by Nicola West
She tried to push the thought away, but it was replaced by something even worse. An image of the man in the suite next to her – washing away Jarrah’s fake blood from his own silvery wounds. The very wounds she’d been lying about for years.
She thought about the first time she’d seen the eight circular brandings on Michael’s lower back. It was in the cottage. When he’d answered the bathroom door in nothing more than a towel. She could never forget the shock she had felt when she finally saw them. All her fears confirmed in an instant – her life forever changed.
She knew before then, of course. Her memories of her time in that rainforest had come flooding back the moment Jarrah had first spoken about the hunts. She wanted to believe that it wasn’t real, but when she noticed that Lily had replaced the linings of her journals, Marlowe knew that there’d be something hidden within – something for her eyes only. After all, only the person who had given Lily the journals would know that they’d been altered.
And yet, when she peeled back the false lining and saw the polaroid picture of the four of them – Lily, Marlowe, Michael and Tabitha – she still didn’t want to believe it. But what could possibly explain why the two children were dressed in white pinafore dresses while Michael and Marlowe’s mother were dressed in full fox-hunting attire? And those fox masks – white and black, respectively – the bottom halves unclipped so that their faces were exposed. What could possibly explain them?
Still in a state of disbelief, Marlowe had wanted to gather as much evidence as possible before she made a decision, but she’d never anticipated just how far the cult’s reach was. If she’d never told Owen about Lily’s journals, then Michael may have never seen fit to be in that bathroom the following morning – brazenly flaunting his brandings like they were a badge of honour. And those words – the ones that he had said to her – forever etched in her brain.
‘Well, Miss Robertson. You finally got your answer. Now, what are you going to do about it?’
Like she ever had a choice.
Marlowe turned the tap off and eased herself into the bath. She began washing the blood off her lower back, exposing her own marks. They were so much rawer than Michael’s – a swatch of angry pinks that seemed to radiate heat. She didn’t have as many as him – only seven – the same number Lily had before she’d hacked them away and turned up on Jarrah’s doorstep.
She traced over the brands with her fingertips – thinking of the nights she’d received them. Seven circles for every hunt she’d participated in since Lily and Sharon’s deaths. The eighth branding – and everything it signified – was less than a year away. The mere notion made her sick to her stomach.
Marlowe thought about Lily and Sharon. About all the stories that she and the other cult members had spun about them over the years. The stories that so many people seemed to believe. The stories that had earned Marlowe fame, fortune and a plethora of awards.
Sharon Williams hadn’t killed Lily. That was just another self-serving story fabricated by the cult. As real as the bowerbird and its nest.
Marlowe held her breath and disappeared under the water. She thought about the time that she and Michael had spent together while they’d been locked in the dressing room. How she’d inadvertently flinched when he’d kissed the top of her head.
‘Your mother would be so proud of you, Vixen,’ he’d whispered to her.
‘Yeah,’ she’d replied. ‘Wish I could say the same about the living parent.’
‘You can’t expect John to ever understand this. He was never one of us; he just loved Tabitha. We should never have let you go when she died – it was your birthright, and it was taken from you.’
‘I think he would have handled the whole thing a lot better if he knew Mark was actually going to be punished for Lily’s death.’
‘Marlowe.’ Michael had sighed. ‘How many times have we spoken about this?’
‘He killed your fucking daughter!’
A hint of emotion had rippled across his features. ‘She wasn’t my daughter. You know that.’
‘But you raised her.’
‘And in doing so, I put everyone at risk. She could have destroyed it all. She wasn’t cut out for it. Not like you – not like me – it wasn’t in her blood.’
‘So you think Mark did the right thing?’
‘I don’t know,’ Michael had said, shaking his head. ‘I mean, it brought you back to us.’
Rising from the water, Marlowe noticed that the bridge walkers were now descending the giant metal structure – still seemingly at the whim of their counterparts. A feeling of dread crept along her skin. She closed her eyes and willed one of them to jump.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS/APOLOGIES
One of the first things the team at Simon & Schuster asked me when I met with them was what I was looking for in a publisher. The question threw me for a loop because I thought the whole point of the meeting was for me to sell myself to them, not the other way around. ‘Ideally,’ I eventually answered, ‘I’m looking for someone who I feel inherently “gets” the book.’
I regretted the words from the second they left my mouth. They felt too demanding – too expectant for an unsigned debut author. But, in the end, that’s exactly what I received. Nobody gets Catch Us the Foxes like the S&S ANZ team do. Hell, sometimes I think they get it more than me. And I can’t express how grateful I am to all of them for that fact.
To my powerhouse publisher, Fiona Henderson, thank you for your unwavering passion, dedication and enthusiasm, and for every second that you have invested into me and this book. You have been an absolute joy to work with, and I can’t wait to get up to even more trouble with you in the future!
Thanks to Angus Dalton and Anna O’Grady for all their hard work behind the scenes to generate buzz for Foxes and get it into as many people’s hands as possible. To the phenomenally talented Sandy Cull, thank you so much for your jaw-dropping work on the Foxes cover and your openness in sharing your creative process. Thanks to copyeditor extraordinaire Deonie Fiford for her eagle-eyed edit, as well as to Anthea Bariamis for nailing all things audio. To S&S’s fearless leader, Dan Ruffino, thank you for your faith – it means the world to me. And to everyone else on the S&S team, thank you for being you and everything you do!
To my agent, Tara Wynne, and the team at Curtis Brown, thank you for taking a chance on my weird little murder book and for believing in it enough to sign an unpublished writer with no discernible author platform. I am particularly appreciative of Tara for all her hard work and guidance in helping me find the perfect home for Foxes. It was neck and neck for a while there, but it really couldn’t be a better fit.
To the lovely Patti Miller, I know this isn’t the book you thought I’d be publishing, but I hope that you still count me as one of your success stories because I never would have had the confidence to start Foxes if it weren’t for your mentorship. I promise I’ll finish the memoir one day – made-up murder is just so much more fun than writing about sad real-life stuff! Thank you as well to my Faber Academy peers, Antoinette, Bev, Sabina, Shelley, Sue, Tegan, Tricia and Virginia. You were all so supportive and encouraging and helped me see that I could find success writing about what I loved instead of what I thought might sell (aka my sob story).
I’d like to thank Express Media and the Copyright Agency for giving me the opportunity to participate in the 2018 Toolkits: Fiction program. Through the program and my mentorship with the amazing Jennifer Down, I was able to complete the first draft of Foxes. If you would like to support the wonderful work that Express Media does for young Australian writers, please consider subscribing to their literary journal, Voiceworks.
I am similarly indebted to the Australian Society of Authors and the Copyright Agency after winning a place on the ASA’s 2019 Award Mentorship Program. If you are an aspiring author, I cannot recommend the ASA’s services highly enough and encourage anyone working on a manuscript to apply for an Award Mentorship. It could – quite literally – change your li
fe.
Speaking of life-changing, my sincerest thanks to my ASA mentor, Monica McInerney. Simply put, this book would not have received representation or a publisher without Monica championing it every step of the way. In my brief time in the publishing industry, I have heard countless stories of her tireless dedication to and support of her writing peers. She truly is the patron saint of authors, and I feel so privileged to have had the opportunity to be mentored by her. You’re a gem, Monica.
To Romy, thank you for being such a fantastic friend and my biggest cheerleader over the years (even when I drop off the face of the planet for months on end). To this day, I don’t know if I would have survived a small town without a fellow weirdo like you. I also wholeheartedly apologise for leaving you with the longest cliffhanger in the world – at least you finally know who killed the showgirl!
To Dad, you’ve put up with a lot of eye-rolling over the years, but – in the end – I’m thankful for those hours and hours and hours of policing stories. This book wouldn’t have existed without them, and I consider myself so lucky that I can pick your brain any time I have a weird question about the job. Not sure how thankful my editors are for me inheriting your long-windedness, though! But seriously, thank you for everything – your support has helped me achieve things I never thought were possible.
Similarly, I really did mean it when I said my mum is the best in the world and that she’s always had my back. In fact, I could spend the entire length of this novel gushing about all the incredible things that she has done for me over the years and the sacrifices she has made. I wouldn’t be here without her – in more ways than one – and I hope she knows how much I love and appreciate her. That being said, she’s actually disappointed that I dedicated this book to her because, and I quote, ‘I wanted you to name a dead body after me instead’.
You can all now see why I’m like this, right?
And finally, I’d just like to offer my sincerest apologies to the town of Kiama and its residents (past, present and future). Obviously, this novel is a work of fiction. And, while it’s partly inspired by the local myths and folklore that I grew up hearing about the town and its surrounding rainforest, all signs point to them being precisely that – just rumours and urban legends. That doesn’t mean that they didn’t provide fertile ground for a twisty psychological thriller, though! What can I say? Kiama really is the perfect little murder town – my very own Twin Peaks.
I’d particularly like to apologise to the Kiama Show Society and make it clear that I hold no ill will towards the show or the showgirl competition. In fact – as a kid – the Kiama Show weekend was my favourite time of the year, and some of my fondest childhood memories took place at that showground. Unfortunately, the show was cancelled due to the bushfires in 2020 (for the first time since World War II) and postponed again in 2021 due to Covid-19. I genuinely hope that it’s able to go ahead soon because I know how much it means to the community.
This is going to come off as a bit rich, given the terrible things that you’ve just read about Kiama in this book, but – in a twisted way – Catch Us the Foxes is actually a love letter to the town. I know, I know… Pretty messed up, right? But I’m hardly a romantic, and to quote iconic David Lynch villain, Frank Booth: ‘You receive a love letter from me, you’re fucked forever!’
No, but seriously, I grew up in Kiama, and it undeniably left its mark on me. I used to feel the identical way Marlowe felt – trapped and desperate to escape – and that feeling was the main catalyst for this book. But with a bit of time and distance, I’ve come to view that town in a way that I never thought was possible. It’s not just the ‘perfect little murder town’ that inspired this book and allowed me to achieve my dreams – it’s the place that made me who I am, and I’ll always be grateful for that.
If you’re not a local and have read this book, please consider visiting Kiama. It truly is one of the most beautiful places in the world, and the locals are actually lovely (but that doesn’t make for a very good crime novel, does it?). If you do visit, please say hi to Daisy the cow for me, and be sure to treat yourself to some of the town’s ‘world-famous’ ice cream. I personally recommend the ‘Stairway to Heaven’ from The Ice Creamery. Be sure to take a photo and tag me on social media @nicolawestbooks if you do.
Just don’t stay too long – you may never leave!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nicola West is the daughter of a third-generation police officer and grew up in a bucolic coastal town in New South Wales. After moving to Sydney to pursue a career in journalism, she vowed to be as far removed from both her hometown and her father’s profession as possible – that is until she found herself writing a novel about both topics. In addition to being one of eight young writers chosen to take part in Express Media’s 2018 Toolkits: Fiction program, Nicola was also selected for the Australian Society of Authors’ 2019 Award Mentorship Program. She was a mentee of bestselling author Monica McInerney. Catch Us the Foxes is her first novel. She lives in Sydney and can be found on Twitter and Instagram @nicolawestbooks or via www.nicolawestbooks.com.
SIMON & SCHUSTER
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www.SimonandSchuster.com.au/Authors/Nicola-West
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CATCH US THE FOXES
First published in Australia in 2021 by
Simon & Schuster (Australia) Pty Limited
Suite 19A, Level 1, Building C, 450 Miller Street, Cammeray, NSW 2062
Sydney New York London Toronto New Delhi
Visit our website at www.simonandschuster.com.au
© Nicola West 2021
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the publisher.
ISBN: 9781760857479
ISBN: 9781760857486 (eBook)
Cover design: Sandy Cull/gogoGingko
Cover images: © Aleksey Tugolukov / Alamy Stock Photo (girl); © Kim Christensen / Alamy Stock Photo (treeline)
