Luke wakes to the sound of a child’s laughter. He has no idea where he is. It takes a few moments to find his bearings. Floral wallpaper. Light flooding through sheer yellow-tinged curtains. He’s in his childhood bedroom. He doesn’t have a hangover. The bed next to him is empty, which means Aaron is up and about. Downstairs having a natter with his father? Jesus, time to get up and rescue him before something unforgivable is said.
Luke stumbles to the bathroom, brushes his teeth, runs a rough hand through his hair. He looks like he has been out on the town, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The last few nights have followed the same pattern: a quiet dinner with his father before his eyes begin to droop, unable to fight the pull of sleep, and having to excuse himself for ‘an early night’. Luke can’t understand it. Never before has he so fully succumbed to jet lag. Must be years and years of it, catching up with him all at once. Or maybe it’s exactly what Aaron suggested when he convinced him to take this holiday: the toll of all those exhausting shifts without taking enough leave to recuperate. Whatever it is, jet lag or burnout, Luke has never slept so long or so soundly. What’s odd is that it’s happening here, in his father’s house, a place he associates with unrest and agitation.
There’s a strange woman in the kitchen when Luke goes downstairs. She has short hair and a familiar manner with his father, standing close to him as she sips from a mug. She says something and his father chuckles. If that’s not startling enough, there’s a child sitting under the kitchen table – a boy of about three or four years old – playing with toy cars, manoeuvring the vehicles around the legs of the chairs.
‘Luke.’ Tony spots him standing by the doorway. ‘Thought you might be dead up there. This is Maxine and Jed.’
Jed regards him curiously from underneath the table while his mother’s face creases with warmth. She puts down the mug, comes forward to greet Luke, grasping his hand in both of hers.
‘It’s so lovely to meet you at last.’
At last? How long has this woman featured in his father’s life, and in what capacity? She’s significantly younger than him, at least twenty years. She’s obviously a very nice woman. What the hell is she doing here, with the King of Grumps?
‘Your father is always talking about Luke this and Luke that ...’
Luke doubts this very much but is too polite to pull her up on it. Where’s Aaron? Luke needs him here to share in his incredulity.
‘Aaron’s gone for a walk,’ Tony says, anticipating the question. ‘He’s been up since the crack of dawn.’
Poor Aaron. While Luke has been clearing fourteen hours’ sleep, Aaron has been lucky to get six. Then again, he has plenty of sleep reserves to draw on, unlike Luke.
‘Cuppa?’ his father enquires, already on his way to refill the kettle.
‘Sure.’ Luke turns to Maxine and tries to make a joke of his confusion. ‘So, do you come here often?’
She throws back her head and laughs. ‘Often enough to be a nuisance.’ She points at Jed, who’s clambering out from under the table, presumably to take a closer look at Luke. ‘The problem is that this little fella has taken a strong liking to your father, and nags me all day long. Can we go and see Mr Willis? When can we go? Are we going now? I eventually give in, otherwise he’d drive me insane. We’ve tried to keep away the last few days, to give you all some space, but Jed has been pining, so here we are ...’
Since when has his father held such appeal for small children? Luke looks from Maxine to Jed, wondering if he’s still asleep and they’re the product of some weird dream that subverts reality.
‘Maxine and her partner moved into the Murphys’ place,’ Tony says, which explains a lot. It’s obvious that Maxine has made it her mission to befriend the cranky old man next door. She’s using Jed as a ruse, pretending that the child wants to come here.
Jed holds out one of his toy cars to Luke. ‘You can have the blue one,’ he declares solemnly.
Next he goes to Tony, and slips another car into the old man’s hand. ‘You can have the green one. It’s my favourite, but you can play with it today.’
His father reaches down to ruffle the child’s hair. There is such genuine affection in the gesture that Luke feels tears spring to his eyes.
‘It’s like he’s had a fucking personality transplant,’ Luke exclaims in disbelief. ‘Since when has he been so fucking welcoming to the neighbours? Since when is he someone who ruffles hair, for fuck’s sake?’
Luke and Aaron are at Dee Why Beach, towels spread out on the sand, their skin white from the European winter. Aaron turns over on to his side and gives him an amused stare through his sunglasses.
‘What are you complaining about, exactly? That your dad has become a nicer person? That he’s making new friendships with people of different ages? Would you prefer the grumpy, intolerant version, just so you can feel justified hating him?’
Aaron’s right. Luke’s been blindsided by this softer version of his father. He’s wary of him in the same way he’d be wary of a stranger. He doesn’t understand how he has materialised. And he sure as hell doesn’t know how to feel about him.
‘It’s too fucking late for him to become nice,’ he says petulantly.
Aaron laughs. ‘Now you’re being a moron!’
‘Fuck off,’ Luke retorts, and Aaron laughs again because he knows that’s what Luke says when he’s beaten.
Aaron turns on his back again, propping himself on his elbows, admiring the view. ‘Some panorama, eh?’
Once again, he’s right. The navy-coloured ocean. The whitewash from the waves. The tint of orange in the sand. Luke has travelled the world and nothing compares to this coastline. Beach after beach, headland after headland, all the way to the tip of the peninsula.
Aaron’s staring at the horizon now. ‘So Tony wasn’t a great dad. So he was harsh and a bit of a bastard at times. So he wasn’t cool about you being gay ... But that was over twenty years ago. It was a different world then, and he was a different man. He’s mellowed. The question is: are you willing to mellow too?’
‘I have a voicemail from a detective. What the fuck is going on?’
Luke is back at home, boxed in by the floral wallpaper of his bedroom, sunburnt after spending too long on the beach, and perplexed to have a missed call from a Detective Brien at Manly Police Station.
Katy sighs on the other end of the phone. ‘Yeah, I got a call too. Apparently, things have got more serious. The detective wants to talk to all of us together. I can pick you up, if you like. We could go for a drink afterwards?’
Luke still hasn’t seen Katy. They were meant to meet up on Wednesday night but he was too tired and texted her to cancel. He knows she would have been disappointed, hurt even, and so he grasps the chance to make it up to her.
‘Yeah, that’d be great. Aaron can hang out in Manly while we’re at the station.’ Aaron is presently having a shower and taking his time about it. Luke has a few more minutes to chat while he waits his turn. ‘So what’s been going on? How serious is it?’
Katy’s explanation is jumbled. Jarrod in a coma. Zach being threatened. Both Melissa and Grace have had intruders? Luke finds it all rather fantastical and hard to follow. Maybe because he and Aaron went for some beers after the beach.
‘So, you’re basically saying I’ve come back for a reunion that’s been fucking cancelled?’
‘Sorry. You were in transit when this all blew up. Besides, you were overdue a visit home. How is Aaron enjoying it?’
‘Loving every minute.’ Luke yawns. ‘What time can you swing by and pick us up?’
‘About five thirty.’ Her voice catches. ‘I can’t wait to see you ...’
‘Me too ... See you then.’
As though on cue, Aaron walks into the bedroom, towel around his waist. His hair is wet and beads of water glisten on his shoulders. He has the beginnings of a tan.
‘It’s all yours,’ he says.
‘About fucking time,’ Luke grumbles, flouncing out of the room.
The bathroom is like his bedroom: a time warp. Cream tiles with a floral border. An old-fashioned shower, complete with plastic base and mildewy shower curtain. Pale pink enamel toilet and sink. The height of chic in its day, a long time ago, before Luke was born.
‘I love the house,’ Aaron declared this afternoon, at one of the trendy new bars on the promenade. ‘It’s very retro.’
Aaron seems determined to love everything about Sydney. The beaches, the lifestyle, even the fucking house. His enthusiasm is downright irritating.
Luke runs the shower on the cool side, in an attempt to wake himself up. That damned tiredness again. The house is sapping him. He’s drying off when he hears it for the second time that day. The sound of a child’s laughter. He goes to the frosted window, its top panel propped open to let out steam. Jed is playing in the garden next door, running along, pulling some sort of basic kite. Maxine is standing on the deck watching him, smiling, calling out, ‘Careful ... Don’t tangle it.’
Someone joins her on the deck. Another woman, maybe a few years younger. She puts her arm around Maxine and draws her close. Kisses her on the lips in an unmistakably sensual manner. Luke does a double take.
Fucking hell. He’s in a dream. This whole day has been one long weird fucking dream.