Forbidden Fruit

by Ilsa Evans

  ‘How are you feeling?’ I asked Lucy, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

  ‘Fine. Just a little embarrassed.’

  ‘Don’t be. It happens to the best of us.’

  I turned into my lane, making a mental note to give Deb another call today to find out what was happening with the renaming. The sun was daffodil-yellow, hanging low in the sky, with a radiance that shimmered.

  ‘Mum, why’re there so many cars at our place?’ asked Quinn.

  I had just noticed the same thing. There was a white sedan parked by Lucy’s kerb, which was most probably Amy Stenhouse’s, and behind this was my mother’s blue hatchback and Petra’s black one. I glanced at the dashboard clock and frowned. Seven-fifty. My family did have a habit of dropping in at odd times, but this was a little early even for them. I coasted into the driveway and turned off the engine, still frowning. And then realisation sucked the air from my chest. It was Friday morning, which meant it wasn’t just Amy Stenhouse and her son and my mother and sister. It was also my father. Here, in my house.

  Chapter Eleven

  I have just finished writing my book and just know you will love it. It is about the classic mother–daughter bond, but transplanted to a planet far, far away. The moral being that even aliens have complex, intricate relationships. Please supply your address so that I may send it to you.

  The first thing that struck me was his unremarkableness. The tall, muscular man who used to swing me to his shoulders had been replaced by a shorter version with a girth that suggested a penchant for beer; the dark, curly hair was now a salt-and-pepper buzz cut; the neat, handsome features now dominated by a shiny red nose that skewed slightly to the right. Most of all, though, he was ordinary, average. I could have passed him in the street without batting an eye.

  He had jumped to his feet as I came through the door and now held out his arms. ‘Nelly! Well, bugger me dead! Come here!’

  Although neither option was particularly appealing, the second had clear advantages over the first. I moved forward and let him wrap me in his arms, glancing at my mother over his shoulder. Her face was unreadable. After holding me tight for a few moments, he thrust me away, staring almost greedily, and then brought me forward once more. He smelt of Old Spice. Not really knowing what to do with my hands, I patted his back awkwardly.

  ‘Let me introduce you to our grandchildren, Harry,’ said Yen. This served to bring an end to our prolonged embrace. ‘Over by the door is Lucy, and the one who is now desperately trying to beat a retreat is the youngest, Quinn.’

  ‘Come here, you two! There’s no escape!’

  I watched him surge towards my two daughters, wishing I had a camera to capture their expressions. Then I turned to my other company. An uncharacteristically quiet Petra was sitting on a barstool at the bench while Yen was on the far side of the table, beside Amy Stenhouse and a young man whom I assumed was the father-to-be. He strongly resembled his mother, even sharing her impeccable grooming, with the main difference being blond streaks and a lankier build. He looked like a member of a boy band.

  ‘This is Jasper,’ announced his mother, following my gaze. ‘My Jasper.’

  I reached out so that we could shake hands over the table. ‘Nice to finally meet you.’

  ‘Yeah. Likewise.’

  ‘My understanding was that you were supplying breakfast,’ said Yen. She gazed around as if expecting food to materialise and float to the table. ‘But perhaps I got that wrong.’

  ‘We had an emergency. Had to take Lucy to the hospital.’

  ‘So I heard.’ She glanced at her granddaughter and her voice softened. ‘Feeling better?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’ Lucy sidestepped her grandfather, who was now hugging Quinn, and came over to the table. She smiled across at Jasper. ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘Don’t apologise,’ said his mother briskly. ‘He’s as much a part of this as you. He needs to take the good with the bad.’

  As the only good he had contributed so far was the actual impregnation, and the helpfulness of that was open to interpretation, I found this statement rather annoying. Judging from her expression, so did my mother. She opened her mouth so I launched myself into hostessing duties. ‘Okay then, who’s for coffee? Tea?’

  A flurry of orders were issued and I went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. There was a scraping at the sliding door and I glanced across to see Gusto, one paw pressed against the glass. Either my mother or Petra must have put him out. I opened the door and he shimmied inside, tail wagging. I pulled a loaf of bread from the freezer. Cinnamon toast seemed like the best bet, with my original intention of supplying ham and cheese croissants having been hindered by the fact I had neglected to purchase either ham or cheese. Or croissants. I lined up mugs on the counter and snuck a look at my father. He had pulled out the remaining chair for Lucy and then positioned himself on a barstool beside Petra. From here he was now regaling the company with the story of how, on the plane, he had been seated between a rotund husband and wife who had argued for the entire flight.

  ‘I offered to swap with one of them but they weren’t having a bar of it. Bloody Nora. It was like being caught between the thighs of an aggravated elephant.’

  ‘An interesting comparison,’ commented Yen. ‘Not one that would have occurred to me.’

  ‘Well, you always did lack imagination,’ he said with a laugh. He leant forward to smack my mother on the knee. ‘Just joking, Lilly love.’

  I stared at them, somewhat stunned. Petra caught my eye and grimaced.

  ‘I had forgotten how much I enjoyed your humour,’ said Yen.

  Her ex-husband grinned. ‘And I had forgotten how much I enjoyed your sarcasm. Ah, fun times. Hey, hello, little dog. Where’d you come from?’

  ‘Fun times indeed.’ My mother turned to me. ‘I do hope you plan on tidying up, just a little, before your guests arrive tonight. First impressions and all. Speaking of which, perhaps it might be a good idea to store a hairbrush in your car for these emergencies. And what on earth is that splattered across your chest?’

  This latter comment brought everyone’s eyes to my chest. I bobbed down to get mugs from the cupboard.

  My father cleared his throat. ‘But what a grand place you have here, Nelly love! I’ve been walking around, checking it all out. Can’t believe what you’ve done with the old shop. Astounding! I particularly like the big-arse dalek in the lounge room. Oh, and well done on having the road renamed. Bursting with bloody pride, I am.’

  Yen made a noise that was half sniff and half snort, but didn’t elaborate.

  After hovering behind Lucy for a few minutes, Quinn had come into the kitchen and was now shadowing me, getting in the way. I mixed sugar and cinnamon in a bowl and passed it to her, along with a good plate. ‘Butter the toast and sprinkle this on top. Then cut into triangles and arrange nicely.’

  ‘Smells delicious!’ said my father. ‘What can I do to help?’

  ‘Nothing thanks. All taken care of.’

  ‘I am so sorry to have interrupted your reunion,’ said Amy, not looking terribly apologetic. ‘But having come all this way, it didn’t make sense to just turn around again. Besides, Jasper was dying to catch up with Lucy and see how she was.’

  We all glanced doubtfully at Jasper, even my father. Sensing something was expected of him, the young man nodded, and then went back to staring at the table.

  ‘And after our coffee,’ continued Amy, now smiling, ‘I wonder if we could go for a walk, Lucy dear, and have a chat. We have a proposition for you.’

  My eyes narrowed. I instantly knew what her proposition was, and I knew that Lucy was not going on that walk alone.

  ‘Are you going to suggest that you bring up the baby?’ asked Yen in a conversational tone. ‘Or, rather, that the clearly on-point Jasper do so, with your help?’

  Amy’s smile flattened, but remained in place. ‘I’m not sure what you mean by “clearly on-point”, but perhaps it’s best that I save my, our, propositio
n for Lucy herself.’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ I replied, passing her a mug of coffee and resisting the urge to pour it into her lap. Breaking news: another woman attacked in murder house. Police suspect a pattern. ‘Unless, that is, you would prefer it that way, Lucy?’

  ‘I would strongly advise you against it,’ said her grandmother briskly. ‘At the very least take your mother along. She’s better than nothing.’

  Lucy was staring at Jasper, her face pale, but now she transferred her gaze to Amy. ‘Is that it? Do you want my baby?’

  ‘Well, I would have preferred to have this chat in private …’

  ‘Wouldn’t private mean between Jasper and Lucy alone?’ interrupted Petra, speaking for the first time. ‘And no members of the extended family at all? So if you’re going along on this walk, then shouldn’t Luce have someone from her side also? Wouldn’t want anything uneven, would we?’

  ‘Of course not,’ replied Amy, her smile finally beginning to falter. She put a hand on Lucy’s arm. ‘And I certainly wouldn’t want you to feel that way, dear. But we’ve come up with a solution that’s best for everyone. I was trying to be sensitive. Especially with your grandfather having just arrived …’

  ‘Don’t drag me into this,’ said my father. He slid off his stool and began delivering the coffee mugs that I had left on the kitchen bench. ‘But if you’re going to, then my opinion is that we’re all family here. Even undeserving types like me, and …’ He glanced at Jasper, then regained his momentum. ‘So you may as well throw it in the ring, and we can all hash it out together.’

  ‘Do you want my baby?’ asked Lucy again, still staring at Amy.

  ‘Not me, dear. But Jasper has had second thoughts regarding the whole adoption idea, and so I offered my assistance. It’s the least I can do.’

  I turned to look at Jasper. He was tracing the walnut stain on my table with one finger.

  Amy still had her hand on Lucy’s arm. ‘You must see that this is the answer to everything! The precious little baby will still have one biological parent as primary carer, and you can visit as little or as often as you like. It will be brought up in a moral household, with good, traditional values. And I promise you, it will be so loved.’

  ‘But I wanted it to go to a family, a mother and a father. People who can’t have babies themselves.’

  ‘I mightn’t be able to have another baby,’ said Jasper suddenly. ‘Because … you know.’

  Lucy pulled her arm from Amy as she switched her gaze to him. ‘But we agreed! You agreed! At the start, you even wanted an abortion!’

  ‘He would never have gone through with that.’ Amy was clearly shocked. ‘Never.’

  ‘It wasn’t his to go through with,’ I said, annoyance clipping my words. ‘It was Lucy’s decision. Let’s face it, he wanted nothing to do with any of it until you entered the picture.’

  ‘I don’t think there’s any need for that tone. I’m trying to do what’s best for everyone.’

  ‘I think you’re trying to do what’s best for you,’ said Yen, but in a surprisingly gentle tone. ‘Then convincing yourself it’s best for everyone else as well.’

  ‘Toast’s up!’ said Quinn, sliding a laden platter onto the table.

  Amy stood. ‘I’m sorry you all feel that way. This is why I thought the conversation would be best done in private. And I didn’t want to mention this, but I have already sought legal advice. Jasper has every right to do this. If need be, we can place an injunction on the adoption. I sincerely hope it doesn’t come to that, as I think a civil relationship between all parties is best for the baby. But if necessary, that is the course of action we will take.’ She turned to Lucy and her voice softened. ‘Think about it, dear. But don’t take too long.’

  Jasper belatedly realised that this was his cue to rise. He followed his mother towards the door and then detoured back to Lucy’s chair, giving her a quick, brisk hug around the shoulders before leaving. The door shut firmly behind them both, leaving a humming silence. Tears glimmered in Lucy’s eyes.

  ‘Isn’t anyone going to eat my toast?’ asked Quinn petulantly. ‘See, this is why I never do anything. Whenever I do, like, no one appreciates it. Whatever.’

  *

  Petra proved her worth for the remainder of the day, staying to help move all the unpacked boxes into the garage and then give the house a good clean. Ornaments were finally put into place, pictures hung and furniture straightened. The dalek was moved upstairs to stand guard on the landing. By the time we finished it was early afternoon and my father was dropped off after his session with the police. At this point, Yen collected Lucy for an appointment with the local lawyer. Quinn went along for the ride, ostensibly to keep Lucy company but really, I suspected, to avoid being put to work any further.

  My sister and I watched as our father wandered outside to stand silently on the decking. I knew that this was an opportunity to ask questions, share my knowledge about Dallas Patrick, gauge his involvement in what had taken place. But I also suspected that it wasn’t the right time, and that I had to be patient. Finally he straightened, and moments later surged inside to declare his expertise in gardening. He spoke of weeping cherry trees, and azaleas, and herbaceous borders. And the criminal waste of not taking advantage of the beautiful weather promised for the evening. ‘So much better than bloody Cornwall!’ Before I knew quite how it had happened, we were delivering him to the same nursery that had supplied Charlotte, before continuing on with his list of required groceries. Then we were waiting in the car outside the butcher’s, the rear crammed with plants, watching him wave his arms at the counter, his joviality oddly infectious.

  He was in the backyard now, on his knees before a swathe of freshly-turned earth, planting a cluster of ferns in the corner opposite Charlotte. The apple tree itself had been joined by several smaller plants and a terracotta birdbath that had been delivered, along with a wicker and glass outdoor setting, by Jim Hurley after our father had selected the items online. The two men, old friends, had embraced clumsily before unloading Jim’s trailer and sharing a beer. After which my father had insisted that Uncle Jim and Rita join us for the ‘shindig’ tonight. Apparently it was the more the merrier.

  Another addition to the backyard was a charcoal spit, hired from the butcher, on which was a compilation of rolled chicken, pork and beef. It was like an extra-large kebab, turning slowly over glistening, spitting coals. Every so often my father would get to his feet with an audible groan, thrust his trowel into the ground, and then wander over to baste the meat. Gusto kept pace with him, pausing to sniff the air greedily. The smell was rich and delicious.

  I stood at the kitchen window with my sister. ‘No wonder they broke up,’ I said in a bemused tone. ‘I’m exhausted just watching him.’

  ‘I can’t believe they ever got together.’ Petra turned away and began drying dishes. ‘So … what do you think?’

  ‘Still ambivalent.’ I scanned my new garden with a smile. ‘Although I am warming to him.’

  ‘Me too. Pity about the whole shooting through when we were kids thing. Not sure if I can move much past that.’

  I nodded. ‘Yen might be a pain in the arse, but at least she stuck around. And it couldn’t have been that easy, especially in those days.’

  ‘Do you know when it really hit me?’ Petra put away a handful of cutlery with a clatter. ‘When you had your children. Watching you juggle them and how hard it was, even with Darcy on board. She was left with two small kids and a full-time job.’

  Our father had now ducked down to loosen an old tree root. He tugged, earth spraying, and then stood to jam the spade down with force. The root severed instantly. I blinked.

  ‘But this is our chance to find out why.’ Petra had joined me again by the window. ‘And also whether he had anything to do with that woman’s death.’

  ‘Dallas Patrick.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Dallas Patrick. That was her name.’ I removed a bottle of chardonnay from the fridge. Pe
tra waited patiently while I poured us each a glass. ‘I did a bit of research yesterday. Paul and Dallas Patrick lived next door, where Lucy is now. He was the chemist. They took compensation when the road was straightened and bought into a chemist in Ballarat. He closed shop on the eleventh of April and she’d already moved to the new house with the children just after Easter. Then, on Anzac Day, she vanished.’

  Petra was staring at me, eyebrows raised. ‘A bit of research, hey? And when were you going to tell me all this?’

  ‘Today. Now. And she left a note. It basically said that she had to be true to someone else. Which is why her ex thinks she ran off: to start a new life with a lover.’

  ‘How do you know she didn’t?’

  ‘First, because it’s too much of a coincidence. A blonde in her mid-twenties who used to live next door vanishes on the same day as a blonde in her mid-twenties gets buried over there.’ I gestured with my glass towards Charlotte in the corner of the yard. ‘And also I tracked down a photo of the 1970 Anzac Day march and you can see her Volkswagen. She was here, in Majic.’

  ‘You have been busy, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ I took a sip of chardonnay. ‘The problem is that all roads lead to the man who had access to the burial site, and then departed two days later.’

  We both turned to stare at the man in question, who was even now digging furiously in the same backyard. He wiped a hand across his brow, then looked up towards the window and gave a wave. Yes, he had returned voluntarily and that indicated goodwill, but circumstantial evidence was against him. I just hoped the truth wasn’t.

  Chapter Twelve

  I am writing to warn you. Yesterday I had a vision that suggests your life is in danger. I see a man in black, with a scar across his temple and a limp. Beware this person at all costs! And I should tell you that my visions have remarkable accuracy. Nearly half contain some elements that unfold in real life. Be warned!

  My visitors arrived just after six o’clock. First Scarlet and Matt, and then we waited at the door while his parents parked their four-wheel drive. I took the opportunity to acquaint Scarlet with this morning’s events, both the false labour and the threatened legal action, but soon discovered she knew more than I did. I turned my attention to Matt’s family. His father was just an older version of the son: big, bluff and blond, with a somewhat florid complexion. The mother was more trim, with dark hair and fine features. She was followed by two girls, one about twenty and the other around ten. Both resembled her, except that the older had cropped, spiky hair and a diamond nose-ring. Both also looked like they would rather be somewhere else.