by Helene Young
She half-carried her sobbing daughter to her room, bathed her face with a cold flannel, and pressed an ice pack to her cheek, hoping the bruises wouldn’t show in the morning. The arnica cream must have helped, and except for puffy eyes and a defiant tilt to her chin there was no sign on Sissy’s face of the night’s dramas.
And then Jonno produced a horse for her birthday – not just any horse, but the offspring of dressage champions. A filly with pedigree and graceful lines. As Sissy wrapped her arms around him, Jonno had met Freya’s eyes. His triumph cut to the bone. Anything could be bought, even a daughter.
She heard the front door open and Kristy’s voice asking for details.
‘The phone’s in here,’ she heard Jonno say. Their voices faded as the door of the office closed. Footsteps sounded behind her and she turned.
‘Conor. Sounds like it’s a mess. There’s been an accident on the highway. A tourist bus and a four-wheel drive, down an embankment.’
‘Shit. That’s horrific.’
‘Yeah, so they need Kristy.’
‘I can stay and wait for Abby.’
‘Or I can drive Abby home once the girls get back, take Buddy for the ride. Plenty of room in my car.’
‘Sure, if you think you’re right to drive.’ He looked at the glass in her hand. ‘Or I can wait and drive you all.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Jonno would go nuts.’
‘What, you’d need a chaperone? Can’t be in a car alone with a man?’
‘Pretty much. And believe me, I wouldn’t wish that on you.’
The sound of Kristy’s voice was loud in the corridor.
‘Sorry about this, but I will have to go,’ they heard her say.
‘We can drive your daughter home later,’ Jonno replied.
Freya’s hopes soared only to crash as he continued. ‘Someone else will be going to Cooktown. A few of them are staying in the resort. We couldn’t fit them all here.’
‘I can wait for Abby then we can both hitch a ride back.’ Conor frowned at the tension in Kristy’s face.
‘No, you go with the doctor,’ Jonno replied smoothly. ‘Better to have company on the drive. Not a road to be on alone.’
‘I think it’s Kristy’s call, mate. Abby’s her little girl.’ Conor’s smile rivalled Jonno’s for insincerity. But he’d straightened up to his full height and there wasn’t much between the two men, except that one was running to fat. ‘Kristy, what would you like to do?’
‘I’ll get going. If someone else can bring you and Abby home, that would be great.’
‘Sure. I’ll find someone now,’ Freya interjected, taking courage from the other two. ‘Don’t worry about Abby.’
‘You’re a darling. Thanks for a lovely lunch. Please give Sienna my apologies too.’ She gave Freya a quick hug then turned to Jonno and held out her hand. He pulled her into a hug, his hands splayed across her back, and he eyeballed Conor over her dark hair.
‘Thanks.’ Kristy pulled free and flashed him a quick smile. ‘Compliments to the chef too, the food was divine.’
‘Any time.’ Jonno was once more the consummate host.
‘Conor?’ Kristy turned and he slung an arm around her.
‘Come on, I’ll see you off.’
Freya left Jonno holding tight to his smile and went in search of a ride for Abby and Conor. She found a couple who were happy to wait until Abby returned.
Disappointment weighed heavily on her heart. Next week. Next week she’d find a way.
19
Kristy shut the gate with one last look in the direction the girls had taken. It was a big step to trust Conor, but trust him she did. The deep pain when he spoke of his wife and daughter couldn’t be acting. She’d seen too much grief, known it first hand, felt it etch lines deep into her soul. She could relate to what he’d said. Society expected people to move on from grief.
Why do we have to forget that pain? she thought, rounding another bend and slowing for a mob of roos. If we measured our happiness against that sorrow, then even everyday moments like a joey waving its paws from its mother’s pouch could be beautiful and uplifting. Why did that deep abyss have to be the bottom of the world? Couldn’t the pain be the darkness that cast the good things in life into sharp relief, lighting up those we hold most dear? Didn’t she look at Abby every day and feel thankful that she still had her gorgeous daughter?
The day, three years ago, when her little man had been taken from her was indelibly burnt into her memories. Exactly twelve months later her husband had died in a car accident. That joint anniversary, with all its implications and complications, was approaching. Two weeks away. She hadn’t decided what to do this year. Last year she and Abby had gone to the beach where they’d lost Finn. They’d watched the scarlet trail of rose petals bob out through the waves.
Abby had been distraught. ‘Do you think Dad’s taking care of Finn?’ she’d asked. Kristy understood. Was he taking better care than he had when Finn was still alive?
‘Of course he is, baby,’ she’d replied, wondering afresh how life could change so completely in an instant. ‘He’ll be tickling him on the soles of his feet, the way Finn loves. They’ll be watching us right now and guessing which petal floats the longest.’
‘And you’re sure God’s got them both?’
‘I’m sure,’ Kristy lied, thinking about a god she no longer believed could exist.
Abby had snuggled closer as they sat on the rocks and watched the waves crash against the sandy bar. The sea breeze had lifted the hair from her cheeks and dried the tears. Kristy always wondered about the sliding doors that led her to that moment.
If she hadn’t been polite and thanked Tyler for steering her in the right direction, if that first coffee had been dreadful, she might not have found herself in love with him. If Finn had been less precocious, less independent, Tyler might have been watching more closely on their weekend break at Noosa. If she hadn’t fought with Tyler the night before about whether her job was worthwhile, she wouldn’t have been on a phone conference in the holiday apartment. She would have seen her cheeky son waving as he headed to the gate that led to the ocean. Traps were everywhere for the unwary, the innocent. And there was none more innocent than Finn.
She could remember so vividly the fear in Tyler’s voice. ‘Kristy? Kristy! Is Finn with you?’
‘Sorry,’ she’d said, breaking into the conversation on the phone, covering it with her hand. ‘No,’ she’d called. ‘Isn’t he with you?’
The sliding screen door had slammed. She heard her husband muttering, then calling for Abby. Her daughter was splashing in the pool with a new holiday friend. Minutes later, Kristy’s world shattered, the phone forgotten on the bench as she heard Abby screaming.
She worked on her son’s body until the rescue chopper arrived, praying to a god she’d believed in then. She flew to Brisbane clutching his limp hand, knowing in her head he was going but hoping in her heart for a miracle that would see her baby’s blue eyes spring open. He’d laugh and pat her face and say, ‘Just joking,’ and gurgle that wonderful laugh that made everyone around him smile.
But there was no cheating death.
She held his lifeless body, waiting for Tyler and Abby, tears dripping onto his little chest. She and one of the nurses washed him, cleaning the sand from under his soft fingernails, combing the tangles from his hair and apologising as she snagged on a knot. His skin was silky soft, his eyelashes dark crescents against the suntan of his cheeks. By the time what was left of her family arrived, Finn looked to be sleeping. Abby had wanted to see her little brother, stuffing her hand in her mouth to stop the sobs.
Tyler had stood silent and mute, his grief palpable. She’d reached out to him, but he shook off her hand.
‘It’s my fault. I didn’t take good enough care of him,’ he’d said, his voice broken and hoarse. Kristy found out much later that he’d cried from Noosa until he arrived at the hospital. It was ten-year-old Abby who’d taken control, foun
d the reception desk, asked for directions.
Tyler’s already short temper reached snapping point after that, his words precise arrows. By the end of the first week Tyler believed it was Kristy’s fault their beautiful son had died. By the end of a month Kristy knew she had to leave.
Too late, she acknowledged that over the years of their marriage her husband had isolated them, pushed away their friends. What had seemed like a thrilling need to keep his family close had turned into another way of controlling them.
To her colleagues her life with Tyler had seemed charmed. Beautiful children, caring husband, stunning house. She too had fooled herself that she was being overly sensitive to his criticism. As he said, he was only trying to educate a girl from the country. And yet, when she looked in the mirror she didn’t recognise herself. When she was asked an opinion she looked to Tyler.
Her life was perfect and she was ungrateful. How had it come to this? And then Finn was taken from them. In the dark of night, with Tyler’s breathing deepened by sleep, she allowed the tears to fall. She was a healer who brought comfort to her patients, but she couldn’t save her son or her marriage. She’d stared at her hands in the dark, wondering what lesson she was supposed to be learning.
That scene, the last terrible argument, had been brewing for so long.
‘Hi guys, I’m home,’ she called. She was late, but the housekeeper would have left dinner. Kristy didn’t have much appetite on the anniversary of Finn’s death anyway.
‘In here, Kristy,’ Tyler called. She dropped her keys into the ornate bowl in the corner of the kitchen bench.
He was in the formal dining room, the table laid with crystal and silver. Long-stemmed candles burned on the sideboard and she could smell Tyler’s favourite aftershave.
She stopped in the doorway. ‘We have guests? Tonight of all nights?’
‘No, just a cosy chat.’ The edge to his voice coupled with the intensity of his smile made her hands shake.
‘Right. Sorry I’m late. Crazy day on the ward. Where’s Abby?’
‘She’s sleeping over at a friend’s house. Did you forget about it?’ His smile could have been misconstrued as indulgent.
Kristy frowned. ‘A sleepover, when she’s missing Finn so terribly? Since when? I would never have said yes.’
‘Oh, but you did. She’ll go to school tomorrow from Lisa’s house. She’s fine.’
‘Right.’ She eased her chair away from the table, wondering what game he was playing now, and almost choked when she saw her phone next to Tyler’s plate. She’d forgotten it this morning.
She could try to bluff it out, but she knew too well that wasn’t really a plan. ‘How was your day?’
‘Interesting. I did some research today.’ His voice was gentle, too gentle.
‘Really? For a lecture?’ She helped herself to curry and rice, added a roti to the side, forcing herself to breath normally.
‘Could be a lecture, I suppose.’
‘Great. Can you pour me some wine, please?’ She held out her glass, watching the liquid splash into the deep crystal bowl, the candles behind shimmering through. He filled it to the top, even though he knew she only drank half a glass during the working week. She didn’t protest. The bottle hit the table just a little too firmly.
‘Don’t you want to know what the subject was?’ he asked, tearing a roti in two and dipping one half in the spicy sauce.
‘Sure.’
‘Domestic violence.’
‘Really? But that’s not your field.’
‘I didn’t have to look far.’
‘How come?’ She didn’t think she’d be able to swallow anything so she pushed her food around her plate.
‘Because you’d thoughtfully done all the research on your phone.’ He pushed it across to her.
‘I’ve looked up some stuff for patients. Glad it could help.’ It was a struggle to keep her voice steady.
‘Downloaded some shitty little app from the bitches at the Women’s Legal Service, did you?’
Afterwards she wasn’t sure what had lit the fuse on her anger, whether it was the demeaning way he talked about the women’s group or the ridiculous charade he was playing. She sat up straight. She’d loved him once, to the exclusion of everyone, but not any more.
‘Recognise yourself, did you?’ she answered. ‘My GP certainly did. He had no problem putting a name to what’s going on in this marriage. And you know what?’ She placed her cutlery down on the plate, lined them up precisely side by side. ‘Neither do I any more. I don’t know if it was this way from the start, but it’s over now. And I’m not hiding any longer. I’m not pretending that I have a headache and can’t go to work. I’m not going to kiss you in the morning and say it’s okay, that I know you’re sorry, that you love me, because you don’t. Maybe you never did.’
He started laughing before she’d finished. ‘And I suppose you want to take Abby away, to keep her safe from her angry daddy. But you know what, my dear?’ He leant across the table. ‘When the court hears about your dependency on sleeping tablets, your bout of postnatal depression after Abby was born, your workaholic nature that sees you leaving home so early and coming home after dinner is already on the table, who do you think will get custody?’ He picked up his wine glass and swirled it. ‘Hmm? Then you’ll have lost both your children.’
His words knifed into her. ‘I didn’t lose Finn,’ she hissed. ‘And I won’t lose Abby. I have a voice and I’m no longer going to be silenced.’
‘And all of this?’ He waved a hand around the opulent room.
‘I can live without it. I can even live without you.’
‘Bullshit.’ He threw his glass at her. Unprepared, she didn’t have time to do anything more than duck. He’d never hit her before. The abuse had been psychological, emotional. The wine sprayed over her. The glass glanced off her shoulder and shattered as it hit the floor. She was stunned at the anger in his face. ‘Bullshit!’ he yelled again. He grabbed her glass and threw it against the sideboard.
‘Tyler! Stop it!’
‘Why? You care about all this after all?’ He picked up his almost empty plate. Kristy pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. She needed her phone. She needed help.
‘Sit down!’ he roared at her. ‘We’re not finished.’
As the crockery smashed around her, mixed with the tinkle of breaking glass, she knew she shouldn’t have provoked him, knew she should have placated him. If – no – when she left, he wouldn’t understand why because even now, as he accused her of being too inept to save their son, he was sobbing for all that they’d lost. It wasn’t only his fault. She fled to the kitchen and dialled triple 0 before Tyler could stop her. Even more furious when he realised what she’d done, he’d stormed out, squealing the Mercedes’ tyres as he left.
She cancelled the emergency call then, and crawled into bed. When she woke before dawn and there was no sign of him she tried his phone, but it went to message bank. The voice she knew from the man she’d once loved announced he was tied up right now, but leave a message and he’d be sure to phone back.
But he hadn’t.
The police knocked on her door instead. There’d been a car crash. A single vehicle involved, on the Mt Nebo road. A treacherous stretch, notorious for vehicles losing control at speed. One occupant, no survivors. Now she was a widow with a teenager daughter, and she went into shock.
Kristy’s parents flew down. Her father took Abby under his wing, coaxed her out on walks, and eventually took her back to the station while Kristy struggled to return to work.
Her mum stayed, bowed by her own grief, but knowing Kristy needed her blunt wisdom. ‘You’ve seen enough in hospitals and on the station to know death happens. Doesn’t need a reason to be. You have a beautiful daughter who needs you. You’re young enough to love again, to maybe have another child. Nothing will ever replace Finn or Tyler, but this isn’t the end, just a time when you need to take stock. See what’s important to you. Don’t throw away
your gift. You’re a healer of hearts as well as bodies. Don’t forget to heal your own,’ she said one morning as she kneaded scone mix on the kitchen bench.
But none of them knew that if she hadn’t dialled emergency he would still be alive and she’d be dealing with a divorce, not another death. When the police asked if he’d been depressed she shook her head. ‘Sad,’ she said. ‘It was the anniversary of our son’s drowning.’
The two policewomen had looked at each other, made notes. Eventually it was ruled accidental death caused by speed.
Was it only anger that had made her volatile husband take a bend at an estimated 100 kilometres an hour, 60 kilometres above the recommended speed limit?
Kristy had reached the outskirts of Cooktown now and there was no room for her memories. When she’d moved here she’d vowed to live each day as if it were her last on earth, and right now that meant putting her skills to work to save limbs and lives.
It was controlled chaos at the hospital. Thankfully there were no deaths, and Kristy worked through the list with the doctor on duty. Two Royal Flying Doctors aircraft were arriving within the hour. The staff had done an amazing job and Kristy really only needed to reassure them their decisions were correct.
Her mobile phone buzzed in her pocket but it was several minutes before she had a chance to look at it. A text from Abby.
I’m home but the cops got Conor!!! What’s he done????????
‘Oh no,’ Kristy muttered. ‘Now what?’
20
Conor sighed. One minute he’d been crammed into the back seat of a car playing knuckles with Abby on the drive home, and the next he was arguing with Joyce at an RBT station on the road into Cooktown.
The older couple in the front had stayed right out of it when Joyce demanded Conor accompany him to the police station. Conor had stood his ground and insisted Joyce drop Abby home on the way. He’d tried to joke about it with her on the short drive in the police car, but he wasn’t convinced she’d believed his attempts to pass it off as some routine follow-up questions.
