by Harper,Jane
Aaron frequently found himself casting around for something to say that would elicit more than a raised eyebrow or a nod. Occasionally, he’d strike gold, and the corner of her mouth would lift.
He loved those moments. He would make a mental note of what he’d said, storing it to analyze later. Hoping to find a pattern on which he could build a whole repertoire of banter so witty that she couldn’t help but smile. So far, the pattern was disappointingly random.
They’d spent much of the afternoon leaning against the rock tree in the shade. Ellie had seemed more distant than normal. Twice that afternoon he’d asked her something and she hadn’t appeared to even hear him. Eventually, terrified of boring her, he’d suggesting tracking down Luke or Gretchen. To his relief she shook her head.
“I don’t think I could face the chaos right now,” she’d said. “It’s all right with just us, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, of course.” Of course it was. He tried to keep his voice light. “What have you got planned for tonight?”
She made a face. “I’m working.” For the past year she’d had a part-time job, which mainly involved standing disinterestedly behind the counter of the convenience store.
“Didn’t you work last night?”
“Shop opens every day, Aaron.”
“I know, but—” It was more work than usual. Out of nowhere he wondered if she was lying to him, then felt ridiculous. She wouldn’t bother.
He watched as she repeatedly tossed her key ring idly in the air and caught it, her shiny purple nails reflecting the afternoon sunlight. He was trying to work up the courage to reach up and snatch the key ring from her in midair. He could tease her gently, the way Luke would do. And then—well, then Aaron wasn’t sure what. So it had almost been a relief when Ellie threw it too high and it sailed backward over their heads.
The keys clanged once off the boulder, and they heard the metallic thump as the keys hit the ground.
Falk crouched by the rock tree and shifted position a few times until he found the right angle. He let out a little grunt of surprise and satisfaction when he finally saw it.
The gap.
“Hey, look at this.” Aaron leaned back and forth from where he was kneeling. A deep crevasse in the heart of the rock tree appeared, then disappeared as he moved to a slightly different angle. He’d never noticed it before. A single sweet spot where the base of the tree was curved out rather than flush with the rock. An optical illusion, it was almost invisible from all but one angle.
Aaron peered into the dead space. It was big enough to squeeze his arm, shoulder, and head through, if he’d wanted to. Instead, he saw what he was looking for tucked right inside the entrance. He triumphantly closed his hand around Ellie’s keys.
Falk peered into the mouth of the gap. He could see nothing beyond the entrance. He found a small stone and tossed it in, listening to it rattle off the sides. Nothing scurried or slithered out.
Falk hesitated, then rolled his sleeve down as far as it would go and dipped his hand into the inky entrance. The tips of his fingers landed on an object—small and square and unnatural—and he scooped it up. As he did, something invisible scuttled across his wrist, and he snatched his hand out. He straightened, laughing at his pounding heart.
Falk opened his palm and felt a jolt of recognition. It was a small metal cigarette lighter. Battered, weather-beaten, but still with a working hinge. Falk grinned and turned it upside down, knowing what he would find. There, in an earlier version of his own writing were scratched the initials: A. F.
Never a keen smoker, he’d had it mainly for show, and one day toward the end had hidden it rather than risk getting caught with it by his dad. Falk opened the lid but didn’t dare light it. Not in these conditions. He rubbed his palm over the metal and debated slipping the lighter into his pocket. But it felt like it belonged here, in a different time. After a moment, he reached into the gap and put it back.
Ellie crouched, her hand hot on his shoulder as she wobbled and steadied herself. She was close enough that he could see the mascara coating the individual lashes as she narrowed her eyes and peered in. Her shoulder pressed painfully into his own as she tentatively reached into the gap with her hand, checking out its size.
“That’s pretty cool,” she said, deadpan. It was difficult to tell if she meant it.
“I found your keys,” Aaron said, holding them up. She turned to face him. He could see the little specks in the corners of her eyes where her makeup had bled. She’d cut back on the booze lately, and up close her skin looked smooth and clear.
“So you did. Thank you, Aaron.”
“You’re welcome, Ellie.” He smiled. He could feel her breath on his cheeks. He wasn’t sure if he actually moved his head, or just wanted to, but suddenly her face was closer, and she was kissing him, pressing those pink lips hard against his. Lusciously sticky with a hint of artificial cherry. It was better than he’d imagined, and he pushed back, wanting to taste more, feeling the fizz and pop of pure joy.
He lifted a hand to her shiny hair, but as he slipped it gently around the back of her head she gasped a little, her mouth still on his, and jerked away. She sat back on the ground with a thump and lifted her fingers first to her mouth and then to her hair. Aaron was frozen, crouched down with his open mouth still tasting of her, as horror flooded through him. She was looking up at him.
“I’m sorry, Ellie. I’m—”
“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“—so sorry. It’s my fault, I thought you wanted—”
“Aaron, no, honestly, it’s fine. It just—”
“What?”
A breath.
“Took me by surprise.”
“Oh.” Then: “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” She took a breath as though about to say something more, but the silence stretched out. He thought for a heart-stopping moment there were tears in her eyes, but she blinked, and they were gone.
Aaron stood and offered a hand to help her up from the ground. For a terrible second he thought she might not take it, but she slipped her palm into his and hauled herself up. He took a step back, giving her some distance.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“Please don’t say that.”
“OK. Are we OK?”
To his surprise, she took one small step in, closing the distance between them. Before he knew what was happening, her mouth pressed softly, briefly, to his, and the taste of cherries was back.
“We’re OK.” She stepped away as quickly as she’d stepped in. “I told you. It took me by surprise.”
By the time Aaron’s mind had caught up, it was all over. She was leaning down, brushing the dirt off her jeans.
“I’d better get going. But thanks.” She didn’t look up. “For finding my keys, I mean.”
He nodded.
“Hey,” Ellie said as she turned to leave. “Let’s not tell anyone about this. Keep it just for us.”
“Which…? The gap or—”
She gave a laugh. “The gap.” Ellie looked at him over her shoulder. “But maybe the other thing as well. For now, anyway.”
Both corners of her mouth were curved up a tiny bit.
He wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought on balance it had been a good day.
Falk had never told anyone else about the gap. Or their kiss. He was fairly sure Ellie hadn’t either. Not that she’d had long to keep the secret. Three weeks later and twenty meters from where he stood, Ellie’s pale pickled body was dragged from the river. Falk had never come down here again after she was found. He hadn’t had much chance even if he’d wanted to. Within a month, he and his father were five hundred kilometers away in Melbourne.
He’d always felt glad he and Ellie had discovered the gap when they had, just the two of them. There would have been plenty of opportunity when they were younger, hanging around the rock tree in a tight trio with Luke. But then, by default, it would have automatically become Luke’s find. He would have cl
aimed full custody when, around the age of twelve, the threesome developed a crack neatly along the gender divide.
None of them noticed until it was too late. Ellie was gradually inducted into the foreign world of girls and skirts and clean hands and conversations that made Aaron and Luke exchange looks of bewilderment. It was a slow migration, but one day Aaron looked up and realized it was just him and Luke, and had been for months. They barely missed a beat. She was only a girl. It was probably for the best that she didn’t tag along.
Ellie melted out of their consciousness with an ease Falk now found staggering, but for three years he barely recalled thinking about her once. He must have seen her out and about—there was no way they could have avoided it. But when she reemerged in his life at fifteen, it was like she’d been reborn, fully formed and trailing fascination and mystery behind her like perfume.
It had been yet another Saturday night for him and Luke, sitting on the back of a bench in Centenary Park. Feet on the seat like true rebels, one eye out for the local cop like true small-town boys.
A crunch of gravel and a shifting shadow, and Ellie Deacon had appeared as if from nowhere. Her hair was now an artificial jet black, and the split ends almost touched her elbows. It shone under the orange park lamps. She was alone.
She sauntered over, jeans tight, boots artfully scuffed, lace bra strap peeking out from the wide neckline of her top. She ran her eye-lined gaze over the two boys as they stared back, mouths ever so slightly agape. Ellie raised an eyebrow at the can of warm beer they were sharing, reached into her fake leather bag, and pulled out a mostly full bottle of vodka.
“Room for one more?” she said. They’d nearly fallen off the bench in their haste to shuffle over. The years disappeared with the vodka, and by the time they’d made a dent in the bottle, the trio was reformed.
But tiny variances in their friendship hinted at new paths to be explored. Conversations had a fresh edge. The boys still occasionally spent time as a pair, but Aaron found himself going to significant lengths to limit opportunities for Luke and Ellie to be together without him. He never discussed it with Luke, but the rate at which his own attempts at time alone with her were thwarted made him suspect his friend was running a similar covert operation. The group dynamics had taken a subtle but definite shift, with none of them quite yet sure where they had landed.
Ellie never really explained why she’d returned to the boys. When Aaron once asked, she rolled her eyes skyward.
“Bunch of bitches,” she said. “If it doesn’t involve their reflection in a mirror, they’re not interested. At least you two don’t care if I cramp your style.” She lit a cigarette and looked at him frankly as though that explained everything, and maybe it did.
The friendship was still being cemented as it faced its first real test. When the pressure was applied, it came unexpectedly from the heel of Gretchen Schoner’s hot-pink shoes.
Even in Kiewarra, social hierarchies had to be observed, and Gretchen was a creature most commonly sighted tossing back her golden hair and laughing amid a crowd of followers. So Aaron and Ellie had sat open-mouthed as Luke rocked up at Centenary Park one night with his arm flung around the girl’s shoulders.
A sharp growth spurt had put Luke half a head above most of their classmates and filled out his shoulders and chest in the right ways. In the shadowy park that night, with Gretchen’s hair falling in a tousled curtain over his jacket sleeve, and a definite swagger in his step, Aaron realized for the first time how much his friend looked like a man.
Gretchen was flushed and giggling as Luke introduced them. He caught Aaron’s eye over the top of her head and gave a not-so-subtle wink. Aaron nodded, duly impressed. There were a thousand places Gretchen Schoner could be on a Saturday night, and yet she was there, by Luke’s side.
Having rarely been invited to exchange words with Gretchen in the past, Aaron had been pleasantly surprised. She was charming and unexpectedly quick-witted. She chatted easily and within moments had made him laugh. He could see easily why people flocked to be near her. She radiated an energy that begged to be basked in.
Behind Aaron, Ellie cleared her throat with a tiny noise, and he realized with a start that he’d almost forgotten she was there. Her look as he turned was one of mild disdain but not surprise, as though he and Luke had failed a test they hadn’t been expected to pass. His gaze jumped from Gretchen’s smile to Ellie’s cold expression, red flags popping up loud and bright but far too late. He glanced at Luke, expecting to see the same realization dawning. Instead, Luke was watching with curious amusement. For a tense moment, no one said anything.
Gretchen suddenly flashed the other girl a conspiratorial smile and made a spectacularly bitchy comment about one of Ellie’s former friends. There was a pregnant pause, then Ellie gave a small snort of laughter. Gretchen sealed the deal by passing around her own cigarettes. A space was made for her on the park bench, that night and every Saturday night for the next year.
“Jesus, she’s the human equivalent of bubble bath,” Ellie whispered to Aaron one evening shortly after, but she couldn’t hide the tiny smile as she spoke. They’d all been laughing at Gretchen’s story of an older boy who’d asked her out by carving words into crops and ruined his father’s whole field in the process. Now she and Luke were deep in conversation, heads so close they were nearly touching. Gretchen gave a playful laugh and cast her eyes down as Luke murmured something Aaron didn’t catch. He turned back to Ellie.
“You and I could go somewhere else if she’s annoying you,” Aaron said. “We don’t have to hang around here.”
Ellie regarded him through a veil of smoke for a moment, then shook her head. “No. She’s OK,” she said. “Bit of an airhead. But she’s harmless.”
“Fair enough.” Aaron sighed silently and took the cigarette she offered him. He turned to light it and saw Luke slip his arm around Gretchen’s shoulders and lean in for a quick kiss. As Luke sat back, he glanced over the top of Gretchen’s head in their direction. Ellie, who was examining the lit tip of her cigarette with a faraway look in her eye, didn’t react.
It was there and gone in a flash, but Aaron saw the frown flit across his friend’s face. It occurred to him that he wasn’t the only one a little put out that the girls seemed to be getting on so well.
15
Falk leaned against the rock tree, staring down at the dusty river. The Hadlers’ place and his car were down the path to his left. To his right, the hint of a forgotten trail led away from the river and deeper into the bushland. It had all but disappeared over the past twenty years, but to Falk it was a tattoo on the landscape. He had walked it a thousand times. He stood for a long time, arguing with himself. Finally, he stepped to the right. A thousand times. Once more couldn’t hurt.
It took only a few minutes to reach the end of the trail, but when Falk emerged from the trees the sky was already a deep indigo. Across a field, a family farmhouse shone gray in the twilight. Falk cut straight over the field, like he always had. His pace slowed as he got closer, until he came to a halt about twenty meters from the building. He stared at what had been his childhood home.
The porch door that used to be yellow was now an insipid shade of blue, he noted with something like indignation. It had pockmarks where the paint was peeling. He could see flashes of yellow underneath, gaping through like fatty scars. The wooden steps where he’d sat fiddling with toys and football cards now sagged with age. Underneath, a beer can nestled in the flaxen grass.
He fought the sudden urge to pick it up and find a rubbish bin. To paint the wood. Fix the steps. Instead, he stayed where he was. The windows were all unlit but one, which glowed with a television blue.
Falk felt a sharp pang of longing for what might have been. He could see his father standing at the screen door in the evenings, a tall figure framed with the glow of light from the house. Calling him to leave his games and come in. Time for dinner, Aaron. Bath, bed. In you come, son. Time to come home. His dad rarely spoke of
Aaron’s mother, but when Aaron was younger he’d like to pretend he could feel her in the house. He had run his fingers over things he knew she would have touched—the kitchen taps, the bathroom fittings, the curtains—and imagined her in the same spot.
They’d been happy there once, Falk knew. He and his father, at least. Looking at the house now, it was like a line in his life. A marker at the cusp of before and after. A surge of anger fizzed, directed at least partly at himself. He didn’t know why he’d come. He took a step back. It was just another building in need of repair. There was nothing of him or his dad left there.
He was turning to leave when the screen door screeched open. A woman stepped out, her squashy figure backlit by the television glow. Dull chestnut hair was scraped back in a limp ponytail, and her hips spilled over the top of her waistband. Her face was the purple-red of a woman whose drinking was crossing the line from social to serious. She lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, staring at Falk in cold-eyed silence.
“Help you, mate?” She exhaled, her eyes narrowing into slits as the smoke drifted across her face.
“No, I—” He stopped, mentally kicking himself. He should have thought of something. Some excuse for lurking outside a stranger’s door as night fell. He studied her expression. There was suspicion, but not recognition. She didn’t know who he was. That helped. He considered and rejected telling her the truth in a single moment. He could always flash the badge. He would if he had to. But Falk the cop was embarrassed to find himself there.
“Sorry,” he said. “I used to know the people who lived here.”
The woman said nothing, took another drag from the cigarette. With her spare hand she reached behind and thoughtfully plucked the seat of her shorts from between her buttocks. She never took her narrowed eyes off Falk.
“Me and my hubby are the only ones here. Been here five years. And the place was his mum’s for fifteen or so before that.”
“It’s been about that long,” Falk said. “The people before her.”
