by Harper,Jane
“What fireys, you dickhead?” Raco yelled. He pointed to the orange jackets dotted about in the bush. “They’re all out here looking for you. We’ll all be killed with you. If you drop that lighter, we’re all lost, your wife and your daughter included. I promise you that.”
Whitlam crumpled forward like he’d been punched in the stomach, the flame wavering in his hand. His eyes flashed with pure fear as they met Falk’s, and he wailed, raw and primitive.
“I’ve lost them, anyway! I can’t save them. I never could. Better this than what’s waiting for us.”
“No, Scott, that’s not—”
“And this town. This rotten, ruined place!” Whitlam screamed as he raised his hand with the lighter. “Kiewarra can burn—”
“Now!” Falk shouted, and he charged forward with Raco, arms out, pulling the fabric of their jackets wide like a blanket, hurling their bodies on Whitlam as he threw the lighter to the ground. A flash of white heat licked up Falk’s chest as they tumbled to the earth, rolling, jackets flailing, boots hitting the dirt, ignoring the searing sensation up his calf and thigh. He had a handful of Whitlam’s hair, and he held it, his grip screaming with pain until the hair withered and his hand was raw pink and blistered and holding nothing.
They rolled and burned for a thousand hours until a pair of thick gloved hands reached down and hauled Falk back by the shoulders. He gave an animal screech as his raw skin hummed and crackled.
A heavy blanket engulfed him, and he choked and gulped as water was splashed over his head and face. A second pair of hands dragged him away. He collapsed onto his back, and a water bottle was pushed to his lips, but he couldn’t swallow. He tried to twist away from the agony until someone held him down gently, and he cried out as the pain licked his limbs. The stench of burned flesh hung in his nostrils, and he blinked and snorted, eyes watering and nose running.
He turned his head to one side, pressing his wet cheek against the earth. Raco was hidden as a wall of vests crouched around him. Falk could see only his boots clearly. He was lying perfectly still. A third group had surrounded a hunched and screaming form.
“Raco,” Falk tried to say, but someone was pressing the bottle to his lips again. He struggled to turn his head away. “Raco, mate. You OK?” No answer. “Help him.” Why weren’t they moving faster? “Jesus, help him.”
“Shh,” a woman in a reflective vest said as he was strapped to a gurney. “We’re doing everything we can.”
41
He would live, the doctors told him when he woke up in the Clyde hospital burns unit. But his days as a hand model were over. When he was allowed to see the damage, he’d been both fascinated and revolted by his own body. The pale milky skin had given way to glistening red tissue, weeping and fresh. They bandaged up his hand, arm, and leg, and he hadn’t looked again.
Bed-bound, he had a stream of visitors. Gerry and Barb brought Charlotte, McMurdo smuggled in a beer, and Barnes sat by his side for long stretches without saying much. Gretchen didn’t visit. Falk didn’t blame her. Once allowed up, Falk spent most of his time by Raco’s bed as he slept, sedated while they treated major burns on his torso and back.
He would also live, the doctors said. But they didn’t make any jokes as they had with Falk.
Rita Raco pressed one palm to her belly while the other held Falk’s good hand as they sat silently by her husband’s side. Falk told her that Raco had been brave. Rita just nodded and asked the doctor once more when he would wake up. Raco’s brothers arrived from South Australia one by one. They looked like variations of the same person. They shook Falk’s hand, and even as they threw bossy orders at their sleeping brother to get out of bed, he could tell they were terrified.
Raco eventually opened his eyes, and the doctors ushered Falk out for a full day. Family only. When he was allowed back in, he found Raco flashing a weak but familiar grin beneath his bandages.
“Real baptism of fire, eh?”
Falk managed a laugh. “Something like that. You did well.”
“I had Rita to look out for. But tell me the truth.” Raco beckoned him closer. “Weren’t you a tiny bit tempted to let Kiewarra burn to the ground after everything it’s done to you?”
Falk smiled, properly this time. “I couldn’t do that, mate. My house keys were back at the pub.”
Whitlam had been transferred to the Alfred Hospital in Melbourne, where he was under police custody for a string of charges, including the murders of Luke, Karen, and Billy Hadler.
He was almost unrecognizable, Falk was told. The fire had caught his hair. He was lucky to be alive. Not so lucky, Falk thought privately. Prison wouldn’t be easy for him.
When Falk was discharged, he was sent to recuperate under the Hadlers’ grateful watch. Barb fussed, and Gerry was unable to pass him by without shaking his hand. They insisted Falk spend as much time with Charlotte as possible. They told her how he had helped her daddy. Brought her real daddy—the good man, the loving husband—back from the dead.
Gerry and Barb’s son was still gone, but they were lighter somehow. They could look people in the eye again, Falk noticed. Falk went with them to the cemetery. Luke’s grave in particular could now barely be seen for fresh flowers.
While Barb showed the cards and bouquets to Charlotte, Gerry stood off to one side with Falk.
“Thank God it had nothing to do with the Deacon girl,” Gerry said. “I want you to know, I never really thought—I mean, Luke would never have—”
“I know, Gerry. Don’t worry.”
“Any idea what happened to her?”
Falk made a noncommittal noise as Barb wandered back.
As soon as Falk felt strong enough, he walked all the way to Gretchen’s place. She was out the back shooting again, and as he approached, she turned the gun on him and held it for a couple of beats longer than necessary.
“Gretchen. I’m sorry,” Falk called across the field. He held out his hands. “That’s all I want to say.” She looked at his bandages and lowered the gun. She sighed and came closer.
“I didn’t visit you in hospital.”
“I know.”
“I wanted to, but—”
“It’s OK. Are you OK?”
She shrugged, and they stood in silence, listening to the cockatoos in the trees. She wouldn’t look at him.
“Luke loved Karen,” she said eventually. “He really did. And before that, Ellie.” As she looked around the field, her eyes were wet. “I don’t think I was ever his first choice.”
Falk wanted to tell her she was wrong, but knew she was too smart for that.
“And the day Ellie died?” he said.
Gretchen’s face creased.
“I always knew Luke had lied for you.” Her voice was tight as the tears spilled over. “Because he was with me.”
“Did you hear that?” Gretchen opened her eyes and squinted at the sunlight filtering through the trees. The scrub grass tickled her back.
“Hear what?”
She could feel Luke’s breath against her neck as he spoke. He didn’t move. His hair was still wet, and his voice was sleepy and muffled. Gretchen tried to sit up but was weighed down by his bare chest pressed against her. Their clothes were in an untidy heap at the base of a tree.
They had stripped down to their underwear before diving into the cool river. Gretchen had felt the heat of Luke’s body through the water as he kissed her hard and pressed her up against the bank. The underwear had come off and was now drying on a flat rock.
The river was high, and the water babbled and splashed as it gushed over the rocks downstream. Still, Gretchen heard the noise again. A dry snap deep among the trees. She stiffened. Another one.
“Oh shit,” she whispered. “I think someone’s coming.”
She pushed Luke off, and he sat up, frowning and blinking.
“Quick.” Gretchen threw his jeans at him and tried to fasten her bra, hooking it wrong in her haste. “Get dressed.”
Luke gave a wide
yawn, which turned into a laugh at her expression.
“All right, I’m moving.”
He checked that his boxers were the right way round before pulling them on. The path was some distance away and hidden by a thick curtain of trees, but they could hear the footsteps more clearly now.
“Please, will you get your pants on,” Gretchen said. She dragged her top over her wet hair. “We should go. It could be anyone. It could be my dad.”
“It’s not likely to be your dad,” Luke said, but he pulled his jeans on all the same. He slipped on his shirt and shoes, and they stood shoulder to shoulder in silence, peering through the heavy canopy toward the mouth of the path.
Gretchen almost laughed when the slight figure emerged from the tree line.
“Jesus, it’s only Ellie. She almost gave me a heart attack.” She realized she was still whispering.
The girl was walking fast, with her head bowed. At the river she stopped. She stared at the swollen water for a few moments, one hand pressed to her mouth, then turned away.
“Is she down here on her own?” Gretchen said, her voice swallowed by the rush of the river. She thought for a moment she heard another snap, but the path beyond Ellie remained empty.
“It doesn’t matter.” Luke was whispering. “You’re right. We should go.” He put his hand on her shoulder.
“Why? Let’s say hello.”
“I can’t be bothered. She’s so weird lately. Besides, I’m all wet.”
Gretchen looked down. Her damp bra had soaked through her shirt.
“So what? So am I.”
“Let’s just go.”
Gretchen stared at him. The water may have washed away the smell of sex, but the act was written all over his face.
“Why exactly don’t you want her to see us?” she said.
“I don’t care if she sees us, Gretch.” But he was still whispering. “She’s a stuck-up bitch. I don’t have the energy today.”
He turned and pushed his way quietly through the trees, away from Ellie, toward the small dirt track that led back to Gretchen’s parents’ farm. Gretchen took a step after him, then turned, looking back toward Ellie. She was beside a strange-looking tree, crouching down with her hand against a rock.
“What’s she doing?” Gretchen said, but Luke was gone.
“When I heard she’d collected stones for her pockets, I didn’t sleep for three nights.” Gretchen blew her nose on a tissue. “I saw her. If I’d gone to her, I could have stopped her. But I didn’t.” Her words were almost lost in her tears. “I left. Of course. For Luke.”
Gretchen caught up to him a short way along the track.
“Hey.” She pulled at his arm. “What is going on?”
“Nothing, babe.” He took her hand but didn’t stop walking. “It’s just time I got back.”
Gretchen pulled her hand away.
“She knows you and I are together, you know. Ellie, I mean. It’s not a secret.”
“Yeah, babe, of course I know.”
“So why didn’t you want her to see us? Why does it matter if the others know we’re serious now?”
“It doesn’t. Let’s drop it,” Luke said, but he stopped and turned to face her. He leaned in for a kiss. “Look, it doesn’t matter. But what we have is so great. I just want it to stay something special. Between the two of us.”
She stepped away.
“Yeah, right. What’s the real reason? You think there might be someone better on offer?”
“Gretch, come on.”
“Is that it? Because if so, Ellie’s right back there waiting—”
Luke made a noise in his throat and started walking again.
“And there are a lot of guys round here who—”
“Don’t be like that.” His voice floated over his shoulder. She stared after him. She loved those shoulders.
“What, then?”
He didn’t answer.
They emerged from the track into the back paddock of her parents’ farm and walked in silence to the house. Gretchen knew her mum and sister were still out. She could hear her dad knocking around in the back barn.
Luke grabbed his bike from where he’d left it against a tree and climbed on. He stretched out a hand, and after a moment, she took it.
“I want to keep some things between us,” he said, looking into her eyes. “But there’s no point if you’re going to act like a princess every time.”
He leaned in, but she turned her head away from his kiss. He watched her for a moment, then shrugged. She burst into tears as he rode away.
Gretchen let the tears slide down her beautiful face for exactly as long as it took her to realize he wasn’t coming back. She felt a surge of anger and, wiping her cheeks, ran into the empty house. She snatched up the keys to the farm truck. She hadn’t passed her test, but she’d driven around the fields for years.
Gretchen jumped behind the wheel and took off in the direction Luke had headed. How dare he treat her like that? She spotted his bike ahead of the crossroads. She pulled the truck back a little, keeping her distance, not yet sure what she would say when she caught him. Up ahead, a car trundled over the crossroads across her path, and she touched the brake. A moment later, she flashed through the intersection in her white truck.
Luke Hadler would not speak to her like that, she told herself. She deserved better. Luke took a sudden left turn, and for a heart-stopping moment she thought he was heading back toward the river and Ellie. If he did that, Christ, she would seriously kill him. She followed at a distance, holding her breath. At the last moment he slowed, guiding his bike into his own driveway.
Gretchen stopped some distance away and watched from the road as he opened the front door and went inside. She could see the outline of his mother hanging up washing out the back.
She turned the truck and cried all the way back.
“When I heard Ellie hadn’t gone home, I went back to the river myself to check. I half expected to find her holed up with a sleeping bag, keeping out of her dad’s way. There was no sign of her.” Gretchen chewed her thumbnail. “Luke and I argued about whether we should say something. But we weren’t really worried at that point, you know? She’d been keeping to herself so much by then, I honestly thought she’d turn up when she was ready.” She said nothing for a long moment. “I never once imagined she’d be in that water.”
She turned to look at Falk.
“When they said she’d drowned, I couldn’t forgive myself. What if we’d stayed and spoken to her? I’d thought something wasn’t right, and I’d turned my back. I was so ashamed. I just shut down. I made Luke promise not to tell anyone we’d seen her. I didn’t want anyone to know how badly we’d let her down.”
Gretchen wiped her eyes.
“Then when I thought things couldn’t get worse, everyone started pointing the finger at you. Even Luke got scared. If they thought you were involved, what would they say if they knew we were down there? Luke came up with this plan. He’d say he was with you. It would help you; it would help us. And I could pretend for the rest of my life that I hadn’t been there. That I hadn’t gone to Luke when I should have gone to her.”
Falk handed Gretchen a clean tissue from his pocket. She took it with a small smile.
“You’re not responsible for what happened to Ellie Deacon,” he said.
“Maybe. But I could have done more.” She shrugged and blew her nose. “I don’t know what it was about Luke. He wasn’t a bad guy, but he was pretty bad for me.”
They stood side by side for a while and looked out over the fields, both seeing things that were long gone. Falk took a breath.
“Listen, Gretchen, it’s none of my business, but Gerry and Barb, and Charlotte, they—”
“Luke’s not Lachie’s father.”
“But if—”
“Aaron. Please. Just stop it.” Her blue-eyed gaze met his, but only for a moment.
“Fine.” He nodded. He’d tried. Enough. “It’s OK, Gretch. But they’re g
ood people. And they’ve lost a lot recently. So have you. If there’s a chance to rescue something positive from all this misery, you should take it.”
She said nothing, just stared back at him, her face giving nothing away. Finally, he held out the hand that wasn’t burned. She looked at it, then, to his surprise, reached out and pulled him into a swift hug. Not flirty, not even friendly, but perhaps peaceful.
“See you in another twenty years,” she said.
This time, he thought that was probably about right.
42
Falk’s family home now looked even smaller than he’d remembered. Both from childhood and a few weeks ago. He set off past it toward the river, skirting around the edges of the property. He wasn’t too worried about seeing the owner this time.
In the hospital, McMurdo had rolled his eyes as he told Falk how a lot of people had swiftly changed their tune. Started to feel downright disapproving of those fliers all of a sudden. Twenty years ago was twenty years ago, for God’s sake. Water under the bridge and all that.
Falk tramped through the fields, his head clearer now. Twenty years was twenty years, but some things shouldn’t be swept away. Ellie Deacon. She more than anyone had been a victim of this town. Its secrets and lies and fear. She had needed someone. Needed him maybe, and he had failed her. Ellie was the one at risk of being forgotten in all the chaos. Like Karen nearly was. Like Billy.
Not today, Falk thought. Today he would remember Ellie, at the place he knew she’d loved. He reached the rock tree as the sun was starting to dip in the sky. It was nearly April now. The summer fierceness was fading away. They said the drought might break this winter. For everyone’s sake, he wanted them to be right this time. The river was still gone. He hoped one day it would come back.
Falk knelt by the rock and pulled out the penknife he’d brought. He found the point where the secret crevasse opened, and started carving. Tiny letters, E. L. L. The knife was blunt, and the going was slow, but he persevered to the end. Finally, he sat back against the rock and wiped his forehead. He ran his thumb over the letters, admiring his handiwork. His burned leg felt like it was on fire from the pressure of kneeling.
