by J. P. Pomare
Soon after the police had left us that day Kate asked me, ‘What happened to Thom?’
‘What do you mean, Kate?’
‘Did someone hurt Thom?’
I realised then that I wouldn’t need to break down her memory of that night. She had no memory at all. I would simply need to excavate and find out where the memory faded and where it started again. ‘He hit his head last night. His skull is fractured,’ I said.
Later I found her at my laptop, a news story on one tab and a Wikipedia page about the human skull on another.
‘Then you drove home?’ the detective asks.
‘I did.’
‘Which route did you take?’
‘I doubled back along Dorcus and took the long way. I drove for half an hour as far away from the scene as possible. Then I had to stop for gas.’
They share a look. The CCTV at the service station would show me get out to refuel the car while Kate sat asleep in the front seat.
‘Mr Bennet, when we met with you on Friday last week, when we showed you the CCTV image of your daughter driving your car on the night of the death of Thom Moreau, you agreed to bring her in for questioning. What changed between now and then?’
‘I was scared for her. She knew what I did to Thom. It was coming back to her. She’s already been through enough without being grilled by you lot and then living the rest of her life knowing she put me in prison.’
The younger cop slumps back in his chair. The detective scratches his jaw, watching my face. ‘So,’ he says, ‘the weapon, the brick. Where is it now, Mr Bennet?’
I swallow. ‘It’s in the basement at home.’
They both sit up straight at this. They know where the brick is already, but they’re playing the part.
‘If we take you there now, will you show us?’ They are anticipating the solve, the successful prosecution. Like most people, police have bosses to please, and to please their bosses these men have to lock up a bad guy. I suppose I am the bad guy, even though all I ever wanted was to protect my daughter and make sure she was always happy.
I’ve read online that it’s difficult to lift fingerprints from a brick. DNA, on the other hand, is much easier. On the brick they’ll find both mine and Thom’s.
FORTY-SIX
TODAY, JUST LIKE every other day, I take my pills and then I sit in the sun near the window, watching the trees move in the breeze outside and waiting for the food to come. The first thing I discovered when I arrived was that most people here were just like me. We talk and sit together like normal sane people. No one is strapped to any chairs and people are generally kind. It’s a lot like school in some ways: we have a schedule; I must listen and speak when it is my turn. I’m not in control of my time but I really don’t mind it at all.
After lunch I have a meeting with Jess, who asks me all the questions, the ones that help me move on with my life. She wants me to rate my feelings from zero to five. What do I feel? What do I think? What happens inside my body when I recall the past?
I saw Dad on television yesterday. He was being mobbed by photographers. His head was lowered and his hands were cuffed before him at his waist. A banner had scrolled across the bottom of the screen: Australian rugby legend James ‘Bomber’ Bennet charged with murder.
I still feel rage, I still feel anger bubbling inside – but who am I angry at? Thom is dead, I am alive. Am I angry at all those men who watched the video and shared it? Angry that no one ever asked me why I am so angry? I remember how angry I was at Willow that time she pulled my dress up at the party: Show everyone those scars. But all the anger is distant now, as if it is someone else’s anger. I can observe it and laugh at the impotence of it. Being angry is such a waste of time and energy. That’s what we have been working on here: expunging bad feelings in a healthy way.
Jess asked me to write about my thoughts and feelings in a notebook and today I bring it along to our meeting. My handwriting is very messy because my arm is still in a sling. She says I can read it to her if I’m comfortable doing so, although I don’t have to. The main thing we are focusing on, she says, is helping me to reconcile the traumatic events in a way that makes sense. It’s impossible that I killed Thom because Dad killed Thom. But sometimes I have a feeling inside that I can’t shake. Dad was telling me all along when I was there, he kept asking what I remember about the brick in his hand and what he did to Thom, but still that nagging feeling won’t go away.
Jess says this is survivor guilt. She says these are thoughts that my mind has grabbed on to because it’s hard for me or for anyone to accept that my father is a killer and that the person I once loved died. We are going to find a way for me to cope with these episodes in the real world. It’s an entirely new language: false memories, trauma-induced psychosis, manic episodes. I trust her when she says I will be healthy again soon. Soon Aunty Lizzie will be able to take me with her back to England. Then I can put everything behind me.
before <
FORTY-SEVEN
LET’S TALK. CAN you meet me at the spot? I’ll head down now.
I walk out into the chill of the night, gently pulling the front door closed behind me. I tie my Chuck Taylors and turn the collar of my coat up. There are a few stars and the cold has brought on a crisp mist that turns the streetlights into huge orange orbs.
I hear something in the fog. Steps. A figure forms in the darkness and mist.
‘Kate?’ I say, just loud enough.
They continue closer. Then as the figure passes beneath the streetlight I see who it is.
A current of nerves travels across my skin. I realise my pulse is racing. It’s her.
She looks different. Her hair is mussed and wild, her pupils all iris, her face still but for her lips, which part slightly with each exhale. The sour smell of alcohol emanates from her skin.
‘Kate?’ I say. ‘Are you okay?’
She stands so close. I glance down and see what she is holding. The brick looks huge in her hand.
‘What are you doing?’ I look past her again. Her father’s Mercedes is parked on the street. She drove.
‘Kate,’ I say, my voice trembling. ‘You’re scaring me now. Can we just talk about everything?’
Then I see him: Kate’s father. He’s running towards us, drifting silent as a shadow. Fuck.
‘Kate, what is this?’
No answer. A vein pulses in her throat.
My heart knocks. I’ve got to get inside. He’s closing in. I step past her towards my house. He’s still metres away when I hear his voice.
‘Don’t do it, Kate! Put it down.’
Don’t do what? A footstep behind me, her animal groan. A seismic knock. My legs become liquid. No time for thought; my arms and legs don’t respond. I’m falling, falling. Black, red, then nothing at all.
EPILOGUE
I FEEL MUCH more lucid now that I have settled in at Aunty Lizzie’s flat in England and I don’t have to take all of those pills anymore. Sometimes I think about Willow’s dad; I wonder where he is now that his marriage has broken up. That’s how it all began – with my plan to have something over Willow for that horrible thing she did to me at the party. She thought she had gotten away with it. She thought she could embarrass me like that. I didn’t seek him out first. But when he gave me his attention I buzzed. There was a connection; I mean I really did like him but as my desire fizzled and it became clear that he was still keen, I saw an opportunity. I never expected Thom to find the messages and then react the way he did.
The letters I addressed to Willow were as much for her father as her. I miss spending afternoons lying in the study, listening to music . . . what we would do if we ran away together and left everyone behind.
Willow would regret her nasty words and in the end I took her advice: Don’t get mad, get even.
I wonder if she knows why I did it, if she even remembers what she did and the fact everyone saw my scars? I wonder how much she suffered as her family unraveled around her?
Of c
ourse, my own family unraveled too. I do miss my dear old dad at times. Sometimes I try to imagine what his life is like now. One day I will visit him and tell him I forgive him. I forgive him for everything.
•
It’s a dream. My first in some time. Memories will break through, like grass pressing between cracks in the pavement, Dad had said. Some memories I know will be false reconstructions.
The smell of the night, the suburban quiet, all the stars in the sky, and the grip of the cold air. This is more than a dream; it is so rich and vivid. This I know is a memory. And Thom is there. But I am angry. There’s a rage burning in my arms and legs. Like I said, the skin remembers, the fingertips remember. The gritty bite of the brick. The crack of bone. The memory is like something physical, a scab I can worry, something I can make bleed again.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
THIS BOOK WOULD never have been published without the tireless effort and insight of my agent Pippa Masson. Dan Lazar and Gordon Wise both provided crucial feedback and helped to get this book out into the world. Many thanks also to my team of publishers, Robert Watkins, Lucy Dauman, and Margo Lipschultz along with Ali Lavau, Brigid Mullane and all of the team at Hachette.
I am also grateful to the writers and friends who have supported me and helped with this project in various ways including Sue Werry, Antoni Jach, The Tiffaneers, The Clifton Hill Writers Group, Ben Steele, my brothers Ben and Kent, and Marion Barton.
To my tribes, thank you to the Pomares – especially my father, Bill – who are storytellers to the last, and the Tracys for being my cheer squad.
Finally thank you to my wife and first reader Paige Pomare, without your balance, insight, support, love and most of all encouragement this book would still be a secret.
READING NOTES
THESE READING NOTES contain spoilers for Call Me Evie.
1 Call Me Evie begins with two quotes about the fallibility of memory – one from Shakespeare and one from psychologist Daniel Kahneman. Why do you think the author selected these quotes? Did you think back to these quotes when you were reading the book?
2 Kate and Jim are far from home, surrounded by a landscape and community very different to what they are used to in Melbourne. Have you ever found yourself in a place that felt completely foreign and difficult to adapt to?
3 Jim makes all the decisions for Kate – he changes her name, he moves them to New Zealand, he locks her in her room. Do you think Jim considers all the implications of covering for Kate? What factors, if any, do you think he overlooks?
4 The townspeople of Maketu seem very interested in the new residents, Evie and Jim. Did you find their interest suspicious? Or did you think that it was just curiosity? Have you ever felt out of place in an unfamiliar or close-knit community?
5 Jim is adamant that he is trying to protect Kate. Do you believe that is his only motivation? If not, what other reasons do you think could motivate his actions?
6 The landscape of Maketu – at once beautiful and threatening – is vital to the novel. What impact did you feel the location had on the story?
7 There is a palpable tension throughout the novel. How do you think the author achieves this and builds upon it?
8 The story is told in two timeframes – before and after. In what ways does Kate change? Were you more drawn to one timeframe? How does the author use the before chapters to reveal information about what happens in the present day?
9 Revenge porn is a topic that has been widely discussed over the last decade. Did you understand Thom’s motivation for releasing the sex tape? Do you sympathise with Kate’s response?
10 It isn’t until three quarters of the way through the book that we discover Jim is Kate’s father. Did you start to put this together for yourself before it was revealed? Did you have other theories about who Jim might be? Why do you think the author held back this information? How did it shape your feelings about Jim?
11 The bath is a source of fear and fixation for Kate. Did you suspect that something else had happened in the bath to traumatise Kate? How did the revelation of Kate’s mother’s death make you feel?
12 Kate finds an unlikely friend in local man Iso. Did you trust Iso? What did you think his motivations were?
13 Kate enters into a flirtation with Willow’s father that has dire consequences for both his family and hers. What did you feel about Kate’s involvement with Willow’s father? Did you suspect that he might be Jim?
14 In the final chapters we get to hear from Jim and understand more about his history, personality and motivations. How did your perception of him change? Could you understand the motivation behind Jim’s decision to confess? What would you have done in his situation?
15 It is revealed that Jim has been able to alter Kate’s memory before when he convinced her that the nanny Eloise was responsible for burning her in the bath. Do you trust your own memories? Have you ever discovered that something that you experienced didn’t happen the way you remembered it?
16 On the final page Jim’s words come back to Kate: ‘Memories will break through, like grass pressing between cracks in the pavement.’ Do you think the truth will surface? What do you think Kate will do if it does?
