Despite the oxygen-sapping heat, the brilliant sunshine, the buzz of insects, it felt as if storm clouds gathered directly over Mum and Dad’s house. Mr Lee barely raised a flicker; too busy panting to keep cool as I let myself in. I gave his ears a stroke, told him he was a gorgeous boy, and wandered through to the living room where Mum was helping herself to the first drink of the day. I followed Dad’s reproving yet helpless gaze. A pulse above his left eye flickered. I read the sign: say nothing. Nate sat in the corner, crumpled. You could slice through the atmosphere with a rusty spoon. Distinguishing one bad vibe from another, when all feels futile, is not simple. In my gut, I recognised something else was going down. It put me on high alert.
“Nate, can I interest you in a G&T?” Mum said.
“Why not.”
Oh great, I thought. Dad must have glimpsed the irritation on my face and felt the need to explain. “Nate’s received an email from Heather Bowen’s solicitor, threatening to sue him.”
Crafty cow. She never mentioned a word. “Surely, she can’t do that.”
“Apparently, she can,” Nate said.
“We don’t know for certain,” Dad said evenly.
“On what grounds? Scarlet drove the car, not Nate.”
“Why must you always blame her?” Mum’s pale face and tight mouth gave the game away. She was pissed off all right. To my ears, the words ejected from her lips were like lit matches flung onto petrol.
“Amanda, I don’t think that’s what—”
“It’s okay, Dad, I’ve got this. I really don’t appreciate what you’re implying, Mum.” I ground my fingers into my palms to stop my hands from shaking. “I know you’re grieving. We all are, but you can’t escape the fact that Scarlet was responsible.”
“That’s not true,” she shouted. “You’ve fallen for their lies. Tell her, Rod.”
“Does she know about the booze in Scarlet’s bloodstream?” I addressed the question to Dad, as if my mother were somewhere else. Unseen. Unheard.
“That’s nonsense,” Mum cried. “Preliminary findings can be wrong.”
“So, what will you do when the toxicology report is finally written and it’s there in black and white?” My frustration at my mother’s refusal to face the truth unforgivably boiled over. In a few paragraphs, I could enlighten her about bloody offerings, threats and notes, and a stranger shot a few streets away from where he lived.
“We’ll demand another, get a second opinion, won’t we, Rod?”
“Well, I—” Dad began.
“Have the police found anything on the computers or phones?” I had images of laptops in evidence bags with descriptions of the exhibits; their data pored over and copied.
Nate’s voice slammed into me. “What the hell do you expect them to find?”
I raised an eyebrow in reply, but I wasn’t finished. “What about the absence of marks on the road, the deliberate act, the bloody—” I broke off, stared at Nate who looked as if I’d produced an axe.
“Let’s calm down.” Dad patted the air with the palms of his hands. “Understandably, we’re all upset.”
I focused on him, refused to look at my mother, whose penetrating gaze lasered a hole in the side of my head.
“Agreed,” Nate said. “What are we going to do about the threat of legal action?” Dad virtually buckled with relief, grateful for a return to practical matters. Me? I was light-headed with fury and frustration.
“Talk to the blasted woman.” Mum snatched at her drink. “Tell her to back off. Tell her if she doesn’t, we’ll sue the hell—”
“Mum, you can’t.”
Eyes sparking, she steamrollered right through me. “Your father will fix it.”
“I can’t fix everything, woman.”
The sudden steep rise in emotional temperature took us all unawares. My mother could not have looked more stunned had my dad thumped her. Nate took an avid interest in his shoes. I didn’t know where to look. Silence crawled through the room and hid in the corners.
“I’m sorry, Amanda, I —”
“Screw you, Rod.” Slamming down her drink, she flew out into the hall, the furious beat of her shoes on the stairs as she fled to their bedroom. When Dad made to follow, I caught his arm.
“Think I’ll go for a wander in the garden.” Embarrassed, Nate shot out through the open French windows.
Demeaned and ashamed, Dad clasped the back of his neck. I felt for him. Scarlet’s untimely death was smashing us all to pieces. And I was about to crush him some more.