Stella sat in the seat with her legs drawn up, her arms around her knees, hugging them close. She felt cold and shaky. She tried not to think of William stretched out under the cloth behind her, or of Zeph sitting next to her. Whichever way she let her thoughts turn, there lay a maelstrom of emotions. She just kept her eyes on the road and tried to empty her mind.
‘We need to find Spinks,’ Zeph said.
Stella nodded mutely.
When they reached the turn-off, Zeph headed in the direction of the wharf. Near the entrance to the car park, the wagon slowed to a crawl. The space was half-empty now – the volunteers were packing up their equipment and moving out.
‘He’s over there,’ Stella said. She pointed to where Spinks could be seen squatting down by the front bumper of an orange four-wheel drive, reaching in under the chassis.
Zeph drove closer, and then stopped the car to let Stella climb out. She walked towards Spinks, her feet bare and her hair hanging dishevelled about her face. As she drew near him, Spinks seemed almost to sense her presence. He straightened up and turned around.
‘What’s happened?’ he asked, putting down a spanner.
‘I found Dad.’ Stella’s voice caught in her throat.
‘What do you mean?’ Spinks demanded.
Stella glanced behind her at the car.
The man’s eyes widened. In three steps he was at the back window of Zeph’s wagon. He opened the hatch door and lifted it up. He bent to peer inside. After a long moment he looked over his shoulder at Stella.
He seemed to be searching for something to say. Then he noticed Zeph climbing out of the driver’s seat. He stepped towards him as Stella drew near, and began speaking in a low voice.
‘Where did you find him?’
‘Out past my place,’ Zeph said.
Stella came to stand beside them. ‘The Lady Tirian’s there, too,’ she said. Her voice sounded distant to her – as though she were a journalist on the job, reporting facts. ‘Caught in an inlet. Sunk. Upside-down.’
Spinks raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘We checked up there.’
‘The storm must have brought her in – last night,’ Zeph said.
Spinks rubbed his hands over his face. ‘She was at sea, then. All that time …’
He was motionless for a few seconds – then he returned to the rear of the car. He sighed and shook his head. ‘He shouldn’t have been moved from the scene, you know. He shouldn’t have been touched. Still, I suppose – what else could you have done …’ Spinks turned towards Stella again, his expression softening. ‘I’m sorry it’s ended like this. I really am.’
Stella nodded dumbly. Over Spinks’ shoulder she saw that onlookers were beginning to gather around.
Then she saw Grace, weaving a path towards the car.
‘Oh no,’ Stella whispered to Spinks. ‘Get these people out of here.’
The policeman began herding the bystanders away. Grace, moving past them, appeared oblivious to their presence. She seemed drawn, as if by a magnet, towards the back of the car.
Soon, she reached Stella’s side. But she did not look at her daughter. She stared into the wagon, her eyes fixed on something there. Following the direction of her gaze, Stella saw something blue protruding from the end of the sarong. William’s sock.
Grace stood still, looking in over the draped body. A breeze stirred her hair and tugged at the end of her skirt. She reached for the bottom of the sarong and began to pull the cloth towards her – slowly, steadily, until her husband’s face was revealed.
There was a long silence. Then a low animal howl broke from her throat – a chilling wail, tearing the silence. A gull sitting on a guidepost nearby launched itself, squawking, into the air.
Grace stared, wide-eyed, recoiling from the sight before her. Yet, at the same time, the magnet force still held her in its power. It drew her on, crawling on hands and knees up into the car. She crouched there beside the body, her limbs folded awkwardly. She dragged off the rest of the sarong, and then – grasping great handfuls of the fisherman’s jumper – pulled herself down towards him.
‘No. No. No,’ she moaned. Her cries became louder and louder – an anguished weeping. Then she began beating her head against William’s chest, as if she thought she could wake him up – bring him back.
Over Spinks’ shoulder, Stella glimpsed faces in the crowd – looks of shock, fascination and revulsion.
Stella lowered the hatch door, pushing it closed. As she started round to the front passenger door, she saw Spinks stepping forward, shaking his head warningly; but she took no notice.
As she opened her door, Zeph was already back in his seat, turning on the ignition and pumping the accelerator. With Stella barely inside the car, he drove off – swinging the vehicle in a wide arc, escaping from the car park and speeding off up the road.
Grace’s cries filled the car. The woman’s grief sounded like fear – the terror of a child lost amongst strangers and expecting never to be rescued. Stella felt sick listening to it. She covered her face with her hands.
The car bounced off potholes in the road, throwing her body against the door. She felt a sense of relief – the distance from the wharf, the people, lengthening behind her. She had no thoughts in her head, no idea what to do next.
After several minutes, she lifted her face and swallowed hard. She summoned Daniel’s voice. Let the fear wash past you, he’d taught. Breathe through it, like pain. Then level your gaze. And step forward.
‘Take us home,’ she said to Zeph. ‘Please, just take us home.’
Grace lay on the double bed, fully dressed but shoeless. The space beside her – William’s half of the bed – looked wide and vacant. She stared up at the ceiling. Her arms were clamped at her sides, and her legs stuck out straight and rigid. Stella covered her mother with a blanket and then returned to her place by the window.
Looking out past the oak tree she could see Spinks standing by his van. Not far away was the red wagon – with the back hatch now closed again. Stella wondered if William was still there, inside, or if they’d moved the body already. She was not sure how long she’d been in here, holding Grace’s hands and stroking her hair as the woman’s sobs subsided slowly into silence.
Stella scanned the area that she could see, but found no sign of Zeph. If not for his car, she could almost imagine that he had not really been here. It seemed so impossible. She closed her eyes on a wave of questions. How long had he been in Halfmoon Bay? Why had he come? Did anyone know that he’d ever visited here before …?
She tried to remember what she’d said to him as she’d pulled Grace from the car and led her towards the path. He’d offered to accompany the two women into the house, but Stella had known that the last thing her mother would want at a time like this was a stranger in her home.
Stella’s memory of the scene was confused and disjointed. She’d told Zeph to go away, she knew. But she did not recall what words she’d used. She should go out and find him now, she thought. At the very least, she owed him her thanks.
‘I have to go outside,’ Stella said, looking over to the bed. Grace lay there, her hair falling back from her face, draping the velvetcovered mound of the pillow. She looked like the carved stone statue of a knight’s lady stretched out on her coffin.
Grace showed no sign that she had heard. As Stella watched the motionless figure, despair crept over her. The agonised weeping had been frightening to witness. But this retreat into stillness was even more unnerving.
Stella paused at the door, her hand on the brass knob. ‘I’ll come back soon.’
Stella walked toward Zeph’s car. Weak sunshine played dully over its faded red duco. She looked around, but there was no sign of him. She could see Spinks talking into his car radio. The policeman caught her eye, and signalled for her to stay there until he’d finished his call.
Stella stood by the wagon, resting her hands on the roof, looking inside to where William still lay, shrouded again in Zeph’s sarong. Whoever had replaced the cloth – Spinks or Zeph – had left one of William’s hands uncovered.
Stella stared down at it. If she half-closed her eyes she could avoid seeing the work of sea lice: the small holes pitting the flesh. She tried to imagine that the hand belonged to someone who was just sleeping and would soon awake. But it was impossible. In some way that could be felt deep inside, rather than simply observed with her eyes, the hand declared itself to be utterly bereft of life.
Stella cast her gaze over the rest of the veiled body. William, her father, was not here. He had departed. The essence of him – all his knowledge, his strength, his tastes and dislikes – was gone.
The iron will with which he ruled his small world – and himself – was no more.
Stella felt something stirring deep inside her – an emotion that felt foreign and wrong. It lay behind the shock, the grief, the pain. With a sense of horror, she recognised what it was.
Relief.
Spinks came to stand beside her. ‘I called in one of the volunteers. They gave Zeph a lift back to his place.’
Stella looked at the policeman in confusion. ‘Why didn’t he wait for his car?’
‘The thing is, he can’t have it back straightaway.’ Spinks paused to take a deep breath. ‘Look, Stella – there are procedures coming into play here. They’ve got a new sergeant in St Louis. He’s one of those up-and-coming types that want to make their mark. He doesn’t like the fact that you found the body.’
Stella frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, when someone who’s not involved in the police search finds the missing subject, it looks like we’ve not done our job. It’s even worse that it was a family member. We’ve already got reporters onto us, wanting the story. And then you moved him from the scene.’ The policeman sighed. ‘The sergeant’s got his police manual out on his desk. I could hear him turning the pages. He’s going to follow the rules down to the last letter.’
Stella opened her mouth to speak, but Spinks waved his hand to ward off any words.
‘I tried to tell him this is not how we do things around here. I’m the Police Forward Commander – in charge of the search – and I should have some say in how we handle the situation. But at the end of the day, he’s the boss.’
Spinks turned at the sound of a vehicle approaching along the track. ‘That’ll be Probationary Constable Brown of St Louis police station, reporting for duty,’ he said with a wry twist of his lips. ‘He’s been sent to guard the vehicle until the mortuary ambulance arrives. I’m afraid your father’s body will have to remain where it is until then. When the deceased has been removed, the vehicle will be impounded, pending advice from the coroner’s office.’
Stella stared at him. The meaning of his words settled slowly in her head. ‘Do you think something else happened out there – that it wasn’t just an accident?’
Spinks shook his head. ‘The sergeant wants to go by the book, that’s all. Your father wasn’t in any trouble. He had no enemies.’ He looked across to where the garden bordered the foreshore. ‘The sea is a dangerous place, Stella. We all know that.’
Stella twisted her fingers in the woollen threads of William’s jumper.
‘What’s going to happen to him?’ As she asked, she already knew. Memories came to her, of interviews with coroners back in her days as a young journalist in Melbourne. She had a vision of William’s body sliced open, his lungs pulled out and his heart laid bare.
‘They’ll want to determine the actual cause of death. They’ll test his blood for alcohol or toxins and look for wounds – things like that. Shouldn’t take more than a day or two. They’ll contact St Louis – say it was an accidental death, no suspicious circumstances. Then it will all be over.’
Stella met his gaze. His last words echoed hollowly in the air.
It would not be over. They both knew that.
‘How is Grace?’ Spinks asked.
‘She’s calmed down,’ Stella said. She pressed her lips together to hold them steady. ‘She’s in the bedroom, resting.’
Spinks nodded. ‘Well, that’s good. I’ll radio the doctor for you. And I’ll ask Pauline or my sister to come out here. Everyone will want to help.’
‘No,’ Stella said firmly. ‘Please just leave us alone.’
Spinks turned at the sound of footsteps coming up behind him. A young policeman was approaching. He was thin, an Adam’s apple sticking out from his throat. He walked with his head held high, like a soldier on parade.
‘Stella, this is Constable Brown,’ Spinks said. ‘Brown, this is Miss Birchmore.’
Brown ducked his head briefly before turning to Spinks. ‘I’ve got further instructions,’ he announced.
‘Yes?’ Spinks asked.
Brown looked meaningfully at Stella.
Spinks glanced at her. ‘You could wait in the house. I’ll come in when we’re finished.’
‘No,’ Stella protested. ‘I want to stay.’
Brown offered her a condescending smile. ‘I think you’ll find it upsetting …’ He looked to the older man for support.
‘It’s up to her,’ Spinks said. ‘She’s not a child.’
Brown gave no reply. He just handed Spinks a pair of latex gloves.
The two policemen fitted plastic bags over William’s hands, taping each one tightly at the wrist. Then they manoeuvred the body into a black canvas bag. They stuffed in the sarong. Stella watched the blue and yellow flowers disappearing as Spinks pulled up the zip to close the bag.
The three stood in silence for a moment, then Brown shut the hatch door. He placed himself in front of it, as if he feared that Stella might open it and steal her father away.
Spinks drew Stella aside, out of the young man’s hearing. ‘I’ll have to get a full statement from you later. I’ll head out and speak to Zeph first – that’ll give you a bit more time to see to Grace.’ He waited for a response.
‘Okay,’ Stella offered. ‘Whatever you want.’
‘But I just have to check something with you now. The sergeant asked me to find out if you are – associated – with the man who arrived on the scene.’ Spinks gave Stella a reassuring smile. ‘It’s a standard question in a situation like this – straight out of the manual. I told him I didn’t see how you could know Zeph at all. He only came here a couple of years ago. And until yesterday you hadn’t been home for fifteen years.’ Spinks scratched the side of his face. ‘It’s just that – once the question was asked – I began to wonder. There was something about the way he – worked with you – there at the wharf. You shut the hatch, and he just knew you wanted to get away. It stuck in my mind …’
Stella looked down at her feet. She pushed the toe of one boot into a tuft of grass.
Tell the truth. That’s all you have to do.
She took a breath. ‘I knew him – years ago. But not for long.’
Only seven days …
‘It’s nothing to do with – now.’
Spinks watched her face as he took out a notebook and opened it, ready to write. ‘So it was just chance that he found you there, with William.’
Stella looked at his pen, poised over the page. She shook her head. ‘He followed me there.’
Spinks raised an eyebrow.
‘Just one thing,’ he added. ‘Was it here that you met Zeph, years ago? At Halfmoon Bay?’
Stella nodded, but did not speak.
Spinks snapped shut his notebook. ‘Good. That’s covered, then. I’ll tell the sergeant that you are not known to be associated with one another. We’ll try and keep this case as simple as possible.’
Stella looked into his eyes. ‘Thank you.’
Spinks’ face tightened with concern. ‘Are you going to be all right?’
She lifted her chin. ‘Yes.’
The man reached out a hand and touched her shoulder. ‘Just remember, Stella. It’s not always a good thing to be strong.’
A radio crackled in Spinks’ pocket. As he reached to pull it out, Stella turned and walked away.
As she passed through the garden, she paused, her gaze settling on lily plants pushing up through the soil. Amidst the stormy weather, she’d not registered that spring was on its way. The trees, she saw now, were beginning to bud. The stalks of the berry canes were fuzzed with green. She lowered her eyes and hurried inside – to where Grace, the gardener, awaited her; lying silent and still – as if her soul had turned inward, towards death.