The Game You Played (39 page)

“
Hell.
All that time, I was coming to you to try and release the stress, I was bloody telling you all about Phoebe, offloading on you. You used that information for your own purposes, didn’t you?”

“We did what we had to do. You’d tell me about her state of mind, and I’d plan what to do next. We were a team. And we succeeded.” Her mouth drew down and tightened. “But you took a long time to love me. I gave you so many chances to show your desire for me. It had to be you who made the first move. You took nine whole months. It was the last thing that needed to happen before we could start a life together. And it was beautiful when it happened. We did it, Luke. We made it.”

Her smile vanished before the look that I gave her. Bloody thoughts churned through my mind. I wanted to kill her. “Stop saying
we
. There is no
we
. I didn’t do any of this.”

“You were there, all along. And you were the one who talked your wife into those pills. Take some responsibility. Be strong, like I’ve had to be.”

“That’s not what happened.”

“It’s exactly what happened. You can’t pretend you didn’t play a part in this. You’ve been coming around to see me since October last year. You know you have. We were a couple, in secret. Maybe not so secret. Bernice used to watch you coming in. You wouldn’t have noticed her. All you wanted was to be with me, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t divorce your wife and leave her alone with Tommy. You were so terrified of what your wife would do to him, you had your mother move in. Your mother couldn’t live there forever. So, we took Tommy away and kept him safe. And then you sailed him away to the island. You did all that. For us.”

Hell. Hell. Hell.

Everything clicked through in my head, everything she’d said. I
had
been having an affair with this woman. The physical affair itself had only started a week or so ago, but no one knew that except Pria and me. Once this reached the media, they would blow it out of all proportion. And Tommy had been kept at the house I’d been visiting since he disappeared. I could hear the cries of people reading that juicy piece of news: “
How could he not know?”
they’d say
.
I’d look guilty as hell. I was the one who negotiated the sale for this island.
Me.
And she was right. I’d brought her, Jessie, and Tommy here.
Willingly.

When this went to court, I could end up in prison. It could easily go that way.

Pria stepped over to sit at the table. “Luke, everyone thinks Tommy’s dead. Phoebe will go to jail on the strength of that. There’s enough evidence against her. And I have more evidence prepared, if needed. She won’t be able to hurt Tommy again. You’re free to go on and live your life and raise your son. We can stay here. But if you raise the alarm, Phoebe will get Tommy back.”

She touched her fingers to mine, her face strangely composed again.

I struggled against the recalibration inside my mind. The vision of Pria and me together against Phoebe had been cemented over the past few months. Phoebe the wicked, crazy one. Pria the warm, earthy, and sensible one.

I had my son back with me. Phoebe had never been the kind of wife and mother that my mother was. She never could be. There were days I’d spent at work terrified that I’d come home to find that Phoebe had done something terrible—either to herself or Tommy.

“Luke,” Pria said softly. “We can have another baby, together. A little brother or sister for Jessie and Tommy. You told me that you wanted Phoebe to have another, and she refused. But I’d give that to you. It’s only right, anyway. I was the first one to have a baby with you, not Phoebe.”

A picture of Pria at age sixteen rushed through my head. Pria, after a tense month while she decided whether she’d keep the baby or not, meeting me at number 29 to tell me she’d lost it. Tears streaming down our faces (with joy) we’d downed a half a bottle of Southern Comfort (with lemonade).

“You remember, don’t you,” she said, “the baby we had and lost. You thought I was happy it was gone. I wasn’t. You were happy, and I was devastated.”

“That’s why you were crying?”

“Of course.”

“I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“You’re going to have to forgive me.”

“You abandoned me afterwards.”

“I thought that was what you wanted.”

“I wanted you. But you didn’t want me, enough. You let me go without another thought.”

“It was just a short time we were together. And we slept together just one time at a party, Pria. One time.”

“So you thought you could just discard me? And run after Phoebe? I tried everything I could to keep you, but—”

She stopped short, her eyes darting away from me suddenly. I glimpsed the tremor in her jaw. It struck me as fear rather than trauma.

Had there ever really been a baby? The possibility had never occurred to me before. When her gaze shifted back to me, I sensed the truth.

Jesus.
What was I thinking?

Was there even anything real inside Pria?

In a defensive gesture, she wrapped her arms around herself, hanging onto her shoulders. Her jacket sleeves rode up, exposing an ugly dark line on one of her wrists.

“What happened to your wrist?” I asked.

Her mouth went tight. “Just a bit of extra evidence.”

“What?”

“I cut myself before we left my house and let a bit of blood run into the tub. I just thought that if we were going to be gone for a long time, it might be best if it looked like something happened to me . . . .”

“Why would you—?”  Rage blistered through me when I realised the answer for myself. “You wanted to make it look like Phoebe did that to you. Like you were forced to leave Sydney to escape from her. Or maybe to even make it look like she killed you, before she was taken away to the psych ward. You never intended us ever leaving this island.”

I jumped up from the table. “I’m taking my son and Jessie to the yacht.”

Her face dropped. “You can’t sail out. There’s a storm brewing. Take some time to think, and you’ll—”

Leaning over the table, I roared in her face. “No! I’m not taking time to think. And I’m not sailing out either. I’m going to radio for help, and the kids and I are going to sit tight. In the yacht. Until the police arrive.”

“I won’t let you abduct my daughter.”

“And I won’t leave her here with
you
. Not another minute.”

I watched her, her face and jaw tightening and her eyes going dark. She stood.

Keeping my eyes on her, I threw some things into a backpack. Bottles of water and packets of food. Enough to last the kids a few hours. Wrapping Tommy in the blanket, I left the house.

“Jessie!” Wind blew in from the sea, my loud voice waking Tommy.

Behind me, Pria walked in a straight line towards us, her expression oddly poised.

Thursday

THE POLICE TRANSFERRED OUR PARTY TO a large boat. Police and Rescue from Victoria joining the crew. 

If it was cold at home, the air was arctic here, freezing our faces into blocks of ice until we could barely speak. Wind whipped the waves into high peaks, snatches of rain gusting in and then catching on a wall of air coming from another direction and vanishing again. The storm was making everyone shout.

Bernice’s skin reddened, her eyes watering in the cold.

“I’m sorry,” I started. “I shouldn’t have asked you to—”

“Don’t bother saying it.” She plunged her hands in her pockets, bringing her shoulders up tight. “I want to be here. It’s not for you—I didn’t come here for your sake. But I want to see justice for little Tommy.”

I sucked my lips in, nodding, the wind drying the tears on my cheeks to salt. “That’s all I have left. Hey, it was you that night, wasn’t it? At my mailbox, after I’d been sleepwalking. What were you doing there?” I shut my eyes for a brief second. “No accusations. I’m just curious.”

“Watching you,” she answered.

I frowned at her. “Why?”

“I’d seen you roaming the streets before. I guess it seemed exciting, you heading out in the small hours. At first I thought you were having an affair, like Luke. Later I realised you were sleepwalking. So I kept an eye on you.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “Wasn’t like I had anything better to do.”

The afternoon darkened, the storm intensifying. It seemed that night was closing in hours early. At least, we were going to get there a lot quicker than a yacht would. An hour, I was told.

It was the island we saw first. In the distance. Dark, sharp hills like giant waves. The view of the island matched the picture Pria had drawn.

My fingers closed tight on the boat’s railing. God, were they all there? Luke, Pria, and Jessie? The island seemed hostile and vulnerable to the elements at the same time.

What had Pria called it?
Ab ovo.
Her new beginning with my husband.

Detective Gilroy spotted the yacht next, through his binoculars. He told us he’d seen it, then he said something I couldn’t catch to Annabelle, glancing back at me with a tense expression.

As we drew closer I saw what he did.

The yacht listed on its side, water spilling in and out with the rock of the waves. One sail flapped uselessly.

The wind caught my cry, snatching it away.

My lungs felt raw as the police roped the yacht in.

Had Jessie been on there? Luke?

Luke was a question mark in my mind. I didn’t know him anymore or whether I should care.
What had he done? What had he known? What was he responsible for?

Police Rescue jumped on board, clad in wetsuits. They searched inside the cabin. And came out shaking their heads.
No one on board,
came the shout.

All of us scanned the sea on the way into shore.

Looking for survivors.

Or bodies.

We sailed onto the beach in two inflatable dinghies.

Immediately as I stepped onto the island, it seemed
hers
. Pria’s. The island she’d drawn and dreamed about.
Her Ab ovo.

There were footprints up and down the beach, vertically.

They’d made it. Either something had made them leave again, or the weather had destroyed the yacht and blown it away.

Bernice walked onto the beach. She tilted her head back, her eyes sweeping the scene before us. She made a low whistle. “Pria’s island, hey? Who would have thought?”

Faint trails of smoke rose from between the thick, gnarled trees up on the ridge.

“You two stay here on the beach.” Trent had a hand inside his jacket, on his gun holster. He glanced behind him at Annabelle.

She nodded at him.

The police rushed away.

Were they all up there, in that house? They would have seen us land on the beach.

I wanted something to do. Someone or something to look for. But this was the end of the line—that invisible thread I’d sensed that connected it all—and there was nothing for me to look for anymore. There was nothing to do but wait.

Bernice and I jumped from foot to foot, trying to keep our faces from the path of the biting wind. At least the sand wasn’t blowing about and whipping us. It was damp and coarse and crunchy underfoot.

A basketball blew along the sand.

Jessie loved playing netball.
I retrieved the ball. Her initials, JS, were written on the ball in black marker. Jessie-sized footprints were here everywhere.

Bernice crouched down to the sand. “It looks like they’ve got a little person with them.” She swivelled her head back, squinting at me. “Tiny footprints.”

I didn’t believe her. I couldn’t. I’d built a castle wall against thinking about that possibility. Armed the turrets. Dug a moat.

“You’re not going to look?” she said. “I’m not saying it’s—”

High above at the house, something was happening. Police were moving back. Giving room.

Detectives Gilroy and Yarris brought a woman out from the house. Pria. Her body rigid but calm.

Jessie’s ball dropped from my hands. Without a word, without realising what I was doing, I was sprinting. Across the sand. I was on the stairs and charging all the way to the top.

The police didn’t try to stop me. There was no danger here. Pria wasn’t a woman with a knife or a gun. But she
was
dangerous. And I needed to know exactly what she’d done.

Avoiding my eyes, she stared past me, out to the sea. Her thick hair damp and back in a headband. Dressed in ordinary clothes, like the mothers you saw walking to pick up their children from the local schools. You wouldn’t pick her out in a crowd or a video as a danger to anyone. Her clothing was also damp.

“Why?” I’d found my voice. The intensity of it fearful. I was capable of murder in this instant. “
Why?
”

Her eyes didn’t shift to me, but her mouth turned down. “Someone had to rescue him.” Her voice grey, ashes. So unlike the Pria that I knew.

“You stole him away from me. It was
you
that day at the playground.”

“I saved Tommy from you. You didn’t appreciate him—or Luke—the way you should have. You had everything. But it wasn’t enough for you.”

I recoiled, knowing what Pria had done but still shocked at my first glimpse of the scorched earth inside her head. The real Pria, the person she’d hidden so well.

“How could you do it, Pria? We were friends.” My voice grew gravelly, stones lodging in my throat. “What did you do with him? Where’d you put him? Where is he?”

“Gone.”

“Where’s he gone?”

She pointed out to sea.

I twisted around at the thrashing waves then turned to face her again. “He’s not out there. You tell me what you did with him.”

“Luke took him. He took Tommy, and he went. I saved both of them, but he didn’t care. He left me here.”

Trent Gilroy nodded at me, his strange expression making me terrified. “Phoebe, we found nappies and little-boy clothing inside the house. And this.” He produced a plastic object from inside his jacket.

A toy yacht.

Tommy’s.

I cried out, my fingers trembling as I reached for it.

Pria watched me take the toy. “If you were trying to find Tommy, you should have come sooner. Luke took him and my daughter on that yacht. He should have known not to sail in that weather. Now I’ve lost all of them. Do you understand? I’ve lost my whole family.”

Inside my chest, my heart jolted.

My castle walls came crumbling, smashing down. “Tommy?”

“We brought him here on the yacht,” she told me in a matter-of-fact voice. “We fed him and bathed him and sat around the fire, like a real family.”

Detective Yarris grabbed Pria’s arm. “Tell us exactly what happened. Where’s Luke and the children?”

Pria’s eyes grew anguished and then dulled again just as fast. “It’s too late. The yacht tipped, and I saw them fall out. They were way, way out. Is it my fault? Would anyone blame me? I don’t know. I couldn’t stop him from leaving. I tried to give them a better life here, but Luke didn’t want that. Even Jessie turned against me.”

“How long ago?” I screamed at her. “How long?”

For the first time, she looked directly at me. “About an hour before you came.”

“Did they have life jackets on?” Annabelle asked desperately.

Pria hesitated, then shook her head.

“Everyone move out!” Trent bellowed.

One of the officers took hold of Pria, putting her in handcuffs. Annabelle spoke on the phone, calling for more boats.

For a moment, I was alone in my terror. Not knowing which way to head.

My jaw shook as I turned to face the ocean.

Bernice stood behind me.

“They were in the yacht, Bernice.” I didn’t recognise my own voice.

Bernice spun around, watching two of the police head for the boat. The others were organising themselves, shouting, running in opposite directions along the sand. I didn’t know which way to head.

“Wait,” Bernice said. “I don’t know everything about yachts, but I did it as a job for a while. Seems the current’s pushing left. Look, maybe they grabbed hold of something from the yacht and they’ve stayed afloat. We can try cutting straight across the island. Pointless following the police anyway.”

I knew from the look in her eyes that she didn’t believe that. They’d fallen out. They had no time to grab anything. For me to almost have Tommy and then lose him again in the same instant made me want to run to the topmost part of the island and throw myself from it. But I nodded. I needed to see this to the end. “Let’s go.”

“Pria.” Bernice strode up to her, startling the officer holding her. “Is there a way directly across?”

She eyed Bernice coolly. “I haven’t had time to explore. I’ve been busy making food and settling in. We had everything set up. Everything we could possibly need. Why are you even here?”

“Because Tommy could use another friend. Rather than an enemy like you.” Bernice walked on past her.

I followed, stepping up alongside her.

“Please,” Pria said, making us stop and look back. “I don’t want to see Jessie. You tell the police. I don’t want to see my daughter . . .
dead
.”

I didn’t answer. I had no sympathy. Not an ounce. If Jessie had drowned out there, my sympathy lay entirely with Jessie.

Bare rocks punctuated the hilly landscape, no trees daring to exist on the uppermost points of the island. Gasping and driven back by the wind, we climbed the slopes. Once we reached the tree line, we were protected from the storm, but the trees were dense, the ground soft and muddy in places. Rabbits scattered ahead of us through the scrub.

“Here!” I yelled. I glimpsed the ocean through the straggly bunches of native palm trees. The island had to be far longer than it was wide, as it had taken us only twenty minutes to get across.

We walked out onto an outcrop. The curve of the beach entirely composed of smooth, rounded rocks. A small cove. Hundreds of geese occupied the left end of the shore—all a pale brown with small beaks.

The waves in the cove were far calmer than they’d been on the other side of the island.

There was nothing in the water. No sign of bodies. They were either far out at sea or under the water. The nightmare drowning deaths I used to dream of Tommy were haunting me now, reaching up into my throat and taking my breath from me.

“They’re not there.” My head went faint.

“Phoebe. Don’t stop. We keep going, okay?”

“They’re not there,” I repeated. “Do you see?”

“Just keep moving,” she ordered. “We’re here now.” She sounded just like her mother, ordering Nan to go and see a doctor.

Her words brought me back.

I sprinted ahead of her, trying to shake off the nightmares. Those images had been tightly wrapped around me like a shawl, for months and months.

When I first saw the smoke, I thought it was mist.

But mist didn’t curl upwards in a column.

I cut across the forest to the right, trying to get in a straight line with the smoke. Small rocky hills pushed into the trees here, making me climb again.

Bernice followed silently. She didn’t have to push me on anymore.

I stood at the edge now, the beach below littered with dead palm fronds. I made my way down between the boulders, jumping the last few feet onto the sand.

The smoke ribboned upward from a small cave. Barely a cave at all. Shallow, but deep enough to keep a couple of wooden crates and old fishing rods and gear dry. There was no fire either. Just smoke in a pile of mostly damp palm fronds.