Ill-Gotten Gains (20 page)

I thought midlife was supposed to be a time of rest. I wouldn’t even mind the invisibility thing if it meant I’d also get a break. Maybe some long-service leave from life. Instead I have elderly parents needing help, adult kids needing help, a partner needing help, and a teenager who curls into corners writing dark poetry. Give me invisibility any day. Or help.

The plump man sitting at the table to our left had managed to squeeze himself into a
Majic Happens
T-shirt, which rather proved its point. He was sitting with friends who had just popped the cork on a bottle of champagne. Laughter ensued as the liquid frothed into flutes. Our table was more subdued. All my daughters were here except Ruby, who was manning
Renaissance with Sharon, but Quinn was patently sulking while Matthew Carstairs sat between his new girlfriend and his old, looking uncomfortable, and Yen had barely said a word. The only person relatively upbeat was Petra, who was regaling everyone with the Discovery and managing to sound like she had been an integral part of the entire process.

I had tuned out some time ago, instead busily rewriting different elements of the article just submitted, even though it was too late for alterations. This was fairly standard for me; I always had difficulty letting go of the larger pieces, especially when they resonated. My photographer had remained in town after our shoot and been gradually joined by a plethora of press. Most set up cameras on the outskirts but some, particularly those more concerned with the human-interest angle, were weaving their way through the crowd and thrusting microphones at random faces. They could clearly smell a story beyond public knowledge, but I was confident that we were in sole possession of the inside scoop.

The reporters were not the only ones trawling for information. Among the townspeople, Will Akermann’s arrest remained the number-one topic of conversation. There was an array of versions, ranging from Will having been poised on an upper floor balcony and threatening suicide, to him having positioned himself fully armed in the tower, waiting for the town to wake up so that he could take pot-shots from above.
I heard he had two machine guns
and
a grenade launcher
, exclaimed a woman by the hotdog stand. Her companion nodded.
Always had my doubts about him
.
Told the wife years ago. You mark my words, I said, that young fellow with the frilly collar is serial-killer material
. Fortunately, in the midst of this flurry of rumour and supposition, the role that Deb and Petra and I had played in the events remained obscure.

For all his rapid transformation from scion to pariah, and the unhappy irony that he was not here to enjoy it, Will had done a marvellous job with the arrangements. Sheridan House blazed with light, smouldering through the mullioned windows and glittering from the thousands of fairy lights draped from the gables. Floodlights also shone from poles that had been set up around the perimeter of the car park, holding sail-shaped tarpaulins in place. Beneath this temporary structure were the tables, each with a battery-operated candle centrepiece ready for when the evening became truly dark, in about an hour.

We were flanked by Sheridan House on one side and the football oval on the other, crowded with fairground rides that were to remain there for the weekend. A Ferris wheel turned, carriages dipping politely, while nearby an octopus-shaped contraption whipped cages of screaming teenagers towards the ground and then away into the sky. Tinny music floated from loudspeakers, interspersed every so often with announcements about lost children and final tickets for the spinning jenny and admonitions about smoking on the oval.

It was almost as noisy beneath the tarpaulins. Chatter rose and swelled into clouds of constant sound, buffeted by the music and punctuated by chairs scraping across concrete. Wicker picnic baskets were almost as popular as the curls of beef being sold from a spit that had been set up by an enterprising local farmer. It smelt divine. More food was available inside Sheridan House: Devonshire teas, cheese platters, hotdogs dripping with locally produced mustard. We had not yet eaten, although Petra and I were making serious inroads on the excellent bottle of white that she had brought. It was going down well.

‘D’you know what really pisses me off?’ asked Quinn, having clearly given up on silence.

‘I send you to school for a reason. Use proper English.’

She raised an eyebrow, looking for a moment just like her father. ‘Actually, you’ve got no choice. It’s the law. So here’s what really
annoys
me.
I
was the one who started the discovery stuff.
I
found the plaque. Then
you
,’ she paused to let the emphasis settle, ‘
you
tell me I can’t use it for my project. So I have to do a stupid thing about his dog instead, which like
five
other people did as well.’

‘Well, it was –’

‘And then
you
go ahead and find out everything! So
you
get all the credit! When Mr Emerson said he’d make sure
I’d
get it! How is that fair?’

‘Well, he
is
dead, so maybe that’s his excuse. I also got a very sore neck.’ I tugged on my collar. ‘So perhaps you can look on that as my punishment.’

She rolled her eyes and resumed her arms-crossed, sulky stance.

‘When are you going to get rid of that?’ asked Yen, making it sound as if the collar was a fashion accessory. ‘Are you going to be able to work on Monday?’

‘I’ve got a doctor’s appointment that morning so I’ll find out then. But it feels much better, thanks for asking. Oh, and I also have to meet a real estate guy at ten.’

‘Really? Well, we shall wait with bated breath to see if you can join us at some stage.’

‘So you’ve definitely decided to sell?’ asked Scarlet.

‘Not one hundred per cent.’ I sent Petra a brief frown to let her know I wasn’t ready to tell the girls about the shop idea yet. Not until I was sure it was feasible.

Red turned to her sister and Matthew. ‘Hey, what are you two going to do when the baby comes? Like you’ll get leave, I suppose, so will you be moving in together? Where?’

Matthew blushed rosily, as if it had been suggested they cohabitate on the footpath. In shades of what I thought might well be their future, Scarlet answered for them both. ‘We’re not sure yet. Depends on which of us gets a transfer.’

‘What about you, Luce? Do you even get maternity leave?’

‘Of course she does,’ replied Yen with a frown. ‘Why wouldn’t she?’

Lucy nodded. ‘It’s all organised. Except I won’t need much time after, not like Scarlet.’

An uneasy silence fell as everybody gazed out towards the crowd or busied themselves with possessions. I drained the rest of my glass and slid it across to Petra.

‘I don’t know why everyone’s acting so weird,’ commented Lucy. ‘I’m
fine
with my decision. You’re the ones who’re making it difficult.’

I smiled ruefully. ‘I suppose we’re just trying to be sensitive.’

‘Well, don’t.’

‘You could always form a
menagerie da trios
with Tessa,’ said Quinn darkly.

‘A
what
?’

‘You know, one of those threesome things.’ Quinn frowned. ‘Why are you all looking at me? Haven’t you ever heard of it? It’s when three people, like, join up.
God
.’

Petra bent towards the table, laughing. ‘You lot are better than TV.’

‘Way to put me off my food.’ Scarlet was grimacing. ‘Now I just feel sick.’

‘I’ve been feeling sick since yesterday,’ said Lucy. Beside her, Red was nodding slowly.

I glanced over at a table to the side, where Darcy sat with Tessa and her parents, along with Deb, Lew and a few others I didn’t know. Tessa was wearing a voluminous and low-cut maternity smock, both aspects entirely unnecessary. I had already noticed, earlier, that the bodice contained darts that peaked stiffly about an inch from where her nipples should be, giving the impression she was either cold or on high alert. She looked ridiculous.

‘Well,
I’m
still starving,’ said Yen suddenly, pushing her chair back. ‘Time for food.’

‘Matt and I’ll stay here if the rest of you want to go,’ offered Scarlet.

‘Thanks, honey.’ I pulled on my hat and then extracted a twenty-dollar note from my purse, handing it to Quinn. She mumbled something vaguely like gratitude and began typing rapidly into her mobile as she backed away. No doubt informing friends that she had been released from the clutches of family and now possessed money to boot.

‘Come on,’ said Petra, standing. We began weaving our way through the table settings and towards the community centre, stopping every so often to exchange greetings with people and add our shock to theirs regarding Will Akermann.

‘Have you seen Tessa’s nipples?’ I hissed at Petra as we made our escape from Rita Hurley, who entreated us to watch any medications we were on because she had it on good authority that it had been a bad batch that caused all the recent troubles. Beside her, Uncle Jim looked miserable enough to be in need of medication himself. Every so often he would cast a wistful glance towards Yen, who was on a parallel path to us.

‘No, can’t say I have. Nor do I really want to.’

‘They look ridiculous.’

‘I’ll take your word for it.’ Petra stepped onto the kerb and we both paused to stare at the bulky, canvas-covered statue now positioned on the front lawn of Sheridan House. A plinth could be seen at the bottom, along with four limestone boots. Children were clambering up to peer beneath the canvas, giggling. Nearby was a temporary podium.

‘God, I hope those four feet don’t belong to Petar and James.’

‘I suppose it was a bit hard to fix on such short notice,’ Petra joined the line of people moving gradually towards the front door. ‘Hey, how did your interview at the police station go this afternoon?’

I shrugged. ‘Just some questions about what Will said. Tying up loose ends, I suppose.’

‘Actually, I think they were after something specific. Like someone else being involved.’

‘Really?’ I took a few steps forward with her. ‘No, you’re reading too much into it.’

She shook her head. ‘Think about it for a minute. Willy
Akermann
? Frilly Willy? What did he do, drape Ned Given over his shoulder and run down the stairs?’

‘Never underestimate a man with a purpose. Anyway, what was Ashley like with you?’

‘Oh, a little flirtatious. We did that scene from
Basic Instinct
.’

‘Don’t flatter yourself. Seriously, he was really … off during our interview. Curt.’

‘I suppose the police get a little peeved when they’re beaten to the punch.’ She shuffled forward again and then looked at me curiously. ‘Speaking of him, what are you planning?’

I sighed lightly. ‘I
thought
I might give it a go but now I’m not sure. He’s a bit moody.’

‘Liar. You were just looking for an excuse to back off. You’re a chicken.’

‘I
am
not
! Just because I don’t want a relationship? Maybe I’m perfectly happy single!’

‘Maybe you are. I certainly am. But I didn’t say you should have a relationship. Just that you need to get laid a few times.’

The middle-aged man in front of Petra twisted around curiously. No doubt he thought it might be his lucky day. He stared at me for a moment and then turned back, which did nothing for my self-confidence. We were now only steps away from the door and it was evident that much of the delay was due to Grace June Rae, who was on door duty and appeared to be insisting on social chitchat with all those trying to either enter or exit, often including introductions between the two groups.

‘You just have to accept the fact that your husband isn’t coming back,’ continued Petra. ‘Running away to the Gold Coast and then impregnating another woman was a clue.’

‘Hey, Nell, you look just like one of those moles!’ said Kat Caldwell, who had just exited.

‘
Par
don?’

‘Word travels fast around here,’ said Petra, amused.

Kat looked aghast. ‘No! Not like that! It’s the hat with that collar! You know, one of those whack-a-mole things? Where you hit them with a hammer?’

‘I wish
I
had a hammer,’ I muttered, giving Petra a dark look which she totally ignored.

‘On another note,’ said Kat hurriedly, ‘did you hear the rider got hit by a car?’

‘What?’

‘The rider. You know, the guy who’s supposed to be Petar Majic. Apparently him and the horse got hit halfway. Well, actually they didn’t so much get
hit
as run into a parked car. No injuries. But that’s why there’s been a delay. It seems he was drunk. The rider, that is.’

‘Maybe he was getting into character.’

‘Welcome!’ said Grace as we finally reached the door. She was beaming. ‘Come through and enjoy the fruits of –’

‘Yeah, thanks,’ said Petra, pushing her way past. Instead of following, I gave a general wave to both Kat and Grace and headed in the opposite direction. Sometimes my sister could be extremely annoying. A large noticeboard near the podium held a poster calling for
Majic Idol
nominations, with the singing to commence the following day at noon. I found a pen in my bag and added Petra’s name, along with her mobile number and choice of song: ‘The Time Warp’
from
The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
After that I felt distinctly better.

I bought a roast beef and gravy sandwich and wandered over to the fence by the oval, eating it slowly. A uniformed policeman stood nearby, muttering into a walkie-talkie and scanning the crowd. It was now almost dark but the fairground remained a miasma of flashing colour. Some teenagers on the octopus ride lifted their arms as their carriage hurtled towards the ground and then swept upwards again. Their exuberance was infectious.

‘What are you smiling at?’ asked Darcy, materialising beside me.

‘Just them. Kids.’

‘Yeah, lovely. Listen, Nell, I was hoping to bump into you. I wanted to apologise for yesterday. I never wanted things to start that way.’

‘No, I expect not.’ I wrapped the remains of my sandwich, still gazing at the teenagers, now poised gleefully in the air as the bottom-most carriages were emptied. ‘Particularly when you want me on side with regard to the house.’