The Newcomer
Page 26
‘We can give you a bath. How does that sound?’
Paulina imagined hot water, cleansing her skin. But Tabby’s hands were still on her, lifting her nightie. ‘Don’t.’
‘I’m just checking. How do your ribs feel?’
‘Piss off.’
‘There’s a lot of them.’ Tabby’s fingernails brushed the bruises. ‘Look at you. Skin-and-bone.’
‘Stop perving!’
‘I’m not—’ Tabby sighed. ‘I’ll get that bath ready.’
When it was time for her bath, Paulina numbly let Tabby walk her down the hall. Let her lower her into the too-hot water, and soap her up, and pour bowls of water over her. Let her wash her hair, dry her with a fluffy towel. At the end, she said, ‘Thank you, Mum.’
‘I’m not—’ Again, Tabby sighed. ‘I don’t understand you. One minute it’s “bitch”, next minute it’s “Mum”. It’s like having a teenager in the house again.’
‘He did it in her room.’
‘Here’s a clean nightie.’ Tabby’s hands were shaking. ‘Put it on.’
‘I saw. Photos.’
‘What photos?’
‘I saw the walls.’
‘What walls?’
‘She was in her room. Naked.’
‘Get dressed.’ Tabby forced the nightie over Paulina’s head. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself.’
‘She was scared.’
‘I’m not listening to this.’ Tabby tugged Paulina’s arm. ‘Up you get. Back to bed.’
‘You knew.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
As Tabby pulled her into the hall, Paulina yelped, ‘You’re hurting me!’
‘It’s your own fault.’
‘Bitch!’ Paulina swiped at her. ‘You’re worse than him!’
Blood flowered on Tabby’s cheek.
‘Why don’t I call him, then, if that’s how you feel? I’ll call Car to come sort you out.’
Paulina swiped again. ‘Let me out!’
Tabby grabbed her wrist, twisted. Paulina spat in her face.
‘You little—’ Tabby wiped the spit. ‘That’s it. I’m calling him.’
‘Do it!’ Paulina rushed to the door; it was unlocked. ‘I’m not sleeping in that room anymore!’
Air. The best air she’d ever breathed: sea, fruit, flowers, manure, wood-smoke, pine needles. She lost her balance on the porch; frantically picked herself up.
‘Go on!’ Tabby called after her. ‘Get off my property! See how far you get!’
The yard seemed as vast as an ocean, the grass cool and blue as water in the fading light. A dog barked in the distance. She ran toward it, feet chafing as the grass turned to gravel, concrete, bitumen. She flagged down the first car she saw: a maroon Honda Civic.
‘My goodness!’ cried the lady in the passenger seat. Kiwi accent. ‘What happened ?’
‘I fell,’ Paulina recited. ‘I fell down some stairs.’
‘Do those stairs have a name? You don’t have to protect him.’
‘Don’t pry, Mary,’ the man behind the wheel said. ‘Where can we take you, love?’
‘Tenderloin Road.’
‘“Tenderloin Road.” Mary, can you find that on the map?’
‘Roy, she needs medical attention!’
‘Is there a hospital on this island?’ The man looked back at Paulina. ‘Sorry. We just arrived from Auckland.’
‘Tenderloin Road,’ Paulina repeated. ‘The house with the cow letterbox.’
‘Who lives there, dear? Is it safe?’
‘Mary, don’t pry. She’s a grown woman.’
‘She’s walking around half-naked!’
‘I’m from Fairfolk Island,’ Paulina slurred. ‘This’s how we dress here.’
‘There you go, Mary. You heard her. Check the map, will you?’
The lady turned around in her seat. ‘You don’t have to protect him, dear. Whoever he is. Roy’s just afraid of missing the Fortuna fish-fry. But we’ll take you to the hospital. Or the police. Wherever you need to go.’
Paulina’s brain hurt so bad she wanted to stick a knife in it.
‘Tenderloin Road. Near Klee Welkin. The house with the cow letterbox.’
The couple dropped her off outside Vera and Rocky’s. ‘Look at that!’ The man chuckled at the letterbox. ‘The mail goes right in its bum-crack!’
Mumbling her thanks, Paulina staggered around the side of the house. She felt a surge of love, seeing her blue Mazda parked outside her cottage. A blast of ice-cold wind, letting herself into the flat and knowing someone had been inside it.
A note on the counter, not her handwriting: Gone drinking.
Paulina ripped up the note.
She turned the kitchen tap, guzzled water. Pulled the blinds. Stumbled to bed.
In the ringing silence of her bedroom, she saw her answering machine’s blink, like a lighthouse in the dark. Clicked ‘play’.
Hi, darling. Mum here. I know you’re busy, but can you give me a call?
I’m going to Aunt Caro’s for tea. Give us a call, if you’re free!
I’m at Caro’s. She says hi (HI!). Talk soon?
Is everything alright? I haven’t heard from you all week; I’m getting worried—
I’m really worried, Paulina. Please, call—
‘Get a life, bitch,’ Paulina whispered, closing her eyes.
A FAIR TRIAL
The first day of the trial, Judy went into Foodfolk with Caro to buy some cigarettes, and, on the way out, bumped into Jesse Camilleri.
‘Sorry,’ Jesse said, and tried to step out of her way.
Judy had the same idea. ‘Sorry!’
‘Sorry,’ Jesse repeated. It happened again.
Judy blushed. ‘Sorry!’
‘Oh, bloody hell!’ Caro grabbed Judy’s arm and moved her aside.
‘Um, thanks.’ Jesse hovered. ‘Um, good luck today. That bastard deserves to be hanged, eh.’
‘Thank you,’ Judy murmured. ‘Yes, we hope so. Not hanged. But, you know.’
‘Yeah, right. Um. Good to see you, Mrs Novak. Ms! Sorry.’
He looked so sorry, you’d think he was the one going on trial.
‘It’s alright.’ Judy smiled and patted his arm. ‘I was “Mrs Novak”, once. It’s not the worst thing you could call me.’
Caro shot her a suspicious glance. Then she simpered; offered Jesse a ciggie.
‘Oh. Bes’ not, eh.’ Jesse reddened. ‘Um. Good to see you, too, um—’
‘Caro.’
‘Right. Sorry, I just woke up.’ His eyes drifted back to Judy. ‘I saw you on TV, a while back. It was good. I mean, it wasn’t good. But you were good.’
‘Oh, that.’ Judy rolled her eyes. ‘I’d rather forget about that.’
‘Sorry. You were good, though, Ms Novak. I—’
‘Come on.’ Caro tugged on Judy’s arm. ‘We’ll be late.’
‘See you around, Jesse,’ Judy mumbled, and let Caro lead her away.
Outside Foodfolk, Caro cracked up.
‘What?’ Judy bleated. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘You! Flirting with that kid!’
‘I wasn’t flirting.’
‘That little pat on the arm?’
‘I just did that because he was awkward! Like, “there, there”, you know?’
‘There, there.’ Caro patted Judy’s arm. ‘I know.’
Huffing, Judy let herself into the rental car. ‘Are you going to accuse me of flirting every time someone’s awkward around me?’
‘Only if he’s cute.’ Smirking, Caro sidled in beside her. ‘Crack a window, will you?’
‘Tim knows you smoke. He’s not stupid.’
Caro rummaged in her handbag. ‘Shit, I forgot
my lighter! Let’s go back inside.’
Judy paled.
‘Jokingggg!’ Caro flashed the pine-green lighter. ‘The look on your face!’
‘What’s wrong with you? We’re on our way to a murder trial.’
‘No shit.’ Caro lit up. ‘This is probably the only time I’ll get a laugh today.’
Judy started the car. ‘Just so you know, I wasn’t flirting. I would never.’
‘Well, maybe you weren’t.’ Caro blew smoke out the window. ‘He was, though.’
‘You arrived on Fairfolk Island on March 28, 2002. Is that correct, Ms Novak?’
‘Yes.’ Judy steadied her face. ‘That’s correct.’
‘A little closer to the microphone, please.’
‘Sorry.’ She leaned closer, eyes stinging. ‘Correct.’
‘What was the purpose of your visit?’
‘I came to see my daughter, Paulina. We planned to celebrate her birthday together.’
‘What did you do upon your arrival?’
‘Paulina picked me up from the airport.’ Judy pretended she was back in front of the mirror at the Hibiscus Hideout serviced apartments, practising. ‘It was about two o’clock. She drove me around the island a bit, then took me to get my rental car. We drove separately to Mutineers’ Lodge, her workplace. She helped me check in, then after … we had coffee in my cabin before she started her dinner shift.’
‘How did your daughter seem?’
‘Happy and healthy. She seemed excited to show me her new home.’
‘Did you see Paulina again that evening?’
‘Yes. I met her after her shift and—’
‘A little louder, please.’
‘Sorry. I met her after her shift? For dinner. We went to the Great-O White Shark Grill.’
‘How did she seem?’
‘Happy. Chatty.’
‘Was her mood unusually elevated?’
‘Sorry?’ Judy blinked. ‘No. I mean, she was … happy to see me.’
‘Did she appear to be under the influence of drugs or alcohol?’
‘Paulina didn’t do drugs.’ Shaking her head, Judy’s eyes leaked furiously. ‘We shared a bottle of white wine over dinner.’
‘How much did your daughter drink?’
‘We shared the bottle. About half the bottle.’
‘Half each?’
‘Well …’ Wasn’t the prosecutor meant to be on her side? ‘I only had two small glasses. I was driving.’
‘So, she had more than half?’
‘I suppose so.’ Judy remembered something, yearned to leave it out. ‘I just remembered. She had a cocktail, too.’
‘What was in the cocktail?’
‘I’m not sure. It was something pink. It had … a fun name.’ Her face burned. ‘Sorry. I can’t recall the name.’
‘Was it a strong cocktail?’
‘I don’t think so. It wasn’t like a Long Island Iced Tea or anything.’
She sensed Caro smiling at that, and momentarily felt better.
‘Was it typical for your daughter to drink that much during a single dinner?’
‘I … wouldn’t say “typical”.’ Judy wondered if this was true. ‘We hadn’t seen each other in over a year. It was a special occasion.’
‘Did she seem drunk?’
‘Not “drunk”. Buzzed, maybe.’
‘How long were you at the restaurant?’
‘About two hours.’
‘Was your daughter a petite woman?’
‘Slim. Not short.’
‘Still. A cocktail and more than half a bottle of wine in the space of two hours. I would say that’s a considerable amount of alcohol for a slim woman, wouldn’t you?’
Judy breathed sharply through her nostrils. ‘She liked to drink. She ate dinner, too.’
‘What did she eat?’
‘She had a whole piece of grilled trumpeter and a green salad, all to herself. She even took some chips from my plate.’
‘Fish, salad, and a few chips. That’s all?’
‘She ate it all. All by herself.’ Judy crumpled. ‘I’m sorry. But it was a big meal for her. She had an eating disorder.’
The courtroom was intensely quiet as Judy tugged some tissues from the box, wiped her running eyes and nose, caught her breath — every snuffle and gasp audible.
‘I’m going to hand you a photograph now, Ms Novak. I’d like you to describe it for the jury. Okay?’
Judy stared at her knees. ‘Yes. Okay.’
‘Into the mic, please.’
‘Yes.’ The photo appeared under her nose. She stared at it until the words were as solid as marbles in her mouth. ‘It’s a picture of Paulina and me at Great-O’s.’
‘Who took the picture?’
‘One of the restaurant owners. Paulina called him “Grandy”.’
‘Is there anyone else in the photo? In the background?’
‘Yes.’ Her voice wisped. ‘There’s a man.’
‘Can you describe what the man is wearing? A little louder, into the microphone.’
‘He’s in a chef’s uniform. Checked black-and-white pants and a black smock.’
‘Do you recognise the man?’
‘Yes.’ Judy glanced tearfully at the dock, but she couldn’t make out his face through the blur. ‘It appears to be the defendant. Sean Patrick Campbell.’
‘Did you see your daughter interact with the defendant that evening?’
‘No.’
‘Did she mention him?’
‘No.’
‘Did she mention any friends or acquaintances working in the kitchen?’
‘No.’
‘Did she leave the table at any point that evening?’
‘She might’ve gone to the bathroom.’
‘Do you recall her going to the bathroom?’
‘I don’t recall. But she probably did.’ Though unsure if it was permitted, Judy added, ‘I did.’
‘You left the table to go to the bathroom?’
‘Yes.’
‘How many times?’
‘Once or twice.’
‘Once? Or twice?’
‘I think twice.’ Judy reddened. ‘Yes. Twice.’
‘Were you apart from your daughter at any other point that evening, besides the trips to the bathroom?’
‘After dinner.’ Judy clutched her used-up tissues. ‘She had a smoke outside while I paid the bill.’
‘Did your daughter smoke often?’
‘All the time.’
‘Was there a particular brand of cigarettes that she preferred?’
‘She usually rolled her own. To save money. She wasn’t picky, though.’
‘Did you notice what kind of cigarette she was smoking, when you joined her?’
‘No. She stubbed it out as I walked up.’
‘What happened after you left the restaurant?’
‘I drove her home. Then I drove back to Mutineers’ Lodge and went to bed.’
‘Did your daughter have any further plans for that evening, to your knowledge?’
‘No. She had an early start the next day.’
‘When did you next see your daughter?’
‘She came into my room and woke me around six-thirty. She was in her uniform.’
‘How did she seem?’
‘Happy. She teased me.’ Judy’s mouth quirked downwards. ‘She … made me get out of bed. So she could make it for me.’
She took more tissues, balled them up and held them to her mouth. Breathe. Just breathe.
‘Are you ready to continue, Ms Novak?’
Judy moved closer to the microphone. ‘Yes.’
‘Did your daughter appear to be under the influence of drugs or alcohol?’
‘Did she seem hungover?’
‘No. As I said, she was happy. Chatty. She bragged about being a morning person.’
‘How long did she stay?’
‘About twenty minutes.’ Judy wanted to say more: the smell of her shampoo, the shimmer of her laugh, the brightness of her sneakers in the dim room. ‘Not long.’
‘What happened next?’
‘I went back to sleep. I woke around eight-thirty. Then I showered and went out to the bistro. Paulina was working.’
‘Did you speak?’
‘Yes. She suggested I eat at the Blue Moon Café, so she could finish earlier.’ Judy shrugged. ‘We arranged to meet back at my cabin at midday and go to the beach. She wanted to go for a walk by herself after finishing work. I offered to walk with her, but she said I’d just annoy her. She liked walking fast, with her music.’
‘She did that frequently?’
‘Every day, to my knowledge.’
‘What happened next?’
‘I drove to the Blue Moon Café for breakfast. After that I went to Piney’s Point and watched the surfers. I was back at Mutineers’ Lodge by eleven-thirty. I put on my beach things and waited.’
‘How long did you wait?’
‘Two-and-a-half hours.’
‘Can you describe those two-and-a-half hours?’
‘Well, at first I thought she’d been held up, or maybe we got the times wrong. Then it had been over an hour, so I called. I kept calling. She didn’t answer.’
Hot and painful, the tears slid down.
‘I left some messages. Then I went to the front desk and spoke to her manager, Bazel. I told him to let Paulina know I’d gone out, if he saw her.’ Judy steeled her voice. ‘I tried not to worry. I figured, she’s a grown woman, she has better things to do than spend the day with me. I drove to the pier and saw some guys unloading the supply ship. I walked a bit. Then it started to rain. I drove back to town. The shops were closed for Good Friday.’
‘What happened next?’
‘I saw a lady go into the jewellery shop, “Tabby’s Treasures”. I asked to use her phone. I left a message for Paulina saying I was coming over. Then I saw this angelfish pendant and bought it — for her birthday. I drove straight over. As soon as I got there …’
She swallowed.
‘Her Mazda was parked with the windows open. The rain had gotten in. It was a new car. She wouldn’t of just left it like that. Unless she planned to be home soon.’