Matt did a quick U-turn, then barrelled out of town. He braked when he spotted his damaged bike by the side of the road, got out and hauled it into the bushes. Then he drove a few hundred metres up a side track, parked and closed his eyes. He felt paralysed, the events of the past twenty-four hours tearing through his aching head. What a fool. So many ways he could have averted disaster; not answering Sarah’s call in the first place, having dinner with Penny last night instead, leaving Sarah at the pub with Drake or taking her straight home or being sober enough at midnight to drive.
Matt had no idea how long he’d been sitting there. He checked again that Theo was safely stowed in the back. He could hear the occasional car heading east along Binburra Rd. One of them would be Penny’s. After some Panadol and a long drink of water he knew what to do.
By the time Matt arrived at Binburra, Penny was briefing staff and volunteers about the day ahead. He joined the small group on the steps of the visitors centre. When Penny saw him she dropped her notes. He picked them up and handed them to her. She seemed so unsure around him. It hurt.
‘What happened to you?’ She took in his fresh cuts and bruises. Blood had soaked through the sleeve of his windcheater, causing a dark stain. ‘You’re a mess.’
‘I have to speak to you.’
Penny’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. ‘What, so now you want to talk?’
He scrubbed his hands over his eyes and waited.
‘Go on then.’
‘Somewhere private?’
She gave him a guarded look. ‘Meet you up at the house in a few minutes. I have to feed the babies anyway, but you’ll need to be quick. I’m going home to cook Ray a Sunday roast. He needs cheering up.’
‘This won’t take long.’
Penny resumed the briefing while Matt headed for the house. Uh-oh – the empty wine bottles. The two unwashed glasses. Sade on the stereo … the unmade bed. Penny could get the wrong idea.
Matt sprinted up the hill, burst in the door and threw the bottles under the sink. He rinsed the glasses, ejected Sade from the stereo and hid the offending CD under a couch cushion. His injured arm grew stiffer and sorer by the second. The bedroom next. Whoa, Sarah’s phone, there on the floor beside the bed. What a find. He checked it for photos. In the back of his mind was the fear that she’d already sent images of Theo into the ether. But there was nothing more recent than the two of them together at the pub. He deleted the shots and slipped the phone into his pocket.
Matt was in the process of plumping pillows and pulling up the doona when Penny came in. ‘Are you actually tidying up?’
He reached out his good arm, threaded his fingers through hers and led her to the kitchen. ‘I need your help, Pen.’ A weight was already sliding from his shoulders.
Penny’s eyes bored into him for what seemed like forever. She pulled out a chair from the rough-hewn kitchen table. ‘Sit down. You look like you need some coffee.’
He stared into his mug, throat so tight he could barely swallow the hot liquid.
‘Matt?’ said Penny softly, encouragingly.
He looked up. For pity’s sake, just say it. ‘Sarah knows about Theo.’
Penny slowly pushed back her chair. He endured the stunned expression that crossed her face. ‘You didn’t trust your own wife, but you let a hotshot molecular biologist in on the secret? Yeah, you sure can rely on her not to tell anyone.’
‘I can’t. Of course I can’t.’ He wrung his fingers together, rubbed his cheek. It set his cuts bleeding. ‘We need to move Theo.’
‘Sarah knows where he is?’ said Penny. ‘I don’t understand. How? Why?’
These were good questions. Last night flashed in fast motion across his mind’s eye. The laundry floor strewn with Penny’s frozen specimens. Sarah’s disappointment at not finding devils in the house freezer. Her nakedness as she slipped out of her dress. Sarah was bold and brash and impulsive. Disrespectful of Penny’s work and single-minded about her own. He should have locked the shearing shed before going to sleep. No, he should never have taken her to Binburra at all.
‘Matt, answer me.’
He ran his finger along the table. ‘It’s complicated.’
She glared at him with reproachful eyes. ‘If you want my help, I need to know everything.’ She was right, she deserved to know. Most of it, anyway.
‘Sarah and I went to Nandena last night to see Lisa’s band.’
Pain showed in the crease of her brow, and he hated knowing that he’d put it there. Hated that pride and anger had made him choose Sarah over his wife last night.
‘You said you were doing something work-related.’
‘We were. Sort of. I guess we ended up celebrating. There’s good news, Pen. Wonderful news. Sarah found a population of devils with different MHC genes, right here in the Tuggerah. She wants to test your frozen samples next.’
‘So …’ He could see Penny’s mind ticking over, processing what he’d told her. ‘These devils might be able to mount an immune response to DFTD cells?’
‘It’s possible, yes.’
Her mouth curved into a slow smile. ‘If we can identify some of them, we can begin a targeted genetic rescue program.’
How beautiful she was. Sapphire eyes, bright with delight. Soft, full lips with that slight gap between her teeth. High, freckled forehead, framed by wayward copper curls. He felt the magnetic pull of his wife, like he was falling in love all over again.
‘This is great news,’ she said. ‘But it doesn’t explain why you told Sarah about Theo.’
‘I didn’t. After dinner last night I brought Sarah back to Binburra to collect some research notes. I knew she was impatient to DNA test hair samples from your frozen devils, but I had no idea that she’d go looking for herself.’
‘You mean she poked around in the freezers without asking? Where were you?’
He wanted to say that he’d been asleep, and that Sarah had stayed the night at Binburra. He wanted to explain about the kiss in the jeep outside Mrs Murphy’s. But that explanation could ruin the precious reconnection they were making. He’d tell Penny the gist of it, that would do for now.
‘Matt, I asked you where were you while Sarah was in the shed?’
‘Aah … busy with the babies.’ He felt a little sick as he said it.
The answer seemed to satisfy Penny. ‘What a nerve that woman has. She must have been blown away to find Theo.’ Penny gave him a searching look. ‘You know Sarah will go to the press. We’ve lost the chance to do this our way.’
'I don’t think she’ll go public, not yet.’
‘Why not?’
Matt’s mouth went dry. ‘I asked her very nicely not to.’
There was a heavy moment of silence. Penny buried her chin in her hand, and stared at Matt until he squirmed. ‘You do know she has a crush on you.’ More squirming. It wouldn’t take long now. Penny’s eyes grew large. ‘She made a play for you, didn’t she?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Sarah’s keeping this secret as a personal favour. Keeping your spectacular science-shattering secret because she fancies you.’ Penny sank down on a kitchen chair. ‘Do you fancy her too?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t, and I also don’t know how long she’ll keep quiet. I need you to take Theo to Ray’s right now. Hide him in the bait chest.’
Penny studied him awhile, then tossed her head. ‘I’ll be damned if that fake-tanned Yankee home-wrecker will make the announcement before we do. Are there photos?’ Matt hesitated, then extracted Sarah’s phone and handed it to his wife. She grinned. ‘I won’t ask you how you got that.’ Her search revealed nothing untoward. ‘Well, then, let’s get to it. I’ll feed the babies while you put Theo in the jeep.’
Matt gave his wife a swift kiss, and a familiar flash of desire stirred his blood – a flash of hope too. Together they’d get through this.
McGregor placed two large cardboard boxes on the breakfast table beside Fraser’s coffee and scrambled eggs. ‘Your homework arrived this morning, sir,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘Courtesy of Miss Penelope.’ He handed Fraser an envelope. The note inside said, Read everything. Watch everything. Love, Penny xx.
Fraser opened the first box and took out a stack of books, journals and David Attenborough DVDs. Yesterday he’d agreed to do whatever she asked of him. Was this what she meant? Fraser opened a little book that had slipped from the pile, an ancient children’s reader titled Legends of Greece and Rome. He recognised it as one of his old schoolbooks, with his name written on the first page in a childish scrawl. How curious. He turned to the page she’d bookmarked for him. The Punishment of Erysicthon. He sighed. What was the point of doing this? Still, he’d promised her. There was no harm in reading a simple story.
‘There was once a lovely grove belonging to Demeter, a goddess with dominion over the fruits and riches of the earth. This sacred ground was filled with pear and apple trees, mighty elms and oaks. They grew so thickly, an archer could not shoot an arrow through the forest. Its meadows teemed with fat deer. Its creeks ran with silver waters. Demeter loved this place to the point of madness.
‘There was also a Thessalian king, named Erysicthon, Tearer of the Earth. He planned to fell the trees in the sacred grove, and with their fine timber build a great banquet and pleasure house for himself. Erysicthon took with him twenty mighty giants, strong enough to lift whole cities, armed with double axes and hatchets.
‘Among the trees stood a colossal oak, centuries old. Its broad branches reached to Olympus, towering as high above the other trees as they did above the grass. Around it hung wreaths and garlands and scrolls, with proof of prayers fulfilled. Yet even so, the wicked king refused to spare the blade. The holy tree shuddered and groaned as the gigantic axemen began their work. Each bough and leaf and acorn paled with fear, and blood flowed from its wounded bark.
‘In death the holy tree cried out to Demeter, who heard its pain. She took the guise of a simple priestess and begged Erysicthon to stop his destruction, “… lest you anger the lady Demeter, whose grove you now make desolate.”
‘But the king was greedy and foolish. “Begone,” he said. “Or my axe will bite your flesh.” The giants rained blow after blow on the holy tree and hauled it down with ropes. At last the mighty oak crashed to earth, laying low its companions for miles around.
‘Demeter, furious beyond telling, put on her goddess shape. Her steps touched the earth but her head reached heaven. Dryads of the grove, heartbroken for their loss and clothed in mourning black, prayed for punishment on the king. “Go build your banquet hall,” she said to Erysicthon. “You who never tire of the feast.”
‘That night, Hunger wafted on the wind to the palace and entered the king’s chamber. She wrapped him in her arms as he slept, became his breath, channelled her craving emptiness through his hollow veins. When the king awoke, a furious appetite reigned in his burning belly, an appetite that could not be satisfied. Whatever the wretched Erysicthon ate, that much he desired again. He feasted until the fields were bare and the flocks all devoured. Yet he gained no nourishment and wasted away to sinew and bone. The deep pit of his belly exhausted the royal wealth. His only daughter he sold to slavery for more gold to buy food. But the king’s hunger remained unabated, the flame of his greed unappeased. He ate the mules, and the racehorses and his faithful war charger. He even ate his cat. And when his gluttony had consumed all the kingdom had to offer, Erysicthon gnawed at himself, devouring his own flesh and died, one bite at a time.’
Fraser closed the book. We are creatures of consequence, his Charlotte used to say. How she would have loved Penelope.