want to sit here for a while,’ his voice vacant, emotionless.

  She sat down next to him and crossed her legs to match him. She knew it wasn’t the time to reopen the case. The file would stay closed.

  For now.

  The important thing was that he had someone there for him. It was what he needed and that was exactly what she would do.

  ‘Ok.’ She looked up at the books that were neatly ordered in the shelf. ‘Any good ones?’

  He followed her eyes then shrugged. ‘Dunno.’ He squinted his eyes, studying them more carefully. ‘Actually … there could be one.’ He stood to his feet and brushed his fingers along the National Geographic collection. He took out four or five books from the shelf and settled back down on the carpet beside her.

  Then they spent the next forty minutes exploring Ancient Egypt together.

  Damian had suddenly become much harder to hunt down. She found it amazing how he suddenly wasn’t available for her. Instead of letting it be something to be concerned about, she was grateful for the extra breathing space. Although now wasn’t the time for a game of hide and seek.

  She needed to talk to him.

  She knew better than to leave a note in his office. There was no way she would be doing that again. Instead, she spent a good half hour after the bell went, documenting the situation in a well thought out email. They would discuss the issue tomorrow. And it would be discussed. There would be some sort of investigation, an action plan. She would demand it.

  This would not be left alone.

  She was somewhat surprised to see that Patrick had left her a message. That he had randomly made the effort to let her know that there would be, yet again, another late night at work. By now it was expected that every late night would go without an explanation attached to it. Which was why she was amazed to be given one tonight. Amazed that after weeks of treating each other like strangers as they tiptoed around the house, that a text finally justified this particular absence. It was this single message that sparked the last drizzle of optimism that was left inside of her. At least it was communication. Was it the truth? She doubted it. But for every late night, she would tell herself over and over again that he was exactly where he said he was.

  It was another day she had forgotten to eat. Her clothes barely fit her anymore as they hung off her disappearing frame. But with all the latest stressors, food was the last thing she thought about. But as soon as she stepped into the empty apartment, it was the first thing on her mind. Not because she was hungry, but because if she focused on anything else, she might collapse in a heap on the floor.

  Focus on the task at hand.

  It was all she had to do. If she did this, she would be ok. She opened the pantry hoping to be inspired by what was there. Curry powder, brown sugar, chicken stock—a whole bunch of staple ingredients. She hadn’t done a full supermarket shop in over two weeks. Then she spotted the peanut butter and lemon juice, remembering she bought chicken breast the night before.

  Satay chicken it would be.

  She laid out the ingredients, collecting pots, pans and measuring cups. She could hear the sound of ambulances and police cars whizzing by below, sirens so loud as though they were coming from the very apartment next door. Noises like that filled their apartment on a regular basis, filling any space for silence. It was the price you paid living close to the city along with a chorus of wailing cats, barking dogs, beeping horns and the smashing of glass bottles from the streets below on a Saturday night. Not to mention the screaming matches that went on between the Indian couple on the floor above as she tried to sleep at night.

  Complementary add-ons that fueled her anxiety.

  No wonder her heart was constantly racing. Home was no longer a place where she could find peace and escape the hustle and bustle of life. It only followed her home. She remembered the feeling of peace every time she set foot in Aringdale. It was a place where she was able to breath, where her mind was free. A place where she made better sense of who she was, embracing everything she now neglected.

  Here, she was always on the go, never having the time to stop, reflect or dream. The goal each day was to make it through, before waking up and repeating exactly that. As long as she was here, time would never stand still. Not like it had every time her heart relived the memories Aringdale gifted her with.

  But there was no point dreaming about a life she couldn’t have. She wasn’t a dreamer anymore, she was a realist. And the realist in her reminded her that she had a secure, steady job at one of the best private schools in Melbourne. A position she had always told herself she would see out for at least another five years until she reached her ten-year long service leave. In those three months of leave they had plans to jet off and travel Europe and Asia. That had been the plan. Well, it had been the plan when she first took the job, when their relationship was fresh, young and full of aspiration. Even if the plan happened to change, they would still use those three months to do something life changing together.

  What else was there? Well, there was Jacqui of course and …

  Well, that was more than enough. She had so much to be grateful for.

  She wouldn’t move back to Aringdale for something as pathetic as an escape from the stress this particular season saw her in. Even if it had been a prolonged season, spread across half a decade now.

  It wouldn’t always be this way. Life wouldn’t always be this way. If she wanted an escape she could get on a plane and spend a week or two on a tropical island somewhere. She wouldn’t have to give up her life for the sake of a steady pulse.

  Before she got too carried away, she put on some music to drown her thoughts and allowed her body to dance. After all, wasn’t music medicine for the soul? It sure felt that way as her feet led her through a series of movements around the kitchen floor.

  She wasn’t sure whether it was the dancing, the music or the sheer commitment she had towards the dish, but it turned out perfectly.

  She was pretty proud how it all came together and, wow, it smelt delicious. She ate it quickly, unaware of how hungry she actually was until she took the first bite and demolished the whole thing within minutes. Patrick’s full plate rested on the bench beside her empty one. Like all meals these days, she covered it with plastic wrap and placed it in the fridge where it would wait there for however long it would be until he came home.

  It was an unseasonably warm night, and with Cortex Consulting only a fifteen minute drive away she suddenly had the urge to get it to him. Surely, he would appreciate the gesture after a long day at work. She wouldn’t disturb him or stay for long. She would just merely drop it off then would be on her way back. Besides, it would keep her mind preoccupied for at least another forty minutes.

  She changed into a comfortable pair of jeans, took the plate out from the fridge, and transferred the meal into an air tight container. Taking her keys, she locked the door and jogged down the stairs to the car park.

  There weren’t many people on the road at this time. Despite all of her bad luck that day, she managed to avoid all seven traffic lights along the way. Twice now she had had a good run to his work. Somehow that little victo
ry made her feel all positive.

  She slowed as she approached the building and leaned forward over the steering wheel to locate his black BMW. Like last time, all she could see were the two same cars belonging to the cleaners.

  The familiar knot in her stomach returned.

  She inhaled deeply, forcing her heart to settle as she gently lowered her foot down on the break and took a left turn down Watson Street—one of the four streets bordering the property. She was glad there were no cars behind her as she crawled at twenty kilometers per hour, looking like a crazy woman as her body lurched over the wheel in search for his car.

  Nothing.

  Well, there were several cars, but no black BMW.

  She made another left into Duke Street and went around the back. She only had to drive about fifty metres before she spotted the familiar number plate. The knot in her stomach loosened and she was able to breathe again.

  But as she approached closer, she could see silhouettes moving around inside the vehicle. She pulled over to the curb and turned off the engine. She wouldn’t have any distractions. She made sure she was far enough from him where he wouldn’t spot her, but close enough to see what was going on. She couldn’t work out if what she was seeing was the back of one head, or two.

  She didn’t have to wait long.

  Seconds later the shape split into two. She could see the outline of a profile, hovering inches away from the other one. There was more movement now, the two shapes coming together to form one, then breaking apart again.

  She didn’t need to watch them bob around in unison any longer. She knew exactly what was going on in there. She took the plastic container and fumbled out of the car. With trembling legs, she concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other as she stumbled across the road as though she was on ice, her eyes glued to the two shapes growing in detail as she drew near.