A memory flickered into her mind, the stray dog that time on the river. The treehouse. The way Tommy just shot the dog, even though they’d all begged to try to save him. How easy it had been for him. How much he’d wanted to do it. How much he was obsessed with that gun he’d found. But because he was the eldest, he’d been the one who had explained it all to their parents, and he had been hailed a hero for being grown-up and brave enough to put a dog out of its misery. For bringing them all back home safely. But Phoebe had seen his eyes when he’d held that gun to the dog’s head. How could she have forgotten? Karin had never blamed Tommy. She had taken in so many stray dogs over the years, as though to absolve herself of what had happened to Bingo.
A hot rage flashed through her at the thought of what he might have done to Karin.
Tommy put his hands out in front of him as though sensing this change in her and trying to keep her calm. ‘I know you feel angry and confused about the picture, but I want to explain it to you.’
‘Okay. Great. I’m listening.’ She looked into his eyes and could see desperation. It made her whole body go cold. ‘Go ahead, Tommy, I’m listening. Camilla is, too.’
His expression darkened. ‘You see, I think you have the wrong idea, the totally wrong idea, and I wouldn’t want you doing anything stupid.’
She shrugged off the threat, emboldened by a mixture of anger, fear and adrenalin. ‘So, you’ve resorted to threatening me now. What does it mean, Tommy? Please, tell us how you came to have Karin’s flower note, a note that none of us has ever seen with the flowers alive, in your phone.’
Phoebe saw his eyes flash with pain, briefly, and then cloud with anger. He spoke through clenched teeth, his hands balled into fists beside his body. ‘That’s what I want to explain to you, if you’ll just—’
‘Just what? Give you back your phone?’ She summoned all her pain, all her anger, all her strength and looked him right in the eyes. She saw his fear. ‘It’s not going to happen, Tommy.’
‘You had no right to steal it.’ He grabbed her then, his hand a suffocating grip on her upper arm, twisting it behind her back like she’d seen him do to Jez in play. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek. She yelped in pain as his fingers dug under her armpit. ‘Where is it?’ he asked.
She yelled out and lunged for the door, trying to shake his iron grip, kicking at his leg with her foot.
And then Jez was there. ‘Get off her,’ he said, arms on his brother’s shoulders trying to pull him backwards.
She could see the large vein in Tommy’s neck bulging. Her eyes met Jez’s for a second. They were wild and sad and she understood that she had to run. She threw open the door and bolted for the car, her hands fumbling and clumsy with the keys. When she was in the cabin of the car she looked back, desperate to see her sister, but she was gone. Please let her have run out the back.
Tommy was thundering towards her now, Jez at his heels. Her pounding heart was all she could hear. Everything slowed as she started the engine. She struggled to put the car into first and skidded on the loose gravel until the tyres found traction. She didn’t dare look back until she was out of the drive. There was no car. Tommy had been bluffing about the lift into the Bay; they must have walked up from Driftwood. They couldn’t follow. Her whole body shook with relief as she caught sight of Camilla in Ginny’s front yard, running, the bag in her arms. Phoebe skidded to a halt and leaned over to open the door.
Camilla jumped in and slammed the door shut, twisting to check they weren’t behind. She slumped in her seat in relief. ‘Oh my God oh my God oh my God,’ she said, her hand against her chest, trying to catch her breath. ‘Lock the doors.’
‘They’re locked,’ said Phoebe, pulling away from the kerb and pressing her foot hard on the accelerator. Her body was still shaking. She kept her eyes on the road and gripped the steering wheel so hard her hands ached. ‘He did something really, really bad, didn’t he?’
Camilla reached out for her hand and squeezed it. When Phoebe glanced over there were tears in her sister’s eyes.
CHAPTER 26
When they reached the police station in the Bay, Phoebe half expected Tommy to be there, waiting for them, shaking his head in admonishment. That was the thing about Tommy—he wielded such natural authority that he always seemed one step ahead. Until now. Phoebe was on high alert as they walked up the concrete steps and pushed open the glass door, but no one stopped them as they moved into the fluorescent-lit foyer that smelled of sweet disinfectant and stale sweat.
‘What if he knows someone here?’ Camilla whispered as they waited at the front desk. ‘What if we get in trouble for stealing his phone?’
‘I’ve sent the picture to myself, to you, to Dad. He can try to stop this but it doesn’t change the fact of that picture. The chief investigator of Karin’s case is going to see that picture.’
‘Graham Pickering, that’s his name,’ said Camilla. ‘He’s a nice man, we’ll ask for him.’
‘You can make a statement to Constable Lindy,’ said the policeman behind the desk when he finally appeared and told them that Chief Inspector Pickering wasn’t available. Constable Lindy wrote everything down in a large, childish script, nodding as they spoke, and worrying a gold hoop earring in her right ear.
Phoebe imagined Tommy interrogating people in rooms that looked like this one. Everything was grey. The chairs, the tabletop, the walls. A life in monochrome. She had always pictured his job as powerful, perhaps because of the rarefied way he and everyone else referred to it. But she saw now that it involved a lot of plastic-backed chairs and cold coffee in paper cups. Phoebe wondered at the effect of being surrounded by crime every day. Had it made Tommy complacent? Is that why he’d kept the photo on his phone? Or was it that he felt immune to the law he upheld? Somehow above it, as that rookie cop had hinted at Tommy’s party?
They explained to Constable Lindy what they’d found on Tommy’s phone and how it related to Karin and her death. It took a while, and the policewoman didn’t look as surprised as Phoebe would have liked. She said they would probably get a stern warning for stealing a Federal Police officer’s phone. Camilla shot her a worried look but they handed over the phone.
Constable Lindy placed it carefully in a plastic evidence sleeve and zipped it shut. She assured them they’d go and talk to Tommy that afternoon. They were taking it very seriously, especially in the light of Tommy’s physical assault. Phoebe had a mark on her upper arm—a deep red, darker at the edges like a blossoming mould spore. Constable Lindy photographed it and kept referring to it as ‘the injury’.
Phoebe did most of the talking. Her voice didn’t waver, except when she was describing Jez holding his brother back, remembering the pain in his face, the message in his eyes. When they left the station her hand found her phone instinctively. She wanted desperately to call him but she knew she couldn’t. They were on opposite sides of a police investigation now. Just because he’d helped her escape his brother didn’t mean he was on her side.
They recounted everything to their dad that afternoon. He scratched at the base of his neck, as he often did when he was thinking deeply, or troubled by something. Phoebe and Camilla had agreed to play down the extent of Tommy’s violence, the desperation to get his phone back, in an effort not to alarm their father. He wasn’t prone to alarm, but Phoebe saw pain skim the surface of his eyes when they explained the significance of the flowers being alive in Tommy’s photo.
The next day Wendy and the Texan came around before lunch. They’d been at Driftwood when the police arrived on Sunday afternoon. They were shocked when the officers said they were looking for Tommy, and told them he and his family had just left for Canberra and that Jez had gone with them. They’d noticed Tommy was a bit distracted, but thought it was probably just work and that he wanted to get on the road. It was hard for Phoebe to explain why the police were there. She didn’t talk in specifics, just that Tommy was somehow involved with Karin before her death.
Wendy kept shaking her head. P
hoebe knew she was thinking of Jenna and Harry. The Texan said, ‘We’ll look after the house and garden.’
There were several days where they heard nothing. Phoebe made excuses to go into the Bay to get mobile reception, just in case Jez had contacted her, though deep down, she knew he wouldn’t. She was tempted to keep driving and make the two-hour trip to Canberra just to know something, just to do something. Part of her wanted to find Jez and beg him to understand. Beg him to come back to her. Camilla called the station every day but the police weren’t saying much, except that they were investigating. Wendy’s only update was that Jez had called the house to say he’d be away for a bit and could they keep an eye on things. He was staying in the spare bedroom at Tommy’s house in Manuka, and Wendy said it seemed like Tommy was still there.
Phoebe passed the days with a knot pulled tight inside her. She couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t think about anything else. Part of her wanted everything to be a big misunderstanding, for Jez to come back to her with answers, for Tommy to have kept it all a secret to hide his affair with Karin. For Jenna to forgive him. For them all to move on. But another part of her was angry.
Their dad insisted on staying even though he had planned to return to Sydney, and Camilla made arrangements to remain until they knew what was happening. She spent an hour on the phone with their mother explaining the new developments.
‘What did she say?’ Phoebe asked.
‘You know Mum. She went quiet, and then started talking to me about cushion covers for the master bedroom of one of our main clients at the moment.’
‘Why does she do that?’
‘You know she can’t handle it. She just wants to get on with things so she doesn’t have to feel anything. She cares, she just can’t express it.’
Phoebe shook her head but she wasn’t surprised. ‘I used to think you were like that.’
‘I am,’ said Camilla, poking out her tongue.
It was deep autumn by now and the leaves were falling to the ground, crunching underfoot. Everything looked sparse, hungry, cold. Phoebe tried to keep tending her vegetable patch but it, too, was shutting down for the winter, the ground hardening beneath her fingers and cracking her skin raw.
Phoebe rang Woodend Hill about Karin’s table and arranged to have it delivered to the cottage. It was so big they struggled to get it through the sliding doors and it didn’t fit properly in the lounge or kitchen, so they had to leave it on the deck. Phoebe worried that the beautiful timber would swell and bloat with the weather, but what else could they do? She would have liked to take it to Driftwood but she felt cut off from that place now, as though the tether that had always held their two homes together had been severed.
She and Camilla took walks over to the village for coffee and went into the Bay for groceries. They visited Ginny to tell her what they suspected. They studied Karin’s flower book again and decided it might be useful in evidence. Camilla dropped it off at the station that afternoon but no one was able to update her on anything.
Phoebe and Camilla were in the Bay having coffee when the police called. Phoebe passed the phone to Camilla when she saw the unknown number come up, her heart racing. She didn’t have the strength to talk about it. Camilla used her professional power voice and put the phone on speaker so Phoebe could hear. Tommy had been called into the station and given a warning after Phoebe’s assault. Camilla quizzed Constable Lindy about whether he’d be given special treatment as a Federal Police officer, but she said everyone was treated the same under the law. Camilla rolled her eyes. She said he’d been questioned over the photo on the phone. He’d demanded a lawyer and refused to speak. What did that mean in relation to Karin, Phoebe wanted to know? She told them the police were investigating further and putting together a case. But did they think that he’d been involved in Karin’s death? Camilla pressed her, but all she could say was that they had reopened the case and were investigating.
Phoebe felt frustration buzz along her shoulders as Camilla hung up the phone. She dragged Camilla to the local pub where they sat in the beer garden drinking red wine until they had to call their dad to come and pick them up. Phoebe couldn’t stand the not knowing. She couldn’t stand the silence from Jez. She couldn’t stand the waiting.
The next morning she woke early after another mostly sleepless night. The thought of doing nothing, of waiting one more day, was suffocating. She had to do something. She scrawled a note to her dad and Camilla then grabbed her car keys and her phone.
It was a Thursday, and the elegant, tree-lined streets of Manuka were peopled mostly by mothers pushing expensive prams. Phoebe didn’t know Canberra well and used her phone to navigate to his house. Wendy had given her the address. When she pulled up opposite, Jenna and Harry were in the drive, getting out of their SUV. Jenna was unloading groceries from the boot in that deeply tired way she suspected was endemic to motherhood. Phoebe felt a stab of sadness seeing her engaged in such an innocent everyday activity. Jenna knew nothing, she was sure of it. Tommy was used to keeping secrets from her for his work. It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to keep other, more personal secrets.
The house was completely different from what Phoebe had expected. She’d always seen Tommy and Jenna at Driftwood, in a natural setting. But this place was modern, and big, with little greenery. Shiny glass windows at the front reflected the sun, and there was an electronic metal gate and an intercom. There was a sterility about it that made Phoebe shiver. It was funny the assumptions she’d made. She’d imagined they lived in a place similar to Driftwood; she’d assumed Tommy was an essentially good person, a dedicated father and husband, and nothing more complicated than that. She felt pressure in her chest at the thought of Jenna. It was likely she still harboured the same innocent delusions about her husband. Was Phoebe really the one to shatter those? If not, then why had she driven all this way?
She sat perfectly still in her car, except for the rhythmic drum of her fingers on the steering wheel. She was torn. It was unlikely Tommy was home, but she couldn’t know for sure. And Jez? Was he in the house? She made a split-second decision, killing the engine and slamming the door closed behind her before she could change her mind. She reached Jenna just as she was ushering Harry in through the front door. Phoebe felt shaky with nerves but she gave Jenna a wide smile as she called out from the bottom of the front steps.
Jenna’s face morphed into its usual warmth and Phoebe felt relieved. ‘Hi, Phoebe. What are you doing here?’ She scooped Harry into her arms. ‘Look, it’s Aunty Phoebe, Haz.’
Harry gave his customary wave accompanied by his serious little look. Phoebe waved back, her heart sinking. What was she thinking? She had no place to tell Jenna anything.
‘I needed to see if Jez was okay. I know it’s been hard with him and Asha.’
Jenna smiled. ‘You’re a good friend. I don’t think he’s here, but come in for a cuppa,’ she said, moving through the door into a cream-carpeted hallway with an ostentatious gold mirror.
‘It’s okay. I should be off. Just here to see old friends.’ She hated herself for lying.
‘Just come in for one cup. I could do with some adult company, Tommy’s always home so late. And you can help me unload the groceries while the kettle’s boiling.’ Jenna laughed.
Phoebe followed her into the hall, relieved to hear that Tommy was at work. She picked up two bags of groceries as she passed.
‘Oh, you’re a sweetie,’ said Jenna.
There was a carpeted staircase leading to a second level and they walked through a lounge with an enormous flat-screen TV, emerging into a spacious, cream tile and blonde timber kitchen. It opened onto a wide deck and grassy backyard, complete with miniature cubby house. It was the epitome of the Australian family dream home. Phoebe put the bags onto the granite kitchen island. Her hands were shaking.
Jenna settled Harry in front of the television in the adjoining family room and filled the kettle at the sink. ‘It’s so nice you’ve dropped in. I’m a bi
t pathetic today, really.’ She shook her head. ‘You just get a bit sick of . . .’ She shrugged and looked at the ceiling. ‘You know.’ Phoebe’s heart lurched as Jenna put the kettle down with a thud and wiped under her eyes. ‘Sorry, I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself.’
Phoebe rushed to her side. ‘Don’t say that. It’s okay. Let me do this. You sit.’
Jenna slumped onto a stool, her head in her hands. ‘Sorry, I’m just tired. Harry’s been waking at night a lot lately and Tommy’s been so jittery with work, doing late nights. He’s got a massive case on.’
Phoebe felt her arms twitch involuntarily. No, Tommy’s been jittery because he’s being investigated and he hasn’t told you about it. The anger she felt was as precise and sharp as a knife tip.
Jenna pressed her fingertips into the sides of her skull. Her eyes were unfocused as she spoke. ‘And when he’s got all this work stuff on he tosses and turns at night, and between that and Harry waking, I hardly sleep.’
‘That must be hard,’ said Phoebe, picturing Tommy writhing in the dead of night. Was he feeling guilty? How did he think this was going to pan out? That somehow he’d keep his involvement with Karin a secret from Jenna? His blind stupidity was astounding.
Phoebe searched in a cupboard for mugs. The routine of putting the tea bags in, pouring the water and milk and stirring, calmed her. She placed a cup in front of Jenna, who wrapped her hands around it gratefully. It was so tempting to sit down right now and free her from her misery. But it wasn’t really freedom that the truth was offering—it was single parenthood with a disabled child. And it wasn’t Phoebe’s place to do this. She found herself lost for words as she sat down at the bench next to Jenna. She watched the other woman’s shoulders slump as Harry started banging something repeatedly, making little distraught noises.
Jenna’s voice was very calm, as though she was talking about a new product in the supermarket. ‘Sometimes you just want to walk away, you know? From it all. I envy you so much, Phoebe. You’re so free. When things didn’t work out with your ex you could just run and go to the cottage. Start fresh. Once you’ve got kids, that’s not possible.’
The Lost Summers of Driftwood Page 26
