Starting from Scratch

by Penelope Janu

  ‘I’m used to being on my own. Jet and I had that in common.’

  He smiles as he holds up his ring finger. ‘I like this.’

  ‘You convinced her to marry you in Horseshoe and in Scotland.’ I smile. ‘Admirable.’

  ‘Laaksonen,’ Finn says quietly. ‘How well do you know him?’

  ‘I—pretty well.’

  ‘Before we met this morning, I knew him by reputation. He’s intelligent, ambitious, hardworking.’

  He’s more than that. He’s honest and protective. He’s thoughtful and passionate. He’s steadfast and patient.

  I’m in love with him.

  I can trust him.

  Pa’s not picking me up until five, but I lock the farmhouse up at four, leaning on one of Ma’s old walking sticks as I hobble into the garden.

  The azaleas are shooting hunter green leaves now that the flowers are spent. Wisteria blooms, like bunches of grapes, clamber up the lattice on the wall near the chimney. I shade my eyes as I peer at the weathervane. When I found it buried in a clump of blackberry bushes near the rusted water tank, I bent it, more or less, back into shape. I propped an old timber trellis against the house, climbed onto the roof and fixed it to the chimney with baling wire. Was the wind so strong last week? The weathervane has tipped even more and the rooster lies almost on his back.

  What will my father do with this place? The land can be leased easily enough, but without consistent work to cobble things together, the house will disintegrate further. I lean heavily on the stick as I stand at the gate. I do my best to be objective. What is worth saving? The verandah posts and floorboards should be replaced. The roof needs substantial repair. Inside the house, there’s rewiring and re-plumbing and …

  A baby pink banksia rose, wild and tangled, climbs the fence. Old-fashioned roses in traditional colours are massed near the path to the paddocks. The orange trees were early with fruit; the lemon trees were late. I’ve neglected the vegetable garden because there’s been so little rain, and the only thing that flourished in the greenhouse this year was Barney’s marijuana crop. I snap off a bushy stem of mint that’s taking over the parsley patch.

  Prima nickers as Joel, a biscuit of lucerne hay in his hand, walks to the gate. Instead of hiding under the grey gum, she’s been at the fence all day, looking over the railing as if concerned she’s missing out on something. At lunchtime she took carrots from Mary and Archie. She let Barney take off her rug, groom her and lead her around the paddock.

  ‘You’re doing so well with her, Joel. I can’t believe how much she’s improved in the past few months.’

  He grunts. ‘Gramps said if a horse’d had good rearing, they could be saved. I reckon Prima’s like that. She got bad treatment after she broke down.’

  I stroke her neck as Joel climbs through the fence. ‘You’ve been here every day, haven’t you? I should never had doubted your commitment.’

  ‘I like working with horses.’

  ‘I saw you on Sonnet today. Corey’s finally letting you ride?’

  ‘He talks less shit than he did.’

  I laugh. ‘I’ll pass that on.’

  ‘I’ve left school,’ Joel says, as he loosens hay from the biscuit and it scatters into the trough. ‘I’m going to a technical college in town. I get to do horse management and agriculture, bookkeeping, stuff like that.’

  ‘That sounds like a good move.’ I lean against the gate. ‘How much riding experience do you have?’

  ‘I was okay when Gramps was around. Not so great now.’

  ‘Can you find other rides as well as Sonnet? He’s a similar size to Prima, but as steady as she is flighty. It wouldn’t be fair to put anyone on her back unless they knew what they were doing.’

  He nods repeatedly. ‘Reckon I could get some more rides, Sapphie. One of my mates has a horse.’

  ‘I’d never been on a horse until I was about your age, so you’re one step ahead of me. Lessons could help. I’ll speak to Corey about that.’

  Joel almost skips to the road, his skateboard under his arm. I open the gate to the paddock and sit on a patch of dry grass near the trough. Prima looks at me curiously.

  ‘I heard Matts came to see you,’ I say. ‘I will talk to him, I promise. After I’ve found out what Gabriel has to say.’

  CHAPTER

  41

  When Gabriel Garcia appears on the screen, it’s eight in the evening in Horseshoe and six in the morning in Argentina. So why am I the one fiddling with my ear pods and adjusting the angle of my laptop like it’s me who’s just got up? I’ve googled him interminably. He’s been an engineering consultant with his own firm for many years. From what I can see, he’s reputable and respected. He was well presented and neatly dressed when I saw him in Horseshoe. Seeing him looking like that again shouldn’t surprise me.

  But his confidence at turning up unannounced at the farmhouse and asking me to keep quiet; his unwillingness to compromise on the timing of the call. Is he like my father? Should I trust him?

  I push my laptop further back on the kitchen bench. ‘Why couldn’t we do this earlier?’ I ask.

  He smiles uncertainly. ‘My lawyer received additional documentation last night. He called,’ he looks at his watch, ‘very late last night.’

  ‘It’s Sunday morning over there. Why are you wearing a tie?’

  He raises his brows. ‘Despite my many sins, and those of my church, I am a Catholic. I will attend Mass later in the morning.’

  I sit back on the stool. ‘I didn’t mean to—’

  He holds up a hand. ‘Please, Sapphie. I understand your suspicion. I have to lay my cards on the table. Correct?’

  ‘I—yes.’

  ‘If you will excuse me.’ He reaches for a glass of water and sips. ‘I shall start from the beginning. At least then you will, if not forgive me, understand the circumstances.’

  ‘Take as much time as you want.’

  ‘I turned sixty a few months ago,’ he says. ‘I was born and raised in Rosario and after university I worked as a design engineer with a company in Buenos Aires. I was forty when the firm closed down.’

  ‘You went to work for Hernandez?’

  ‘I was surprised and flattered when Josef Hernandez called me personally and offered me a role in one of his companies. The Hernandez group work all over the world—bridges, roads, manufacturing plants and mining operations.’

  ‘Was he corrupt?’

  He raises his brows. ‘Good and bad, Sapphie. There are many variations of this. In the few years I worked at Hernandez, part of Josef’s unofficial business model was to give gifts to those with the power to decide which company would be awarded a contract. I was aware of this and did nothing to prevent it.’

  ‘The gifts were bribes?’

  ‘Gifts, inducements, bribes … the law in Argentina, unlike your laws in Australia, did not differentiate these things as strictly as they do now.’

  ‘Did you deal with my father?’

  ‘It was made clear that, to do my job as well as was expected, I should get to know him more closely. Through his social network, I met your mother, Kate. As your parents were close to Leevi and Inge Laaksonen. I also became acquainted with them.’

  ‘Did you give my father anything?’

  ‘He was in charge of receiving tenders for a substantial government project. Josef suggested I reward him for his consideration of our bid.’ He takes another sip of water. ‘Josef subsequently believed that a gift, an inducement, had been given to your father.’

  ‘Had it?’

  ‘I did not want to cross Josef. For personal reasons, I wanted to stay in Buenos Aires. The money was never paid to your father, but I led Josef to believe that it had been.’

  ‘How? Did you take the company’s money?’

  He shakes his head. ‘Let me explain more clearly. Josef was—still is—a man of substantial means. He did not know what money was going into and coming out of what he called his “kitty”, a slush fund kept for these purp
oses. He did not want to know the details.’

  ‘So he thought you took the money, but you didn’t?’

  ‘Correct. I paid your father nothing. In consequence, he accepted nothing. I did not admit to this at the time. I have not admitted to it since because I believed there was no reason to do so.’

  ‘Until my father was named as one of the recipients?’

  He runs a hand through his thick black hair. ‘The deposit box in Geneva. This was my undoing.’ He takes another sip of water. ‘As I said in my email, the prosecutors have called a number of ex-employees in the hope that more facts come to light.’

  Tumbleweed walks through the cat flap and across the linoleum to the fridge. He sits and waits.

  ‘You said my father did nothing wrong. How does my mother fit in?’

  ‘In addition to his kitty, Josef kept keys to deposit boxes. Gifts were left there, and keys handed to whoever had accepted a gift. After that, all links to the Hernandez companies were lost. It was up to the recipient what they did with the key.’

  ‘My mother accessed a box.’

  He presses his hands against his face. There are gaps where his missing fingers should be. He takes his hands away. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Of course.’ He looks directly at the screen. ‘I had a key in the drawer of my desk, the one that Josef had given to me. I used that key, Sapphie, not for business reasons but for personal ones. I put the items in the box and it was opened by your mother.’

  ‘You said she was innocent.’

  ‘Kate opened the box on her friend’s behalf. The money and sapphire belonged to me. It was a gift for her friend.’

  ‘But that could only be …’ I’m suddenly shaky. ‘Inge?’

  He nods solemnly. ‘Inge.’

  ‘So she wasn’t looking after the key for Mum? It was hers?’

  ‘Have you a glass of water, Sapphie? I find I am in need of a top up.’

  I take out my ear pods and fill my glass from the bottle in the fridge. Tumbleweed miaows plaintively when I close it. ‘Later, puss.’

  I face Gabriel again. ‘Why did you give Inge a gift?’

  ‘Leevi controlled her bank accounts. She couldn’t leave him with no money.’

  I hold tightly to the bench and force myself to speak. ‘Were you having an affair?’

  He slowly nods. ‘We were in love.’

  ‘She was—she wouldn’t …’

  He sighs. ‘Sapphie, let—’

  ‘No!’ I take a deep breath. ‘Why did my mother look in the box?’

  ‘She was Inge’s dearest friend,’ he says quietly. ‘She knew Inge was not always happy in her marriage. She knew we had developed something stronger than friendship. With reservations, Kate supported our union.’

  ‘How long did this go on for?’

  ‘Inge and I were friends in secret. Much, much later, for only six months, we became intimate. Two years in total.’

  ‘Why didn’t she leave earlier?’

  ‘It wasn’t commonly known, but Leevi’s posting in Argentina was due to end the year that Inge died. It was only after her death that it was extended. Once the family had returned to Finland and Matts was enrolled in school, Inge believed it would be safe to leave her marriage. Leevi could be posted overseas, but it would be much more difficult for him to take Matts if he were settled. Her son came first, always.’

  ‘What would you have done?’

  ‘I would have lived in Finland. I would have gone anywhere to be with her.’

  ‘Why was it Mum who went to Geneva? Why did she look in the box?’

  ‘She thought if Inge had financial security, she could make an independent decision whether to separate from Leevi or not. Kate was adamant the gift be given freely. If at any time Inge changed her mind about me, the money would be hers. I agreed willingly.’

  ‘You still haven’t explained.’

  ‘This matter of money was upsetting to Inge, but Kate was firm. She said she would check that I had done what I had promised to do, to leave the money in the box. Then she would open an account in her own name, deposit the money and transfer it to Inge. But.’ He sighs. ‘She saw the sapphire. She wanted Inge to find that for herself. When she returned to Argentina, she gave Inge not only the key, but a ticket to Geneva.’

  ‘Mum—’ I clear my throat. ‘Mum would have thought that was romantic.’

  Gabriel searches his pockets. He pulls out a handkerchief. ‘This is true.’

  ‘Are you married now?’

  He shakes his head. ‘There was only Inge.’

  ‘Why a sapphire?’

  He refolds the hanky. ‘Inge and I met in September. It was also the month of her birthday. This was her birthstone. It was to be a ring.’

  ‘You kept this secret for all these years?’

  ‘And would have continued to do so.’

  ‘You were going to tell me about it when you came to Horseshoe? Why didn’t you?’

  He looks down and lines up something on his desk. ‘You saw me in the hotel, the pub, the evening before we spoke, yes? Matts Laaksonen was with you.’ He smiles sadly. ‘He is an accomplished young man, is he not? I understand he has a good relationship with his father. The truth would be hurtful, certainly, but in the interests of clearing your mother of blame, I thought he could bear it.’

  ‘What made you change your mind?’

  His eyes fill with tears. ‘How could I ever have been a father to Matts? I could not, he had one already. But I imagined that, in time, he would see how deeply I cared for his mother. I hoped, I prayed, that we could be close. But—’ He dabs at his eyes with the hanky. ‘When I saw him that night, I did not see the man I expected to see. I saw the boy that Inge loved above all else. I saw the stepson I could have had.’ He holds up his hands. ‘You see how foolish I am?’

  ‘Did you want to protect Leevi as well?’

  He smiles sadly. ‘I deserve reproach, Sapphie, nothing else. But Inge and I deeply regretted the hurt that Leevi would suffer. He was traditional in his views of a wife, but he loved her too.’

  ‘Did he find out about the affair?’

  ‘When Inge was in the hospital.’ Gabriel’s eyes close briefly.

  ‘Did she tell him?’

  ‘At first she was unconsciousness. After that, she was on life support. She couldn’t.’

  ‘Then how did he find out?’

  He shakes his head. ‘I think you have heard enough, Sapphie.’

  I look outside, to the treetops in the playground. I know where I belong now, but for many years I didn’t. I swallow the lump in my throat.

  ‘Inge died when I was ten. After that, we were in Buenos Aires, then Canberra, but nothing was the same as it had been. Mum changed and I want to know why. I was told that Inge had an infection. Did she? What happened?’

  He dabs his eyes again.

  ‘Please, Gabriel.’

  Finally, he nods. ‘After Matts was born, Leevi, unlike Inge, did not want more children. I was forty-two and had never fathered a child. Inge was thirty-nine. It would make matters more complicated, certainly, but what a blessing …’

  ‘Inge was pregnant,’ I whisper.

  ‘Inge and Leevi had not been intimate for many years. The baby could not have been his.’

  ‘Mum once said …’ Had she lived, Inge would have loved another baby. ‘Inge was happy about the baby, wasn’t she?’

  ‘Deliriously so. We both were.’

  I wipe my face on my sleeve. ‘Mum knew too, didn’t she?’

  He blows his nose. ‘Sapphie, my dear. If I am forced to give evidence, I will tell them the money was mine, as was the sapphire. I have bank records and a receipt to prove this.’

  ‘They know Mum went to the deposit box. They know that she and Inge were friends. They’ll ask why you put those things there.’

  ‘There was no crime.’

  ‘Inge’s death was particularly hard because Mum knew about the baby. That’s right, isn’t
it?’

  His hands are shaking. He puts them in his lap out of sight. ‘I saw your father’s statements. This was unfair to Kate. I should have done more to support her.’

  ‘How? What do you mean?’

  ‘I was selfish in my guilt. Kate was lonely in hers. I should have persevered.’

  ‘She did feel guilty, but I never knew why. Tell me, Gabriel. Please.’

  ‘Kate had a burden.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  He looks straight ahead, but through the screen, not at it. ‘I was on a building site off the coast of Chile,’ he says slowly. ‘Inge was eight weeks pregnant. She’d had pain the previous night, and the bleeding began that morning. She was afraid to go to the hospital because she had a driver from the embassy. Leevi would find out.’

  ‘She called Mum?’

  ‘Kate had some knowledge.’

  ‘She’d had miscarriages. I know that.’

  ‘She told Inge there was no need for a hospital, that this baby was not meant to be. She told her she should rest and wait for Kate to come to her. Kate was at a school function, a luncheon. She was delayed. There was a traffic jam.’

  ‘But … that’s not how Inge died, is it? It can’t have been.’

  He wipes his face with the hanky. ‘The blood was not from miscarriage, but from internal bleeding. Inge had an ectopic pregnancy. Her fallopian tube had ruptured. If she’d had medical treatment earlier, perhaps …’

  My throat is full. My tears blur the screen. I wipe my face with my sleeve.

  Once upon a time, Mum loved my father. She loved me. She loved Matts. And she loved Inge.

  Gabriel comes closer so his face fills the screen. ‘Your foster parents, Sapphie. I think they live nearby. Please go to them.’

  When Tumbleweed jumps onto my lap, I stroke his brindle fur. Kookaburras laugh from the gums in the playground. ‘Mum didn’t tell anyone, did she?’

  ‘She believed she had let Inge down. She blamed herself. She wanted to make amends but she could not.’

  I swallow a sob. ‘The things Mum asked me to do. The drugs. It was wrong, but … I was stronger than she was. I knew that.’