then
Jacob loped along, sipping at a giant Slurpee and wearing a cap I’d never seen before. I grabbed my bag, leaving my half-eaten sandwich, and followed him, carefully keeping a solid distance between us. I watched his familiar walk and the way his dark hair poked out of his cap into the back of his collar. He seemed bigger, taller, as if he’d grown since we’d been apart. He passed the food court and pulled his hat off, zipping it into his backpack. I noticed an intricate design drawn in black ink starting on the back of his hand and sprawling up his arm. For a moment I wondered if he had got a tattoo, it was so good, but I guessed he had drawn it himself. He headed towards the cinema and I knew he was meeting her. He ran his fingers through his hair. It looked different. Styled. I felt a low pulse in my heart. I missed touching him so much. Ducking into the music store opposite the cinema complex, I watched as he stood next to a large indoor fern, his fingers racing madly across his mobile phone.
After a few minutes he stepped away from the plant, looking up. Rose was above him, backlit, a dazzling smile on her face. Jacob made a cute little gesture, fluttering his hands on his chest before beckoning her to come down. She shook her head, teasing, before eventually stepping back from the glass wall barrier and making her way down the stairs to where he waited for her.
She was dressed oddly, in an old-fashioned peasant blouse that exposed her shoulders and a long skirt that wrapped around her legs. She was womanly next to Jacob’s all-American teenager, his faded grey t-shirt and loose jeans that dropped away from his slim waist. His face was still soft with little-boy wonder: his body caught between child and man. They were nothing alike, their intimacy jarring, until she bounced into him childishly at the last minute, her blonde hair flicking up at the ends. He slid an arm around her waist and she ducked her head into the space between his head and shoulder. I felt like I was spying on myself. That’s supposed to be me.
I kept watching from behind a CD display and then her eyes were on mine. We stared at each other, her face nestled against Jacob’s body for a few moments, and then her mouth spread into a slow, knowing smile. I couldn’t pull my eyes away and kept watching until they disappeared into the plush redness of the cinema, the sound of a freight train smashing through my brain.
Chapter Fifty-four
Friday, 25 December, 12.36 pm
‘I’d like us to say grace, please.’ Aunt Megan is at the head of the table, looking at us earnestly. She rattles through several things that we should be thankful for, then asks that my mother look down on us and especially on Ben.
‘Amen,’ we mumble.
‘Don’t want gravy,’ says Ben loudly. ‘It’s yuck.’
Everyone laughs and then we all look at Ben expectantly for more light relief. I’m feeling funny about not telling Dad and the others that Ben was kidnapped, but Scott and I both agreed that it’s for the best. We don’t want to bring everyone down to our reality. Luckily Dad didn’t answer the phone when I called him the other day and by the time he called me back Ben was fine, so I was able to fob him off.
‘Bad day for fires out there.’ Craig fiddles with his phone and Megan casts him a disapproving look. Laura elbows him in the ribs. ‘What? Sorry. I’m worried about my mate’s farm.’
We busy ourselves with bursting the expensive-looking bonbons that Laura and Craig bought from David Jones in Sydney. Every time one pops, Ben laughs hysterically and gleefully collects a small pile of useless objects from its guts.
‘So, Gemma,’ says Craig, ‘I imagine things are pretty intense at work at the moment. That poor dead woman has been in the news every night for the past fortnight.’
‘Yeah.’ I stab at a piece of turkey and roll it in cranberry sauce. ‘It’s been a pretty tough one.’
‘Her dad is some kind of mover and shaker, right?’ Craig opens his mouth wide to shovel in a large forkful of meat.
‘Yeah, he has a large property business. It’s pretty big time and he grew it from scratch. Apparently he’s quite the salesman.’
‘I don’t reckon you can ever trust people that rich,’ says Craig.
Ben suddenly bites through his tongue and starts screaming, watery blood leaking onto his lip. I dab a serviette on his mouth and duck my head apologetically at Craig, hoping he’ll take it as a sign to talk about something else.
‘You must have known her in school,’ he continues. ‘I was saying that to Laura the other day, that you must have known her.’
‘Yes, well, it’s very tragic.’ Dad’s voice is unusually brisk. ‘But Gem’s got a day off from it today.’
Craig’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘Sure, of course.’
Ben’s cries cease and he bounces back to his chair to resume eating. We chew in time to some jaunty carols that Megan has put on but the volume is down low and the sound turns my stomach.
‘More wine?’ I stand quickly and bump my knee hard on the table.
Dad smiles at me. ‘Yes, love—just a little, thanks.’
Laura nods.
‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’ says Scott.
I look at Scott. Everyone looks at Scott.
‘Whatever,’ he says, breaking his eyes away from mine. His knife scrapes the plate as he cuts through turkey.
‘Great,’ I say, picking up my glass. ‘I’ll open that fancy bottle of chardonnay you got from the Jacksons.’
In the kitchen I breathe past anger and pour wine into my glass. As I drink, I close my eyes and wish it was the evening. I look down at my dress, bought years ago for a wedding. The hem caught on something at some point and it hangs unevenly just below my knees. It’s tight across my middle.
I check my phone. A Merry Christmas text from Anna, one from Carol with a photo of her kids in Santa hats. A missed call from Fox and several safety alerts about the fires. Nothing from Felix. I toss it back onto the bench and look outside. The exhausted trees barely ruffle in the wind.
I return to the dining room. Empty bonbons lie in a glittering heap at the end of the table.
I pour wine for everyone.
‘I want JUICE!’ Ben screams.
‘Shhh. Okay, buddy, calm down,’ says Scott. ‘I’ll get you some juice, just sit tight.’
Ben’s face is red and he clenches his fists. Laura moves around the table and tries to pull him into her lap. When he wriggles away she tries not to look hurt and starts clearing the plates.
‘Fires are pretty bad,’ says Craig, looking at his phone again. ‘Wiped out half of Felton by the sounds of it. No one seems to think they will reach Smithson though.’
‘Lord have mercy on those poor people,’ mutters Megan.
Scott reappears with Ben’s juice.
Ben takes one look at the juice and starts crying. ‘Not that juice!’
‘Oh, come on, Ben, I’m sure it’s yummy juice,’ Laura says.
‘No. It’s. NOT!’ Ben throws himself on the floor.
Laura laughs awkwardly. ‘Well, I guess not.’