He’s dressed in black from head to foot. His height, build and colouring are identical to Tor’s. His face is chiselled and beautiful, just like his brother’s. But his hair is much shorter. And as he draws closer, I see a scar, a fine white line that runs across his cheek. His eyes are a lighter shade of grey than Tor’s. But that can’t be right. He and Tor are identical twins. Their eye colour must be the same.
He stops in front of me. ‘Golden Saunders?’
I nod.
He holds out his hand. ‘Per Amundsen. Tor sent me.’
I’m carrying my bag in one hand and my boots in the other. I put the boots down and we shake hands.
‘Why?’
‘He said you’re trouble.’
Trouble. Or in trouble? ‘I’m fine, thank you.’
He looks into my eyes. Then he frowns, and scans my face and body. My right foot is flat on the ground; my left one is raised, and resting on my toes. He slowly shakes his head. His expression is much easier to read than Tor’s. He doesn’t attempt to hide the fact that he’s surprised.
‘What?’ I say.
His eyes meet mine again. ‘I thought you’d be …’
‘What?’
The corner of his mouth lifts, just like Tor’s does. ‘Bigger,’ he says. ‘I thought you’d be bigger.’
Per is a scientist as well as a naval officer, and he’s obviously well educated and articulate like his brother. But almost all of Per’s vowel sounds are short and clipped. He and Tor grew up listening to different people. I’m almost certain of it.
A car spins its wheels as it turns right into Macquarie Street. And suddenly I’m on the other side of Per, shielded from the road by his body. He must have lifted me off the ground when he moved me but it happened so quickly I was barely aware of it. He scans the footpath either side of us, and across the road. He looks behind me towards Parliament House.
Per acts on instinct. There’s an unbridled wildness in the way that he moves. He’s like a brumby that’s been in the bush all its life. Tor is thoughtful, considered. His actions are measured. He’s powerful and graceful like a thoroughbred colt.
Per talks into his phone to a whole lot of people at once. He’s calming them down, telling them he’s found me. I think I hear Eric, and Nate. There’s a woman too, and another man.
Tor is speaking louder than the others. ‘Put her on. Now!’
I flinch. My left leg hurts and my right leg—taking most of my weight—is shaky, unsteady. So are my words: ‘I have to get home.’
Per blocks my way by holding out his arm. Then he speaks to his brother. ‘Make it quick. Harriet will be here soon. I don’t want her out in the cold.’
He puts the phone in my hand. I see it lying in my palm but my fingers are numb. I can’t grasp it, or lift it to my ear. All I can do is stare. Beside the words Tor Amundsen, the screen is blank.
‘Golden?’ Tor says my name a number of times.
I shake my head. Eric is threatening me again. Mum is involved. Tor initiated it. I’m standing on a footpath with a man who appears out of nowhere and looks like Tor but isn’t him. Tor is on the phone. My leg throbs.
‘Golden?’ Per bends his knees and looks into my eyes. He takes my arm to support me.
‘I’ll speak to him later, when I get home. Tell him that.’
Per puts the phone to his ear again. ‘Did you get that?’ He frowns at whatever it is Tor says. ‘She’s pale, elevated heart rate, dilated pupils, ankle’s a mess.’ He shakes his head. ‘Jesus she’s small.’
Per and I, with the group of pedestrians waiting for the lights to change at the crossing, watch Harriet walk along the footpath towards us. She’s an environmentalist, and very well known through the documentaries she makes. Her jumper clings to her body. Her legs are long and slender. When she gets close, she runs a hand through her long blonde hair to get it off her face, then takes Per’s outstretched hand in both of hers. She smiles into his eyes.
‘Hey.’
His eyes soften. ‘Trøbbel.’
‘Like you can talk.’
She’s still holding his hand when she turns to me. ‘Great to see you again,’ she says.
Last time I saw Harriet we were in Dr Makepeace’s waiting room. She always smiled at me, but her smile is different now—it lights up her face; there’s no sign of fear in her eyes like there was when we were teens.
‘You haven’t changed much,’ I say.
She points to her stomach, and grins. ‘What about this?’
I smile. ‘How many months?’
‘Four.’ She whispers, ‘We’re kidding ourselves that no one’s noticing yet.’
Per’s gaze swings from Harriet to me and back again. His brows draw together. ‘You know each other. How?’
Harriet tugs on his hand. ‘Don’t snoop, Per. It’s personal.’
Per doesn’t even try to fake a smile like his brother often does. He seems to be serious most of the time. He turns to me again.
‘I’ll drive you home,’ he says.
‘That’s not necessary.’
His eyes darken. Maybe they’re the same shade as Tor’s after all. He frowns again. ‘I said I’d—’
Harriet puts her hand over Per’s mouth. ‘Shush for a minute.’ She grins at me. ‘I assume it’s an automatic car? Sure you’re okay?’
‘Positive.’
‘Harriet,’ Per says, ‘I should take her home.’
She flings her arms around his neck, stands on her toes and kisses him firmly on the mouth. Her rounded belly presses against his stomach. He seems reluctant to let her go when she takes a backwards step.
‘Tor will break my neck,’ he says.
‘I’ll look after you,’ she says.
His lip lifts for a moment. But when he looks at me he’s severe all over again. He holds out his hand.
‘Keys,’ he says. ‘I’ll bring your car to you.’
After I tell him where to find my car, he touches the side of Harriet’s face. ‘You’re cold,’ he says. ‘It’s time to go home.’
She laughs. ‘We’ve only been at the function for an hour! Another two hours at least.’
They love each other. I don’t know why that realisation hurts so much. Not when the scribbly bark tree, and what happened on my sofa, feels like a lifetime ago. I can’t be in love anymore, if I ever was. And I have to stop caring about him.
Even so, words spill from my lips. ‘You and Tor didn’t grow up together, did you?’
Per’s expression is guarded for the very first time. ‘Did my brother tell you that?’
‘He doesn’t tell me anything. But I’m right, aren’t I?’
‘Ask Tor.’
‘Something about his childhood makes him unhappy, doesn’t it?’
Per’s mouth is a thin straight line.
Harriet touches his arm. ‘Per? Tor was frantic when he called. And Golden must know him well.’
‘Nei, Harriet.’
‘But she must.’
He puts his thumb on her bottom lip and rubs back and forth. ‘Nei, lille venn,’ he says. ‘Nei.’
Even if I could make it through the paddocks to the creek, I wouldn’t be able to cross the log. Not on crutches. So I sit in the straw in Pepper’s stable, leaning against the rough-hewn timber wall. I’ve strapped my ankle. After I’ve called Tor I’ll go back to the house and ice it again.
Pepper snuffles around in her feed trough, despite having finished her dinner an hour ago. I can hear Fudge in the stable yard. He knows I’m here so he’ll be hoping for a late night feed.
Angelina’s number lights up my screen. It’s after eleven. Eric’s retirement dinner must be over. I stick out my tongue and take a photo and send it to her with a message. Stop hassling me. I told you I’m okay. Call you tomorrow.
When I dial Tor, he answers on the first ring. ‘Golden.’
I close my eyes. ‘Hello.’
Silence. Then, ‘How are you?’
‘Okay.’
�
�Have you called your surgeon? Moussa Khoury?’
Does Tor remember his name because I mentioned it when we were in my bedroom, or has he been ploughing through the boxes I labelled ‘personal’?
‘I know what to do with my ankle. It’s no big deal.’
‘Why did you and Eric argue?’
‘Why did you send your brother?’
‘Eric was concerned you’d gone missing. Per was close by. Why did you ask him those questions?’
‘I was curious. Per speaks differently than you.’ He’s open and direct. Harriet knows that he loves her. I press my hands against my cheeks to cool them. ‘I like to keep track of things, just like my grandfather did. It’s a family trait. You’ve looked through his folders. You know that.’
‘I didn’t call to argue with you.’
‘You generally call to tell me what to do.’
‘For fuck’s …’ Silence. Three seconds of it. ‘Did Eric tell you about Garcia? That you have to stay away from him?’
‘Eric said I have to lie low for another month. Are you going to play golf at Royal Sydney like Alessandro suggested? Will you ask him questions about my father?’
‘Leave this with me.’
‘Because ignorance is bliss, right?’
‘I know what I’m doing.’
‘Nate said you’ve caught the man you were after in Hong Kong.’
‘Yes.’
‘So my father served his purpose, a means to an end?’
‘Your father was bent, Golden. I have no doubt about that. So was your grandfather. I’ve agreed to help you anyway. Can we leave it at that?’
He doesn’t trust me and I don’t trust him. We have nothing to say to each other, not anymore. After I finish the call, I pull myself upright, hop to the door and pick up my crutches. I didn’t think I could cry any more, but hot thick tears burn the back of my throat as I hobble up the path towards the house.
CHAPTER
27
Five days after I argued with Eric, it’s my twenty-seventh birthday. Angelina is hosting a late afternoon party at home because she knew Clovelly was out of the question, and I didn’t feel like going out. She called Elka’s parents and organised everything with them. Elka’s dad erected a trestle table; other parents brought food and drinks. Mattie connected her iPod to a dock and plugged into the power in the feed shed. The music is a mix of Disney songs and rock, and the dance floor is the bark chipped yard in front of Pepper’s stable.
Sam is swaying to the music, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I’m not hobbling anymore but my leg seizes up when I put too much weight on it.
Elka pats my arm. ‘Mmmm … my turn,’ she says. ‘My turn. Dance with me!’
‘I like the way you corrected your word, Elka. Your sentence was so smooth. But I’ve already had a few dances with you. We can dance again next time you’re here.’
I lift Sam’s chin with a finger. ‘Sam? Your mum is watching. I think she would like to dance with you too. You can ask her to dance. Would you like to do that?’
Sam smiles, and nods.
‘Tell me what you want to do, Sam.’
‘Ask Mum to dance.’
I grasp his hand tightly as we walk out of the stable yard. ‘Great work, Sam. I love to hear your voice.’
Ramsay runs along the tops of the bales of straw that line one side of the stable yard. His arms are spread out at his sides—he’s pretending to be an aeroplane. A few of the older children I treat at the local primary school lean over the fence and make a fuss of Fudge. Pepper watches safely from a distance in the paddock by the creek.
Sam’s mother took the afternoon off work at the markets. She’s wearing a silky blouse and patent leather shoes. She takes Sam’s hands and pumps them up and down in time to the music. He’s surprised at first. But then they laugh and dance together.
The one time I danced with my father, I laughed until I was breathless. My class had invited our families to the school hall to show off our barn dancing skills. Dad happened to be in Sydney so Grandpa asked him to come along. He’d never been to a barn dance before but when the parents were invited to join their children for the final few dances he was the first on the floor. Grandpa stood next to my teacher. They stamped their feet and clapped.
‘That was the best night of my life,’ Dad said, as he kissed me goodbye.
I knew this couldn’t be true because it was just a school dance, but I was happy that he’d enjoyed himself. On the way home I asked Grandpa why I’d never lived with my father.
Grandpa took a long time to answer. I listened to the thudding sounds the wheels made on the bitumen. It was late. There were no other cars on the road.
‘Well, Gumnut,’ he said, ‘you’re just like a eucalyptus sapling. A bushfire started you off and now you need water. You don’t need much, being a eucalypt, but it’s got to be regular.’ He patted my hand. ‘Your dad trusted me to look after you. That’s why he gave you to me.’
When Tor sits next to me on a hay bale, my heart thumps so powerfully I find it hard to breathe. Nate was on Angelina’s guest list, but neither of us invited Tor. I wasn’t even aware he was back. When our eyes meet, he nods towards my leg. ‘How are you?’
He’s wearing black jeans and I’m wearing blue. I study the different lengths of our legs. My throat is so tight that my words must be hard to make out.
‘I’m fine. Why are you here?’
He comes even closer. His thigh is a couple of centimetres away from my leg but I imagine I feel the warmth of his skin against mine. He’s been gone for over six weeks, and he’s only come back because of unfinished business.
My fingers are linked together in my lap. He rests his arm against mine and covers both of my hands with one of his. His hand is cold. There’s no warmth in his voice either.
‘Happy Birthday, Golden.’
‘Don’t touch me.’
He releases me and reaches into his jacket pocket. He lays a small parcel in my lap. It’s a rectangular box shape and wrapped in dark green paper. What could I possibly accept from a man who looks at me like he hates me?
‘I don’t want it.’
‘I can’t return it.’
When I hold it out towards him he ignores me, so I place it on the hay bale. He stares at it for a moment, before standing and holding out his hands. Even as I take them I see the incongruity, that only a minute ago I told him not to touch me. He pulls me to my feet.
‘Angelina wants you to cut the cake,’ he says, his hands moving to my waist.
I feel the imprint of his thumbs on my sides. I’m dimly aware of Angelina yelling my name, and Elka’s father shouting ‘last dance.’ Mattie sits on a deck chair breastfeeding her new baby Harrison and monitoring the iPod. Ramsay climbs over the bottom half of Pepper’s stable door and watches the other children.
Wearing riding boots, I barely reach Tor’s shoulder. I look up. ‘What are you doing?’
‘We’ll dance.’
‘Let it Go’ from the Frozen movie is blaring from the speakers. ‘I don’t want …’
I try to maintain a distance as he propels me this way and that, guiding me around a stable yard with a bunch of children and parents. But each time our thighs touch or one of his legs nudges mine and changes my direction, I grasp his hand and shirt more tightly. His chin brushes the top of my head. Every so often he breathes against my temple. I feel his cheek against mine, just for a heartbeat. I think he whispers my name.
The touch of his hand, his strength, his glide, step, step, glide, take over my body and scramble my mind. I’m a horse in a dressage arena all over again.
When he finally speaks his voice is rough. ‘Do you still want to find out about your father?’
It takes a while for my mixed-up brain to process his words. ‘Yes.’
‘Garcia must know something. Maybe Tomas Farmer as well.’
When I trip he tightens his hold. But as soon I’m steady on my feet, he creates a space between us so our le
gs aren’t touching any more.
‘What do you want me to do?’ I say.
‘Months ago I said we should pretend to be together. You refused to consider it. This time you don’t have a choice. Take it or leave it.’
My words run together. ‘What about the elocution lessons?’
‘What? When my communication skills are so much better than yours? Not that that’s saying much.’ He looks over my shoulder. ‘Ramsay’s are better. Sam and Elka’s are twice as good.’
He spins me around. Elka is holding Sam’s hand. She’s bossing him, tapping his legs and telling him what to do. They bump heads and laugh.
‘Keep my children out of this.’
‘Why? I wish you’d teach yourself the same things you teach them. Let me hear your voice.’
A lump lodges in my throat. ‘Don’t.’
He squeezes my hand. ‘What happened with Eric last week?’
‘If he hasn’t told you, I’m not going to.’
Most of the women dancing with their children are glancing at Tor and me. I know what they’re thinking—it’s about time Golden found herself a boyfriend. Mattie has wanted to introduce me to her brother for months.
I look towards the house. ‘Have you finished with me yet?’
Tor mutters in my ear as we circle the other dancers. ‘Garcia and Farmer. They’ll both be at the Bong Bong race meeting in Bowral in October. Garcia is on the committee, and Farmer is working for Solomon Bain.’
I nod against his chest. ‘I can come with you.’
We’re standing at the hay bale where we started, Tor still holding me firmly. Does he know I might fall if he didn’t? When I finally step back, his arms drop to his sides.
‘I’ll let Garcia know I’m interested in you when we play golf.’
I pray I don’t look as sick as I feel. I lift my chin. ‘Right.’
‘Just thinking about that drains the colour from your face.’
‘I said I’d do it.’
He picks up the gift and shoves it into his pocket. ‘We should be seen together beforehand. I’ll call you.’
On the Right Track Page 18
