The Last Dingo Summer

by Jackie French

  ‘No, she’s with me.’ Nancy poked her head out of the kitchen, Mattie balanced on her hip. ‘Come and have a hug. Sorry, we’re a bit sticky. No, honey,’ to Mattie, ‘don’t eat Auntie Scarlett’s earring.’

  ‘You’re not cooking dinner, are you?’ asked Scarlett suspiciously. Her foster mother was skilled in many ways, but cooking wasn’t one of them.

  ‘No, don’t worry, Mah and Blue are. They’re in the living room with Michael and the boys and Joseph and Jed and Kirsty. You remember Joseph’s sister Kirsty? She’s Fish’s grandmother.’

  Ah, so that was where that girl fitted in. Though it didn’t explain why the desolate house of the last five months had suddenly become the social hub of Gibber’s Creek.

  ‘I’ll help you with your bag,’ said the girl. Fish. What a name. But that T-shirt with the pink fanged fish on it was cool . . .

  ‘No need.’ Scarlett was used to unnecessary offers of help.

  ‘I’d like to.’ She followed Scarlett down the hall, waited till she was inside her bedroom, then shut the door. ‘Why haven’t you been here for Jed?’ the girl demanded.

  ‘Kick me in the teeth, why don’t you?’ Scarlett found herself flushing. She also found herself answering, though she wasn’t sure why. ‘Because I didn’t know how bad things were till Blue rang me. And I’ve been sort of . . . focused . . . on this bloke.’

  ‘The one you’re living with?’

  ‘Yes. Though we’re not living together like that. We have separate rooms.’ Why on earth did I tell her that? wondered Scarlett.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Scarlett said. Cool hair and T-shirt or not, this kid had no right to —

  ‘Why do you have separate bedrooms? It’s the Age of Aquarius, isn’t it? Peace and free love?’

  Scarlett put her hands on the chair’s wheels, about to wheel out in fury, then stopped. This girl radiated honesty, she realised. Impossible to lie to her. Or, maybe possible, but you didn’t want to, in case she broke. ‘I don’t think love is ever “free”. And I don’t know why we are in separate bedrooms. I . . . I don’t want us to be.’

  ‘Have you asked him?’

  Scarlett shook her head.

  ‘You’re scared of what he might say?’

  ‘Yes,’ whispered Scarlett. She blinked at Fish. ‘They’d have burned you as a witch once.’

  Fish shook her head. ‘I just don’t seem to have the brake on my tongue that everyone else has. You politely don’t ask questions. I do.’

  Interesting. Almost interesting enough to make her forget her unease about Alex. ‘I promise I’ll come down every second weekend.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Was it you who got . . . ?’ Scarlett waved her hand towards the voices and laughter in the living room, the good scents from the kitchen.

  ‘Sort of. Jed admitted she wasn’t coping and things snowballed from there.’

  ‘Good on you,’ said Scarlett, nine-tenths forgiving her for sowing — or revealing — the doubts she had about Alex. ‘Did Blue bring her angels-on-horseback savouries?’

  Fish nodded.

  ‘Yummo.’

  The lamb, gravy, roast potatoes, roast pumpkin, baked zucchini with cheese, the chocolate pudding with cream and ice cream were consumed, as well as a cup of decaf coffee and a squished-fly biscuit — all with love and laughter.

  Scarlett told them how Daphne had screamed when the corpse they were dissecting ‘spoke’ to her (‘It was just releasing wind!’) and Joseph told the equally unsuitable for the dinner table tale of the patient who had swallowed her wedding ring and overdosed on laxatives to get it back. (‘Darling, really!’ protested Blue, also laughing.) Nancy and Michael’s sons grinned at the gory bits, and Mattie tasted her first pumpkin and gravy and demanded more, passed from lap to lap and clearly adoring it all.

  And Jed laughed. Jed in one of Matilda’s fabulous dresses again with a 1920s green bandeau in her hair, looking as if she’d finally had a night’s sleep and was back in the world again, her eyes no longer gazing on what she had lost five months back.

  Thank you, she thought to Fish, catching the girl’s eyes across the table. A weird fish indeed. But as she’d always said, normal was overrated.

  And yet something nibbled at her as she helped Joseph and Nancy wash up and put things away; as she kissed Mattie good night; as she and Jed waved goodbye to everyone, then finally sat together in the living room, as they had so many times, discussing everything and everyone except what really mattered, Sam and Alex. And something else, thought Scarlett, just as Jed said:

  ‘Did Nancy tell you the police know whose body it was they found in the church?’

  ‘No,’ said Scarlett, wondering at the intensity in Jed’s voice.

  ‘Merv. And there’s more. They say he was tied up when he died, which makes it murder.’

  ‘You’re kidding. Hell’s bells. Who could have put him —?’ She stopped and looked at Jed. ‘Oh, Jed, I should have been here! I’m so sorry. It must be awful for you.’ And a relief, she thought, knowing her tormentor was finally gone. Which she might have blurted out to Fish, but not to Jed. ‘How do they know it’s Merv? Dental records?’

  ‘I . . . I didn’t ask.’

  ‘Have the police been to see you then?’

  Jed nodded. ‘A detective from Sydney came, with that nice Will Ryan. They’ll probably want to see you too. Might be best to call the station and say you’re here and get it over with.’

  ‘Why would they want to talk to me?’

  ‘To establish my alibi. And Sam’s,’ said Jed lightly. ‘They seem to think he must have been put in the church the day of the fire.’

  ‘I . . . see,’ said Scarlett. ‘Makes sense. Someone must have been in the church earlier that week to clean it or do the flowers. They’d have noticed a body there.’

  ‘Did you see Merv’s car when you drove here that afternoon?’

  ‘I saw a car. The burned-out one someone took away a few weeks later. I didn’t recognise it though.’

  ‘It was Merv’s.’

  ‘I should have guessed. I glimpsed him on the way out, but I thought you were following me. I just forgot with all that happened later.’

  ‘If the police think I saw Merv hanging about, they might think I killed him,’ said Jed grimly.

  ‘But you couldn’t have! Not nine months’ pregnant!’

  ‘I might have shot him.’

  ‘What with?’

  ‘Sam’s .22. It’s still under the bed.’

  ‘Except you’ve never fired a gun in your life. And why tie him up if he was shot? You couldn’t have lugged him to the church either, could you?’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know.’ There was an odd note in Jed’s voice. ‘I think I’d be able to leap to the moon if I was desperate for Mattie. But anyhow, I didn’t kill him, or take him to the church, so that’s an end to it.’

  ‘Jed, they don’t really think, I mean — you or Sam?’

  ‘I don’t know what they think,’ said Jed, sounding desperately tired again. She tried to smile. ‘Fish is determined we have a serial killer in Gibber’s Creek. She’s trying to find him.’

  ‘Him? That’s totally sexist. Women have as much right to be mass murderers as men. Why on earth does Fish think we have a Ted Bundy? The two old skeletons they found with . . . with Merv?’ Scarlett tried to get her head around Merv being dead. She’d just assumed he’d left, that Will Ryan’d had a word with him, perhaps. Dead . . .

  ‘Apparently they have found more than two. No, I don’t know any more. Fish overheard Constable Ryan and the detective talking.’

  ‘You could ask Will. He’s nice.’

  ‘He might get into trouble for talking to me.’ Jed stood. ‘I’d better get some sleep before her ladyship wakes up at two am wanting food, frolic and song.’

  ‘You’re getting enough sleep?’

  ‘Not at night. But Blue or Mah are going to come over every day now and take Mattie for a walk
so I can have a nap.’ She tried to smile. ‘Or maybe even get some work done.’

  ‘I bet they’ll love that.’

  Jed nodded again. ‘I hadn’t realised, well, a lot of things. Good night, brat.’

  ‘Good night, honoured older sister.’

  She waited till Jed had used the bathroom, till her light was off, then another twenty minutes till she was sure she was asleep. She looked at her watch. Only ten-thirty. Alex rarely went to sleep before midnight. She wheeled herself into the hall and dialled the number of her home unit.

  ‘Hello?’

  A woman’s voice. Scarlett froze.

  ‘Hello? Who’s there? Hello?’

  A clunk, then the dial tone. Scarlett dialled again, her fingers not trembling. There was no need for her fingers to tremble. She’d dialled the wrong number, that was all . . .

  ‘Hello?’ Alex’s voice. It had been a wrong number. Then why did she feel like vomiting up everything she had eaten for the past year? ‘Hello?’ He sounded hassled and annoyed.

  ‘It’s me,’ she managed.

  ‘Scarlett, what’s wrong? Are you okay?’ She heard a door slam.

  ‘Yes. I . . . I wanted to talk to you. Is anyone else there?’

  ‘No. You only rang a few hours ago. What’s so urgent?’

  Nothing. Everything. She tried to listen for a woman’s voice in the background, even the movements of another person, but all she could hear was Alex’s breathing.

  Had she really been going to ask him why he wouldn’t sleep with her? Fish, she thought, prodding and poking and opening doors that are better left shut. Because she was happy with Alex, normal with Alex, or very nearly, almost . . .

  ‘The police have been here,’ she said instead. ‘The body in the church was Merv’s, the bloke who’d been stalking Jed.’

  ‘What! Really? How is Jed taking it? Badly or relieved? I’m so sorry — I should have come with you. How did the police identify him?’

  Which was exactly what she had asked. She smiled. ‘Jed didn’t think to ask. I love you, Alex.’

  ‘I love you too,’ he said, and she could hear the sincerity in his voice.

  And yet, still, when she’d told him the whole story and finally put down the receiver, the smile vanished. Because Alex had not wanted to know why she’d thought someone else might have been in her flat, so late at night. And she hadn’t had the courage to ask him.

  Chapter 21

  Lions Club Raffle Winner

  The winner of a ute-load of firewood and a dozen Gibber’s Creek Centenary tea towels is Mr P Dagwood of Hawthorne Lane. Congratulations, Paull! The ruffle raised $106.30, which will be put towards the garden fund for the Glibber’s Creek Hospital.

  JED

  Something is wrong, thought Jed, watching Scarlett across the kitchen table. Maybe something had been wrong for months, and in her self-absorption she hadn’t noticed.

  Scarlett was too deliberately cheerful as she insisted on making cheese and mushroom omelettes, grilling tomatoes, wheeling over to make toast to go with the sour cherry jam she’d brought down from Sydney. Maxi lay beneath Mattie’s highchair, waiting for a gummed and soggy crust of toast.

  ‘It’s the best jam in the universe,’ Scarlett said, spreading the almost black cherries thickly.

  ‘Better than Mrs Macleigh’s strawberry jam?’ Jed fed Mattie bits of omelette while she ate the rest one-handed.

  ‘Okay, the second-best jam in the universe. Or maybe third, after Blue’s lemon curd.’ Scarlett glanced over at her. ‘She said she’s coming over to babysit this afternoon while you go to the hospital. Would you like me to come with you?’

  ‘Do you mind not? I . . . I can’t explain.’

  ‘You don’t have to,’ said Scarlett gently.

  ‘I’m sorry I’ve been . . .’ Jed shrugged ‘. . . away the last few months.’

  ‘Shock,’ said Scarlett. ‘And depression. I should have noticed.’

  ‘I took care that you didn’t. It wasn’t just that, I think. All my life when something bad happened, I had to cope by myself. Until I came here I was a nuisance, to Mum, to Dad and then to Debbie. They made it clear their lives would have been easier if I hadn’t existed. I think at some level I believed it. But every time Sam saw me he’d grin. Just coming in the back door, he’d grin at me as if he’d seen the most glorious sight in the world . . .’ Jed swallowed and continued. ‘And then when he suddenly wasn’t here any more, I was the five-year-old Jed again, unwanted, who learned to make Vegemite toast when she was three because no one bothered to make her breakfast or dinner, who would turn up at the neighbours’ at lunchtime, because she’d discovered that if she did, they might offer her food. But not always, because no one really wants a kid in their house who’s dirty because no one ever bothered with a daily bath or washed my hair.’

  Scarlett stared at her in horror. ‘I didn’t know it went back as far as that. I thought it was just Debbie and Merv.’

  Jed shrugged. ‘Nope. The health inspector even came because the school reported that I was dirty. I did get baths after that. Angry orders to go and have a bath every night or “that man will come round here again”. But I was in high school before I realised I had to wash my uniform out in the basin every night too, because a once-a-week wash wasn’t enough.’

  ‘So you wash your hair every day,’ observed Scarlett.

  Jed flushed. ‘Even when I was sleeping rough, I’d find a tap somewhere. Usually in a public toilet. I never really feel clean now unless I’ve washed my hair.’ She hesitated. ‘Can I tell you something even worse?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You won’t think I’m . . . unclean?’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Scarlett softly.

  ‘It was before Mum died,’ said Jed tonelessly. ‘I was about five or six. I don’t think there was much money, not with the amount she drank. So she’d make me drink this clear burning stuff — I think now it was vodka — then let a man touch me. Not sex, just touch, in return for money.’

  ‘Oh, Jed!’ Scarlett wheeled around the table and held her, just held her.

  Jed began to cry. ‘I didn’t even tell Sam that. I didn’t want him to have to bear the memory too. But I knew that he’d love me even if he did know.’

  ‘I still love you, you idiot. And everyone else would still love you. I don’t mean you need to tell them, but they’d feel just like I did. That’s what was done to you, not who you are.’ She shoved a box of tissues across the table at Jed.

  ‘There’s more,’ whispered Jed. ‘Sam took Mattie that night. He walked her after I fed her. Walked her for hours, as she wouldn’t settle. If he hadn’t been so tired, maybe he wouldn’t have had the accident . . .’

  ‘Stop right there,’ said Scarlett fiercely. ‘Did you ask him to do that? Say, “I want to go back to sleep, you have to take her”?’

  ‘No. He . . . he said, “Let me cuddle her, darling.” I could hear him telling her all about how photovoltaic panels work . . .’

  ‘Then that was Sam’s choice. His decision, and a good one. And maybe it wouldn’t have happened if you’d got up and grabbed Mattie from him, or if Mattie had never been born, or there’d been a flood and he couldn’t get into work. But we don’t know that, and anyway, it doesn’t matter. That’s what “accident” means. No one’s fault. And you are Jed McAlpine-Kelly and you are loved and your life will keep filling up with even more love . . .’

  ‘Thank you.’ Jed sniffed, blew her nose, then picked up Mattie, who was about to scream in sympathy. She managed to smile at her daughter as she jigged her on her hip. ‘Your mum’s an idiot. Do you know that?’

  ‘I was lucky.’ Scarlett made toast and jam, then handed one of the slices to Jed. ‘As far back as I can remember, everyone told me I was wonderful. The first time I managed to eat by myself Nancy made a cake to celebrate. It was a lousy cake,’ she added. ‘But when you’ve had a cheer squad all your life, you know that no matter how hard it is, you’ll get there. Do
you remember that fairy costume Nicholas bought me? Everyone’s been there for me. Always. I’m so sorry your life wasn’t like that.’

  Jed looked at her, this miracle of a young woman, born with an unknown genetic condition that left her with no strength in her limbs. Scarlett had fought for every single movement she made each day. ‘You’re incredible. You’d always have been incredible.’ She paused. ‘Brat, is there something wrong?’

  For the first time since she’d known her, Scarlett seemed to grope for words. ‘Alex and I aren’t, you know, together. Properly, I mean.’

  ‘You mean he doesn’t like coming down here with you?’ Even Jed had noticed the complete absence of boyfriend over the Christmas holidays, although he had rung often.

  ‘I mean sex,’ said Scarlett flatly.

  ‘You don’t want to?’ asked Jed cautiously.

  ‘He hasn’t asked me.’

  ‘What! I got the impression he adores you.’

  Scarlett carefully looked at her toast, not Jed. At least Jed had stopped reliving her past horrors now. ‘That’s what he says. But nothing happens.’

  ‘Honey, it’s 1979. You could make the first move, you know.’

  ‘But what if he says no?’

  ‘Then he’s an idiot. And I don’t think he is an idiot.’

  ‘No, he’s not,’ said Scarlett sadly. ‘But he isn’t the perfect knight I thought he was a year ago either.’ She tried to smile. ‘But no one’s perfect. Except you and me and Mattie, of course.’

  Jed looked at her seriously. ‘I’m not just being part of your cheer squad when I say that you’re beautiful.’

  ‘And small.’

  ‘Okay, not the big economy size. You’re tiny and graceful and fairy-like . . .’

  ‘I want to be an Amazon, not a fairy!’

  ‘Too bad. I want to be slim like Audrey Hepburn instead of having a bosom like a Jersey cow . . .’

  Scarlett giggled. Thank goodness, thought Jed. Suddenly she felt as if a three-tonne weight had dropped off her. Of course she was loved. Losing Sam meant slicing her life in half, but what she had left was still a good life . . .