The Housemate

by Sarah Bailey

  When Oli yanks out her earbuds, she’s slightly startled by the sudden onslaught of noise. All of the school parents look like they’re under a spell, their attention fixed on the pool. She flicks an email to Cooper letting him know she’s happy for the podcast to go to Dawn for final approval.

  Breathing slowly in and out, she lets her gaze drift to her satchel. In the car earlier, Amy asked for a drink of water, and Oli muttered that there was a bottle in her bag. ‘I’ll get it!’ she cried hastily, snatching the bag from Amy and throwing it into the passenger seat before Isabelle’s police diaries were exposed. Ridiculous, as if the girls would even know what they are.

  Now Oli bends forward and eases out the diary that she’d looked at in the house. She quickly pulls it into her lap and opens it, a pen poised in her hand, then flips to October. Scans words hoping for a clue from the grave.

  About a metre away one of the school mums—Belinda? Linda?—is on the phone, excitedly relaying the action in the pool, probably to her high-flying husband. Oli vaguely remembers meeting him, a self-important guy who delighted in telling her that no one would be reading newspapers by 2020. Belinda-Linda gives Oli a funny look, then smiles and looks pointedly at the water. The cheering intensifies, and Oli gets to her feet, squinting at the finish line. Two girls hit the side of the pool in unison, pulling their goggles off as they turn around, faces hopeful. One of the twins reaches out, clutching the tiled ledge. Third place? Oli is surprised to register a surge of pride as she watches Kate—she’s pretty sure it’s Kate—accept congratulations from her teammates before hoisting herself out of the pool. Oli waves to her, but she doesn’t notice, shuffling over to the bench wrapped in a towel, still wearing her cap. Amy remains in the pool, holding on to a lane rope and staring at the scoreboard.

  Oli sits back down, looking from twin to twin. All of the other swimmers are out of the pool now except Amy. Oli tries to read the situation. Is she upset? Should Oli go down and talk to her? On the way here, the swimming competition didn’t seem that important to her, and both girls were fairly subdued, but perhaps Amy’s embarrassed that Kate swam so much better. Oli doesn’t pretend to understand the dynamics of life as a twin, but for the first time she wonders how it might feel to have your identical sister outshine you. It was bad enough for Oli with Lily being so popular.

  One of the teachers crouches at the edge of the pool and speaks to Amy. She gets out of the water, joins her sister on the bench. Belinda-Linda throws Oli a sympathetic smile before waving madly at one of her kids, mouthing something even though he has no chance of comprehending from this distance.

  It’s like interval at the theatre. Oli hears snippets: problems with builders, problems at work, a new environmentally friendly laundry detergent, someone’s husband has left them for someone else’s wife. She recognises some faces from her sporadic morning drop-offs but has no desire to chime in. She’s very aware that as the fiancée of a widow, she unintentionally brings an awkwardness to situations like this. No doubt these people all loved Isabelle. Her insides twist. She hates that she can’t work out how much of this paranoia is driven by her own insecurities and how much of it is real.

  The twins make their way up the stairs of the stands, joining the throng of other kids who aren’t in the next race and are returning to their parents for praise and food. Oli tenses, closes the diary and shoves it back in her bag. Fixes a smile on her face. ‘Hi, girls! That was great.’

  ‘Kate came third,’ Amy says.

  ‘I saw! Well done.’ Oli places a hand on Kate’s wet shoulder.

  ‘Do you have food?’ Kate is dripping in front of her, red marks on her face from her goggles.

  ‘I have muesli bars, but do you think you should eat before you swim again?’

  Both twins dive for her satchel.

  ‘Girls!’ It comes out more sharply than she intends, and they pull away. ‘Here.’ She hands a muesli bar to each of them. Wipes her clammy hands on the thighs of her jeans. ‘I used to swim all the time,’ she says as they chew. ‘I love swimming. Maybe we should come here sometime, just the three of us. What do you think?’

  Two sets of pale-blue eyes stare at her from beneath long black hair drying in loose waves. No one is ever going to mistake them for her children.

  ‘Did your mum like swimming?’

  Amy and Kate look slightly alarmed, and Oli is flustered. Where did that come from?

  ‘I think she did,’ Kate says uncertainly. ‘But only at the beach.’

  ‘Well, that’s so nice,’ babbles Oli. ‘Swimming in the ocean is great.’ She’s suddenly tempted to ask them everything, find out what kind of mother Isabelle was, what she was like in the mornings and at Christmas. Ask them if Dean is different with her. Is he less affectionate or more? Their imaginary answers rattle around in her head, torturing her. Would it be better to know? ‘What else did your mum like?’ she says, trying to keep her voice even.

  ‘Can we get a dog?’ Kate says abruptly, looking expectantly at Oli.

  ‘Oh, well, I’m not sure. We’ll have to see.’

  ‘We were going to get a dog before you lived with us,’ adds Amy. ‘Or a cat. Dad said.’

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ stammers Oli.

  ‘It’s true,’ Amy says, shrugging her narrow shoulders. She looks down at the pool and steps closer to her sister until the backs of their hands touch. ‘We need to go.’

  ‘Of course, of course.’ Oli gestures toward the pool. ‘Well, off you go. Good luck!’

  The girls walk away, their shoulder blades flaring grotesquely.

  Oli sits, the tension leaving her body. Checks her phone. She retrieves the diary and flips back to October. Isabelle wasn’t supposed to be working on the Saturday that Evelyn died, the words day off printed along the top of that weekend. Dean must have hated the randomness of her job, even more unpredictable than Oli’s and a hell of a lot more demanding. Rusty used to joke about bringing home the smell of death with him some days, but it was true—sometimes tragedy and evil hovered around him like a fog, turning the air in the house or his car to an unpleasant fleshy odour like spoiled meat. Isabelle must have been the same, or worse.

  Quickly, Oli checks the poolside area for the girls. Kate is on the bench waiting for her next heat, while Amy is sitting with a group of girls to the left of the pool.

  Oli turns the pages to 12 October, just over a week after Evelyn died. Several familiar names are listed, including Evelyn’s parents and Miles Wu, and Julian and Diana McCrae. Oli recognises references from other high-profile stories. There are two court appearances the following week, and an appointment with Michael and April Carter, the couple whose little girl was taken.

  A whistle cuts through the buzz. Kate and her competitors launch into the water, and she instantly falls behind three girls who are very strong swimmers. Oli shifts her weight on the wooden slats; her arse isn’t used to the hard surface, and she didn’t think to bring a cushion like the other parents.

  She thumbs through the rest of the 2005 planner. She assumes AR is Alex, as there are several references to this in the weeks after Evelyn’s death. There are a few questions at the bottom of some pages, and a few notes about tests for Nicole’s DNA at the scene and Miles’s bank statements, but nothing stands out.

  Frustrated, Oli turns her attention back to the pool. The race is over, and Kate is climbing out of the water. Oli watches as she falls into step with another girl and sits with a group of families who are set up in the front row of the stands. Oli has no idea if Kate placed or not; her face gives nothing away. A woman in a bright-pink hoodie offers her a giant smile and something to eat.

  Oli flips to the notes section of the diary. She scans a few paragraphs of fine handwriting. Some sections are more organised, grouped into themes, while some are shorthand summaries of interviews. She forces herself to start again and read every word. It’s not until the third page that there’s any reference to the Housemate case. Oli’s breath catches. There are a few ne
at lines of notes from a conversation with Mitchell Stanley, but they’re just details about Evelyn as a teenager, such as her high school boyfriend and her part-time job at Coles. There’s a list of phone numbers with initials that don’t seem related to the case. Oli’s eyes burn as she reads without blinking, desperate not to miss anything. On the next two pages, Isabelle put together a timeline of the evening before Evelyn died. Oli conjures an image of Isabelle writing out the sequence, her elegant hand moving across the page. There are a few comments about evidence, all of it pointing to Alex. And then there are pages of notes on Evelyn: her movements on the day she died, recent phone calls, her babysitting jobs, university grades. The word ‘rabbit’ is question-marked and circled further down the page, next to a question: never let out in the yard, where is it? Oli wonders about this. Had Isabelle known about the rabbit? Had Nicole got rid of it before she left the house?

  On the next page Oli traces some notes about Louise Carter with her finger. She’d forgotten that the little girl’s uncle, Jason Carter, a telecommunications technician, was charged with a violent date rape several weeks after his young niece went missing. The media collectively bared their teeth and seized on this fact, publishing pages of copy with the word ‘allegedly’ scattered throughout. But nothing came of it. Jason served a few years in gaol and slithered back into the general population, never to be heard of again.

  Oli becomes aware of the crowd around her, the noisy chorus blaring into her eardrums as the past fades into the present. She gets the feeling someone is watching her.

  When she looks up, she gasps, clutching her throat. ‘Dean!’ He’s looking down at Isabelle’s diary, which Oli slams shut and thrusts into her bag. Bringing her hands to her thighs, she jumps awkwardly to her feet. ‘What are you doing here?’

  He gazes into her eyes for an impossibly long moment before slowly lifting her chin with his index finger. He kisses her hard. In her peripheral vision, she sees Linda-Belinda and another couple watching them.

  ‘We wrapped earlier than I expected,’ he says, ‘so I thought I’d come and see my girls.’ He squeezes her hand and smiles down at the pool. ‘Are they still racing?’

  ‘Um.’ Oli’s face grows hot. ‘Amy didn’t get through to the next heat. Kate came third and I’m not sure if she … I lost track of where they’re up to.’

  Dean waves at someone over her shoulder, smiles at someone else. Gives someone else a thumbs-up. With his top button undone and his sleeves rolled up, his transition from corporate hotshot to down-to-earth, hands-on father is seamless. In both roles he exudes an easy, comfortable charm. Standing next to him, Oli feels even more exposed, her shapeless jumper somehow making her more mumsy than the actual parents around her, who are almost universally clad in branded activewear.

  ‘I think that’s Kate,’ Oli says desperately. ‘Down there.’ She points to a huddle of girls wrapped in towels near the end of the pool. ‘See?’

  Dean gives her a strange look. ‘I’ll head down, make sure they know I’m here.’

  ‘Okay. Yes, of course. I’ll stay here with all this stuff.’

  He nods and squeezes her hand again, then jerks his head toward her phone, which has started to ring on the wooden bench, slowly vibrating its way toward the edge. Cooper’s name flashes up on the screen. ‘Looks like your boyfriend’s calling you,’ Dean says lightly, heading off to find his daughters.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  DEAN IS TAKING HER OUT FOR DINNER. HE ANNOUNCES THIS AS THE night air hits their faces, freezing after the warmth of the leisure centre. The twins walk in front of them, exclaiming at the cold.

  ‘I got a cab here,’ Dean says, ‘so I’ll come with you guys. I’ll drive.’ He gives Oli’s hand a suggestive squeeze. ‘Nina’s at the house, so we can just drop the girls off and go somewhere local.’

  ‘Okay.’ Oli can’t shake the feeling she is in trouble. Isabelle’s diaries are like a lead weight in her bag, and all she wants to do is go somewhere on her own to read them. She’s working on different theories, running them through her mind until something catches.

  The podcast is going live in the morning, sometime between nine and ten—as long as the paper can set up the technology quickly enough. The advertising is on standby along with the brand new bespoke social media accounts. Cooper is still angry; he was all business on the phone, only calling to let her know everyone had approved the edit. But there was a definite hint of pride when he told her that Samsung had signed on as a major sponsor.

  The car comes to a stop, and Oli looks up, confused. Blinks into the light of a neon sign.

  Dean stretches across the console and whispers, ‘Special treat for the girls.’ He turns to the twins. ‘Dumplings for my star swimmers?’

  Kate and Amy squeal, throwing themselves against the seat with uncharacteristic physicality. Dean grins and jumps out of the car, then disappears into the restaurant.

  ‘My hair is still wet,’ Amy says. ‘Mum used to say that you can get a cold if you have wet hair for too long.’

  Oli squeezes her eyes shut briefly. ‘I think that’s just an old wives’ tale. I’m pretty sure it’s not true.’ In the rear-view mirror, she sees the girls exchange a glance. ‘I’m serious,’ she says, turning around. ‘It’s just one of those things people say, but it’s not scientific.’

  Amy and Kate exchange another look. ‘Okay,’ Kate says.

  ‘The swimming carnival was fun, wasn’t it?’ Oli says enthusiastically. ‘I can’t believe it’s the last day of term tomorrow! Are you excited about going away?’

  ‘We won’t be able to visit Mum when we’re in Lakes Entrance,’ Kate says solemnly.

  Oli looks at her blankly. ‘What?’

  ‘We can’t visit her at the cemetery,’ Amy clarifies. ‘Sometimes we go on Sundays.’

  ‘You do?’ Sundays are when Oli meets up with friends or catches up on work, and Dean usually takes the girls out. He’s never mentioned visiting Isabelle’s grave. Oli glances up at the restaurant—no sign of him. ‘Do you go with your dad?’

  Amy nods. ‘And Grandma Mary goes too, every Sunday at lunchtime.’

  ‘Well, that’s nice,’ Oli manages to say.

  ‘Why is Nina coming over tonight?’ Kate asks abruptly.

  ‘Um, your dad and I are going out for dinner.’

  ‘He’ll probably take you to Liane’s.’ Amy’s pale eyes glow in the half-light.

  Dean returns, cold air flooding into the car as he gets in. He passes a brown paper bag to Oli. ‘Can you please keep these safe from the barbarians?’ He winks at the girls and rubs his hands together. ‘Right. Let’s get you two home and into the bath before you catch a cold.’

  Liane’s is small and cosy, and less than five minutes away. Animated waitstaff in crisp white shirts and red aprons dash around madly, delivering wine and food to tables with aplomb.

  ‘Smells delicious,’ Oli says, realising how hungry she is. ‘Have you been here before?’

  But Dean is chatting to the heavily made-up maître d’, who nods enthusiastically and gestures to one of the staff. Her eyes rake over Oli with interest.

  ‘This way, this way,’ calls the beaming waiter, leading them to a corner table. He takes their coats, and they slide into their seats. Dean orders a bottle of champagne, which arrives almost immediately.

  ‘What’s the occasion?’ Oli says, smothering a yawn with a smile.

  They clink glasses. She keeps her eyes on him as he takes a sip.

  ‘Do we need one?’ He slides his hand over hers, and she feels a rush of pleasure. Against all odds she has Dean, the thing that was impossible, the thing she barely dared to hope for. He traces his fingers across her palm, sending shivers up her arm. ‘We need to do this more.’

  She nods. The stress of the day is slowly receding, along with the tension she feels around the twins, the strangeness of finding Isabelle’s diaries. ‘Just like old times.’

  Dean removes his hand and flips open the menu. He clears h
is throat softly. ‘Were you at the house today?’

  ‘What?’ Her hand goes to her necklace, which she toys with nervously. ‘Not since first thing this morning. Why?’

  ‘The front door was unlocked when I dropped the car off, that’s all.’

  Shaking her head, she swallows a mouthful of champagne. She definitely locked the door—she remembers doing it. ‘It wasn’t me, I was at work. Maybe it was the cleaner?’

  ‘Maybe.’ His eyes burn into hers. ‘The girls loved you picking them up today.’

  Oli deflates, releasing the breath she was holding.

  ‘And having you there to watch them swim,’ he adds. ‘They really did. So did I. And now we can have this special time.’ He grins at her again.

  She very much doubts the twins could care less about her taking them to the carnival, but regardless she finds Dean’s tone a little condescending. Like she’s a well-behaved dog that he’s rewarding with a treat. ‘Let’s order,’ she says.

  Dean chooses salmon, Oli chooses steak. They sip more champagne.

  ‘Did your meeting go okay?’ she asks.

  ‘Yes, it was fine. Nath and his team need a lot of hand-holding at the moment, but I think the kid is going to drop the charges against the uni and move back overseas, so that will help.’ Dean looks over at the table next to them, where a trio of couples are laughing at something on a phone screen. ‘How is your story going?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Oli admits. ‘I want it to be more than just a rehash of the old facts, but there’s not a lot of new material to go on. The cops are keeping pretty quiet about what they found up in Crystalbrook. And the abandoned car in Warrandyte seems to be a dead end. There’s no trace of Nicole or the child.’