A door opened behind him and he heard footsteps.
‘Harry?’
He spun around and waited for the woman approaching him to get closer. ‘Yeah. That’s me.’
‘Didn’t expect anyone else at this time of night. Come through. I’m Lisa Kane, one of the nurses and a good friend of Eddie’s. We met when your dad came in on Christmas Day, but I’m not sure if you remember me. Your sister and brother-in-law are in the visitor’s room waiting for you. I think Claire’s finally fallen asleep.’
He followed Lisa through the darkened hallways, turning left then right, then right again. She indicated a closed door.
‘I’ll leave you alone. Simon knows how to call me if you need me.’ She darted off quietly.
Harry stood at the door and sucked in a deep breath. He turned the knob slowly and peeked in, unsure what to expect.
Claire was fast asleep, spooned in Simon’s arms on the fold-out sofa bed. Even in the dimness of the room, her face looked as pale as the white hospital blankets that covered her. Simon lifted his head blearily as the door closed. He put a finger to his lips.
Harry’s legs carried him automatically into the room. He reached down and put a hand on Simon’s shoulder. Simon slowly got up, being careful not to wake Claire, and they shook hands for longer than normal before hugging, both men sobbing into the other’s shoulder.
‘How’s she doing?’ Harry whispered after blowing his nose and drying his eyes.
‘They gave her a sleeping tablet to knock her out about an hour ago. Until then she cried nonstop.’
‘Where are the kids?’
‘My folks picked them up and took them back to their place.’
‘Do they know about . . .?
Simon sighed. ‘Yeah. Jackson is too little to understand but Olivia gets it.’
‘Roads are a mess. Took me hours to get through.’
‘I can imagine.’
Harry scratched at his jaw. He hadn’t shaved in days. ‘I wish I could have been here sooner.’
‘Nothing you could have done.’
‘The farm okay?’
‘Yeah. Still standing. I had a phone call from some guy called Steve Kane from the SES. One of the sheds has gone, but otherwise everything else is unscathed. Thank God. Could have been so much worse.’
Harry nodded. ‘Doesn’t make any of this any easier.’
‘No, it doesn’t.’
The door opened again and Lisa appeared. ‘Thought you might like something to sleep on,’ she said, dragging a mattress into the room. Another nurse followed, carrying a load of blankets and pillows.
‘Cheers,’ Harry said. ‘But I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.’ Even as he said that he yawned. ‘I should go and see how –’
‘Yeah. Good idea,’ Simon said.
‘You okay here?’
He nodded. ‘I want to be here if Claire wakes up.’
‘I guess there’s no perfect time to do this.’
‘Nah, there’s not.’ Simon tried to smile but it quickly faded from his lips.
The last time Harry had seen his dad, his mum had been very much alive and Jim had been sitting in his recliner looking relatively comfortable. Now he lay in the narrow hospital bed asleep, looking like he’d aged twenty years. Harry wanted to take his hand but it felt too awkward. He stood back and chewed on his lip. Should he wake him and let him know he was there?
‘He’s comfortable,’ Lisa said behind him. ‘He was restless earlier but he’s more settled now.’
Jim stirred.
Harry cleared his throat. ‘Hi, Dad. I don’t know if you can hear me.’ Recognition moved slowly across his father’s face but when he tried to speak nothing came out. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, licking his lips. Harry picked up a glass and held the straw to his father’s mouth. After Jim had taken a long sip, Harry replaced the glass on the table. Jim’s eyes were closed again, as though he was asleep. Not knowing what else to do, Harry dragged a chair to the side of the bed and this time took his father’s hand in his and gently stroked the motionless fingers. They were ice cold.
‘She’s gone, isn’t she?’ Jim asked eventually.
The words were little more than a whisper and Harry almost thought he’d imagined them. His throat burned with the effort of holding back tears. He nodded. ‘Yeah, Dad. She’s gone.’
There was a long pause with no sound except the ticking of the clock on the wall. Harry’s heart ached. If only he’d been able to see her before she died.
‘Was it quick?’
‘I’m sure it was.’ Harry hadn’t heard all the details yet, but on the phone Claire said it appeared she’d had a heart attack before crashing into the tree. For her sake, he hoped she hadn’t suffered.
‘I’m going fishing next week,’ Jim announced a few minutes later.
Harry frowned. What was he talking about? Were the pain killers making him hallucinate?
‘Maybe not next week, but the one after. Your mum loved it when we went fishing together.’
Harry tried to smile but his cheeks felt stiff. ‘That’s what she told you. She hated fishing because you always made her clean the fish.’
‘But she loved sitting with me in the boat.’
‘I don’t reckon you’ll be doing any fishing, Dad,’ Harry said gently.
‘Not here. There.’ Jim pointed to the ceiling.
‘Where? You mean heaven?’
‘Yeah. That’s where Mum is, for sure.’
Harry’s smile came more easily this time. ‘She’s probably organising everyone already.’
Jim’s eyes snapped open and he stared at Harry. ‘I wish it had been me, son. I wish it had been me.’ He closed his eyes and a single tear made a trail down his cheek. Harry almost reached and brushed it away until he stopped himself. It was too intimate a gesture. Instead he sat quietly, watching his father sleep.
*
As the first pale blue strands of dawn appeared on the horizon, Harry returned to the room where Claire and Simon were. He wanted to call Eddie and make sure she was all right but his phone was flat. He plugged it into the charger and discovered three missed calls from her. But before he had a chance to call her back, he sank onto the mattress, exhaustion clawing at every muscle, closed his eyes – telling himself it was for just a moment – and promptly fell asleep.
A gentle shake tugged him awake. It could have been hours, minutes or days later. He had no idea of the time.
‘Harry, wake up.’
He prised his eyes open and stared at his sister’s face. Her own eyes were red and puffy from crying. ‘Hey, Claire-Bear.’
They held each other and for the next few minutes sobbed.
‘Dad’s asking for you,’ she said, eventually.
Harry struggled into a sitting position, surprised to discover he was still fully dressed. He hadn’t even removed his shoes. ‘Is he okay?’
‘No change. He’s stable.’
He ran his tongue over his teeth. They were furry and his breath probably smelled worse than it tasted. ‘I know this will sound selfish but is there any chance of a shower and coffee first? I’ve been in these clothes for two days.’
Claire pointed. ‘There’s a bathroom in there. Towels are in the cupboard. Sime’s gone out to get coffees.’
Harry stood and stretched the kinks from his back. ‘Tell Dad I’ll be ten minutes.’ Claire bent to scoop up the discarded blankets. ‘Leave them. I’ll clean up in here. You go and sit with Dad.’
Half an hour later, Harry, Claire and Simon sat in a semicircle of chairs around the end of the hospital bed. Harry tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. He rubbed his brow, cursing the tiredness that fogged his brain. He’d never felt so drained in his entire life. Simon had brought him two coffees – both double shots – and he’d sculled them both, but the caffeine hadn’t hit his arteries yet.
‘We had the radio on, of course,’ Jim was saying. His voice was breathy, each word an effort. ‘We assumed, naiv
ely, that if the fire was close enough, they’d give us plenty of warning.’
He coughed – a hacking sound that seemed to last forever – and it took him a while to catch his breath before he was able to speak again. Harry wasn’t sure whether the cough was caused by smoke inhalation or the unforgiving disease.
‘You don’t have to talk, Dad,’ Harry said, as he ran a hand over his stubble. He didn’t want to hear the details of his mum’s death.
Jim’s eyes glistened. ‘But I want to tell you what happened.’
‘Please, Dad, rest,’ Claire urged. ‘We don’t need to know what happened.’
Jim dragged in a lungful of air, which only made him cough again. ‘I want to tell you,’ he repeated, with more force than before.
Harry and Claire exchanged a fleeting look.
‘Okay,’ Claire agreed. ‘But if it tires you out too much, close your eyes and sleep.’
‘Cassie Lacey called your mum,’ he began. ‘She’d heard there was a fire over Osbornes Flat way. But you know how rumours spread around town. I was sceptical.’
‘Couldn’t you smell the smoke?’ Harry asked.
‘Couldn’t see it. Couldn’t smell it. Must’ve been blowin’ in the other direction.’
‘What happened then?’
‘Mum called the police. They said there was a fire but it wasn’t too big. She went outside and got the sprinklers going. Matt Ferguson showed up and offered to take Claire’s horses. He loaded them up on his float just to be safe. To be honest, I thought he was over-reacting.’
Claire edged forward in her seat, eyes flashing. ‘You weren’t going to try to stay, were you?’
‘Of course not,’ he replied gruffly. ‘Our plan was to leave at the first sign of fire. You knew that.’
Claire exhaled heavily. ‘Just as bloody well or I might have killed you.’ Simon reached for her hand and squeezed gently. Claire didn’t have any idea what she’d just said.
Jim closed his eyes again, as if trying to remember. Or perhaps trying to forget what happened next. ‘A spot fire started between the house and the road. But there was no way we could get there to try to put it out. That was when Mum decided we had to go. As she was getting me into the car the phone rang, it was someone from the SES telling us to get out now. By then we saw flames coming up from the back creek.’
‘What time was that?’ Harry asked.
‘Around two, two thirty. I’m not sure. You rang as Mum was opening the gates for the fire trucks so they could get in to access the water in the dam if they needed to.’ He coughed again, his eyes watering with the effort of trying to breathe. ‘The flames were so bad. And the sound, never heard anything like it in my entire life. Roaring and thundering. Thought a train was coming through the back of the property. It tore up the hill like a monster and plunged the whole place into darkness. I heard one of the gas bottles explode, then . . .’
When he closed his eyes Harry thought he’d fallen asleep, but he opened them again and silent tears traced down his cheeks.
‘I don’t remember much after that.’
Thank God.
*
Later that day, after Simon and Claire had left to collect their kids and go to check on things at Thornhill, Harry dozed in the chair beside his dad’s bed, only stirring when Lisa entered.
‘How are you doing?’ she asked kindly.
‘As good as can be expected.’ He rubbed at his eyes, surprised the clock on the wall showed it was nearly three. He still hadn’t called Eddie. ‘Is Eddie working today?’ he asked.
Lisa shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think she’ll be in for a while. She lost everything in the fire. The entire farm is gone.’
He stared at her in horror. ‘What about her grandparents? Are they –’
‘Safe,’ she quickly reassured him. ‘Everyone is safe. They were already in town when the fire hit.’
‘Eddie didn’t stay and try to save the property, did she?’ It would be exactly what she’d do. Things weren’t important to Eddie, people were, but he had no doubt she would have done whatever she could to protect her beloved cottage.
Lisa looked at him. ‘You heard what she did, didn’t you?’
He shook his head.
She perched on the chair next to him. ‘She was the one who saved your dad. She dragged him into a dam seconds before the fire went straight over the top of them.’
The shock stabbed him in his chest and made breathing difficult. Lisa kept talking, telling him how brave Eddie was, unaware of the emotions surging through him.
‘You should have seen her when they arrived here with your dad in the SES truck. She was covered in dirt and soot and looked like she’d walked through hell backwards.’ Lisa shook her head as if hardly able to believe it herself. ‘My hubby was there. He said she hauled your dad from the car and over to the dam while Ben kept working on your mum. She saved his life. Saved everyone’s lives.’
After Lisa left, grief ripped him in half and he began to sob. When the tears finally abated he considered calling Eddie but his loss was still too raw, his emotions too high, his pain too deep. What was he supposed to say to her? Thanks for saving my dad, but I wish you’d chosen my mum instead?
Bile rose in the back of his throat and he hated himself for even thinking like that. What sort of person wishes one parent had lived instead of the other? It wasn’t like it was Eddie’s fault.
Jim stirred and moaned. Harry went straight over to the bed. ‘Hey, Dad,’ he soothed. ‘You’re okay.’
His eyes flicked wildly around the room as though searching for someone. ‘Where’s Digby?’
Harry’s throat closed over again and fresh tears sprang to his eyes. ‘I don’t know, Dad.’
Jim frowned. ‘But he was with me in the car. I remember.’
No one seemed to know anything about Digby. Harry wanted to blame someone, but who? It was nobody’s fault except his own. If he’d been home with his parents instead of four hours away in Melbourne, none of this would have happened. He would have been the one driving. They would have left the farm much earlier, and taken the main road. His mum would still be alive. And so would Digby.
The guilt and grief ate at him, making him sick to the gut and wishing he could turn back time.
Chapter 32
The next morning Eddie opened her eyes, and as consciousness slowly returned, it took a few seconds for her brain to compute that she wasn’t in her little cottage at Glenview. She was at Aimee’s in Grace’s single bed. It took less time for the memories to crowd in. The fire. The accident. The rescue. The reality of all she’d lost flooded in so painfully it hurt to breathe. Everything had changed.
She reached for her phone to check the time and was surprised to see it was almost midday. Then again, it had been nearly 4 am when she’d fallen into bed. She checked her phone again and disappointment surged. Harry hadn’t called or responded to any of her messages. A shudder ripped through her. Surely he didn’t blame her for his mum’s death?
There was a light tap at the door and she looked over to see it open a crack, then Aimee’s head appeared. ‘Hey, sleepy head.’
Eddie sat up and rubbed her eyes. The door opened further and Aimee entered the room, exhaustion lining her pale face.
‘Did you sleep okay?’ she asked with a gentle smile.
‘Better than I thought I would.’
Aimee perched on the side of the bed, her expression contemplative. ‘The phone’s been ringing hot this morning. Christine Jennings called in and dropped off a bag of stuff for you after she’d heard you lost everything.’
Eddie frowned. ‘What sort of stuff?’
‘Toiletries mostly.’
Tears welled in Eddie’s eyes. ‘That’s so thoughtful of her.’
Aimee passed her a box of tissues.
‘I need to call her to say thanks.’
‘It can wait until you’ve gotten dressed and had something to eat.’ She rose and looked down at Eddie. ‘Are you hungry?’
‘Starving.’
‘Go and have another shower and I’ll make you something to eat.’
Eddie swung her legs out from under the doona. She plucked at Gus’s shirt. ‘What am I supposed to wear?’
Aimee smiled. ‘All sorted.’ She held up a large plastic shopping bag emblazoned with the familiar Target logo.
‘What’s this?’
‘A little something from us.’
Eddie opened the oversized bag. It was filled with clothes.
‘I was okay with you wearing my hubby’s shirt to bed, but I don’t think it’s right that you borrow his jocks.’
Eddie laughed for what felt like the first time in ages. She hugged her friend. ‘Oh, Aimz, this is so kind of you guys. Thank you.’
She smiled. ‘No big deal.’
‘When did you have time to do this?’
‘I didn’t. Gus took the kids into Wangaratta this morning with a list. I asked him to pick up the basics for you. Jeans, shorts, T-shirts, a few jumpers. Shoes.’
‘You are one in a million.’
Aimee offered another sad smile. ‘You’d do the same for me.’
‘I hope I never have to.’
After eating, they dug through more bags that had been dropped off by kind locals, left at Gus and Aimee’s front door. Clearly some people had used the fire as an excuse to get rid of their unwanted clothes, but it helped Eddie laugh. She was homeless, but if she needed to play lawn bowls she’d have all the gear, or if it started snowing she’d have a jacket.
The doorbell rang and Aimee answered it. It was Mick. He gave Eddie a tight fatherly hug that conveyed more than words could. Over his years in the CFA he’d comforted too many people to count after they’d lost everything in a fire. His hug said he understood.
As he was leaving, he handed her an envelope. ‘I made a few calls, and there’s some cash and gift certificates so you can buy what you need. It’s not much, but it will help. If you need anything else, you just ask.’
She hugged him again, more grateful than she could find the words to express. ‘Thank you, Mick. Everything will help.’
One More Song Page 28
