Free-Falling (22 page)

‘Look, I know that you guys are planning a special tribute for Andy, but I'm just not sure if I'm up for it. Do you mind if I see how I'm feeling on the day?' she responded noncommittally. Coombes nodded; he seemed to understand.

Things were finally starting to gain some semblance of normality again. Belinda was no longer being (and, in fact, never had been) haunted, she had come to terms with her pregnancy, she was spending time with all her mates, and she was (for the most part) managing to feel at ease around James. Her happy, floaty feeling of
contentment continued over the next week. Even Doctor Vashna couldn't help commenting at her next check-up.

‘Is everything all right, Belinda? You're thirty-seven weeks pregnant. With twins. This is the point that most women are strangling me and telling me I need to get those babies out,
now
. But I don't think I've seen you look more relaxed through this entire pregnancy.'

Belinda just smiled serenely and enjoyed her feeling of superiority over those other women. She barely paid attention when Doctor Vashna gave her a strict reminder to head straight to the hospital when the first signs of labour hit – any day now.

That evening, as she was cooking her dinner and dancing (somewhat breathlessly) around the kitchen, she felt good. And she continued to feel good as she fell asleep in front of
The Amazing Race
. That was, until she woke up to the sound of the phone ringing.

A little while later she hung up the phone and had to grip the kitchen counter for support as a wave of dizziness overcame her, the words from the conversation rushing around her head. Her heart was beating furiously.
What the hell did this mean?
Hot.
She was feeling hot and flustered. She had to get out of here, take a walk and try to clear her head with a bit of fresh autumn night air.

She opened her apartment door, but stopped in her tracks when she saw something at her feet.
What was that? A block of chocolate?
She carefully knelt down to pick it up. As she read the packaging, tears sprang into her eyes. It was a block of Cadbury Snack, with a bright yellow sash across the front of the wrapper proclaiming: ‘New! Snack Favourite Bits!' A picture of a giant, grinning pineapple danced across the front. She opened it up and saw the rows and rows of pineapple pieces. Nothing but her
favourites. The night that Andy had proposed to her came rushing back and she stumbled into her apartment, breathing hard.

‘It's not over,' she whispered to herself. ‘I knew it was you. All along, I knew it was you, Andy. You really are here, aren't you?'

The answer came in the form of a tight, hard pain that spread across her stomach, squeezed for a few moments and then released.
Ouch! Was that Andy trying to communicate with her? Perhaps it was meant to be a gentle embrace and he'd just got it a bit wrong. Being a ghost and all was sure to mess with your senses, right?

No, you dimwit.
A more sensible, snippy voice popped into her head.
Pull it together – remember the antenatal classes? I know exactly what that was, and so do you.
That was a contraction.

Part Four

Falling Faster

Chapter 15

Evelyn

Evelyn ran her fingers around the silky-smooth edge of the invitation and then across the bumpy embossed letters: ‘GameTech Awards Night.' She re-read the details, squinting her eyes a little at the small, swirly type:

Saturday April 14, 8.00 pm

Banksia Function Centre, Darling Harbour

Please join us for canapés and cocktails as we unveil the latest GameTech ‘Work of Art' and present awards to the key players involved in bringing this new project to life. There will also be a special tribute to Andy McGavin, one of GameTech's finest employees, a true talent who is sadly missed.

RSVP: March 26

Andrew's old boss had sent her the invitation a month ago, adding a personalised note that said he would be honoured if she would join them for GameTech's biggest night of the year, and that she was welcome to bring a guest. She wondered if he
expected her to bring Belinda or if she would have been sent an invite of her own
.
Regardless,
Evelyn had no intention of even telling her about the night, let alone inviting her along. To be honest, she had barely even considered going herself, pushing the invite to the back of the kitchen drawer and, simultaneously, to the back of her mind.

Now, while searching for some thumbtacks so she could proudly display an article from the local paper about her niece Matilda leading her school's debating team to victory, she had come across the invitation and found herself wondering why it was that she had been so determined not to go.

‘What's that fancy-looking invite for?' Violet appeared behind her. She had dropped by for a coffee and a catch-up. Violet snatched the card from her hand before she had a chance to stop her. ‘Evelyn! This is tonight. Why did you agree to look after the kids again?' she exclaimed, exasperated. ‘Never mind, I'll ask Mark's mother to take them, even though they keep insisting they're too old to be babysat – but you'll have to do something about your hair. Have you got an appointment booked at Lorenzo's Salon for this afternoon?'

‘No, I have a jump booked for this afternoon. And I'm not going tonight, so I can still babysit the kids.'

‘What do you mean you're not going? Don't be ridiculous. Did you even read this invite properly? They're having a special tribute to Andy – you have to go.'

‘No, I don't. Those people are responsible for Andrew's death. If he hadn't been working for that stupid company, he wouldn't have been there that day and he wouldn't have died. I don't want to have anything to do with them.'

‘Is that right? Oh, okay, fair enough then. It's just that I thought it was Belinda who was responsible for Andy's death – but that's
great if you've moved on from blaming her. Because that means you could probably give her a call some time, seeing as she was going to be your daughter-in-law and she probably deserves an apology for the whole “you're-the-reason-my-son-is-dead” thing at the funeral.' Violet's voice sounded flippant and casual, but Evelyn knew better – her sister was choosing her words very carefully, hoping to catch her out.

‘You think you're very clever, don't you, Vi? If I say that I still blame Belinda, then you tell me I have no reason not to go tonight, and if I say I blame GameTech, then you think you can make me have some sort of magical reconciliation with the “daughter-I-never-had”.' Evelyn gave a derisive snort. ‘Well, how about this? I blame the whole bloody lot of them.' She poked her tongue out at her sister and added haughtily, ‘So there.'

‘Very mature.' Violet went to the fridge to grab the milk for their coffee. ‘But seriously, Ev, it's time you moved on. And no, I'm
not
saying you need to get over your son's death, I know that's not something you could ever simply “get over”. But you do have to stop playing this blame game. By your way of logic, you could blame just about anyone for his death. You could even blame me.'

‘And how would you be to blame?' Evelyn asked, plunging the pot of coffee as she spoke.

‘I was the one who recommended sending the boys to Hunters Hill High, where Andy met his mate Michael Coombes, and it was Michael who got him the job at GameTech. You see what I'm saying? If you go back far enough, you can find links to anyone. The fact is, there were a lot of factors involved that led to Andy being in that shop on that afternoon at that particular time, and you have no way of knowing how his life would have changed had one of those contributing factors been changed.' Violet poured the coffee, a triumphant look on her face.

Evelyn prepared to argue, but just felt too damn tired. Violet was right: all this time spent figuring out how to blame everybody was getting out of hand. Plus it really was hard work. She thought about another boy who had been in Andrew and James's homeroom class when they'd started in Year Seven. His name was Chris Reynolds. A skinny, lanky kid with floppy hair that always seemed to be in his eyes. Andrew was becoming quite good friends with Chris, until Chris and Michael Coombes had a big fight over some girl they both liked. Andrew took Michael's side and that ended his friendship with Chris. Evelyn had heard that, after leaving high school, Chris had enlisted in the army and had been shipped off to Iraq two years ago. She could barely imagine that little rake of a boy morphing into a burly soldier with a crew cut. Apparently his mother was in St Matthew's Church every single evening without fail, praying for his safe return.

Now, she wondered where Andrew might be today, had he taken Chris's side over Michael's in that fight. Would he have been convinced to sign up for the army too? Would she be right there next to Mrs Reynolds, praying for him to make it home safely? She supposed if she went on thinking about it, there were a myriad of different paths her son might have taken, each derived from single, simple decisions. There was no way to know how his life may have turned out had he not met this person or that person, or taken this job or that job.

But then, surely it didn't matter, because obviously there was no worse alternative than how his life
had
turned out, right? Then again, what if there really
was
a worse alternative? What if the alternative was Andrew and James being killed in a car accident together, both her sons gone at once? Or what if he had stayed on travelling overseas when he spent that year backpacking and ended up going missing? Parents of missing
children always said it was much worse not to know. To be constantly wondering what had happened.
Or
what if he had joined the army, been shipped off to some strange country and been captured and tortured for some war that she didn't know enough about to care about?

Evelyn was jerked out of her thoughts by a loud snapping noise.

‘Hello? Anyone in there?' Violet was clicking her fingers in front of her face and looked just about ready to slap her.

‘Oh, sorry, got a bit lost in thought.'

‘Really? I never would have guessed by the glazed-over look in your eyes. God, I was beginning to think you were having a stroke or something.' Violet took a sip of her coffee and then added, ‘So what was it that had you so mesmerised that you couldn't even concentrate on my riveting story of how I got the red-wine stain out of the cream sofa?'

‘You were talking? Huh.'

‘Yes, I was talking. It was a fabulous story involving salt and club soda and I'm just shocked you weren't enthralled. Now spill it: what were you thinking about?'

‘All right, fine, as much as I hate to say it, I was thinking you could be right. I have been getting carried away with finding someone to blame, and it hasn't been good for me. I feel like I've spent the last seven months or so just
angry
. Angry and depressed. Vi, I don't want to be angry anymore. It's not nice. I constantly feel all knotted up inside, always on the edge, ready to boil over. I know I have to find a way to let it go. I just don't know how.'

Violet patted her hand gently. ‘We'll find a way,' she assured her, then added, ‘Ev, can I ask you something?' Her voice was uncharacteristically uncertain.

‘What is it?' Evelyn responded.

‘Why is it that you've never put the blame onto the one person who
is
responsible? Why haven't you ever spoken about that kid in the store? The one who . . .' Violet faltered.

‘The one who actually killed him?' Evelyn finished for her.

‘Yes. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to start all this up again, now that you're ready to stop being angry at everyone. It's just that . . . I thought he'd be at the top of your list.'

Evelyn paused to think about it. ‘I don't really know for sure . . . but maybe it's because the police would never give me all the details. That boy, the one who did it, he was only fifteen . . . a minor, so they kept the full story very much under wraps. I've never known exactly what happened. All they would tell me is that the gun went off by accident – but that's it. And I don't know anything about him, his name, what he looks like, anything. Whereas Belinda I knew. I had a face and a name to focus all my anger on.' She hesitated and looked up at her sister. ‘Ridiculous, isn't it?'

Violet seemed on the verge of tears. ‘No, it's not ridiculous. I'm finally starting to understand where your mind has been these past few months.' She cleared her throat and continued more strongly, ‘But we
can
find a way to move forwards and you should start by going to the GameTech function tonight. Andy loved his job, he had great friends there, and it might be best to start by forgiving them.'

‘Look, I'm ready to give in to you on that one . . . and I would, but I have no one to go with me. James has something on with his mates tonight, not to mention the fact that we're still not talking to one another. I don't know that I'm quite up for going on my own.'

‘No, I don't think that would be a good idea. One step at a time. Anyway, I can come along with you. Mark can go to the
dinner party on his own, he won't mind. It's all the partners from his work anyway; they'll just be talking finances all night.'

‘I don't know, is that really going to be conducive to your new “way of life”? I thought you were supposed to be supporting his career while he cut back on his hours and spent more time with the kids?'

‘Yes, but he'll understand for tonight. Things have actually been . . . nice, since you sent us on that weekend away.' Violet smiled at her sister. ‘I really do appreciate how you talked a little sense into me.'

‘Stop thanking me – you'll give me a big head,' Evelyn said with a laugh. She still couldn't believe her normally sane sister had been ready to leave her husband without even attempting to work things out. It had been nice for Evelyn to get to take care of Violet for a change. All it had taken was for Mark to discover just how serious Violet was and he agreed to make changes immediately. Obviously it wasn't going to be quite that simple. Her sister still had to make compromises, but it looked like they were going to be able to work through it all just fine. As much as she joked about Violet giving her a big head, Evelyn was quite proud of herself.

‘We're all settled then? We'll go together tonight?' Violet said.

‘Fine, but I'm still taking my jump this afternoon, so don't bother nagging me about going to Lorenzo's. I can blow-dry my hair myself.'

It was time for her first
true
solo skydive. No one would be holding on to her this time. Bazza would still jump alongside her, but she was going to be completely free. It was the final
stage of her skydiving licence. Standing at the door of the plane, watching the world rush by beneath her, it occurred to Evelyn that it didn't matter how many times she jumped, she still found herself wondering what in the world she was doing up here.

This was her first chance to catch up with Bazza since he had rushed out of their breakfast ‘date' so unexpectedly. He clearly still had something on his mind today. In fact, he seemed a little nervous around her. Bazza was generally so confident and casual about everything. Now he kept looking as though he wanted to say something but then changing his mind.

She was getting ready to jump when Bazza cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled at her, ‘There's something I have to tell you!' She could barely hear his voice over the roaring sound of the plane's engines coupled with the wind rushing past.

‘Yes, I figured as much, but this probably isn't the best time, is it?' she hollered back.

‘WHAT?' Bazza turned his head side on and tried to shield his ears from the noise. ‘What was that?' he yelled.

‘Never mind!' She almost laughed. Fancy trying to have what was clearly a rather serious conversation (by the look on his face) at 14,000 feet when she was just about to hurl herself out of a plane. Whatever it was must have really been bothering him.