Northern Heat

by Helene Young

  With a frown of concentration he wrestled it onto his head. Freya motioned him closer, slid the toggle higher until it rested under his chin. His skin was warm, soft against her fingers. She resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him, fold him against her chest and keep him safe from a world she knew firsthand could be impossibly cruel.

  ‘Can I go?’

  ‘Sure.’ She gave him a tiny push and he whirled away to join his friend by the double doors.

  ‘He’s so cute.’ Kristy’s face was its usual professional mask again, but Freya thought she saw pain in her eyes.

  ‘He is. After Sissy he was such a relief. I could have murdered her when she was little. Headstrong, stubborn; we fought every inch of the way. I felt as though she came out hating the world, and maybe she did. God knows it wasn’t my favourite place either.’

  ‘My bet is that babies absorb everything a mother goes through, from the food to the environment to our emotions. Makes you wonder how humans carry on breeding enough to survive, really.’

  ‘So you think nature is stronger than nurture?’ Freya couldn’t stop her frown.

  ‘I think upbringing can right a whole lot of genetic shortcomings.’ Kristy shot a quick smile at her. ‘Including mullets.’

  Freya laughed. ‘Nothing a good haircut can’t fix.’

  ‘Buddy’s cute, whatever his hairstyle.’

  Freya remembered that hospital visit with Buddy. Kristy had touched the rat’s tail of a braid dangling between Buddy’s shoulders as she examined him, listening to his skinny chest wheeze as he tried to breathe. Freya had seen her son through fresh eyes, couldn’t miss the powerful echo of her husband. Without thinking, she’d grabbed scissors from the top of an equipment trolley and cut off the offending tail.

  ‘Mum’s given you a haircut, Bud,’ Kristy had said, her hands running down his arms, soothing agitated fingers. ‘Reckon she wants to make sure there’re no headlice on you, hey? She’s smart, your mum. You know what else she’s going to do?’

  The boy shook his head, eyes like saucers, tears already spilling down his cheeks as he wriggled in her light grip.

  ‘I reckon she’s going to buy some of that special shampoo from the chemist and wash your hair with it. Should make all the difference. Don’t want to have nits. They might be why you always have a cough.’

  Freya never did ask if she was joking or not, but Kristy had given her the excuse she’d needed to placate her husband when she took Buddy home with a haircut. Twelve months later, she had a friendship that kept her sane. Her phone rang and her pulse thudded.

  ‘Hi, hon,’ she said, looking down at her feet.

  ‘You got the grog yet?’

  ‘No, I’m watching Sissy and Buddy play.’

  ‘You need to pick up the fuckin’ grog, Frey. They’re waiting for you.’

  ‘But I can’t just leave them —’

  ‘Just do it.’ The phone beeped three times as he disconnected.

  Freya sighed before turning to Kristy. ‘Are you planning on watching until the end of the game?’

  ‘Yep. I’ll look after them until you get back.’ The doctor’s tone was matter-of-fact, but the sympathy in her eyes was genuine.

  ‘Thanks. I’ll be back in twenty at the most.’

  Freya slung her bag over her shoulder. She knew what was in the cases of alcohol she was to collect, and it had nothing to do with whiskey or beer. How much longer could she take this?

  4

  The waft of warm air raised goosebumps on Kristy’s arms before the doors slid closed behind Freya. Whatever the hell Jonno was up to was no business of Kristy’s, but the scars and bruises she’d seen on Freya’s body made her want to weep.

  She narrowed her eyes as she saw Abby and Sissy laughing at something Conor had said. Sienna’s laughter was flirtatious, her shoulders back, eyes flashing, budding breasts pushed out. Abby looked more like a young colt with gangly limbs and a goofy grin. Kristy watched as Conor shared the joke and turned away.

  She could remember having a crush on her blond and beautiful swimming coach, kissing his photo every night for a year. No doubt with mobile phones and their cameras Abby was kissing the delectable Conor each night too. Despite having vowed never to snoop into her daughter’s things, she was going to check out the photo roll next time the phone was left lying around.

  Another nurse from the hospital called out a greeting as she walked to the counter. Kristy waved back. It was partly why Kristy loved it so much in a small town and partly what made it so hard to let her guard down. In Cooktown, she was the senior doctor and that, in her opinion, meant some friendships were off limits. She couldn’t do her job, be all things to all people, and allow firm friendships to build in what was a tight-knit community. Freya was one of the few exceptions. Their unlikely friendship started with Freya’s second visit to hospital. Kristy had had no agenda other than offering some oblique advice, seeing echoes of her own marriage. Yet somewhere between Freya’s obsession with fashion and Kristy’s determination to live a simple, uncomplicated life, they’d discovered they laughed at the same jokes, loved romantic movies and enjoyed good coffee. Some days it was enough to just laugh with a friend.

  Yet still Kristy couldn’t let her guard down completely. Trust was hard-won. Watching Buddy and Freya always made her heart ache. She could remember with absolute clarity how happy she’d been holding her own son, Finn, in her arms, warm from birth, with a cone head capped in blue-black hair. She also remembered the corrosive grief that ate away at her, at her husband, in the aftermath of Finn’s drowning. Abby had given her a reason to live, but nothing had given her a reason to trust again. She wouldn’t burden Freya with that, but she couldn’t stand by and watch her put up with Jonno’s abuse, knowing it was only a matter of time until the violence escalated.

  She squinted, focusing on the game again. The kids were flagging, even inside in air-conditioning. Abby still mustered enough energy to make a quick play at the ball. Her sports clothes hung on her, but she’d shot up in the last month. Maybe time for a trip to Cairns before any more of her slender legs were on show. Maybe they could swing by Ruby Downs and pick up Meg, make a weekend of it, a girl’s day out? Abby used to love it – but now? She’d probably complain and spend all day on Instagram.

  The final whistle blew to cheers from one side of the court. Conor slapped backs and high-fived. ‘A regular Pied Piper,’ she muttered. ‘They’d probably eat broccoli for him as well.’

  ‘You reckon?’ Freya had returned. Her smile looked forced. ‘Sissy’s so picky, always complaining she’s fat.’

  Kristy snorted. ‘Body image. The curse of our teenage years.’

  ‘You reckon it gets better?’

  Kristy glanced at the immaculate young woman next to her with the smooth forehead and straightened hair. ‘I guess not.’ She resisted the temptation to tug at her cotton top. She really should join the gym or take up yoga, but life kept getting in the way.

  ‘Is Abby okay today?’

  ‘Yes. Why do you ask?’ Kristy knew she sounded defensive.

  ‘Sissy said she’s been feeling unwell during the last two days of coaching clinic.’

  ‘Really? She didn’t mention it.’ The guilt made her stomach clench. She thought she’d recognised the early signs of bulimia in her daughter a month or so ago, but she wasn’t sure her strategy of setting a good example and encouraging smaller regular meals was working. She’d need to rethink it. Counselling was the next option but that didn’t come with a guarantee of success either.

  ‘They didn’t send her home so it can’t have been too bad.’

  ‘No, I hope not. I’ll check. I wouldn’t have let her play today if I’d known that.’ Kristy’s cheeks were burning now. Abby had eaten breakfast. And then . . .? Kristy almost swore. And then Abby had spent ten minutes in the bathroom. The guilt ramped up some more. She was the medical professional. Eating disorders were as insidious as domestic violence. How could she be missing something so impo
rtant in her daughter’s life?

  ‘I’m sure it’s nothing. Sissy said there was a bug going around.’

  ‘Right.’ Kristy changed the topic. ‘Only six days until Christmas. Are you ready?’

  Freya pulled a face. ‘I still have some shopping to do, but all the presents are here. Ordered them online. Jonno needed me to pick up some stuff today.’ She looked at her watch. ‘And you?’

  ‘It’s always social in the week leading up to Christmas at Ruby Downs. The neighbouring properties all get together at the rural fire shed. Good to catch up with everyone. I’ll be back before New Year, but Abby’s going to stay for a few weeks.’

  ‘Oh yeah, Sissy mentioned that.’

  Before Kristy could reply, the horde of sweaty kids poured off the court. Conor walked over with a pile of witch’s hats under one arm and a basketball under the other. Sissy and Abby were just ahead of him, still vying for attention.

  ‘Hi, ladies, your girls were on fire today. Ready for the big time.’ His voice was warm without being sleazy. ‘Sorry I can’t stop to talk. I’ve got to run.’

  ‘No worries. We’ll see you at the Christmas party on Sunday,’ Freya said with a shake of her hair.

  ‘That you will.’ He turned to Kristy with a questioning look. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yes, fine. You’ve kept busy.’

  ‘Best thing to do.’ He nodded and turned away, threading his way through the tables with easy smiles.

  ‘I think our cool coach has the hots for Dr Dark,’ Freya whispered to Kristy. ‘Trust me. I’m something of an expert on male body language and that is one horny man. And before you protest, it definitely wasn’t my wellbeing he asked after.’

  ‘That was because of this morning, nothing more.’ Kristy could feel her skin prickling with embarrassment.

  ‘This morning?’ Freya asked with an arch of her eyebrow.

  ‘A man was shot. Conor found him. I had to attend. I’m surprised you haven’t heard. Everyone else seems to have seen it on social media.’

  ‘Who?’ Freya grabbed Kristy’s arm. ‘Who’s been shot?’

  ‘Danny, Danny Parnell. He didn’t make it.’

  ‘No!’ Freya’s nails dug into Kristy’s arm. ‘Why?’ She was ashen beneath her tan. ‘Who would do that?’

  ‘I don’t know, Frey. The police are investigating. I felt so sorry for his wife.’

  ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘You know Danny?’

  ‘Of course, he’s done deals with Jonno. He and Debs have been out to the property. I had no idea, no fucking idea. Jonno must have known.’

  ‘Maybe? I don’t know.’ Kristy was shocked at the change in the young woman. Did she suspect Jonno?

  ‘So why was Conor there?’

  ‘At the house? He just happened to be running past. Apparently he saw a car drive away and then noticed Danny slumped on the stairs.’

  ‘Oh my God, he’s a witness.’

  ‘Yes, but he didn’t get many details.’

  ‘Well, I hope whoever shot Danny doesn’t realise Conor saw them.’

  It struck Kristy as a strange thing to say, but her phone rang before she could ask any more questions.

  ‘Hello, Kristy Dark.’

  ‘Sergeant Miller here. Sorry to bother you, Kristy, but any chance you can drop by the station for a few questions? We’re trying to fill in the timeline.’

  ‘Sure. I can be there in ten after I drop Abby home. How long will it take?

  ‘Half an hour, maybe less.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll see you soon.’

  ‘Good, thanks, Kristy. Sorry about this.’

  ‘No worries.’ She disconnected. Freya was talking to another mother so Kristy waved at her and then went in search of Abby.

  It was just after five when she pulled up on the red-dirt verge in front of the police station. The few weedy palm trees on the right of the yard were drooping in the heat instead of standing tall. She made her way up the short flight of cement stairs and the compressor on the Coke machine kicked into life as she pushed open the front doors. Inside it was cool; the fluorescent lighting cast a harsh glow.

  Conor was sitting on one of the plastic chairs. He had an iPad on his knee and looked to be reading.

  ‘Conor?’

  ‘Hey, Kristy.’ He got to his feet, tucking the device under his arm, muscles rippling. His long shorts made him seem even taller. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Something about checking the timeline?’

  ‘Ah. I see.’ The smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  ‘Tell me they don’t still believe you’re involved?’

  ‘Not sure what they think, but I’m waiting for a lawyer to arrive. If what I’ve overheard is correct, the security cameras were turned off before Danny opened the front door. Disabled from the inside.’

  ‘Oh no.’ A frisson of alarm rippled up Kristy’s spine. ‘So, no footage of the car and you’re the only one who saw it?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Hell. That’s awkward.’

  ‘It made a bit of noise as it drove away. I’m hoping one of the neighbours might remember. Mind you, none of them came out when Debbie started screaming. Maybe they aren’t the neighbourly types.’

  ‘One of the young lads posted on Facebook so perhaps he heard something.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Photos of the stretcher being loaded, with you and Joyce going toe to toe.’

  ‘Ah.’ Conor tipped his head back. ‘That might be helpful. So —’

  ‘Kristy, thanks for coming down.’ Miller walked into the room and held out his hand. ‘Difficult time. Please, come through.’

  She glanced at Conor and was surprised by the look on his face. The smouldering approval in his eyes made her breathe a little deeper.

  ‘Come in, come in.’ Miller ushered her into an interview room. ‘Please, sit down. I appreciate this.’

  ‘No problem. Have you seen the photographs posted on Facebook yet? I meant to phone you this morning.’

  ‘Facebook? You’re serious?’

  ‘Yep. Let me find it.’ She found Abby’s page on her phone and then looked for Derek. ‘Here. Abby’s friend Derek lives nearby. Perhaps he heard or saw something. Conor mentioned the car made some noise as it drove away.’

  ‘Did he?’ Miller’s face was impassive as he scrolled down the posts before handing the phone back. ‘I’m more interested in your memories of the morning. Walk me through what time you left home, right up until when you arrived back at Danny and Debbie’s house.’

  ‘Sure.’ Kristy leant back, closed her eyes and retraced her steps. Twice Miller asked for clarification. Then that question again.

  ‘So why are you so sure that Conor wasn’t carrying a gun?’

  Her cheeks heated up and she cursed her heightened colour. ‘You saw what he was wearing. Those little shorts and the singlet? There was no room for anything but muscle.’

  ‘And you’ve known Conor long?’

  ‘Only since he started coaching. Abby’s in one of his teams.’

  ‘He hasn’t asked you out?’

  ‘What?’ Kristy was shocked, but it didn’t stop a wave of embarrassed heat flooding through her. ‘No, he hasn’t. Should I be offended?’

  Miller’s laugh was a little forced. ‘No, no. Just wondered. You seemed quite pally this morning.’

  She raised her eyebrow and, satisfyingly, he squirmed.

  ‘Apologies if I misread it, Kristy, but I had to ask.’

  ‘He was the first on the scene to a horrific crime. I was concerned for him. I still am. That sort of trauma can take quite some time to manifest itself. Add the fact he’s out there believing you think he did it, and I’m even more concerned for him.’

  ‘Steady on. You had to deal with it too.’

  ‘And I’m a doctor, trained to deal with it. He’s a . . . a . . . sports coach.’

  ‘We’re not really sure what Conor is, to be honest. If it was anyone but you, but you know
. . .’ He shrugged. ‘Don’t you worry, we’ll get to the bottom of this.’

  ‘So I’m free to go? And you’ll check with Derek to see if he was awake?’

  ‘Yep, I will.’ Miller got to his feet. ‘Thanks, Kristy, appreciate your help. Regards to Meg and Craig. And merry Christmas.’

  She shook his proffered hand. ‘And merry Christmas to you and Mrs Miller. I hope it’s trouble-free.’

  When she left the room Conor was still on the chair and this time he didn’t get up. She stopped in front of him. ‘You can only tell them the truth.’

  He ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it back. ‘I’m sure they’ll work it out. Just wish I could remember more about the car. I’m flat-out remembering it was charcoal grey, let alone the make or model.’

  ‘Don’t beat yourself up. They’ll catch them.’

  ‘No CCTVs up here, Kristy.’

  ‘I guess not. What are you doing for Christmas?’

  He grinned. ‘After I play Santa Claus at the club on Sunday I’ll be doing some fishing for a few days. Apparently the demand for prawns at this time of year outstrips the supply. Then old Bill’s asked me around for Christmas lunch. Poor bastard’s missing Leonie. It’s the least I can do. I’m anticipating a hangover the size of Kosciuszko on Boxing Day.’

  ‘I heard Bill had a new deckhand.’

  ‘A new man aboard would be more accurate. I have some way to go until I can be called a deckie, apparently.’

  ‘Bill’s a tough nut, but he’d give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. Take care. And merry Christmas, Conor.’

  ‘Merry Christmas, Kristy. Hope the new year brings you love and laughter.’

  The intensity in his dark eyes made her breath hitch again. Love and laughter. It had been a very long time since either of those was foremost in her mind. She reached out and touched his shoulder. ‘And you.’ His skin was smooth and hot, and she immediately regretted the intimacy.

  He smiled up at her – a lazy, languid smile that made a lie of her assertion that he’d never asked her out. Instead he flirted with her in a way she couldn’t quite fathom. A man as compelling as Conor was never going to try it on with a doctor who wore the most conservative of clothes and was currently filling them to stretching point.