ONLY CHILD

It was impossible to be prepared for everything, in the circumstances. But Caro took comfort in being prepared for most things.

‘Jude, it’s time,’ she whispered into her sister’s hair. ‘Time to sit.’

Judy protested — a wrenching, girlish cry, like she’d fallen and skinned her knee. Feverishly, she kissed her fingertips, pressed them to the cool mahogany. Kissed the wreath of daffodils and white freesia.

No tears, though. Was she shedding them faster than her body could produce them? Or had the pills obstructed something — made her capable only of performing grief?

‘Here, Jude.’ Caro crossed herself. ‘Over here, now.’

She sat her sister in the front-row pew, beside Tim. Caught his eye across Judy’s lap and nodded.

Tim and the boys stood. Shuffled to the casket with sloped shoulders and bowed heads, their ears pink and exposed. She’d made them all get haircuts.

‘Caro!’

The smell of him: Ralph Polo Green and something animal, pheromonal. Caro stiffened her cheek for her ex-husband’s kiss.

‘Gav.’ She cringed at the swick of his lips. ‘Thanks for coming on time.’

‘Jude! I’m so sorry.’ Swick, again. Bastard. ‘It’s unbelievable. Never seen so many coppers outside a church before. They any closer to catching the guy?’

Judy looked at him glassily. ‘Fingerprints.’

‘Whassat?’ Gavin leaned closer.

‘Fingerprints,’ Caro supplied. ‘They found fingerprints.’

‘Well, shouldn’t take them too long, then. They looking into her boyfriends?’

‘Great idea, Gav.’ Caro raised her eyes heavenward. ‘Ground-breaking. Where would we be without you?’

‘Wasn’t she dating an older guy? I’d be looking at him.’ Ignoring Caro, Gavin helped himself to Tim’s seat. ‘Young woman, full of energy, hard to satisfy … You know how it is.’

Judy nodded vaguely, as she would’ve nodded at anything.

‘Poor old Marko. Lucky he never had to live to see this day.’ Gavin slid his gaze over Judy’s lap. ‘Not so lucky for you, though. I mean, you’re all alone now.’

‘She’s not alone.’ Tim reappeared with Bronson and Wyatt. ‘She has us.’

‘Sorry, mate.’ Gavin vacated his seat. ‘All yours.’

Then he turned his attention to their sons. Their freshly shorn sons with their sensitive skin and cowboy names, who wilted like flowers under his shoulder-claps.

‘Caro.’ Tim noticed Caro’s fingers itching at her purse, the bitter yearning of her clenched jaw. ‘It can wait.’

‘Can it, Tim? Are you reading the eulogy?’ Caro stroked Judy’s hair and rose from her seat. ‘Jude, honey, I’ll be right back.’

All the people she had to pass, filing in to the chapel as she stalked out. It was a good sign. Paulina wouldn’t be forgotten — not with a crowd like this.

‘Alright?’ a cop asked as she shouldered past him. Only young, Bronson’s age.

‘My niece was stabbed five dozen times.’ Caro jabbed a cigarette between her lips. ‘Do you think I’m alright?’

If she didn’t seem so alone, Caro wouldn’t have noticed her. It had been a few years. She’d dyed her hair. And, anyway, the resemblance had never been strong.

‘Milly!’ Caro beckoned. ‘Thank God. Someone I can smoke with.’

Milica trotted across the carpark, tall despite her poor posture and heartbreakingly cheap flats. The bag on her arm was synthetic, too large for the occasion.

‘I quit.’ She looked at Caro’s Marlboros apologetically. ‘Sorry.’

‘So you should be!’ They hugged, tight. ‘Thanks for coming.’

‘Of course I came.’

‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ Caro clutched her temple. ‘Fuck. I didn’t mean that.’

‘I know you didn’t.’

Caro waved her ciggie at the jam-packed carpark. ‘You’re one of the few people who actually belongs here. Who are all these people?’

‘Lots of BMWs.’ Milica attempted a smile. ‘Your friends, not mine.’

‘Did you get here okay? How’d you get here? Taxi?’

‘Train. From King’s Cross.’

‘King’s Cross?’

‘I stayed in a hostel.’

‘A hostel ?’ Caro shook her head, outraged. ‘Tim’s brother has a harbourside apartment sitting empty. I would’ve offered.’

‘It’s fine.’ Milica eyed her ciggie. ‘Once an immigrant, always an immigrant.’

‘Once a smoker, always a smoker.’ Caro held it out. ‘I won’t judge. God might … but he’s a bastard, anyway.’

Relenting, Milica took a drag. As her features relaxed, the ghosts flew in: the unapologetically dark eyes, the shadows under them, something about the throat and ears.

Caro tried not to stare. ‘How’s Ljubica?’

‘Oh, you know.’ Milica handed it back. ‘Angry.’

‘Not as angry as me.’

‘She would’ve come. But flying’s hard, at her age. Anyway, I thought it might be overkill.’ Milica winced. ‘Sorry. Bad word. How’s Judy?’

‘Drugged to the eyeballs.’ Caro drew the smoke deep into her lungs. ‘It’s the only way we could get her through today.’

‘I saw her walking into the chapel. She’s still beautiful.’

‘Damsel in distress.’ Caro passed the ciggie. ‘Gav’s been sniffing around her.’

‘Mongrel.’

‘You got here early? You could’ve come in with us.’

‘And upset Judy?’

‘Like I said, drugged to the eyeballs.’ Caro watched Milica drawing in. ‘Anyway, she has bigger things to be upset about.’

‘I can’t handle a repeat of Dad’s funeral.’ Milica shook her head. ‘I’ll stick to the nosebleed section, if you don’t mind.’

‘I do mind.’ Caro seized the ciggie. ‘Paulina would want her big sister close.’

Sniffing, Milica dug inside her handbag. ‘I brought something. For her coffin.’ She drew out a worn plush lion. ‘Leon Lav. Baka — Dad’s mum — made him. He used to help me sleep when I was small.’

‘Oh, Milly.’ Caro’s brow creased. ‘You know it’s a closed casket?’

‘Shit.’ Milica’s mouth quirked downward; her dark eyes brimmed quicker than she could avert them. ‘Of course it is.’

‘I’m sorry. I should’ve asked if you had anything you wanted to bury with her.’ Caro flicked away the cigarette butt. ‘The poor thing’s been through so much. With the autopsy, then being stitched back together and flown across the Pacific; you can’t imagine the paperwork. We just wanted to give her some rest.’

‘Of course.’ Milica wiped her eyes. ‘I’m an idiot.’

‘Jude made sure she had some of her baby things with her. And her jewellery.’ Caro squashed the butt with her stiletto. ‘They’d even chosen a dress, if you can believe it.’

‘“They”?’

‘Don’t get me started.’ Caro swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘I’d wring Jude’s neck, if she wasn’t so helpless. You’d think it was Paulina’s wedding, the way they had it all planned out.’

Milica blinked, uncomprehending.

‘She was suicidal, Milly.’ Caro held her gaze. ‘Jude talked her off the ledge … God knows how many times. A lot, by the sounds of it.’

‘I had no idea.’

‘You wouldn’t. I had to find out from the detective.’ She sighed. ‘Jude and Paulina: it was always them against the world.’

Milica’s chin wobbled.

‘I’m sorry.’ Caro checked her watch. ‘I’m due at the podium.’

Milica nodded, eyes streaming. With a rueful smile, Caro picked up Leon Lav, swatted Milica’s tears with his nubby paws.

‘Prrr?’ She purred hopefully. ‘Prrr?’

Milica choked a laugh, snatched back Leon. ‘You’re such a schoolteacher.’

‘Takes one to know one.’ Caro gave her a swift hug and air-kiss. ‘See you inside?’

‘Maybe if you brought binoculars.’ Milica grimaced. ‘I’ll be right in.’

Crossing the carpark, Caro’s heels clicked loudly. At the door of the chapel, though, she glanced back.

Milica was sobbing into the lion’s soft fur.