Northern Heat

by Helene Young

  ‘I said I’d see how we were going for time.’ She wasn’t going to explain that she wanted to check on Freya and Sissy before heading to Ruby Downs for two weeks.

  ‘No, you didn’t.’

  ‘Abby, there’s no argument. I’ll pick you up from training around four, earlier if I can get away from work. And before you go next door to Mary’s you need to make sure your washing’s in the machine.’ Mary, a retired policewoman, was Abby’s after-school mum who helped out during school holidays as well and dropped her off at training if required. With an unpredictable workload at the hospital, Kristy figured it was better to know her daughter had Mary watching over her, than worry if she had to stay and deal with an emergency.

  ‘Can’t I stay here by myself until it’s time for training?’

  Kristy raised an eyebrow. Abby knew what that meant before her mother spoke. ‘So you spend the day on the internet? Not a hope in hell.’

  Abby skulked from the room, dragging her feet. For all her reticence, Abby loved Mary like a grandmother. The old woman cured her own fish in a home-built smoker. The delicate flavour always had Abby sighing with delight. Mary had promised to send them to Ruby Downs with a stock, so Kristy knew that the two of them would spend the morning layering marinated fish onto wire racks and sliding them into the smoker.

  Kristy tidied the kitchen, then headed for her bedroom. Having a uniform made deciding what to wear easy. Ten minutes later the washing machine was agitating Abby’s clothes and Kristy was ready to leave.

  ‘Abby, time to go!’ she called.

  ‘Coming.’

  Kristy eyed her reflection in the mirror. Luckily her hair fell straight with little effort. She rarely had time to do anything more than wash it. And her uniform was tighter than when she’d first worn it a year ago.

  ‘Are you ready?’ Abby was watching her with a half grin.

  ‘Scoot. I’m going as soon as you’re with Mary.’

  ‘I’m going, I’m going.’ Abby yanked open the door then hesitated. ‘Did you talk to Conor this morning?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Was he okay? Not grossed out by a dead guy?’

  Kristy shook her head. She needed to ring Sergeant Miller and check he knew about the Facebook post. All two thousand residents of Cooktown were going to know before morning tea. ‘He was fine. Really solid. You don’t need to worry about Conor.’

  ‘Cool. Just provided you talked to him.’ She looked her mother up and down. ‘But you should try to look nice.’

  She skipped down the stairs with that parting shot, leaving her mother to lock up.

  On the short drive to Hope Street, Kristy pondered her daughter’s obsession with Conor. Kristy had sent Abby to counselling after Finn died, and again when Tyler had his accident. Had it worked? How hard was it to lose your little brother when you were ten, and then a year later your father? Abby had been stoic through it all. She’d been the reason Kristy had got out of bed in the morning, but how had her daughter really coped?

  Her dad had put things into perspective. They’d been on horseback, ambling along behind Abby, on their last ride before they’d moved north to Cooktown to start their new life.

  ‘The harder you hang onto something, the more painful it is when they go. Find the joy in life again, live in the moment, not the future. After my heart attack your mother and I made a pact. When one of us dies the other one’s to sell up and move on. Find love again. Appreciate life. No setting up shrines in memory. All that lives in here.’ He’d tapped the centre of his chest with a hand covered in spots and creases. ‘Little Finn and Tyler are always with us. They helped make us who we are and we won’t ever forget that. But you and Abby have the rest of your lives ahead of you. You can’t be jumping at shadows and worrying about people dying. It happens every day.’

  Ahead, Abby had spun her horse, waving her hand above her head. ‘I’ve found him, I’ve found him! He’s a bloody great bull, Grandpa.’

  ‘A bloody great bull, all right,’ he’d laughed. ‘Best breeder I’ve ever had.’ He’d turned to his daughter. ‘Live, Kristy. It’s your turn now.’

  She pulled into the staff car park and sat for a moment. It would be good to see her folks and the property. Leave the madness, the sadness, behind for a week.

  3

  ‘Sit down, Buddy! I’m sick of telling you.’ Freya glared at the reflection of the small boy in her rear-vision mirror. He was out of his booster and jumping on the back seat. ‘Sissy, put your brother back in his seat. Sissy!’

  Sienna pulled an earphone clear and pouted glossy lips at her. ‘What?’

  ‘Put Bud back in his seat.’

  ‘He’s a moron. He deserves to die.’

  ‘Enough.’ Freya’s tone hardened. ‘Just do it.’

  With a huff, the teenager leant over and wrangled her little brother back into the seat, his infectious giggle almost bringing a smile to her sullen mouth. Freya focused on the road ahead, a B-double truck heading her way.

  Her four-wheel drive lurched as the offside tyres hit the hard shoulder and sank into the dust. Freya eased off the accelerator. Heaven help her if she dinted Jonno’s bloody car. Who the hell drove a Porsche SUV in this part of the world? The truck held its line and rumbled past in a cloud of dust, cattle pressed against the slatted sides.

  ‘Want to do a wee-wee,’ the small boy piped up, his hair a blond halo wafting in the air-conditioning.

  ‘Bud, you promised you went before we left.’ Freya had to bite down on her temper. He was only three.

  ‘I did.’ He looked crestfallen now. ‘I weally did, Mummy. I sorry.’ The shine of tears magnified his blue eyes and Freya felt the caustic rush of guilt. His emotions were as erratic as hers. He was clutching himself.

  ‘Can you hang on? It’s maybe five minutes.’

  He nodded and his bottom lip stopped wobbling. The sun shone again.

  Freya glanced at her handbag on the front seat, bulging with the usual paraphernalia. No hint of the three slim blue books with the official crest on their covers or the wad of hundred-dollar notes she’d sewn into the bottom lining. The sports bags in the boot might be a little heavier than usual, but nothing that would make Jonno ‘The Axe’ McDonald look twice. Buddy was humming to himself now, a Wiggles song about an elephant. The words were beyond him as he lisped.

  She checked the rear-vision mirror again. The empty strip of crumbling bitumen disappeared around the corner, shielded by a thick stand of gum trees. The steering wheel bit into her hands. She’d never outrun the bikes if they came after her. The best she could hope for was sticking to a routine that made him drop his guard.

  They were only fifteen minutes from Cooktown now and the airport appeared ahead on her left. She glimpsed the blue-and-white tail of one of the commuter aircraft. That would be the fastest way out, but in a small town she couldn’t risk someone seeing their names on a passenger list.

  ‘Mummy,’ Bud wailed from the back seat. His lashes were clumped together now.

  ‘It’s only another five minutes.’ She stretched the truth, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

  ‘Nooo!’ her son sobbed.

  ‘All right, all right. We’ll stop at the airport.’ She slowed as they reached the turning and indicated. She had no trouble finding a car park. Not too many flying today.

  Sienna glared at her little brother. ‘If I’m late for training, I’ll throw your stupid bear in the river.’

  ‘Enough,’ Freya said again as she threw open the car door.

  Buddy leapt from the car. She got a grip on his arm and hustled him towards the door of the terminal, then into the bathroom, Buddy still clutching the front of his pants.

  Five minutes later, after she’d convinced him to wash and dry his hands, she wrenched open the car door.

  ‘Dad phoned,’ Sienna said, her voice strained.

  Freya’s heart skipped a beat and she swallowed before she replied. ‘What did we forget?’

  ‘He wanted to kno
w why we’d stopped at the airport.’

  ‘Oh, really.’ Freya struggled with her exasperation. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘That my moronic little brother had to have a pee.’

  ‘He’s not moronic, he’s little.’

  ‘Whatever. I said you’d call.’

  ‘Right.’

  Freya slammed the rear door and stalked around the front of the car. Technology made tracking her easy.

  She started the car and forced herself to drive sedately as she turned out of the airport. Inside she was raging. Her phone rang on the seat beside her and she ground her teeth for a moment, steeling her courage before she answered.

  ‘Hi, love, what’s up?’ How did her voice sound so normal?

  ‘What’s wrong with Buddy?’ her husband asked, his voice gruff.

  ‘He needed the toilet. He couldn’t wait.’

  ‘You should have checked before you left.’

  ‘I did and he went. It’s fine. I’m driving. I’d better go or we’ll be late.’

  He grunted. ‘And don’t forget the grog.’

  She dropped the phone on the seat and caught her daughter’s eye in the mirror. For a moment there was solidarity, then Sienna looked down again. Freya sat a little straighter in the leather seat. Routine. Establish a routine that stretches the leash a little bit more every time, Kristy had advised her. Step by step, don’t endanger anyone. Stay calm, have a fallback plan. Be ready to act if the opportunity presents itself, but don’t be foolhardy. Trust no one, especially not your children.

  It was easy on paper, easy in the cool air-conditioning of Kristy’s house, but oh so much harder when she saw the lowered lashes, dark against her daughter’s cheeks, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. Buddy was sucking his thumb now, staring out the window. She felt her heart lurch in her chest. She would do anything to keep them safe, and yet they were caught in a trap of her making.

  After they’d crossed the bridge the volume of traffic increased. Something on at the racetrack. Maybe campdrafting. The trailers were dusty and long. Heat shimmered from the bonnets of the F100s and utes.

  She turned right a little further on and headed for the Cooktown State School and the PCYC sports hall. Coaching clinics were one way of filling the school holidays, and the air-conditioned play area made it easy to keep Bud amused while his sister ran off some of her frustration on the basketball court.

  The car park was half full and she recognised most of the cars, including Kristy’s. She breathed a little easier. That meant Abby was here, and she made the world of difference to Sissy’s moods.

  ‘Come on, tiger,’ she said to her son. ‘Let’s see what mischief you can get up to while Sissy trains.’

  Sienna was already out of the car, heading for the back of the vehicle.

  ‘I’ll bring your bag in, hon,’ Freya called, remembering almost too late the extra clothes she’d stuffed in the bottom of both bags.

  Sienna rolled her eyes and flounced away, pushing her socks down as she went. She was all elbows and knees, a child-woman with glossy hair, acne and attitude.

  Freya helped Buddy down out of the car and slung the two bags over her shoulder. Sienna had disappeared already.

  She turned to Buddy, who was hopping from foot to foot. ‘You want to go play with April?’

  His smile lit up his face and he didn’t wait to be asked again, slipping his hand from his mother’s and running across to his playmate. It felt like only yesterday that she’d cradled him in her arms, his pink lips fluttering against her breast as he breathed, his belly full of milk. Something so beautiful in the middle of despair.

  Freya followed her son and his friend inside the building. Kristy was over in the coffee shop and she looked up and waved. Freya waved back, more of her tension easing. It was an unlikely friendship that had sprung from having teenage daughters who’d bonded. She’d be forever grateful to Kristy. It made it almost bearable having someone to talk to. Especially someone who understood firsthand.

  She dug in her pocket for the small key and headed to the lockers. The red-and-white bag squashed in the bottom of the locker was almost full to the top. She added the extra clothes she’d brought with her then tugged the zipper closed. She had to lean on the door so she could turn the key.

  As she made her way through the scattering of table and chairs, the smell of coffee settled in the back of her throat and nerves made her stomach spasm.

  The girl behind the counter cast a sidelong glance her way and slid two cups across the counter.

  ‘Thanks, that was quick,’ Freya said.

  ‘Yup. Kristy ordered.’ The girl didn’t meet her eyes. Being part of the McDonald family meant Freya couldn’t escape the speculation. After fourteen years she should have been used to it. In the early days she’d thought it brought respect, which, to a girl used to living on the street, meant everything. Now she knew disgust, curiosity and pity were all part of the respect her husband’s family engendered. Freya kept her polite mask in place.

  She carried the two cups over to Kristy.

  ‘Hey, thanks for the coffee. I thought you might have left for Ruby Downs already,’ she said, sliding a cup across to her friend.

  ‘To be honest, it would have been too much of a rush to leave tonight. I still need to collect a couple of things from the shop tomorrow. How are you?’

  Freya waited until they’d both stirred sugar into their coffee. ‘All I can do is grit my teeth and wait. Waiting’s hard.’

  ‘Of course. You know you have a bed any time you and the kids need one. I’ll leave you a key. I’ve told Mary you might drop around.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Freya looked away. She didn’t want to see pity in her friend’s eyes. She’d never really had a bestie before. Didn’t know what to say or do. There were times when she knew she’d screwed up, but somehow with Kristy it didn’t matter. She’d love to know the full story about Kristy and Abby, but Kristy had never volunteered the information and she hadn’t asked. Not yet, anyway.

  On the indoor court the kids were doing drills, the head coach moving from group to group. Sienna’s fine blonde hair stood out from the crowd and Abby’s blunt-cut dark hair was dragged back in a short ponytail.

  ‘Sienna grows more beautiful every time I see her,’ Kristy said.

  ‘She needs braces, apparently. Jonno whinged about it, but he likes having a pretty daughter so I’m guessing he’ll shell out.’

  Kristy arched an eyebrow. ‘Have to go to Cairns for a fitting, perhaps?’

  Freya shook her head. ‘Nice thought, but he’ll send the lads with us so no chance.’

  ‘Drive down?’

  ‘Probably take the chopper.’

  ‘Ah.’ They sipped their coffees again. Another mother stopped to talk. Petra was a nurse at the hospital and Freya’s only other real friend in town. It was her locker that Freya was using to store her get-away kit. A whistle blew and the children split into teams. Sienna and Abby high-fived as they ran to the same end of the court. Freya smiled, watching them link arms. Opposites in so many ways, but in twelve months they’d become inseparable.

  And that, Freya knew, was partly the reason Kristy had taken such a keen interest in her when she’d been admitted to hospital after a fall. The doctor’s clear blue eyes had held only concern as she’d examined the cut on the back of Freya’s head. Freya was too adept to let her guard down and Kristy too perceptive to push. But before she discharged her into Jonno’s tender loving care the doctor had sat beside her, told her a story about a woman she knew who’d had a difficult marriage. Told her how that woman had made a plan, bided her time and then escaped. The doctor had planted a seed that took root in the dark of night, watered by Freya’s tears of desperation.

  The coach had just hauled a young lad to his feet after a collision and managed to coax a smile from him before the tears could materialise. ‘That Conor Woods should have been snapped up years ago. Wonder what his story is,’ Freya mused.

  ‘No i
dea.’

  ‘He’s hot, but he’s too old for me.’

  ‘Old? He’d be lucky to make forty. Probably mid-thirties.’

  ‘Perfect for you then.’

  The doctor rolled her eyes. ‘I’m busy enough with Abby and work, please don’t wish more pairs of dirty socks and T-shirts on me.’

  ‘Never say never,’ Freya said. ‘Plenty of women in Cooktown are wishing he’d left his socks under their bed. And Jonno bristles like a mongrel dog every time Sissy even mentions him.’

  Kristy laughed, but the blush in her cheeks intrigued Freya. The ice-cool doctor might not be as detached as she seemed. Good for her. Freya stretched her legs out and the key in her pocket dug into her hip. Freedom. All she needed was the opportunity. And courage.

  She looked down at the designer joggers on her long feet. How far could she run in those? How long before the soles rotted, the money vanished and life became tough again? How did she put food in her children’s bellies when the only thing she’d learnt how to do was strip? None of her turmoil showed in her face or her body. She’d spent too long pretending.

  On the court the game was in full swing. Sissy and Abby were in the thick of it, elbowing their opposition aside, laughter vying with determination as they passed the ball between them, heading for the basket.

  ‘They make a great team,’ Kristy said.

  ‘They sure do. And they love their coach.’

  Kristy snorted. ‘How the hell does he have the energy for all that? I passed him running at sparrow’s this morning, looking fresh as a daisy.’

  There was a break in the game and Conor and the kids gulped water from colourful bottles.

  ‘Maybe it’s something he puts in his drink bottle,’ Freya replied.

  ‘Mum, Mum, can I go play outside now?’ Buddy’s feet, too big for his skinny legs, thumped on the floor as he ran towards her. His blond hair flopped over one eye, feathers of gold against his tanned skin. No amount of sunscreen stopped him from going dusky brown. His hat flapped against his shoulders, the ties tight against his throat.

  ‘You’ll need your hat on, mate.’