Blood Tears

by JD Nixon

  “Do you mind, Maguire? Can I just talk to Tessie alone for a moment? For once.”

  The Sarge stalked away, but not too far.

  “Thank you,” I said to Jake, looking down, not wanting him to see my fresh tears. It wasn’t something I wanted to share with him anymore.

  “I know I’m a total hypocrite, and I’ll understand if you tell me to piss off, but I’m really hoping you’ll let me go to his funeral.”

  “Of course. He would have wanted you to be there,” I said quietly. “You meant a lot to him too.”

  “Until the end of us.”

  “Yes. He was very angry with you.”

  He was silent, but I could feel his eyes on me. I didn’t want to look at him.

  “Thank you. You’ve always been a better person than me.” He fleetingly kissed me on the cheek. I pulled my hands from his and moved away.

  “That’s enough. Off you go,” said the Sarge.

  “Who put you in charge of Tessie?” Jake demanded. “She can speak for herself.”

  “The Super put me in charge to protect her from your family. I’ll show you out now,” the Sarge said coolly.

  “I have other things I want to discuss with her.” His eyes beseeched me. “Things about us, Tessie.”

  “I’ll show you out now,” the Sarge repeated in a voice that would brook no opposition, and, unless he wanted to make a scene, Jake had no choice but to comply.

  The Sarge closed the door after him with unnecessary force and came to confront me.

  “Why the hell are you letting him go to your father’s funeral?” he demanded.

  “Because it’s not about who I’d like to be there, it’s about who Dad would like to be there. And Dad and Jakey were very close.” I sat down on the lounge. “I suppose I’ll have to think of all that. I don’t even know where to start.”

  He sat next to me. “I can help.”

  “Can you take me to my house?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not yet.”

  “Please?”

  Against his better judgement, we drove in the patrol car to the smouldering ruins of the house in which my mother and my father had both been murdered by Bycrafts. The Fire Investigation Unit was present when we arrived, searching through the scorched timbers for clues about what had happened.

  Seeing the patrol car pull up, one of the inspectors approached us, and poked his head in the window.

  “G’day. I understand there’s a daughter of the deceased in town. Can you tell me how I can get in contact with her?”

  “That’s me,” I said, my voice subdued.

  “Oh, sorry, love. Condolences. You might be able to help us.”

  I spent the next ten minutes sketching out a rough plan of the house and answering some questions, one of which was particularly upsetting.

  “We’ve found two bodies inside. One seemed to be in bed in . . .” He checked the plan. “. . . the main bedroom.”

  “That was probably my father, Trevor Fuller,” I sniffed, a bit teary again. “He used a wheelchair, so wasn’t very mobile.”

  “And a body in the hallway.”

  “That was probably his girlfriend, Adele . . . Oh, I’m sorry, my mind’s gone completely blank about her last name.”

  He patted me on the back. “That’s okay, love. We can find out.”

  Just then, a gaggle of clucking came down the side of the house and my chickens appeared out of nowhere, probably recognising my voice.

  “Oh, my God,” I said, crying again. “I thought they were gone too.” They clucked around my feet in desperation. Adele must have forgotten to coop them for me last night. I’d never been so glad about something before.

  “Probably fled from the flames,” said the inspector. He winked at me. “Pity. I’m partial to a roast chook.” I gave him the evil eye. He looked awkward. “Sorry. You tend to develop a bit of gallows humour in this job.”

  I nodded to show there were no hard feelings.

  “Tess, what are you going to do with them?” asked the Sarge. “Their coop’s destroyed.”

  “We’re going to take them back to your place. They can roam the yard during the day and sleep in your shed at night. I can vouch for its comfyness,” I said with a touch of tartness.

  “How are we going to get them there?”

  “In the patrol car. How else?”

  “Tess.”

  “In the patrol car,” I insisted stubbornly.

  “You’re cleaning up the mess.”

  “Fair enough.”

  So, to the bemusement of the fire inspectors, with some difficulty, we rounded up the five chickens, placed them in the back seat of the patrol car, and took them for a spin into town. By the time we drove up the police house driveway, the Sarge had Lady Sara nestling in his lap and another chook on the back of his seat pecking at his ear. The other three sat obediently on the back seat, enjoying the ride.

  When I pulled Lady Sara from his lap, the death-stare he gave me made me giggle uncontrollably. “She likes you.”

  “Tell her I’m quite fond of her too,” he said dryly.

  “I hope you don’t mean that in a Sunday roast kind of way.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “You be the judge of that.”

  I spent a happy hour settling the girls in to their new home and cleaning out the patrol car. I realised that it helped for me to stay busy as it took my mind off Dad. And thinking of that I settled down to arrange a funeral.

  The next few days were taken up with that. The Sarge considerately tracked down Adele’s family so they could decide on her funeral arrangements, in the end taking her back to her family town to be buried.

  Dad’s funeral was a very respectful, touching, and well-attended affair. The only marring moment was when the Sarge and I arrived a little earlier at the cemetery to be there to greet the presiding reverend, only to be met with a bunch of lounging Bycrafts waiting for me.

  “Don’t fucking like it now, do you, piglet?” yelled Rosie. “Don’t like it when we crash your precious father’s funeral.”

  My face fell at the thought of them ruining my carefully planned memorial to my father. I knew they’d been released from house arrest pending further investigations, but I never expected them to have the nerve to turn up at Dad’s funeral to heckle me. Especially as one or more of them were responsible for his death.

  The Sarge stepped forward, but I restrained him with a hand on his arm.

  “Just ignore them. I refuse to engage with them,” I said with soft calmness. I kept walking. On this day, of all days, I would not let them psych me.

  “That’s right,” sneered Rick. “Run away, little piglet bitch.”

  “Dunno why you’re bothering to bury your dad,” yelled out Rosie after us. “He’s already been cremated.”

  Mocking laughter scorched my ears.

  I spun around, marched right up to her, and slogged her one in the face, possibly busting her nose and my fist in the process. Blood flooded down to her chin. I was pleased with that result.

  Without a word, I returned to a shocked and dismayed Sarge, nursing my fist, but regaining the solemn dignity the occasion required. He stared at me warily.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Tess. I don’t know what to say to you sometimes.”

  “She deserved it. Let’s be ready for the reverend. I don’t want to keep her waiting.”

  And if that good lady wondered why I cradled my right hand throughout some of the beautiful ceremony, and winced when she shook it afterwards, she was too tactful to ask.

  Jake attended, but kept a polite distance from me, and I was glad about that. Fiona attended with Ronnie, but she held her tongue for once, and I was glad about that. Dave and his mother attended, and more than one of the townsfolk approached him before and after the ceremony to thank him for his efforts in putting out the fires, and I was glad about that. I even saw Young Kenny lurking in the background, and I was glad about that. I realised then that I had
a lot to be glad about, just as I had a lot to be sad about.

  I gave a simple eulogy to my father, hoping to do the enormous love I had for him justice. Other members of the community wished to speak about him too, and it was nice to hear what they said. I listened intently, flanked by the Sarge and Ronnie, each holding my hand, the Sarge being particularly careful of my aching right hand.

  Abe had volunteered his functions room to hold the after-ceremony and his chef excelled himself with simple, but tasty, finger food. I was occupied accepting the condolences of what seemed to be a never-ending stream of people; almost having to shake more hands than my own poor hand could bear. It was only then it really struck me just what a respected man my father had been in the community, and I felt proud about that.

  At one point, Lavinia approached me. “I always knew you’d be the last of the Fullers,” she purred. “Want to know your fate now too?”

  She was saved from a vicious knifing. Marianne, who’d travelled from the city for the funeral, and Gretel distracted her by pretending to be interested in her predictions. I didn’t even know why she was there, because she had nothing to do with my father while he was alive. He would not have stood for her fake psychic bullshit for one moment.

  Though I was busy, I still found a moment to take Young Kenny a cup of tea and three plain biscuits to where he sat outside on one of the remaining logs of Abe’s fence. He clasped my hand and squeezed, and I tried not to react to the pain. But he didn’t have to say one word to me to let me know he was also giving me his deepest commiserations.

  Chapter 39

  A few days later, on Christmas Eve, it was my twentieth-eighth birthday. Since Dad had died, I’d had up and down days, and my birthday was a down day. When I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, I saw nothing but gloominess looking back at me. Twenty-eight-year-old gloominess.

  My first birthday without any family with which to celebrate.

  The Sarge had prepared me a special birthday breakfast, complete with an eclectic collection of wild flowers in a thin vase for which I suspected he’d raided the local park. That raised a smile from me.

  “You’re too nice to me,” I said, tucking in and demolishing all the food he’d served me. I left the flowers, though some of them did look rather tasty.

  “I have a gift for you,” he said.

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know, because living with me is a daily gift, right.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Right.”

  He handed over a beautifully wrapped rectangular box. I opened it carefully to find a gorgeous crystal sculpture of an orchid. “Oh. That’s so lovely.”

  “I thought you might like something pretty to look at,” he said.

  “For when you’re not here?” I laughed.

  “Never been called pretty before,” he smiled. “Do you like it?”

  “No, I don’t like it. I love it. Thanks so much, Sarge.”

  “Uh-uh. You can’t thank me until you do it properly.”

  “Thanks so much, Finn. I love it.”

  “That’s much better. I feel terrible leaving you alone on your birthday and Christmas.”

  “I don’t have to be alone. I’ve had lots of offers. Fiona virtually ordered me to spend the holidays with her and Ronnie. I’m choosing to be alone. It’s just too soon to pretend to be jolly with other people. But anyway, you’ll have a lovely Christmas with your mother and stepfather in the city. That’s something for you to look forward to.”

  “I’m leaving about three this afternoon. I’ll get there about ten tonight.”

  “It’s such a long drive. I hate it.”

  “I’ll put music on and the kilometres will fly by.” He scanned my face. “You going to be okay by yourself, Tessie?”

  “I’ll be fine. I might head down to the beach for a while now.”

  “I’ll drop you off.”

  “It’s okay, thanks. A good jog is exactly what I need today.”

  I jogged to the beach, enjoying the feeling of pushing myself. Since I’d slogged Rosie, and now that they were all under suspicion of some fairly heavy charges, the Bycrafts had backed off a lot. That didn’t stop me from being vigilant though, a habit I didn’t think I’d ever lose.

  I sat on the beach for ages. I hugged my knees and stared out at the horizon, the grey sky and grey ocean matching my mood.

  Twenty-eight.

  I had a lot of decisions to make. Where was I going to go from here? Should I leave town and move back to the city? Should I quit the force and get a new job? Would I ever find another boyfriend? Did I even want one? I hadn’t found love to be much of a positive experience so far.

  I heard the vehicle approaching and stopping up on the cliff top parking lot. I knew who it was so didn’t bother turning around, even at the sound of feet descending the steep stairs to the beach, even when somebody plonked down next to me on the sand.

  “Happy birthday, Tessie,” said Jake.

  I kept my eyes focused on the horizon. “Thank you.”

  “I went to Maguire’s house and he said you were here.”

  “Here I am.”

  “I bought you a present.” He fumbled and pulled out a small jewellery box. He opened it and showed me a lovely pair of diamond stud earrings.

  “I don’t want them. Give them to Dorrie.”

  His smile faded. “Tessie, please. I saved up all year for them.”

  “I don’t want them. I’d give you back the other jewellery you gave me, but I can’t. It’s all gone in the fire.”

  There was a silence in which the only sound was the clip of him shutting the jewellery box.

  “Do you hate me?” he asked.

  “No, Jakey. I don’t hate you.” And that was true. “We had a wonderful relationship, and I’ll always treasure that.”

  “I’ve fucked up everything so badly. I threw away the one good thing that’s ever happened to me in my life.”

  “I don’t know what you expect me to say. You finished it. It’s over.”

  “Can you give me another chance? Please? I love you so much, Tessie.”

  “Looked like you were loving Dorrie last time I saw.”

  “I’m sorry. That was a mistake. A huge mistake that I regret a lot. I hate myself for it actually, but I was so angry with you. I wanted to hurt you.”

  “You succeeded.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought you were going to ruin Denny’s funeral, and that you were going to do it on purpose just because you hate my family so much.” He dug his feet into the sand, flicking it up with his toes. “Turned out it was my family who ruined it. I know you better than to think you’d do something like that, but . . . I must have snapped or something. I don’t have any other explanation for why I acted like that.”

  That resonated with me, because I knew what it felt like to suddenly snap in the face of extreme emotional anguish. But at least I’d had someone to look after me when I did.

  “It’s okay, Jakey,” I said gently, and I meant it.

  “But no more us?”

  “No. I always knew we’d never last just because of the whole Fuller-Bycraft situation. It hurt so much to break up with you. I cried a lot. I can’t go through that again in the future. I just can’t. So over is over.”

  He didn’t say anything, but I could hear the muted sounds of him crying. I put my arm around him and we leaned against each other.

  “What about if I divorce Chantelle? If we live together?”

  “No, Jakey. You need to move on, and so do I,” I said sadly.

  We sat there for a little while longer before I stood. “I should go.”

  He stood too and I wiped the tears from his face.

  He held out the present. “Will you at least take this, please? I spent a lot of time choosing something I thought you’d like.”

  “Thank you.” I kissed him on the cheek. “They’re lovely.”

  “Will you think of me when you wear them?”

  “Al
ways,” I promised.

  We hugged, and I left him alone on the beach.

  *****

  Christmas Day dawned as grey as the day before. My first Christmas without any family.

  That despondent mood followed me through the day, even though the Sarge rang me in the morning. He instructed me to open a cupboard in his bedroom where I found two presents for me – a set of expensive saucepans, and a very expensive knife set.

  “We have to start rebuilding a home for you somewhere,” he said.

  “Oh, Sarge, um, Finn. So thoughtful. Thank you.”

  I felt guilty about such extravagant presents, especially as I’d only been able to afford a new album of his favourite artist for him. Not to mention I’d been sponging off him for weeks. I’d have to think of some way to repay him. Or better still, I should move out.

  I was looking in the fridge, shaking my head at all the festive food the Sarge had stocked for me, when there was a knock at the door. Half-expecting it to be Ronnie sent by Fiona to kidnap me and bring me to Big Town, I opened the door to find Jake standing there with a bunch of beautiful flowers.

  “Jakey?”

  “We started with flowers. I thought we should end with flowers,” he said, smiling.

  For some reason, instead of making me smile in return, it unexpectedly made me start crying.

  “Oh, Tessie. I’m sorry. It was meant to be light-hearted,” he said hastily. “I’m so sorry. I wish I hadn’t done it. It was stupid.”

  I pulled him inside and shut the door, sniffing. “It’s okay. It’s just . . . I don’t know. I’m in a weird mood today.”

  And knowing me well, he put down the flowers and hugged me.

  It was nice; it was familiar. It was no longer to be mine.

  He looked down and I looked up, and he leaned down to press his lips on mine, and I let him. And one thing led to another until we were in bed, remembering exactly what it was we’d loved so much about each other.

  Afterwards I ran a bath for us, and we sat either end, sipping on some of the champagne the Sarge had left for me.

  Jake raised his glass. “Here’s to break up sex.”

  I raised my glass, and clinked it against his. “Cheers.”