Penny tried to put Ray out of her mind. There were other things to think of, like telling Matt about the baby. She grabbed two packets of potato crisps from the cupboard, put one in her bag and delivered the other to the men on the verandah.
‘Thanks, love. You on your way out?’
Ray was a shamble of unwashed clothes, stubble and tangled grey hair. A box of medication lay beside his drink. She picked it up: RestRite. ‘What’s this?’
‘Something from the doc to help me sleep.’
Penny frowned. ‘Don’t you go mixing that stuff with alcohol.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Ray burped. ‘Charlie’s whisky works better than any sleeping pills.’
Penny put the box down. ‘I’m going round to see Matt, and I may not be home tonight.’ She could hear the excitement in her voice.
Ray stood up, flush-faced and a little wobbly on his feet. He kissed her cheek. ‘Hope it works out for you, love. I really do. Tell that bastard that if he does the wrong thing by my girl, he’ll answer to me.’
Even at six o’clock, with the sun low in the western sky, the car’s steering wheel was too hot to handle. Penny wrapped a cloth around it and started the engine. First stop, damage control at Canterbury Downs before going to see Matt.
The dogs met her in the driveway, waving their great plumed tails in welcome. Penny hugged Bruno’s huge head. ‘Where’s Fraser?’ They set off around the back and headed straight for the studio. Fraser was bent over a polyurethane form with a measuring tape. He jumped when he heard her come in. When she got a good look at the form, she understood why.
‘Is that what I think it is?’ asked Penny. Fraser said nothing. She ran her hand down the neck of the model. ‘No wonder you look guilty.’
‘Custom-made when I ordered your devils. It’s extraordinarily difficult, you know, to produce the form of an animal that nobody has seen alive.’
‘You want to stuff Theo?’ Penny was stunned at the audacity of the idea.
Fraser opened his spindly arms in supplication. ‘He’d be the first in almost a century. Maybe the last.’
‘It’s not me you’ll have to convince.’
Fraser smiled. ‘My stubborn son will be the sticking point, eh? An old man’s dying wish?’
‘Matt will never go for it.’
Fraser chuckled. ‘Perhaps not. Now, to what do I owe this pleasure? The party won’t begin for another hour.’
Penny hesitated, a little ashamed to tell Fraser her news, half-pretending to herself that she didn’t know what it would mean. ‘Um … Sarah has finished her genotyping project.’
‘Yes, my dear,’ said Fraser, brightly. ‘Plans are already afoot to send the good doctor packing.’
‘Just like that?’
‘Just like that.’ He scrubbed his hands together. ‘Now is there something else? McGregor wants me in the cellar to choose the wines.’
‘I’m taking your advice,’ she said. ‘About the baby. I’m going home to tell Matt now.’
‘And I must appear to be ignorant until the formal announcement.’
‘If you wouldn’t mind.’
‘Of course.’ Fraser beamed. ‘Nothing shall spoil tonight.’
Penny gave him a wry smile. ‘You do know the Government won’t win. All the polls say so. How many of your mates will lose their jobs?’
‘Que sera sera. They’ve made their beds. If the result pleases Matthew, it will please me.’ There was an unusual quality to Fraser’s voice, an authentic resonance. For a moment the mask of illness dropped away, transforming his features, turning the pallid grey into a guileless warmth. Love for his son was stamped all over his face.
‘Wish me luck,’ she said, picking up her bag.
Fraser kissed her cheek. ‘That baby you’re carrying is all the luck you need – all the luck any of us need.’
They were interrupted by the barking dogs. Penny hurried from the studio in time to see Matt’s jeep pull into the circular driveway at the front of the house. No, she’d wanted to tell him about the baby in their own cosy kitchen, not here at Canterbury Downs – a place where Matt had known a great deal of pain. A place from which he’d been estranged for years. Well, it couldn’t be helped and she’d waited long enough. But still, the change in plans felt like a bad sign.
* * *
Sarah Deville woke, bleary-eyed, to a knocking at the door. The spa had turned itself off and the tub water was cold. A hair floated on its surface. Her fingers were wrinkled and grey. She stepped out and almost slipped. Ow, her toe. The champagne flute lay smashed on the floor beneath her foot. Blood trickled across the tiles.
‘Just a minute, Matt.’ Sarah staggered to the closet and put on a bathrobe. A quick glance in the mirror. Hair hanging in rat-tails. Scrubbed face revealing each dark circle and line. The knock came again. She rushed to the bathroom, applied a little powder, then dragged a comb through her lank, wet hair. That would have to do. Wait. The sexy underwear. A third knock. No, naked under the robe would be sexy enough. Sarah opened the door.
The woman from reception stood holding a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. She peered past Sarah into the room. ‘I didn’t notice your friend arrive, but I’ve brought the wine anyway. Did I miss him?’
Sarah snatched the bucket and slammed the door. She checked the time. Past six-thirty. A text message from Matt. Sorry Sarah. I can’t make it. We’ll talk tomorrow. Short and sour, speaking volumes. Sarah hurled her clothes on and headed for the car. He wasn’t getting away with this.
Chapter 37
Television coverage of the election had already begun when Fraser, Penny and Matt settled down on the oversized leather suite in the lounge room. Penny had been watching for a moment to take Matt aside, but an excited Fraser was monopolising him. Father and son were talking for the first time in years, and she didn’t want to get in the way of that.
Penny emptied the potato crisps she’d brought into a bowl, and put them on the coffee table. They looked out of place beside the plates of gourmet hors d’oeuvres brought in by the butler. ‘Anything vegetarian?’
McGregor materialised at her shoulder. ‘Of course, Miss Penny.’ He pointed to this or that appetiser, rattling off ingredients. ‘Polenta wedges with bocconcini and basil pesto, leek and charred bell pepper tartlets, crunchy red lentil fritters with fresh mint …’
Despite the delicious food, Penny had little appetite. Nerves had the better of her. ‘Did you really cook all this?’ McGregor seemed mortified by the question.
‘Stop showing off,’ said Fraser, ‘and fetch us something to drink.’
McGregor returned with a refrigerated trolley. ‘Champagne, Miss Penny? A great vintage. Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin Brut 1998.’ The French words sounded strange in his thick Scottish brogue.
Penny shook her head, keeping a careful eye on Matt. She loved champagne. Would he wonder why she refused the glass of bubbly? But he didn’t notice. He was listening to Fraser talk about Matt’s American grandmother, a woman she knew he’d always wondered about.
‘I went to live with my mother in Los Angeles when I was sixteen,’ said Fraser. ‘You know how teenagers are. I’d had a row with my father, Thomas Abbott, and she sent me a plane ticket. Kitty Monroe was a very glamourous lady, a movie star, married to a famous Hollywood director. It was an exciting life for a young man.’
‘Didn’t your dad try to bring you back?’ asked Matt.
‘He did, but I didn’t want to go home, and Mother fought him in the US courts. She had money and influence and wasn’t afraid to fight dirty.’
Fraser cleared his throat. Something of the joy had gone out of him. By now Penny was also riveted by Fraser’s story.
‘Kitty hated my father – I still don’t know why. She did all she could to turn me against him, and I’m afraid she succeeded. I remained estranged from him almost until his death.’
'How awful,’ said Penny.
‘Yes, very sad.’ There was a faraway look on Fraser’s face. ‘I’d
forgotten how much I loved that man until I returned to Tasmania. But by then Mother’s fondness for money had rubbed off on me.’ He traced a Scotch thistle pattern in the tablecloth. ‘Dad was a war hero, you know, a Battle of Britain fighter pilot. Also a passionate conservationist like yourself, Matthew. It seems I was the only one in the family not to follow in that proud tradition.’ He clapped his son on the back. ‘Until now, eh?’
Penny’s heart melted. How wonderful for Matt to hear these stories from his father, before it was too late.
Fraser turned up the television. ‘Come join us, McGregor, for history in the making.’
‘No, thank you, sir. I’ve never placed much stock in politics. And on top of that I feel sorry for Miss Kate.’
Penny glanced at the television, which showed a large tally board divided into the five state electorates. Host Tom Munro was speaking. ‘If you’ve just tuned in, we’re coming live from the floor of the Pierpont Casino tally room for what’s shaping up to be a fascinating night. We should see some figures from the smaller booths any time now. Polling places were packed out early, with people queuing to have their say.’ The first results were coming in, and colourful graphs appeared on the screen. ‘Things are already taking shape, with a substantial swing against the government. Remember, the swing will be stronger in the large metropolitan booths that come in later tonight.’
Well, what did they expect? Kate had lost her premiership in a sensational fashion and was likely to face corruption charges as well. It hadn’t been a gracious leave-taking. Recriminations had flown in all directions. Kate seemed determined to take her colleagues down with her, and not without cause. She hadn’t been the only one with her snout in the trough, so why should she be the only one to pay? The vicious blame game had mortally wounded the Government days out from the election. They didn’t have a hope. Penny squirmed whenever she saw one of their pundits rationalise the party’s chances, clinging to this or that false hope. It was sad to see people so reduced, whatever their politics.
Matt and Fraser, on the other hand, were watching the ruling party crumble with unashamed glee. There was some heavy father and son bonding going on. Although Penny was happy for them, she was beginning to wonder if she’d ever get her husband to herself.
Matt topped up Fraser’s glass. ‘If Kate broke the law by taking bribes, didn’t you break the law by making them?’
‘I did, but I also handed Hellgrun victory on a plate. Do you imagine his newly-minted government will pursue me?’
Matt chuckled. ‘They’re more likely to give you a medal.’
McGregor called them to the dining room for dinner.
‘Let’s eat in here,’ Matt suggested.
‘Yes,’ said Fraser. ‘Like old times.’
They clinked their glasses together in a toast. Who were they? Tweedledum and Tweedledee? Had Matt forgotten she had something to tell him? Now Penny really did want that glass of wine. McGregor cleared away the appetisers and brought in two T-bone steaks, and a large salmon portion with a baked potato and spinach on the side for Penny.
‘Sorry, I don’t eat fish,’ she said. McGregor looked pained. ‘Never mind, I’ll just eat the vegetables.’
They started on their dinners. Matt attacked his steak with gusto.
‘That’s my boy,’ said Fraser. ‘You always did eat me out of house and home.’
Penny watched her husband with dismay. She didn’t expect him to be enjoying all that meat so much.
The night wore on and the swing against the government grew. Matt and Fraser began acting out an incomprehensible comedy skit in posh English accents. Some sort of spoof election broadcast about a silly party and its ridiculous candidates.
‘Do we have a swing in Luton?’ asked Fraser, hand cupped to his right ear.
‘Not a swing,’ Matt answered, with a grin. ‘But we do have a swong, right here in this box and it’s looking fine.’
‘What are you two doing?’ asked Penny. Fraser was laughing, a great booming belly laugh. A laugh too big for his skinny body. She stood up, shouting to break through the hilarity. ‘I don’t get it.’
They stopped laughing and looked at her.
‘Monty Python,’ said Matt. ‘Dad and I used to watch it together.’
‘The election night parody? You must know it,’ said Fraser. ‘The Sensible Party and the Silly Party? It’s priceless.’
‘No, I don’t know it,’ she said. ‘I don’t know anything about it. Might have been nice if somebody had bothered to explain it to me.’ Penny plopped back down on the couch as McGregor brought in a platter of poached pears and cream.
‘If it’s any consolation, Miss Penny, I’ve not seen that particular sketch myself.’
Matt looked apologetic and reached for her hand. She moved it away. Aargh, what a fool. All night she’d hoped he would do that. Why was she annoyed anyway? She should be thrilled that father and son, so long divided, had shared a lovely moment.
Fraser attempted in his clumsy way to help her out. ‘Your wife seems a little more emotional than usual, Matthew. Why is that, I wonder?’
What was he trying to do? Announce her pregnancy himself? She wouldn’t be surprised.
Loud cheering came from the television. It was just nine o’clock, but Robert Hellgrun was on the tally room floor claiming victory. ‘Today the people of Tasmania have spoken – and spoken decisively.’
Matt raised his glass. ‘Let the great shredderthon begin.’
Hellgrun told the noisy throng that this was a historic and transforming day, that he would govern for all Tasmanians and set sail for the future.
Fraser stood and took a bow. ‘Come, my boy,’ he said, with an expansive sweep of his arm. ‘We’ll look at the guns. Some new toys, plus all your old favourites. I still have your Colt, you know.’
Matt lit up. ‘The Equaliser? I loved that gun.’ He turned to Penny, eyes bright with excitement. ‘Do you mind, Pen? I know how you hate guns.’
He looked so happy, so shiningly handsome. A jolt of love crashed through her. ‘You go on,’ she said, as McGregor came in with coffee and pastries. ‘While I eat all the best cakes.’
* * *
Ten minutes later Fraser returned to the lounge room alone. ‘Matthew had to go. Something he’d forgotten to do at Binburra. Said he wouldn’t be long.’ Penny’s face fell. Fraser sat down beside her and squeezed her hand. ‘It’s like herding cats, eh, being married to Matt?’ She was too upset to respond. ‘Forgive me, Penelope, I haven’t been helping your cause tonight. I became lost in the joy of being with my son.’
‘It’s fine,’ she said, with a tight smile.
They sat awhile in silence. Matt’s absence had left them both deflated. Penny tried to imagine what sort of task couldn’t wait until morning. What would prompt him to rush off this late without saying goodbye?
At last Fraser spoke. ‘I can’t bear that long face, Penelope. Why not go after him?’ He shooed her with pale hands. ‘Go on, my dear, go home to your husband and tell him your long-overdue news.’
Penny hugged him tight around his bony shoulders. ‘I love you,’ she said. ‘And I’m so glad you and Matt are finding your way back to each other.’ Then she hurried into the starry night.
* * *
It was clear and still outside, so still that sound was magnified. A shrieking owl. The squeal of distant wheels somewhere out on the road. Frogs in the dam. A deafening clamour exploded from the trees all around. She usually liked cicada song, but tonight the wild discord unnerved her.
Penny started the car and swung onto the road; her foot heavy on the throttle, her imagination racing ahead. The expression on Matt’s face when she told him about the baby, his gestures, his words. She needed to hear those words, and a drive that should take twenty minutes seemed to be taking forever.
Penny didn’t see the dead pademelon and the devil darting towards it until the very last moment. She swerved just in time. What a hypocrite, always blaming others for this very t
hing – for speeding, for not concentrating. It was going to just about kill her, though, taking the time to pull over, go back and check the dead wallaby for pouch young. Nevertheless she dutifully stopped. A male, dead a few hours at least, which meant Matt hadn’t killed it. Struck on the road to Binburra, though. Who then? Hunters? Penny got back into the car. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was talking to Matt.
Chapter 38
Sarah stepped out of the house and onto the verandah, into a square of light. She must have found the key, let herself in, even turned on the radio. She spoke before he had a foot on the step.
‘Guess what? It’s my call now.’ Yes. No more games, no pretence. Just the naked truth between them. ‘I’d still like to bring you in on this,’ she said. ‘You have the local knowledge. But I don’t need you.’
True enough. Hidden somewhere in the bowels of Sarah’s UTAS laboratory, a tissue sample of Theo’s ear held him hostage. It was all she needed to blow his denial out of the water. Matt didn’t speak. Instead, he watched a huntsman spider ambush a pretty moth that had been lured to the cobweb-strewn light on the verandah.
‘I’ve learned something about you,’ said Sarah. ‘There’s what you say, and there’s what you don’t say. It’s what you don’t say that matters.’
Matt went into the house. Sarah followed him and took a seat at the kitchen table.
‘I can hear the wheels turning, Matt, but don’t waste your time.’
He sat opposite her. ‘Four living tigers.’
‘I thought you didn’t know about any others.’
‘Well I do. I found tracks.’
‘Four could be enough to save the species, and who knows, there might be more.’ Sarah chattered on about scientific breakthroughs and molecular biology and answering the big questions.
Matt listened, feeling nothing but shame. His family had been the tigers’ shield for one hundred and fifty years. From the meddlers, the scientists, the profiteers. Their shield from the Sarahs of this world. Even Fraser had been their protector, but now it was the end of the road, and it was all because of him. Trapped in a blind alley of his own idiocy; the only one in that long line of champions to fail them. And what of his forefather, Daniel Campbell, who’d had the foresight to plan this such a long time ago? A man so far ahead of his time that he worried over the fate of tigers when farmers still shot them as pests. What would Daniel Campbell think of him now if he knew? Matt tasted salty water on his tongue, though he didn’t know he was crying.
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