No sooner had she sent the text than her phone tinged with a message from Charlie.
Car accident on the way to
school. Grandpa cut forehead.
Summer sore neck. Celia ok.
At hospital to be checked
out. Tried to call Dad but no
answer.
Gabby upped her pace through the corridors on her way to the exit, pulling her overnight bag behind her, and called Charlie.
‘Hi,’ he said, sounding years older.
‘What happened? Where are you? Is everyone okay?’ she asked, ducking and weaving through passengers.
‘I’m fine. Still at the hospital. One stitch for Grandpa and a big egg on his head. Summer has a neck brace. A bit of whiplash, they think. Celia’s kind of …’
‘Quiet? Withdrawn?’
‘Yeah.’ Damn. Celia still had hospital phobia after all the time she’d spent there while Gabby was sick.
‘What about the people in the other car?’
‘It was just one woman on her way to work. She’s fine. Grandpa’s car looks much worse than hers.’
‘Well, I’m glad you’re all okay,’ Gabby said, sounding much calmer than she felt. She burst out of the airport and into the cool Melbourne air. She kept up the pace to wind through the taxi rank. ‘I took an earlier flight from Sydney, so I’m on my way to the hospital now.’
‘Too late. They’re about to send us home.’
Gabby pulled open the taxi’s door. ‘Then I’ll meet you there.’
There was much fussing over the injured and recounting of the accident before Gabby felt it would be okay to leave Monty and Summer at home for a short time while she took Charlie and Celia to school. But when she suggested it, both children baulked.
‘Can I stay home today too?’ Celia asked, throwing herself at Gabby and clinging tightly to her waist.
‘And I’ve got an assignment I can work on,’ Charlie said, his eyes sliding away. Perhaps they were more shaken up than she’d thought.
‘Sure, why not?’ she said, kissing Celia on the head.
Charlie went to the kitchen to make coffee and Gabby followed him. ‘Tell me again what happened,’ she said quietly. Monty was sitting at the table outside.
Charlie measured out coffee and tamped it down into the basket. ‘Grandpa had been sitting at the lights for a long time. Traffic was bad. The light was green but he couldn’t go because of the congestion. Then there was a gap, but the light had turned. I guess he just hadn’t noticed that it had changed because he was concentrating so hard. He hit the accelerator and ploughed straight into the other woman’s car.’
Gabby took a deep breath, imagining all the terrible things that could have happened to them, and with a horrible, dragging feeling of doom realised that her father’s eyesight had deteriorated so much that he wasn’t able to drive any more. She also felt bitter guilt that she’d left the kids in his care, lied to them about why she had to go to Sydney (to bring some cheer to a woman on the transplant list, so she’d said) and gone on a disturbing wild goose chase with Krystal when she’d been needed here instead.
‘The police came and the ambulance and they did their thing, and they decided to send us to hospital,’ he finished.
It was a good thing she’d left Sydney early. Clearly, she needed to focus on her family. With everything going on with Krystal, and Evan’s visitations, she’d simply not been present enough. Her father wasn’t as capable as he’d been two years ago. The tables had turned. Her mother and father had been her carers; perhaps it was now her turn to step up for her father.
Charlie muttered something, heating milk.
‘What did you say?’ she asked.
‘Am I the man of the household now?’ he repeated, his eyes firmly on the jug.
‘What? No!’
‘But Dad’s MIA and you weren’t here and Grandpa’s … you know, not himself any more. So that leaves me, doesn’t it?’
‘No! Look, Charlie Bear, stop doing that a moment, would you?’
Charlie turned off the steam and set the jug down. Gabby reached out her hands to turn him towards her. He set his broadening shoulders and looked down at her seriously, prepared to take on the world if he had to.
My god. What a man he was going to be.
Tears threatened, of course, but she shooed them away. ‘Look, if anyone is the father of this household, it’s me,’ she said, grinning at him. She flexed her muscles like Popeye the Sailor.
Charlie scoffed. ‘You’ve got nothing.’ He poked her tiny bicep with his forefinger. ‘It’s a chicken’s instep, that’s all.’
That was what her mother used to say. He smiled at her and she nodded, sharing the memory with him. She dropped her arm. ‘You are enough, Charlie. Do you hear me? You’re enough. You’re more than enough. It’s crazy how much of enough you are!’
He blushed then. ‘Yeah, all right.’
‘It’s not your fault your dad’s gone off the deep end and it’s not up to you to fill the gap.’
He nodded.
She hugged him, unable to believe he was taller than her now. She patted him on the back and then he pulled away to finish his coffee.
‘Good chat, son,’ she said.
‘Yeah, good chat, Mum.’
The house creaked quietly in the warming sunshine. Summer had gone to lie down and watch a movie in bed. Gabby phoned to make her a physiotherapy appointment for her neck then took her some painkillers. Outside, she found her father sitting at the table, a large red bump straining underneath the cut and stitch on his forehead. He was staring at the lawn. Sally rested at his feet but thumped her tail in greeting to Gabby.
‘Hey,’ she said, giving him a smile as she pulled out a chair next to him. He had a navy woollen vest over his short-sleeved shirt.
He looked at her quickly, but his brow puckered and he looked away, his eyes watery behind his thick glasses. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.
‘It’s okay.’ She reached over and put her hand on his arm.
He shook his head, setting his jaw. ‘I’m done now. No more driving. That’s it.’
Gabby wanted to tell him that he was just upset, that accidents happened to everyone, at all ages, that he was just in shock and overreacting. But maybe he was right. Maybe he’d accepted that he’d come to a new stage of life, that his old life as he knew it was done. She knew how that felt. It was a profound moment.
‘What about your shifts at the RSL?’ she said.
He worked his jaw, obviously not having considered this yet. ‘There are buses.’
‘True.’
‘Or maybe I’m done there too,’ he said, his voice pinched.
‘Maybe. Maybe not.’
He huffed.
She sat with him and they watched small wrens flitting in and out of the bushes, enjoying the sun, Sally’s heavy sleepy breathing filling the silence. Sometimes words just didn’t help and all you could do was sit.
Celia decided to go into The Tin Man with Gabby, and when they got there they found eight-year-old Olivia had accompanied Luciano to work. Olivia was helping Ed unpack the latest shipment of cakes and display them in the glass cabinet. Gabby could appreciate why she was keen to help; the aroma was dazzling, with scents of honey, caramel, strawberry and citrus dancing through the air.
‘Hi, Olivia!’ Celia called, waving wildly, thrilled to see her new friend again after their first meeting at the house on the weekend. Celia skipped over to Olivia and they instantly started oohing and aahing over the cakes, deciding which ones they would have for morning tea.
Gabby went out the back to find Luciano. ‘Let me guess, it was Olivia’s turn to be too tired to go to school?’
He muttered something in Italian and dragged a twenty-kilogram bag of green coffee beans to the corner of the storeroom, rotating stock before a new shipment arrived this week. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said. ‘And because Cooper got to come to work with me when he wasn’t feeling well, Olivia simply
refused to stay with Mamma today. She can’t give any good reason not to go to school other than that she’s tired. If I try to be stern with any of them, their eyes well up with tears.’
‘Oh, that’s rough,’ Gabby said, perching against a stack of bags, taking a moment to enjoy watching him muscle his way around the storeroom, occasionally grunting as he lifted and dragged. ‘If it’s any consolation, Celia came in to work with me as well. She was in a small car accident with my dad this morning.’ She shrugged. ‘She’s fine, more or less, but it seemed mean to force her to go to school.’
‘At least that’s a good reason,’ Luciano said. ‘Are my kids faking it?’ He stopped and wiped his forearm across his forehead.
‘Maybe?’
‘What should I do?’
‘Have you spoken to their teachers to make sure everything is okay in the classroom?’
‘Do you think there’s a problem? Like bullying or something?’ His eyes widened in alarm.
‘Not necessarily.’ She tried to reassure him with a gentle tone. ‘It’s just always a good idea to keep them in the loop.’
‘I spoke to them often when I first went to live with the kids. They’ve all been very understanding. At least the kids didn’t have to change schools, so it’s not like everything is brand new.’
Gabby nodded. ‘True … kind of.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I know it’s a totally different scenario, but for me, there is a fracture line in my life, with Old Gabby on one side and New Gabby on the other. In a lot of ways, everything is new. I’m sure that having continuity at the school has helped your kids, but in other ways it will challenge them, because they can no longer turn up to their same classroom with their mum or dad beside them. I imagine it’s quite disturbing to be in the same place but for nothing to be the same again. They probably still have schoolbooks that their mum covered for them at the beginning of the year; her handwriting greets them every time they pick up the book. Their dad might have gone to parent–teacher interviews, but now it’s you. No one makes their sandwiches exactly the same way any more. As you said, grief is exhausting.’
Luciano’s face suddenly tightened with emotion. He turned away and continued hauling and stacking. She gave him a moment, then said, ‘You might just need to ride it out. It’s already the last term of school. All kids are starting to get a bit tired by now, yours probably more so. My advice is to go with it.’
‘Give up?’ He stopped again and faced her.
‘No, not give up. Give in.’ She smiled. ‘Let it be what it will be. It’s just one muddy, heavy, clumsy foot after another, one day at a time.’
He nodded and scratched the back of his neck. She saw the curve of his bicep under his shirt and had to look away. ‘But for what it’s worth, your kids are welcome here any time.’
‘Thank you,’ he said gruffly, and she left him alone to work off his worries.
Around eleven o’clock, Ed made Gabby a siphon coffee, which took some time, so they didn’t do it often, but it was magical to watch. Gabby called Celia and Olivia over to observe too.
‘This is real-life science,’ she told the girls.
‘Here,’ Ed said, pointing to the Bunsen burner beneath the lower chamber, which was filled with water. ‘Click that button, and you’ll light the gas.’
Olivia jumped up and pulled her fleecy jumper off in a flurry, as if she was about to do something terribly energetic. Ed grinned and mouthed So cute at Gabby.
Olivia pressed down on the button a couple of times and a blue and orange flame burst to life below the water. In the top chamber, eleven grams of freshly ground coffee sat waiting. The water began to sway and bubble. Then it flowed upwards, through the glass tube between the chambers.
‘Oh, wow!’ Olivia breathed.
‘Awesome,’ Celia agreed.
Ed picked up a wooden spatula and began to stir the coffee grounds as the water soaked into them. ‘This will make the coffee bloom.’
Gabby loved this part.
‘What does that mean?’ Olivia asked, leaning across the bench as far as she could without burning herself on the gas.
‘I know!’ Celia said. ‘It means that when the water hits the coffee it kind of bubbles and releases gas and makes it taste good.’
‘Excellent, Celia,’ Ed commended.
When the last of the water rushed up the siphon and flooded the coffee in the top chamber, Ed clicked off the gas and pulled the burner away, then put the lid on the top chamber to seal in the pressure. By this time, a few customers had gathered to watch as well.
‘Now the coffee will pass through the filter in the top chamber, so our liquid will be in the bottom and the grounds will be left in the top.’ A moment later, like magic, the nut-brown liquid did exactly that.
‘Whoa!’ Olivia squealed and clapped her hands, and the eager customers murmured their delight too.
‘What makes that coffee different from an espresso?’ a young woman with a baby on her hip asked.
Ed smiled. ‘Each way we make coffee gives it a different flavour.’ She looked at Gabby. ‘Shall we do a few demonstrations?’
‘By all means,’ Gabby said.
With Kyle working the espresso machine to keep orders ticking over, Ed seized the opportunity to educate their audience on the marvels of coffee. She distributed the siphon coffee into tiny test sizes – just a slurp or two in babycino cups – and handed them out to willing participants. ‘Here you go. Try that.’
Celia grabbed one, and Olivia took one too. Olivia sniffed it thoughtfully, then sipped and swirled it around in her mouth. Luciano had obviously taught the kids how to cup.
‘It’s smoky,’ Olivia said.
‘And nutty,’ Celia added, and Gabby and Ed could barely look at each other for fear of laughing at the adorableness of the two girls.
Luciano had come to the swing door and was watching, a small, proud smile on his face. He caught Gabby’s eye and she gave him a look that said, Aren’t our kids amazing? He tipped his head in agreement. She was overcome with happiness, momentarily imagining the two of them together with their six kids.
But the odds of her even being alive in just eight years’ time weren’t favourable. How could she possibly plan a life when she could hear the end point rushing towards her like a freight train?
26
Krystal woke at seven o’clock with a crushing headache and stumbled to the hotel’s bathroom for a glass of water. What an agonising night that had been. She pulled off her clothes, wanting to cleanse herself of the emotional storm that had descended on her. In the shower she let the water gush over her hair, face and body. She let herself cry, safe for once from worrying about losing it in front of the boys.
This was the worst she’d felt in a long time.
Her only hope was that Gabby would tell her everything she’d seen and between them they might be able to put the pieces together. Maybe then she could know for sure that Evan forgave her for giving in and allowing them to cut out his heart and other organs. There might even be enough information for Krystal to go back to the kimono woman’s place and confront her. She was in too deep now; she needed to know everything there was to know about their affair.
Back in the bedroom, she sifted through the clothes in her carry-on bag, disappointed she had to put her jeans back on. She really needed a totally clean start to this day if she was going to keep herself together. She buttoned up a light cotton paisley shirt, wound her wet hair on top of her head then found her phone. She’d force herself to record a cheery good morning video to send to Roxy to play for the boys, assuring them she’d be picking them up this afternoon. She couldn’t risk speaking to them on the phone. If she heard their voices now she would crumble.
But she paused when she saw a message from Gabby already waiting for her, sent at five o’clock this morning.
I’ve changed my flight and
gone back to Melbourne early.
I need a break from all
of this.
I hope you understand.
Krystal collapsed back onto the bed.
It was over. She couldn’t do anything without Gabby.
She’d been so close. A tear slid from the corner of her eye towards the pillow. Was this it, then? So close yet so far. She’d never know why Evan was here that night.
She’d failed him, again.
After allowing herself to succumb to misery for a while, she pushed herself up off the bed, thinking. Maybe there was still a way to get the information she needed, even without Gabby’s help. She grabbed some chocolate and nuts from the minibar, threw her belongings into her bag and headed down to the lobby. Outside, she hailed a cab and directed the driver to take her back to the kimono woman’s house. She asked him to pull over a few doors down the hill so she could survey the house a little. Just as he did, a new message arrived from Gabby.
The woman in the blue and
white house was there the
night Evan died, in the street.
She saw it happen. But that’s
all I know.
Krystal stared at Gabby’s text message and nearly fell out of the cab. She stood motionless for a few minutes, reading and re-reading the text, long after the car had pulled away.
This new information was almost impossible to believe. The man who’d called the ambulance hadn’t seen anyone else in the street. The police had never found any witnesses. They’d door-knocked. They’d appealed for information. If this woman was there with Evan, why hadn’t she come forward?
Krystal headed up the slope towards the blue and white house, dragging her carry-on bag behind her, the wheels bouncing over the footpath. In daylight, she could see sparkling wedges of blue water from the bay peeking through trees and from behind houses. In any other circumstances, this street would be pretty and friendly, in the kind of delightful suburb where those with disposable cash chose to live. The morning was already warm, and men in suits reversed sleek black cars from garages. Women in designer dresses carried briefcases, talked into phones jammed between their ears and shoulders, and clutched eco-friendly reusable coffee cups. Schoolkids in blazers and hats with pointless ribbons and crests marched towards public transport.
The Gift of Life Page 24
