Free-Falling (14 page)

Mr Blackford stood up out of his chair. ‘You think you can walk in here, tell me what your son did last night and then demand I do something for you?'

‘Oh, no, Mr Blackford. I suspected you might need a little convincing. Let's put it this way: Andrew's name is put on that plaque immediately or I phone your wife and tell her about
that
conversation we had a few years back.'

The principal started to look nervous. ‘You wouldn't dare. You have no proof it ever took place anyway,' he said, tugging agitatedly at his tie.

‘Don't I? That day you called me, the answering machine clicked in as I got to the phone. The entire conversation was recorded and I never deleted it. Had a feeling it could come in handy one day, just never quite knew when. So why don't you try me?' She set a steely gaze upon him and waited for his response.

‘Don't be ridiculous, you can't expect me to believe you've kept it all these years.'

‘Are you certain enough about that to take the risk though? And keep in mind, even without any evidence, I'm sure a phone call to your wife would raise a few uncomfortable questions for you.'

‘You're seriously blackmailing me?'

‘No, I prefer to call it . . .
hard bargaining
. Do we have a deal?'

‘Okay, okay, whatever you want. I'll have his name engraved on the plaque this afternoon.' He flopped back into his chair, looking more than a little deflated.

‘Wonderful, I'll send a cheque for the damages James caused.' She turned to head out of the office, but at the door she looked back. ‘Oh, and Marty, make the engraving
Andy
McGavin, got it?'

‘“Marty”?' hissed James as they walked down the school corridor. Evelyn just smiled mysteriously at her son. ‘Mum, I have no idea what that was all about and I probably don't want
to know, but I do feel the need to mention the fact that we don't
have
an answering machine.'

‘I know, I was bluffing.'

‘Incredible. Mum, I have never been more impressed.'

Evelyn felt light as a feather as she walked back to the car.

Later that afternoon she headed out to catch up with her sister for a coffee, leaving an uncharacteristically pensive looking James at home on the couch. They met at their usual spot outside Percy's coffee shop, but as Violet started towards a table, Evelyn caught her by the arm. ‘Let's try Muffin Break today instead,' she suggested as lightly as she could.

Violet didn't fall for it. ‘Of course, my thieving sister – unable to return to the scene of the crime!' she teased as they made their way through the shopping centre towards the Muffin Break.

‘Shut up, Vi.'

They ordered their coffees and found a table off to the side of the bustling food court.

‘So has it been World War One at your place this morning? You know, if you want me to come over and have a chat with James for you, I don't mind at all.' Violet patted Evelyn's hand, just a hint of (presumably unintentional) condescension in her voice.

‘What makes you think we've been fighting at all? We're getting along great. In fact, he's taking me out to dinner tonight to say thank you,' Evelyn responded a little haughtily.

Violet stared at her in confusion. ‘Thank you? What's he saying . . . hang on, here's our coffees, hold that thought.' She jumped up to grab their order and then sat back down, sliding Evelyn's latte
across the table to her. ‘So, what's going on? You're telling me you two didn't start the day with a huge blow-up – you know, the usual, “What the hell were you thinking last night?” speech followed by, “Get off my case, Mum” etc., etc.?'

‘Nope, first thing we did today was follow through with James's plan – in a manner of speaking. Made Principal Blackford promise to have Andrew's name rightfully engraved on the plaque.'

‘Who are you and what have you done with my sister?' Violet peered at her expectantly.

‘Ha ha. Look, for once James was actually making sense. Yes, his methods were poor, but his intentions were quite admirable. He just didn't realise that sometimes all you have to do is ask.'

‘Nup. Not buying it. I know what Marty is like – there is no way that you just
asked
him to put Andy's name on the plaque. Cough up, what's the full story?'

‘All right, fine. You remember that Marty and I had that, well, that “thing” back before either of us were married, right?'

‘Yuck. How could I forget, greasy little man that he is.' Violet visibly shivered with revulsion. ‘Thank God you only dated for a couple of weeks.'

‘Right,' continued Evelyn, ignoring her sister's somewhat childish display. ‘When Andrew was suspended in Year Twelve, Marty phoned me and suggested that if we got together for a little rendezvous, he'd overlook Andrew's indiscretion and let him off with a simple detention.'

‘No way! That complete wanker.' Violet slapped her hands down on the table, causing the cups of coffee to slosh a little dangerously.

‘I know, I know. Anyway, he'd overestimated my desire to keep Andrew out of trouble. As far as I was concerned, if my son had
broken the rules, he needed to face up to his punishment. I very icily told Marty I didn't think his wife would be too impressed with his proposition and hung up on him. Today was the perfect opportunity to bring the matter up. One little threat to phone his wife and he folded like a lawn chair,' Evelyn finished proudly.

‘Like a lawn chair?'

‘It's a simile. I was just trying it out.'

‘Ev, I'm
very
impressed.'

‘You're the second person to say that to me today.' Evelyn smiled to herself, remembering James's awestruck face.

‘You're full of surprises lately, aren't you?'

‘Meaning?'

‘I wasn't sure if I should be bringing it up again, but last night you started to open up. That was the first time you've really talked about the day Andy died. And you and James, you cried together. I could see your two blotchy faces as we were leaving. I think this is good for you – all part of the process of dealing with it.'

When Evelyn didn't respond at once, Violet began to appear worried that she may have crossed a line. But then Evelyn glanced up from her coffee and grinned at her sister. ‘Full of surprises, eh? And you haven't even heard about my latest hobby yet.'

Dinner held such promise. Evelyn and her son, finally beginning to reconnect. It started out so civilised, chatting about James's travels over the entrees, reminiscing about Andy during the mains, and even starting to talk about the possibility of James settling down and getting a job and an apartment as the desserts were being served. It turned out he was beginning to think
enough was enough with the travelling. But then he brought up the one name that Evelyn did
not
want to hear.

Belinda
.

‘Mum, I think it's time we contacted her. You know, to see how she's getting along, let her know we're thinking about her.' He prodded at his cheesecake nervously.

Evelyn froze up. ‘I'm not thinking about her one bit,' she said shortly.

‘She was his fiancée and you really crushed her at the funeral.' He pushed on when Evelyn opened her mouth to reply. ‘I know, it's okay – you were crazy with grief. You didn't mean any of it.'

‘On the contrary, James. I meant every word. I despise the girl and I blame her completely for Andrew's death.' Evelyn's face was deadpan as she spoke.

James looked shocked. ‘What do you mean? That doesn't even make any sense. How could it possibly be her fault? Mum, listen to yourself – this is just stupid. She was going to be your daughterin-law and she meant so much to Andy. We owe it to him to do the right thing by her.'

‘Rubbish. We don't have to do a thing for that silly little girl.'

‘She wasn't “silly”. She was a great girl and she's hurting too.'

‘Don't be ridiculous. She's probably already moved onto her next prey. I want nothing more to do with her and I forbid you to go anywhere near her.'

James slammed his fork onto the table in anger and stood up. ‘What a big fucking joke! You really think you can stop me from seeing whoever the hell I want to? You haven't changed one bit, Mum. You're still the same hardarse bitch you always were.' He threw back the last of his drink and stormed out of the restaurant, leaving Evelyn stony-faced.

‘Well! So much for taking me to dinner,' she murmured to herself as the waiter approached somewhat apprehensively with the bill.

Over the following weeks, Evelyn and James did an admirable job of avoiding each other, considering they were living in the same house. James seemed to have picked up a job at some surf wear shop, or at least, Evelyn managed to deduce this fact on her own, seeing as they weren't speaking with one another. Before Evelyn had even realised it was December, Christmas was upon them and she started to wonder what the first Christmas without Andrew would be like.

As it turned out, it was awkward to say the least. Violet offered to hold Christmas Day celebrations at her place. Her kids were nervous around their Aunt Evelyn, looking embarrassed if they laughed too loudly or had too much fun. James was sulky and drank too much, and Violet's husband, Mark, kept taking business calls or checking his emails on his BlackBerry. Evelyn had always known her brother-in-law was a workaholic, but she couldn't help thinking that he ought to have at least given it a rest on Christmas Day.

Evelyn managed to fake a migraine and left early, arriving home to an empty house. She sat in the middle of her queen-sized bed in the gathering darkness for what seemed like hours, her knees drawn up close to her chest, just listening to the silence and wondering how she had ended up here, so alone. One son gone, the other so disconnected he wouldn't even look at her. And no Carl to tell her how to fix it all. She would have given anything to be back up in the sky, hurtling towards the earth, emptying her
mind of it all. The memory of that first solo jump was like smack to her now . . . but she hadn't been back there since the night that she'd picked James up at the police station because SkyChallenge was closed for the holiday break. She would have to try to pull herself together without the rush of the jump or the smooth advice from Bazza that she'd come to find so calming.

Eventually she crawled under the covers and closed her eyes.

If she was lucky, maybe she'd dream of Carl tonight.

Chapter 11

Belinda

Belinda drove slowly through the quiet town of Wahdoonga, it was the day after Boxing Day and she was relieved to have some time alone after a fairly full-on Christmas break with the family. She was deep in thought as she headed towards the highway, accompanied by a large pile of supplies on the seat next to her that had been provided by her mum for the trip home.

At the last second, before taking the entry onto the highway, she had a sudden idea and swung the car back out of the filter lane, indicating instead for the entry heading in the opposite direction. She had just remembered the two girls and their little roadside shop. She was also remembering how good it had made her feel when their faces had lit up with excitement at making a real sale and receiving the generous tip. She could use another emotional lift before her long drive. She headed up the highway for a few kilometres and then took the exit that she recognised as the same one she'd taken a couple of weeks back.

Right
. She was sure they had been on the main street of the little town that was hidden away around here. She practically crawled
up and down the street, scrutinising each house, trying to find something familiar. She could remember the huge jacaranda out the front of the house that the girls had hung their shop sign on – but the problem was this town was filled with bloody jacarandas. She began to doubt that it was the main street and started trying the side streets, doing her best not to get lost.

After about thirty minutes of searching, she realised that she was going to have to give up. She made her way back to the highway feeling silly and deflated. Why on earth had she thought it would be a good idea to go searching for those kids again? Really, what were the chances that they'd still even have their little shop set up – they weren't a department store, for goodness sakes.

‘Why didn't you stop me from making such a fool out of myself? Wasting all that time driving around in circles?' She spoke out loud and realised immediately that she was addressing Andy, yet again. She'd barely thought about his whole ‘ghostly' presence while she'd been up at her parents' place, but back in the car it felt right that he was here with her once more.

Seeing as she'd opened up the lines of communication, she decided she may as well have a chat with him about the big news she'd discovered on the farm. ‘So how about Dad's bolt from the blue, eh? Turns out
he's
the one to blame for those pesky twin genes after all.' She imagined what Andy would say back to her. He'd probably make fun of her for using that ‘bolt from the blue' phrase; it was definitely a Mr Heartford classic. She always found herself talking like her mum and dad after spending time with them.

‘All right, so your gran was probably about halfway through the pregnancy,' Brett had explained, ‘when the doctor made the discovery that there were actually two babies on the way instead of just one. My folks were less than thrilled by the news. They
went through the finances and came to the conclusion that they simply couldn't afford two babies. It had been a big deal for them deciding to even have a baby in the first place.'

‘So they gave your twin up for adoption? Oh my God, we have to try and find him . . . or her . . . Do you even know if it was a boy or girl?' Becky had been almost breathless.

‘Whoa, hold your fire. Stop jumping the horses there, Becky.' Barbara had been too engrossed in the whole story to correct her husband's mixed metaphors, and Brett continued on. ‘I know exactly where my twin is. And he's a
he
,
by the way.'

‘What, where?!'

‘Do you want to hear the full story or not?'

They had all nodded and reluctantly shut themselves up to listen.

‘So after they'd decided it would be impossible to keep both babies, they got to thinking about my mum's sister, Joy, who lived over in Perth. Your gran knew that Joy couldn't have children. They got on the phone to her and they asked her to take one of the babies as her own once we were born. Your gran's only wish was that they were never to tell the child the truth about his real parents.'

There had been a moment of stunned silence as Belinda, Becky and Barbara had taken it all in. Finally, Barbara had asked quietly, ‘So your cousin Robbie Junior is actually your twin brother? Effectively making him my brother-in-law and the kids' uncle? And I never even knew this?'

‘It's just that Robbie never knew, so I needed to keep the secret from most people . . . but you're quite sure I never told
you
?' He had asked the question a little falteringly, obviously nervous that he was about to be in a world of trouble over this. ‘S'pose it was lucky we weren't identical, eh?'

‘How did they decide which baby to give away?' Belinda asked.

‘Right, well, if it had been a boy and a girl, then the girl was to be given away. Mum and Dad wanted a boy to take over the family carpeting business. But when it was two boys, apparently Mum simply had the nurses pick one of the babies to hand over to her sister. It really could have just as easily been me.'

Now, driving down the highway, Belinda began to imagine what it must have really been like for her gran, deciding to give up one of her children. Surely it couldn't have all been so easy – how did her gran and pop stay so detached from the whole thing? She couldn't bear to think of giving birth to two babies and then just handing one over, not even caring which one went and which one stayed.

‘So how about all that, Andy? Apparently I have an uncle and he doesn't even know it.' She paused to wait for some kind of response. None came.

‘For God's sake, woman, just snap out of it. Andy is not here. He is not alive. He is not a ghost. And he is not haunting you, so just
GET
OVER IT.'

She finished the rest of the drive with the windows down, the music turned up loud and her mind as blank as a crisp white sheet.

Back at home, the big family revelation from her trip to the farm began to fade back into obscurity. What did it matter, really? Her dad's cousin was actually her dad's brother. It barely affected her at all. What mattered now was her new mantra:
Andy is not haunting you, Andy is not haunting you.
Since scolding herself in the car
on her way back home from the farm, she had been chanting this new mantra each and every time she came close to having another embarrassingly one-sided chat with her dead fiancé.

The opportunities to recite this catchphrase were frequent. First, there had been the discovery of her newly repaired letterbox flap the day after she arrived home. Before she'd left for her Christmas break, she'd noticed it was hanging off its hinges, barely attached to the wall, and all of a sudden here it was, miraculously fixed. She refrained from thanking her ghostly partner, muttered her mantra under her breath and reassured herself that it must have been a maintenance guy – despite the fact that, in the two years that she'd lived in the complex, she'd never seen anyone even slightly resembling a ‘maintenance guy'. And surely if one existed, they would have done something about the annoying elevator message that droned on and on at the residents about the disconnected emergency phone line. But these thoughts were unproductive and so she dismissed them.

And then New Year's Eve had arrived, her first one as a single girl since she was nineteen. She had been anticipating a difficult night, of course. Not having Andy wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close for a midnight kiss was going to hurt. But she hadn't expected it to be so damned depressing staying in for the night, trying to ignore the festivities going on in the surrounding apartments. Her friends had all tried to convince her she should come out, but she felt fat and uncomfortable and insisted they go without her. She'd briefly wondered what all of Andy's mates would be doing for the night, but she hadn't seen any of the guys since the funeral. She was still too afraid to call them: they didn't even know about the pregnancy yet and obviously they didn't want to catch up with her, seeing as she'd stopped hearing from them.

She spent a demoralising night on Facebook, watching the status updates flood in from people's iPhones.

Eventually, Belinda managed to wrench herself away from the computer and climb into bed, although not before removing Leah Attard as a friend from her Facebook account. By three in the morning, she'd had enough of tossing and turning. The heat was unbearable and, admirable as its attempts were, her tiny bedside fan was doing nothing to keep her cool. Not only that, the neighbours across the hall seemed to be having a massive party that was still going loud and strong. These days she desperately needed all the sleep she could get, so she clambered out of bed and headed for the apartment door, intent on getting them to turn it down and not caring one bit about her embarrassing ‘My Little Pony' nightie or her messy bedhead hair. She muttered absentmindedly as she stumbled through the living room. ‘If you really
were
still here haunting me, you'd have done something about that bloody music by now.'