Dastardly Deeds

by Evans, Ilsa

  I turned and retraced my steps towards the broad steps that led to the road. I could see Ashley and Nick standing by the cenotaph nearby. I knew that they had already spent the previous day, while we had been at Troy, touring the Gallipoli peninsula, so today was really just an encore.

  Ashley glanced across and gave me one of his half-smiles. It said: ‘I can’t express pleasure, not in this place, but it’s bloody nice to look up and see you. Perhaps we can talk later, do some more of that flirting from last night. I like your hat.’ There was every chance I was reading a little too much into it, but my interpretation brought a pleasant little flutter. And I was on holiday, so why the hell not.

  I looked around for my daughters and found them standing with their grandmother and having their photo taken by Petra. Ruby was in profile, her brown hair caught up in a ponytail that fluffed in the breeze. She held her shoes in her hand and as soon as the photo was taken, she walked away, her bare feet leaving temporary prints in the damp sand. She was beautiful, a perfect blend of Darcy and me – but taken up a notch.

  ‘Spoke to her last night about her plans,’ said Darcy, coming up by my side. ‘While you were … busy.’

  I ignored the latter part of his statement. ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She’s going back to Cornwall with your sister. She wants to stay there.’

  ‘Stay there,’ I repeated stupidly. I felt my stomach twist, like a flannel being wrung. Why hadn’t Petra told me?

  ‘She says everyone always compares her with Scarlet and she’s fed up.’

  ‘Nobody compares her with Scarlet!’

  ‘Maybe what she means is that she compares herself with Scarlet,’ said Darcy gently. ‘Anyway, she thinks she needs to forge her own path. Away.’

  ‘I see. And how does she plan on supporting herself?’

  ‘Apparently she’s lined up a job with your father.’

  I stared towards the horizon. My father had deserted his family when I was quite young and founded a new one in the south of England. Even though contact had been maintained, I hadn’t actually seen him again until last year. He seemed a nice enough man, but in some ways I preferred it when he’d kept his distance. Bad enough that my sister was spending time over there, now he was kidnapping my daughter as well.

  ‘It might be good for her,’ said Darcy, putting a hand on my shoulder.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Don’t be too rough. She’s worried you’ll think she’s being irresponsible.’

  ‘How did she get the money for this trip?’ I asked abruptly.

  He put his hand back in his pocket and cleared his throat.

  ‘You lent it to her!’

  ‘Well, yes. I wanted to see her.’

  ‘Darcy, she owes me money for her charity stint. I’d bet my bottom dollar that she owes Petra money for the last few months, and now she owes you money as well! She has absolutely no assets, has started but never finished a handful of university courses, and now has landed some menial job courtesy of a man who’s not exactly renowned for fulfilling his parental responsibilities.’

  Darcy gave me a flat grin. ‘Can’t understand why she’s worried about telling you. It’s beyond me.’

  ‘And I suppose you bought her that new camera too?’

  ‘No, I believe that was your father. Apparently it was a belated birthday and Christmas present.’

  ‘What? For the past twenty-five years?’

  ‘Am I interrupting?’ asked Tessa with a bright but nervous smile.

  ‘He’s all yours.’ I turned away, starting in the direction of Ruby but then changing my mind. Best to let things settle before we spoke. Instead I made my way along a rocky ledge and stared out to sea. I tried to recapture the scent of history, or the frisson of Ashley’s presence, but they were now overlaid with anger. Mostly at Petra and myself. Ruby and I had been on this cruise for three days now, and together for some time in Rome before that, and I hadn’t made the time to speak to her. But Darcy had.

  ‘Nell!’ yelled Deb. ‘Over here! We’re leaving!’

  I shaded my eyes. Our group seemed to have left. I hopped across the rocks and crossed the sandy shore towards Deb.

  ‘C’mon, everyone’s already up at the road.’

  ‘Nice of them to let me know.’

  ‘I am letting you know.’

  There wasn’t really an answer to that so I jammed my hat back on and followed her up to the road. The Russos were still outside the bus, taking photos, along with Phoebe and Petra, who were bartering for commemorative scarves with a couple of youthful entrepreneurs. I bought one also, not just as a memento but because it seemed rather fitting to inject some money into the local economy.

  Ali began waving his arms excitedly, so we all boarded the bus for a short trip along the coast to a quaint little cafe for lunch. As one of the last people on, I ended up sitting at the front by myself. This was just as well, as I was very annoyed with my sister.

  The cafe was not just quaint but popular, with another two buses already parked in the forecourt. I ordered coffee at the counter before following the signs outside to the toilets. There was a line there, and I recognised three of the Absolutely Fabulous ladies. One of them was waving a Turkish ten lira note.

  ‘So I got him to write it here!’

  The Edina lookalike grabbed the note and held it up. There was a scribbled phone number on the margin and the name Clint. The owner of the note reclaimed her prize. She was the shortest of the trio, and was wearing a soft velvet hat that I rather admired. She was also quite loaded down, with a rather elaborate camera hanging from her neck, and a small knapsack on her back.

  ‘I’ve always admired the name Clint,’ said the Edina lookalike. ‘It sounds so female-friendly. Suggests great potential.’

  ‘Which one’s Clint?’ asked the third woman, a tall blonde, clearly impressed.

  ‘The cute one with the goatee. He’s flying back to Melbourne the day after tomorrow. I’ve said I’ll give him a ring when I get back.’

  Edina sighed. ‘Oh, you’re so lucky, Kim. The things you can do when you’re single. See, if I went around picking up strange blokes from foreign countries, my husband would get all snippy. He’s funny like that.’

  They all laughed as Kim tucked her ten lira note back into her wallet. She managed to knock me with her knapsack and apologised profusely. I was just wondering if the toilet cubicles were all jammed when the line began moving. A major problem with middle age was the heavy reliance on regular toilet breaks.

  By the time I exited, the Absolutely Fabulous lot were gone. I washed my hands briskly in a brown-stained sink and returned to collect my coffee, which came with a nifty little panda-shaped chocolate.

  Our group had commandeered a long table at the back of the room. Lew had ordered platters of flat bread with various toppings. They smelt delicious. He was in his element, holding forth on the various chapters of the Gallipoli campaign. Everybody was listening except Lyn Russo, who was scrolling through her mobile, and Enid, who was adjusting her hearing aid. Probably turning it to silent. Scientist hypothesises correlation between hearing problems and tedium of conversation. ‘Huh?’ say Ethel and Shirley and Bertram.

  I took the nearest spare seat, which was between Scott and Donald. Scott pulled over one of the platters and we each selected a piece of bread. Judging by the crusts on his plate, it looked like this was his third.

  He grinned at me. ‘So, enjoying yourself?’

  ‘Enjoy is probably not quite the right word for this place.’

  He nodded. I thought the highlights in his hair were probably blond tips.

  Ruby was sitting opposite, beside Petra. I glared at my sister, but she was watching Lew with a faraway look on her face. I was pretty sure she wasn’t listening to a single word he was saying. I ate the half of the flat bread and then put it down on a napkin.

  ‘Not fond of it?’ asked Donald. ‘Can I get you something else?’

  ‘No thanks. I’m just not overl
y hungry.’

  ‘Got to keep your strength up!’ said Scott, finishing his off. He looked at me curiously. ‘I heard you’re a journalist then?’

  ‘Yes. That is, I write a weekly column. What do you do for a living?’

  He grinned. ‘Guess.’

  ‘Um …’ I wasn’t really that interested. ‘Chef?’

  ‘No!’ This seemed to give him a great deal of amusement. ‘I’m a psychologist!’

  ‘Really?’ I looked at him doubtfully. I thought of April, depressed enough to be suicidal. It didn’t seem much of a recommendation. ‘Are you married then? Kids?’

  ‘Not any more, and yep. Three. Two boys and a girl.’

  ‘How nice.’

  ‘No kids for me,’ said Donald. He took his glasses off to polish them with his napkin. His eyebrows seemed a little more normal without them. ‘So, you looking for material on this trip then?’

  ‘Always.’ I smiled grimly. ‘I need something to resurrect my career. Any tips?’

  ‘Sorry, no. But I’ll give it some thought.’

  ‘Well, I’ll just keep my ear to the ground then. Never know what’ll turn up.’

  ‘I could tell you some stories,’ said Scott enthusiastically. ‘They’d make your hair curl.’ He flicked a glance at my hatted head. ‘More.’

  I felt a little like a sideshow clown, having to turn my head from one side to the other as the two men bid for my attention. This was not a usual situation for me, and I rather thought it was more about their competitiveness than any irresistibility on my part. Apart from anything else, Donald had sounded pretty committed to whoever he had been speaking to on the phone the previous day. On his other side, Phoebe was picking the crust from her bread. She looked up and gave me a tight smile.

  Out of Deb’s three friends, Phoebe had been the biggest surprise. First, because her alternative clothing and hippy hair were such a contrast to Deb’s penchant for business suits and clean lines. And second, while these choices suggested a casual and self-assured character, she appeared to be neither. Nor was she particularly social, and I got the feeling she would have preferred Lew and his group to be anywhere other than here. But maybe out of all of them, she was the one who had taken April’s death the hardest. Maybe she was simply blunted by grief.

  Scott asked me a few inane questions and I gave short answers. After a few minutes he began talking to Donald over my head. Polite chitchat always did my head in. I drank my coffee as I gazed around the restaurant. It was starting to empty now. The Ab Fab girls had gone and there was no handsome goateed stranger giving out autographed banknotes. At our table, Ashley and Nick were now having a heated discussion with Lew about battlefield strategies. They were using the salt and pepper shakers, along with pieces of bread, to illustrate their argument.

  Ali began waving his arms from the counter. This seemed to be his standard hurry-up gesture. I finished my coffee and then joined the others as we organised payment and trooped back out to the bus. I sat by myself again. I wasn’t quite ready to confront Petra. Clouds had scudded across the sky, with a silvery tinge that suggested rain to come. We set off on a tour of the Gallipoli peninsula, stopping for a while at first the Turkish memorial and then the New Zealand one. Finally we lumbered up the rise towards Lone Pine, joining a jam of buses attempting to find somewhere to park. Here our driver showed his worth once more, performing a remarkable manoeuvre where he reversed down a narrow dirt track inches away from another bus.

  I walked down to the memorial alongside Yen, fending off questions as to why Lucy was so slow in answering emails. Uncle Jim had slowed to accompany his sister. They had an uncle buried in the cemetery here. We passed some ramshackle souvenir stands then rounded the corner to be faced with row upon row of neat white headstones. They were like teeth rising from the soil. The impact lay not just in the numbers, but their identicalness. The only differences were the ranks, names and ages. PTE John Sinclair, aged eighteen; CPL James Evans, aged twenty-four; PTE Henry Castleton, aged nineteen.

  Yen and I parted company to wander along the rows. I did so methodically, because it suddenly seemed important that I read each inscription to acknowledge the lives, and deaths. Ultimate sacrifice was the phrase that sprang to mind, but none of these men would have intended to die. It wasn’t a clear choice. They would have arrived in this faraway place full of patriotism and bravado and a sense of immortality. Reality had been brutally venal. They were all so young. I felt my throat close. I glanced up and locked eyes with Ruby, standing by the towering pine tree. She was with her father and Tessa, and I knew immediately that she knew I knew. Which was why she was avoiding me. At first I felt my dormant hurt surge but then it dissipated as quick as a blink. It was simply too absurd, too self-centredly ridiculous, in this place.

  Instead I smiled, and after moment of surprise, she sent a hesitant smile back. We held it for a few long minutes and then that was enough, for now. I made my way towards the cenotaph at the end and joined the queue that snaked its way through the interior, stopping to leave a message in the bound memorial book.

  Half an hour later I left, overwhelmed by the experience. I strolled past the cluster of stalls towards the road and then hiked back to the dirt track where our bus was parked. To my surprise, Quinn was already there, sitting cross-legged on the grassy verge beside Griffin.

  ‘Had enough?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah. Like, it’s so sad. We came back with Ruby.’

  ‘Oh, where is she?’

  Quinn gazed around, as if only just realising that her sister wasn’t beside her. She shrugged. ‘Dunno.’

  This would be a perfect time to clear the air. It would be a relief to return to the ship with at least that conversation done. I checked the bus before looking around. The dirt track petered into a meandering path that led towards the horizon. It occurred to me that my surreptitiously smoking daughter might have headed there for a bit of cover. I made my way down the path. After about fifty metres, it veered to the left and continued beside an elevated ridge of brushy foliage. I guessed there was a cliff hidden by the ridge, running adjacent to the path. A short distance away were a few rough steps dug into the ridge, so I decided to test my theory. If I couldn’t find Ruby, I might as well have a nice view.

  I climbed the steps and came out into a small clearing. The view wasn’t just nice, it was breathtaking. In the distance, the cove curved like a pregnant belly nestled against the shore. The water was satin, made silvery by the cloudy sky. It was like a painting, too idyllic ever to have been the scene of so much carnage. I stood for a while, and then turned to retrace my steps. I didn’t want to be the last one at the bus again. That was when I saw the shoe.

  It was a woman’s black shoe, with a flat sole that faced me. It jutted out from some tumbled brush at the front edge of the clearing. What had stopped me in my tracks, however, was the angle of the shoe. It sat neatly, the toe nudging the dirt and the heel pointing upwards, quite unlike something that had simply been abandoned. It looked, actually, like it was still attached. My stomach lurched. I took a step closer and, with my own shoe, prodded the black one. It gave immediate resistance, giving way only slightly before returning to the original position. It was definitely attached.

  Time stretched like elastic. I tried desperately to remember what shoes Ruby had been wearing. Then the elastic snapped and I leapt forward, falling to my knees as I began pulling away the brush. It came free easily, too easily, and one part of my brain registered that it had been piled there deliberately. Within seconds the matching black shoe had been uncovered, and beyond, a pair of loose, cream-coloured slacks. Ruby had definitely not been wearing those. I sat back on my haunches, giddy with relief. I ran through the other members of our group but nobody stood out.

  But there was also an issue of time. The woman, whoever she was, might still be alive. I returned to work, scrabbling at the twigs and foliage that covered her. Soon a rose-coloured T-shirt was revealed and then one pale arm, bent at the elbow, with a
gold Pandora charm bracelet around the wrist. I felt for a pulse but her flesh was cool and still. I continued more slowly, finally pulling away the brush that hid her head. The cause of her death was immediately obvious. Her brown hair was short and densely matted with blood.

  I stared for a few long moments and then got to my feet. My stomach was a fist, catching at my breath. Twigs studded my clothing. The woman was lying on her stomach, face down. She looked like she had pitched forward after being hit from behind. I wondered if she had even been aware of the danger. Above her head was an odd crumple of crushed velvet. It took me a moment to realise that it was a hat, which must have fallen off as she hit the ground. And with that, I knew who she was.

  Chapter 8

  Dear Nell, I think we might have been in primary school together. I don’t have any class photos as my parents thought they were a waste of money. Could you please check yours? I was blonde with blue eyes and I used to wear my hair in plaits, or sometimes pigtails.

  I was sitting on the grassy section beside the bus with a travel rug draped over my shoulders. I had no idea how it got there, and didn’t really need it as the day was quite warm, but it felt oddly comforting. The path behind had been cordoned off, with the occasional Turkish police officer slipping beneath to stride grim-faced towards the cliff. They wore military boots with their navy blue uniforms and caps pulled low over their brows.

  I had already given my statement but had been told to stay close. There were two policemen doing the rounds, trying to gather information about who knew what and where they were staying. But their main focus was on the occupants of the bus parked so close to ours. I had not been surprised to see the Absolutely Fabulous women among this group and even now they were arguing with a senior police officer regarding the whereabouts of their friend.

  ‘No, you’re wrong,’ said the tall blonde for the second time. ‘I’m telling you Kim just came back here to get her other battery. For her camera. See, Portia was charging it off her iPad and left it on the seat. So she’s probably around here somewhere taking photos.’