Safe Harbour

by Helene Young

‘We have road transport coming for the rest of these guys. You’re a community copper now, right? You don’t have a station?’

  ‘Bundaberg’s the closest and there’s another cop who’s waiting at my place who’ll need bringing in. He’s from Brisbane, but he’s tied in somehow with this lot. There are also two more men in a black four-wheel drive, rented at the airport at the same time as this one.’ He pointed at the abandoned vehicle.

  ‘Right.’ Gandalf turned away again, issuing more orders into his radio. Noah finally walked to Darcy.

  A rust-red trail snaked down her cheek, catching tendrils of her bright hair, stark against her pale skin. Like all of them, she was powdercoated in a fine red dust from the rotor wash. She wiped her forearm across her face, smearing the dirt into two stripes, like war paint. It seemed appropriate after her fierce defence of Stein.

  ‘Noah?’

  ‘Darcy.’ He frowned at her, putting out a steadying hand and feeling her body shaking. ‘Are you really okay?’

  She nodded, touched her forehead. Moving had caused the wound to open up again.

  He handed over his hanky and she managed a wry grin. ‘Only you would have a clean hanky.’

  ‘Only carry it for you.’ He flashed a quick smile. It was a joke almost as old as their friendship. ‘I’m sorry about Stirling.’ After they’d checked him, the SERT boys had rolled him face down again, lined his limbs up, straightened his clothes. He looked like he was asleep.

  ‘Funny, isn’t it. After everything he’s done, he’s still my dad. And now he’s dead.’ She looked down at the ground as if she couldn’t meet Noah’s eyes. He tensed, knowing what was coming.

  ‘Rosie?’ she finally asked, her voice rising at the end almost to a squeak.

  ‘Let’s wait and see, hey.’ He swallowed. ‘She’s a tough old chook.’ There was a moment’s silence; voices around them seemed to have faded away.

  ‘You never could lie, Noah Moreton,’ Darcy said, looking up with brimming tears magnifying her eyes. ‘It’s bad, isn’t it? That’s why she told me the truth. She didn’t want to die without me knowing.’ Tears spilled down her cheeks, a deluge of sorrow that washed away the ochre dust.

  He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close, as she stifled her sobs against his chest, her hands curled into fists. She felt so fragile. The fine muscles of her back were rigid and he could feel her ribs as she drew in each shuddering breath. He rested his chin on the top of her head. They fitted together like two halves of the whole. Would she ever see it the way he did?

  He felt her fingers uncurl and the warmth of her palms against his bare back sent a shaft of longing through his body. He stepped back before he made a fool of himself. He slipped his hands down her arms as he looked into her eyes. His heart skipped a beat with what he saw. Was it possible?

  ‘Uni, she’d better come with us.’ Gandalf strode across the yard to him. ‘You know you’re stood down until the Ethical Standards Command completes an enquiry into the discharge of a service revolver. Might as well get that under way as well.’

  Noah straightened up. ‘Mate, Darcy’s friend’s in hospital. Someone beat her up trying to get information out of her on Stein’s whereabouts. She’s not doing too well. Darcy needs to see her so I’ll drive her to the police station via the hospital.’

  ‘No can do.’ The man was already talking into his radio again and Noah burred up.

  ‘Yes, can do and will do. You aren’t charging her or me so she’s not being taken into custody. She’s a victim here so don’t treat her any other way.’ He’d covered the few steps to stand in front of the leader.

  Gandalf cocked an eyebrow. ‘When did you get a temper? Keep your shirt on. I’ll send one of my men with you.’

  ‘Do whatever you want, but Darcy’s going to see Rosie.’

  He shrugged. ‘Fine. Don’t be long. Hey, Blister!’ He waved across one of his men. ‘Accompany Uni to the hospital.’ Then he was gone again, striding to meet the ambulance that jolted down the track.

  ‘Thanks, Unicorn,’ Darcy said, her smile almost reaching her eyes. He remembered explaining his SERT nickname to her years ago. It could still make her smile.

  ‘For you, any time.’ He went to tap her shoulder in his usual way, but she grabbed his fist before he could connect.

  ‘But especially this time,’ Darcy said. For an instant their fingers tangled together. Darcy’s fluttered, then fell away, but not before he saw the confusion, the need, the question in her eyes.

  ‘Especially this time, Darcy.’

  28

  Darcy glanced across at Noah as he drove. His SERT nickname suited him in many ways, although the Noah she knew would never have left the Unicorns off the Ark. There was never anything hasty about Noah. Deliberate, considered and, more often than not, right. He’d always been a champion of fair play, even in the school ground. She was grateful that he’d insisted she be allowed to visit Rosie.

  She wasn’t sure whether it was Rosie’s magic that brought them all together or just fate. The times Darcy treasured the most were those when she had Rosie to herself. Having the undivided attention of an adult was a delicious thrill. Rosie told rambling stories about the Rainbow Serpent and whales, about dugongs and dolphins. She sang in an off key rumble that had a melody all of its own.

  Darcy knew she would always remember the first time she heard Rosie singing to the whales. The two of them were fishing down at the old whaling station when Darcy spotted the first blow. Rosie had looked up with a broad smile and spread her arms wide. The power of her voice had raised goose bumps all over Darcy’s body. It was otherworldly and, as if answering the call, the whales came crowding into the sanctuary of Banksia Cove. Darcy had been transfixed, her mouth wide open as the giant humpbacks forged into the bay, mists of warm air rising with each blow. They arrowed through the water in a staggered line. Then the lead whale arched a little higher, slid below the surface and saluted with a graceful flick of its tail flukes. The water turned glassy and still. Rosie sang on.

  With her flaming hair streaming behind her in the breeze and her skirts pressed around her legs, Rosie could have been the figurehead on an old tall ship. There was no doubt in Darcy’s mind that the whales knew Rosie. And even though Darcy witnessed the performance many times, it never lost its magic.

  Rosie used to talk about the whaling days. She’d always believed the old station should be turned into something to celebrate the whales. Captain Cook may have named Banksia Cove along with the town of 1770 to the north, but the Aboriginals had known it as the place of the whales for generations before.

  ‘You look shattered, Darcy.’ Noah spoke for the first time.

  ‘Busy couple of days,’ she replied, struggling to find her voice.

  He reached across and squeezed her hand. ‘She’ll pull through.’

  Wordlessly she shook her head. Rosie had said her goodbyes.

  Darcy turned and looked out her window as they entered the outskirts of northern Bundaberg. The fertile green farmland turned into used car yards, spare parts shops and hardware chains. The closer they got to the hospital, the more her stomach knotted and her shoulders tensed. As they drove across the bridge she could see the collection of buildings that made up the Bundaberg Base Hospital. There was a huddle of women on the footpath. Even before Noah stopped the car, she knew what it meant. The sound of their wailing sliced deep into her soul.

  ‘She’s gone,’ she managed to say as Noah reached across and grabbed her hand, holding tight like a lifeline in the storm of emotion that threatened to drag her under. She would never hear Rosie’s whale song again, never feel the comfort of those sturdy arms, never smell woodsmoke and lemon myrtle mixed with Rosie’s vanilla shampoo. She would never again be able to tease her about her latest hair dyeing disaster, never share fish and chips from the same plate at the end of a long day, never listen to Rosie telling the same story with a little more embellishment each time. A kaleidoscope of memories, the fragments of almost thirty
years of friendship, swirled around. So many precious moments, so many vivid images. Gone.

  ‘Come on, let’s find Merle.’ Noah squeezed her hand before releasing it to open his door.

  She hung her head, knowing she had to gather her composure. Merle would be hurting twice as much. The SERT guy in the back seat cleared his throat. ‘I’ll stay with the car.’

  Darcy nodded, grateful. Coping with someone else’s grief was tough enough, but this overwhelming outpouring in front of the hospital must have made even Noah quail.

  Noah opened her door, held out his hand and she took it.

  ‘Come on, Darce, you’re stronger than you think.’ His gentle voice gave her courage. ‘Make yourself proud,’ Rosie had said. Right now Darcy was flat out putting one foot in front of the other. In one day she’d realised she loved her best friend, discovered she had a half-brother, seen her father shot to death, and now she’d lost a friend, a sister, a mother. A day of too many emotions.

  ‘Darcy, I’m sorry, love, she’s gone.’ Merle hurried across to them and Noah relinquished his place as Merle wrapped Darcy in a hug. ‘She said she was tired. Said her mother was calling her.’

  ‘Oh, Merle.’ Darcy could only hold her close. ‘I’m so sorry. It shouldn’t be like this. It’s not fair.’

  ‘No, love, it’s life. Nothing fair or unfair. It was her time. She’s been around a lot longer than she let on. She was so proud of you for coming home, building that restaurant. You can’t go wrong now you’re here. She’ll still be with you. Aunties like Rosie never really leave.’

  Darcy took a shuddering breath and stepped back a little. Merle’s eyes were red-rimmed, puffy, but she was remarkably composed.

  ‘All that wailing has a purpose, you know,’ Merle said. ‘You whitefellas shouldn’t keep it inside so much. It’s okay to be sad. Nothing to be ashamed of, no need to be strong.’

  ‘Oh Merle,’ Darcy said, aware she’d never really appreciated Merle’s strength or similarity to Rosie. The mantle of authority had already settled around her shoulders, stooping them a little, but adding something regal to her bearing. Rosie would live on in her daughter.

  Merle turned to Noah. ‘You catch those mongrels?’

  ‘Yeah, we did.’

  ‘You make sure you throw the book at them. One of my nephews saw them leaving Whale Song. He’ll be able to identify them, I reckon.’

  ‘How’s Zeke?’ Darcy had to ask.

  ‘The break’s not too bad. He’ll be right.’

  ‘But his footy contract?’

  ‘Maybe make the silly bugger realise he needs two strings to make a bow. Reckon this might even make his father rethink things. Almost losing someone has a habit of changing people.’

  ‘I guess it does,’ Darcy replied, thinking of Stirling hitting the ground, the sound of the gunshot still reverberating. Waves of fatigue were rolling over her. She knew she still had an ordeal ahead at the police station. ‘Stay in touch, Merle, please. And let me know if you need anything, anything at all.’

  ‘I’ll come and sing at your opening, love. Least I can do. Mum would have wanted that.’ Merle was watching her with dark eyes that seemed to see into her deepest fears.

  With a last firm hug she left them. Noah’s arm brushed Darcy’s as they walked back to the car. It was going to be a long afternoon, but with Noah’s quiet strength she thought she just might get through it.

  29

  The streetlights were on and the roads were empty when they emerged from the station. The afternoon sea breeze had died away, leaving the air cool and salty. Some of the loose ends were already tied up. Amelia was home safe and sound with Chantelle. Stirling’s body was still at the hospital along with his two bodyguards’ awaiting an autopsy. Ralph had been treated at the Bundaberg Hospital and then charged with impersonating a policeman, illegal use of firearms, aggravated assault and murder. Surgeons were operating on Phillips, but a long charge sheet was waiting for him. Hannon was still being questioned. And Conor, the man who started all of this, was en-route to a safe house somewhere in Australia.

  Logistically there was still a lot more to do, but the upside of being stood down pending an investigation was that, for the first time in four years, Noah had no official duties to perform. He had only one priority and she was walking next to him, her footsteps slow.

  ‘Let’s get you home.’

  ‘That’d be good.’

  ‘You did incredibly well today. I don’t know how you’re still holding it together.’

  ‘I don’t think I am.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s not real yet. I didn’t believe Conor when he said we were all in danger. I thought I knew what danger was. I had no idea.’ She looked up at him. ‘How do you do such a stressful job and not crack under the strain? And secrets. How many secrets surfaced today?’

  Noah got into the car to avoid answering her questions. He preferred to think they were rhetorical. They were stopped at the first set of traffic lights before Darcy spoke again.

  ‘Did you know Grant was Stirling’s son?’

  He shook his head, glad she’d started with an easy one. ‘No, no idea. I don’t think Grant knew either, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to help himself boasting about it. You know what he was like.’

  ‘The golden-haired child, Stirlo’s anointed one.’

  ‘How do you feel about it?’

  ‘Numb.’ Darcy looked down before meeting his gaze again. ‘I was so worried and angry at seeing Rosie so damaged, I guess I didn’t really want to think about what she was saying. By the time I drove back to you I’d pieced it all together and accepted she was right. Stirling really did go crazy after Grant died and looking back now I understand why. How sad that he couldn’t share that grief with anyone else. Is Grant’s dad still here? Mr White?’

  ‘He died about two years after Grant. He had a car crash driving back from a late shift. I remember Dad saying it was a single vehicle accident on a straight stretch of road. Fatigue maybe.’

  ‘Maybe.’ She leant against the door and closed her eyes. In the light of passing cars he could see how drawn she was. ‘Secrets. Rosie said Stirling had secrets.’ She only stumbled a little over the names.

  Noah’s heart lurched. This was quicksand territory. ‘That’s a pretty big secret all on its own.’ He changed tack. ‘I know you’re probably not hungry, but I think we need to eat. Pizza all right?’

  ‘Pizza.’ Darcy looked perplexed.

  ‘Gino’s will still be open.’

  ‘Fine, whatever.’

  The quicker he could get her home, the sooner he could explain things face-to-face. No room for any more misunderstandings.

  Twenty minutes later they were on the road again, the night swallowing the headlights. The open pizza box sat on the seat between them as they ate in silence, Noah driving with one hand. The hot food gave Noah a boost of energy. For Darcy it seemed to make her sleepier and her head nodded. Her eyelashes were dark smudges on her pale cheeks as her eyes closed. Her hand lay limp on the seat and he couldn’t help but reach across and place his own hand on top.

  Her eyes sprang open, but she didn’t pull away. He glanced back at the road and heard her sigh as she rolled her hand over and threaded their fingers together. A simple enough gesture, but it filled him with hope. When he looked across again her eyes were closed and the hint of a smile lifted her lips. As he reached her turn-off, he reluctantly slid his hand clear to change gears. She didn’t stir, not even once he stopped in front of the house.

  He leant across and gently shook her shoulder. ‘Come on. Time to wake up.’ She opened her eyes and rubbed a drowsy hand across them.

  ‘Time to go to bed, you mean?’ She held his gaze and his heart stuttered.

  ‘Only if you insist.’

  ‘I think I might,’ she said. She turned away and opened the door. For an instant he sat frozen in his seat. After the last few days, he had no business to be thinking about sex and his best friend. But right now, in her dusty clo
thes with a bandaid on her forehead, Darcy had never looked more desirable.

  ‘Gently, mate,’ he muttered, gathering the empty pizza box, locking the doors and following her through the little gate.

  ‘The bolt. I shot the bolt across the front door to stop them. We’ll have to go in the back door.’ He followed her, seeing the extreme exhaustion in the sway of her hips and the droop of her shoulders.

  The rear door wasn’t even locked. Darcy opened it wide and flicked on the overhead light. It cast a soft glow over the gleaming kitchen, picked up the rich copper in her hair. The chopped rosemary on the cutting board scented the air. Crystal wine glasses scattered the light over the pile of white serviettes.

  She dumped her bag on a chair, then walked to the oven and opened the door. A roast still rested in its pan. ‘I had a proper meal all planned last night. It feels like a lifetime ago. So much has happened. Rosie . . .’ She faltered. Noah moved up beside her and took the tray, placed it back in the oven and closed the door. He’d deal with it later. Right now there was only one thing he wanted to do.

  ‘Rosie will always be with us, in so many ways, especially at Whale Song.’ He rested his hands on her shoulders, loving the feel of her, the strength and resilience that had kept her going through the last few days.

  Her bottom lip trembled as she looked at him and he saw the answer to his unasked questions. He saw the sorrow welling up to swamp her and reached out before he could find a reason not to. She clung to him, her body shaking, tears soaking his shirt as he cuddled her close and rocked. There was comfort in the embrace for both of them. Maybe he needed the reassurance as badly as she did, needed to know that they had each other, had always had each other, no matter what storms broke over them.

  In the silence of the kitchen it felt as though the little cottage held its breath, waiting, watching, cocooning them from the rest of the world as the grief poured out of her once more. Her tears were all the more powerful because Noah knew Darcy usually held on to her emotions. He’d seen her cry more times today than he could ever remember. His eyes prickled with tears, not just at the way Rosie had died, but because he too had lost a friend, a mentor who knew him at least as well as his own family did. And he was grieving for Darcy for her loss, her pain, for the wasted years.