by Sarah Bailey
The shadows make it look as if parts of his face are missing. A shake of his head and he is all Jacob. He is crying, his smooth face slick with tears. ‘I didn’t do it,’ he whispers.
I nod, trying to slow my breathing. ‘Okay. Then tell me what you know. Tell me the truth.’
He gulps and nods. ‘I was supposed to meet her that night but when I got here she was already dead.’
He’s an actor, I remind myself, I need to assume this is an elaborate lie. ‘I’m listening.’
He paces in a small circle. He makes a crying sound but when I look at him his face is still. He claws at his eyes.
‘So you did see her that night?’
‘Yes.’
‘You planned to meet?’
‘Yes. We were going to meet after the play and then go back to her place. She was excited about it. She said she knew I’d be amazing. We were going to celebrate.’
‘So what happened?’
He steps back into the shadows. His voice floats out of the black. ‘I don’t know.’ A small sharp sob. ‘She left and I got caught up. Everyone wanted to talk to me. It took me ages to get away.’
‘What time were you supposed to meet her?’ I say.
‘Just before ten-thirty.’
‘Where?’
‘At the bench near the playground.’
‘What time did you get there?’
‘Maybe quarter to eleven. She wasn’t there.’ He’s crying again.
‘What did you do?’
‘I tried to call her but she didn’t answer. Then I just walked around a bit.’
‘Did you think she had changed her mind?’
‘I didn’t know. I wasn’t worried at first, but then I just didn’t know. She was the one who wanted to meet up.’
‘Were you angry at her?’ I ask.
‘No. Just worried. I wanted to see her.’
‘Okay. Then what happened?’
His voice is shaking. ‘I walked around the bend and came up to the tower. I like it up here. I was just thinking, I guess. And then I decided to leave, head to Jamie’s or go home. I walked down near the lake and that’s when I saw her. She was in the water. Right near the edge. Floating.’ He sobs and the sound is painful. ‘She was already dead. Someone had killed her. I could see blood on her head.’
I watch him for a moment. ‘Then what did you do?’
Still crying, he wipes his eyes as he says, ‘I didn’t want to leave her. I wasn’t scared. I … it felt like nothing mattered anymore. I didn’t know what to do.’
My throat twists. ‘Did you touch her?’
‘Yes,’ he whispers. ‘I held her hand. I tried to pull her hair away from her face. And I had flowers—someone gave them to me after the play and I’d kept them for her. I put them on her. She looked so beautiful.’
‘Rodney,’ I say softly, urging him to keep talking.
‘After that I sort of sat with her a while and then … I just left. I left her here. I went back through to the school across the oval and went to Jamie’s. I didn’t know where else to go. I didn’t want to be alone but I was pretty messed up. I drank a lot. I didn’t say anything to anyone.’ His back is against the wooden panels, his head in his hands.
He is still crying and I don’t think this emotion has been summoned. It’s out of control, sloppy.
‘I loved her so much. I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t care about anything.’
I take a step towards him. ‘Rodney, this is important. Did you take any of her things? Her clothing?’
He blinks up at me, wide-eyed. ‘No. I didn’t, I swear. When I found her, her skirt was, like, pulled up, like someone had … done something. I tried to pull it down.’
I can see the scene: Rodney finding Rosalind dead. His loving attempt at a watery grave. The flowers floating around her as she looked up at the stars. Is it too neat? It’s certainly very convenient, him finding her already dead. I remember the little boy giggling into a pillow as Jacob kissed me on the couch. But then I think about the moment in the car the other morning, him stroking my hand. The sudden roughness.
I don’t know him at all.
‘Why didn’t you tell anyone, Rodney? If she was already dead when you found her, you could have called the police.’
‘I knew that I would have to explain everything. About us being together. She didn’t want that. She didn’t want anyone knowing. I didn’t want to have to explain why I was here.’
I am suddenly so incredibly tired I’m worried my legs will give way. ‘Rodney, I need you to come with me. It’s important that you tell me all this again at the station. We need to figure this all out properly. Go through everything. Do you think you can do that?’
‘Will I be in trouble?’
I avoid his question. ‘Come on, Rodney. Let’s go. You know we have to do this.’
I step towards him. There is a sound behind me. A scraping sound. An animal?
The moonlight flickers as the gums wave in the breeze. Footsteps. I swing around. Or is it Rodney? I’m dizzy. Sick. Something about this place is poisoning me.
Someone else is here.
Suddenly the night explodes around me. Stars splinter across my vision. I fall hard onto the ground and feel a sharp yank on my waist. Someone is taking my bag. My gun! Panicked, I kick my legs frantically as I scramble backwards into a dark corner, breathing heavily. I feel a trickle of wetness snake past my ear. Blood.
‘Don’t move,’ says a husky voice.
I feel Rodney falter to my left but I can’t locate him in the darkness. He must be in the other corner.
Donna Mason steps into the moonlight. Her short hair is loose and bunches around her face. Her forehead is all lines, her stare is flat and hard. My gun shakes in her hands, a perfectly round black eye staring straight at me.
‘I won’t let you take him.’
Rodney’s breathing is ragged. ‘Mum?’
She ignores him.
My thoughts are flying, the pain is impossible. ‘Donna, I—’
She cuts me off. ‘You should have left it alone. She was nothing.’
‘Mum!’ There is terror in Rodney’s voice now.
I lean my head against the wooden wall, trying to keep it upright. ‘Donna, it’s okay. Come on, let’s get down from here. Talk about this properly.’
‘No. No more talking. I just want my son.’ Her jaw wobbles wildly. ‘We’ll leave. Tonight. Get out of this place. We should have left years ago.’
Instantly I know that she was the one who took Ben. She’s lost her mind. ‘Donna, what happened? Tell me.’
She shakes her head, and I see a flurry of muscles contracting all over her face. ‘She was trying to take my son away from me. Again!’
‘Mum, what did you do?’ Rodney sounds like a scared little boy.
‘Be quiet, Rodney.’
‘Donna, what happened?’ I press, feeling the life flow out of me. I’m trying to work out what to do but I can barely retain a single thought.
‘She wouldn’t leave us alone. First my Jacob, then my baby. She was pure evil.’
The wind picks up. Moonlight turns to confetti, scattering everywhere.
‘You found out about her and Rodney,’ I say.
Donna stamps her foot and I feel the thud underneath us. ‘She tricked him into wanting to run away with her! She was trying to take him away from me.’
‘Okay, okay. Just tell me what happened. I know you went to the play.’
‘Afterwards, I saw her looking at her phone and I knew she was waiting for him to call her. My son. I couldn’t bear it anymore. I saw her go to leave and I followed her around the side of the library and said I needed to talk to her. Told her to come with me or I would tell everyone everything. I said that Rodney had a diary, that I would show the police. That I would destroy her. That terrified her. She knew what she was doing was wrong. She was so worried about her precious reputation.
‘We came to the lake right near where my Jacob died. Sh
e wouldn’t listen to me. The stupid bitch wouldn’t hear a word about what she did to Jacob and said she didn’t know anything about sending him a letter. But I saw it with my own eyes! I read it! She broke my son’s heart with that note and it made him crazy. He was fine before he got messed up with her. But she kept saying she didn’t know anything about it. She said what happened wasn’t her fault and that he’d broken her heart.’
Donna’s mouth twists into an awful sneer. ‘Broken her heart. How dare she.’
My own heart thumps alarmingly. I look back at the gun and consider leaping at her to grab it but I’m too far away. Too weak. Rodney watches his mother as if in a trance.
‘Then what happened?’ I whisper.
The wind lifts the trees and specks of moonlight dance on her face. ‘She said she loved Rodney. That it was real. That he wanted to be with her. That he loved her. That they wanted to have a new life away from Smithson. That once he was eighteen they could do what they liked. She was so smug, so sure of herself. I couldn’t stand it.’
‘Donna, did you hit her?’
Donna’s left hand clenches into a fist and the resolve on her face crumbles. ‘She tried to step around me to leave. I pushed her backwards and she laughed at me and said she was going to meet Rodney, and that there was nothing I could do about it. That he was almost an adult and I had to accept it. Her, lecturing me on my son. She pushed past me and I just bent down and grabbed a rock and I … I …’ Donna’s voice cracks roughly. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt her but I knew Rodney was coming and she was screaming and I hit her again and sort of grabbed her throat. I just wanted her to be quiet. To stop screaming. To go away.’
Donna keeps the gun trained on me as thick lines of tears glint on her hollow cheeks. ‘She was going to take away everything I have. I just wanted her gone.’
My eyes are starting to close. I shift a little, trying to jolt myself awake. I don’t have much time. ‘Donna. Did you touch her after she was on the ground?’
Her jaw is clenching continuously and her arms holding the gun are shaking. ‘I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to make it look like someone had … attacked her, so I ripped her skirt, pulled up her clothes and took her underwear. It wasn’t real.’ She starts to cry again. ‘It didn’t matter to her anymore. I just wanted it all to go away.’ The gun is still on me but she looks at Rodney, pleading.
‘Did you put her into the water?’
‘I just thought it would be better. She was already dead! I thought maybe the police would think she hit her head and drowned or was raped or something. I wasn’t thinking. No one would know what happened and Rodney could forget about her. We’d be left alone.’
My thoughts are still scrambled. ‘Donna, please, I can help you—and Rodney. But we need to go. We need to get Rodney to a safe place.’
‘No.’ She shakes her head manically. ‘I won’t let you take my son.’
I think about Ben and feel limp. I’m fading. ‘Come on, Donna,’ I whisper.
‘You’ll take him away from me.’
‘Donna, a woman is dead. You took my son. We need to make things right.’
Donna’s eyes flare. ‘I just wanted you to leave us alone. I thought that if you were scared of losing your son then you’d drop everything else. But you didn’t! You’re all obsessed with her. Obsessed with helping her. No one can see what she did! She tricked my sons. She was evil.’ Her voice drops. ‘I would never have hurt him. I was always going to bring him back to you. He’s beautiful, your little boy. Just like my boys at that age.’ She’s crying in earnest now, the gun pointing downward. Rodney is crying too, his noisy sobs mingling with hers.
I see writing everywhere. Pen nibs form words across the night, looping letters curl into my thoughts. The words are rolling up, faster and faster, like someone has left their finger on the down arrow. My eyes try to fix on what they say. I push my hands onto the ground and slowly pull myself onto my feet. The world tips sideways. ‘Donna, I …’ I teeter on the edge of a confession, try to think of a way to explain my foolish teenage actions. But what good would that do the universe right now? ‘I need you to come with me,’ I say instead.
‘No.’ The gun is back on me again.
‘Please. There’s no better way that this can end.’ I take an unsteady step towards her.
An anguished sob rips from her body. Her nostrils flare and her fingers tighten around the gun. Rodney screams at her to stop.
A noise explodes above us. Something falls from the sky and lands at Donna’s feet. She recoils as I pounce, the last of my energy surging through me. The gun glints intermittently in the darkness. Her eyes are icy madness. Rodney is on his feet too and I see Jacob standing next to him as I jump at her again. I clasp her bony frame, pushing her to one side. A shot rings out, and then another, and I land heavily and smack my head hard against the wood of the tower.
The cries of a wild animal fill my ears. Pain charges through my soul.
I hear another voice.
More screaming.
A face of soft dark velvet leans over me and then disappears. Someone is moving me, stroking my forehead, saying things I can’t seem to get a hold of. I let my head roll back and I see the moon, a giant glowing circle unmoving in the sky, and still there is the screaming, but then everything turns to red and the entire world seeps away.
Chapter Seventy-eight
I am curled in a ball on the slope of grass between the school and the oval. I want to go to the lake but I can’t seem to make my legs walk there. This spot seems like a good compromise. Jacob’s been dead for almost two weeks. I cannot comprehend not seeing him again. Every time I think about it, everything starts to dim as if the world is a TV screen turning off, so I spend most of the time trying not to think about it. Trying to do nothing and feel nothing. It is a bizarre existence, simply trying not to live. I stroke the grass. I wish I could fall asleep again; it’s the only thing that makes the pain stop.
For a few moments I think I am drifting towards the freedom of sleep and then I hear a cracking sound.
I snap my head up, uneasy.
‘Hello.’ Rosalind Ryan stands on the path about five metres from me. I think that she might be a hallucination. She reminds me of a deer, her large brown eyes solemn.
I try to remember the last time I saw her. Exams? With Jacob at the shops? At his memorial? Dead in the lake? In my murky, messy dreams?
‘He loved you, you know.’ The only sound is her voice, there is nothing else.
I don’t know where we are. Nothing looks familiar now.
What is this place?
I barely move as I keep watching her.
She looks older now. Sad and worn. She tugs at her lip with her teeth. Shuffles her feet.
I’ve never seen her look nervous before.
‘I really cared about him. I want you to know that.’ Her hair flows down past her shoulders. Her white dress billows in the breeze.
I look at her for a moment longer before I close my eyes and roll the other way.
after
I hung in a place between light and shade. Officially, I was in a coma but I’ve come to think of those peaceful days as my time out. I needed to decide that I wanted to be part of the world. I had to choose life.
I woke after almost exactly four days, late at night, the glow of hospital machines welcoming me back. Scott had just left, the staff told me. He’d been in there almost the entire time. Sometimes with Ben, sometimes with my dad. He’d held my hand, stroked my head and told me that everything was going to be alright.
The largest bunch of flowers on the small shelf near my window was from Felix. The card was an apology of sorts and a final goodbye. He’s transferring to a city squad in March, moving his whole family. Getting away from me. Jonesy’s doing, I’m sure. I don’t know what we ever really had, if anything, but he’s part of my story now and I need to believe that being with him meant something. It was bigger than us, I think. Perhaps I needed him in my life so that I
could see what I had right in front of me all along, and maybe it was the same for him. Or maybe he just used me. Maybe it will all become clear some day.
Six days after Donna Mason accidentally shot her own son, and two days after I returned to the world, I told Jonesy everything. How I’d set everything in motion. He listened, seated in the chair next to my hospital bed, silent but nodding occasionally, his bloodshot eyes fixed steadily on mine.
‘You were a kid, Woodstock,’ was all he offered. ‘I think it’s all best left alone. It was a long time ago. It changes nothing for me. You’re still one of my best. You just need some time to get better. Find your feet and get back on track.’
Find my feet. Get back on track, I thought. Yes. I need to work out where my feet are and which way the track is.
When I was floating in the darkness I dreamed of Jacob. His little-boy face. His hands on my body. His mouth on mine. He is embroidered into my being, woven into my core and pulses through my veins. Frozen between child and man, he is trapped in a place that protects him from shortcomings and the passage of time. Blocking him out has served me no purpose; I need to let him breathe into my life, swirl around from time to time, and trust that he’ll know his place.
John Nicholson was Rosalind’s father. And Rosalind’s baby had been Rodney’s. If Donna Mason is telling the truth, then she killed her own grandchild as well as Rosalind Ryan that night. I will never forget the sound she made on the tower when she thought she’d killed Rodney. It will ring in my consciousness for eternity.
Rodney is here in the hospital too. Donna shot him in the stomach but he will live.
Smithson is divided in two: half believe that Donna is covering for Rodney, the real killer, and the other half lean over steaming coffees, eyes huge, claiming that Donna killed Rosalind to protect her only son. I have not seen Donna or Rodney Mason since the shooting. I can’t. They can’t be part of the world that I’m trying to live in now. But I also can’t seem to summon any anger for what Donna did. Her existence is devoid of light now. Rodney may never forgive her, and that seems punishment enough.
