Gus said my flowers don’t grow out of the dirt, but no one can tell the difference. He also said some folk end up where they should’ve started out in the first place. The renovated houses with manicured hedges, the rows of matching trees on the nature strips, the double garages, fenced backyards, swimming pools and tennis courts … all of these things should be familiar to me. They are familiar. But now I’m a stranger to them.
I don’t belong here.
I convince Hugo to drop me off a block away and resist the urge to rub my eyes, already red, as I walk along the footpath. My overnight bag and handbag are in one hand, and the broomsticks are in the other. I must look like … A runaway? I’m not sure whether the bubble that wants to come up will be a laugh or a sob, so I swallow it down. My father’s house, close to where we used to live, is two storeyed and has a long sweep of lawn out the front. Tall lantern lights on black metal poles line the driveway at two-metre intervals. I lower my bag onto the terrazzo porch tiles and lean the broomsticks against an oversized ceramic pot with a cerulean and aqua glaze. I press the doorbell.
Jacqueline, in her late thirties and very attractive with dark brown eyes and hair, opens the door. She holds out her hand. ‘Come in, Sapphire. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.’
Her nails match her dress, which matches her lipstick. She’s cool, yet courteous. Is she aware I’m here under sufferance?
‘Sorry I’m late.’ I pick up my bags. ‘Robert said his driver would drop me at the motel later on. Could I leave these somewhere in the meantime?’
‘Certainly,’ Jacqueline says, looking curiously at the bag that contains the broomsticks.
‘I’ve brought outside toys for Atticus and Alex,’ I explain. ‘I’ll give them to them tomorrow if that’s okay.’
She smiles a little less severely. ‘How kind. Would you mind if the boys joined us in the dining room? Robert wasn’t sure whether it would be a good idea or not.’
‘I was hoping they’d still be awake.’
‘After we’ve finished our entrée, I’ll put them to bed.’
I leave my bags in the foyer, at least half the size of the schoolhouse, and follow her down a carpeted hallway. She indicates the bathroom. ‘Would you like to freshen up?’
When I leave the bathroom, my father, dressed in pants and a collared shirt, his grey hair neatly parted, is waiting in the hallway. He kisses my cheek.
‘Welcome back,’ he says.
Welcome back to Canberra? Welcome back to the Beresford-Brown family? I nod stiffly. ‘Jacqueline said I could meet the boys.’
‘Come this way.’
Robert sits at the head of the table, fingering the stem of a voluminous glass containing a moderate quantity of wine. Jacqueline, with Alex and Atticus sitting either side of her, is on his right. I sit opposite. The boys aren’t identical twins but look very similar—sweet-faced, dark-eyed and brown-haired. Atticus wriggles incessantly on his chair, sitting, kneeling and standing, no matter how often my father reminds him to sit still. Then, as I reach for my soup spoon, he fires questions at me, asking what countries I know about.
‘Should I start with countries beginning with A?’ I say. ‘Antigua, Austria, Australia, Argentina—’
He interrupts, describing each country’s flag in intricate detail. He’s articulate and clever. Is he also on the spectrum?
Alex has eyes like his brother, but lighter brown hair. He’s painfully shy and speaks so softly that even Jacqueline has to bend her head to understand what he’s saying.
When Atticus throws his serviette ring to get my attention, it skitters across my bowl. Sweet potato and carrot soup splashes on the tablecloth.
‘Atticus!’ Robert says.
Jacqueline stands. ‘I’ll put the boys to bed.’
‘No!’ Atticus says. ‘I want her to talk to me.’
‘Atticus.’ I speak quietly. ‘If you help me clean up the mess, maybe you won’t have to go to bed so soon.’
‘No!’
I hold out my serviette. ‘Do you think we should dip this in my glass of water? Do you think the tablecloth would be easier to clean with a wet cloth or a dry one?’
He runs around the table. ‘I can make it wet! Let me!’
I tip my glass to the side. ‘Just put the corner in.’
Atticus does as I ask before industriously rubbing the tablecloth.
‘Thank you for being so helpful, Atticus. The stain is much paler now. Do you know any countries with orange in their flags?’
‘The Republic of Ireland and the Congo.’
‘I’m good at cleaning.’
‘I agree.’ His eyes light up when I plop his serviette ring into my water glass and scoop it out with fork. ‘This should shine up nicely.’
‘Can I sit with you?’
‘Of course you can.’ As Robert pushes a clean glass across the table, I pull out the chair next to me. ‘I could do with some company.’
‘Mum,’ Atticus says, ‘I can clean yours too.’
As Alex assembles serviette rings for his brother, I look across the table again. ‘Alex?’
With Jacqueline’s prompting, Alex looks up.
‘Atticus has taught me a lot about flags. What are you interested in? What do you like to do?’
‘Reading,’ Alex whispers. ‘I like to do reading.’
‘I love to read.’ I push the soup to one side. ‘Do you have a favourite book? Would you like to show it to me?’
‘I’ve got a book!’ Atticus says.
‘Two books are even better than one. Could I read them to you?’
‘Yes, please,’ Alex whispers.
‘Now!’ Atticus says.
I glance at Jacqueline. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Not if it wouldn’t be too much trouble,’ she says.
Atticus is back in a moment, waving The Highway Rat above his head. He clambers onto the chair next to me again. ‘My book first,’ he shouts. ‘I always go first!’
Alex pulls the chair on my other side so close to mine that the seats press together. He carefully places a book on my lap. ‘The Gruffalo is my favourite,’ he whispers. ‘I want that one first.’
I turn to Atticus. ‘What letter comes first in the alphabet, Atticus? H for Highway Rat or G for Gruffalo?’
He taps his fingers as he recites the letters. Then, ‘G comes first. G!’
‘When the children in my class can’t decide which book to read first, we use the alphabet to decide. Thank you very much for working out which book starts with the earlier letter in the alphabet. We’ll read The Gruffalo and then we’ll read your book.’
‘Yes!’ Atticus smiles. ‘The Gruffalo!’
My father leaves the room to take a call as I read and Jacqueline clears the soup bowls.
As soon as I’ve finished the books, Atticus shouts, ‘Again, again!’
‘No, Atticus,’ Jacqueline says firmly. ‘It’s time to clean your teeth.’
Atticus throws his book on the carpet. ‘I don’t want to clean my teeth.’
I sadly shake my head as I pick up the book and hand it to him. ‘If you don’t clean your teeth, you can’t go to bed, and that means we can’t go out tomorrow. And that means I won’t be able to give you and Alex your presents.’
Alex hops down from his chair. ‘We have to clean our teeth, Atticus.’
When I hold up my hand, Alex taps his hand against it. Atticus’s slap is a little more forceful, but his eyes shine with excitement.
‘Sleep well,’ I say. ‘I can’t wait to see you both again tomorrow.’
Robert, Jacqueline and I make polite conversation in the dining room as we eat our main course and dessert. As Jacqueline clears the plates, my father invites me to join him for a drink in the lounge room.
‘I’ll leave you and Robert to talk,’ Jacqueline says. ‘Thank you for your patience with Atticus. It’s no wonder you’re a teacher.’
I smile. ‘Your boys are gorgeous.’
She turns at the door. ‘Don’t keep Sapphire up for too long, Robert. She’s had a long drive today; she must be tired.’
In other circumstances, perhaps Jacqueline and I could become friends. As it is … I hope my father has the capacity to make her happy.
He hands me a coffee. ‘A little late in the day for one of these, isn’t it?’
‘I’m sure I’ll sleep anyway.’ I perch on the edge of a chair that’s adjacent to a long bay window. It faces the front of the house but curtains, café latte–coloured silk, are drawn across the glass.
‘Does Jacqueline know why I came?’
Robert, staring at the deep red liquid in his glass as he swirls it around, leans against the back of the couch. ‘Presenting a united front is important for various reasons.’
‘I was talking about the farmhouse. Does she know about the option?’
He shakes his head. ‘As I haven’t informed her of it, no. I didn’t discount that you might.’
‘She wouldn’t mind that you’d keep it from her?’
‘You’re here, Sapphire, as requested. If we can contain the controversy, I will relinquish the option.’
‘She’s not only attractive, she’s obviously intelligent. I’m sure she knows what you’re capable of.’
‘Take care.’ He purses his lips. ‘I might change my mind.’
The cup is fine bone china and the handle is slender. I try to loosen my grip. ‘You gave your word.’
He swirls his drink around again. ‘It won’t be easy to defend Kate.’
‘I don’t want you to make things worse.’ I sip my coffee. ‘Others have faith in her.’
‘Who?’ He raises his brows. ‘Matts? I don’t believe so.’
Putting my cup on a side table, I walk to the window. ‘Matts cared about Mum. He wouldn’t want to make things worse.’ I close my eyes, fearful of hearing the answer but unable to hold back the question. ‘What has he said to you?’
‘He doesn’t need to say anything, not when the facts speak for themselves. Kate had a key and accessed the box. The note to Inge is in Kate’s handwriting. “Don’t worry. All will be well.”’ He lifts the glass and draws in the scent. ‘It’s impossible to believe that Kate wasn’t, in some capacity, involved in wrongdoing. And then there was the sapphire. No independent person in possession of the facts could defend her.’
I spin around. ‘There is someone!’
‘Who?’
‘He came to see me.’
‘What?’ He’s suddenly still. ‘Who was it?’
‘He worked for Hernandez. He doesn’t think Mum did anything wrong.’
‘Someone approached you?’
I take a step back. I shake my head. ‘I can’t say anything. Not yet.’
‘What on earth? Tell me what you know.’
‘No! It’s—’ I face the window again, find the gap between the curtains and open them a crack. Streetlights illuminate the road, the double-fronted houses and precisely mown lawns. When I look through the window at the farmhouse, I see the stars and the moon and the sky and the clouds. I miss the dust and the sheep and the chatter of the possums in the red gum.
‘I’m ready to leave now. You said a car would take me.’
‘You said he worked for Hernandez? Who was it, Sapphire? How can you trust him when you can’t reveal his name?’
I shake my head. ‘Should I call an Uber?’
He turns away and talks quietly into his phone. He’s still frowning when he ends the call. ‘The car won’t be long.’
‘Thank you.’
He smiles stiffly as he picks up his wine glass again. ‘Why spoil what you’ve achieved so far? You made an excellent impression on Jacqueline and, needless to say, the boys.’
‘I didn’t set out to do that. I’m not good at pretending, any more than Mum was. I like children. I’d like the boys and Jacqueline whatever I thought of you.’
He holds his glass up to the light and peers through the liquid.
Merlot, currant, garnet, port.
Blood.
Why don’t I drink alcohol? My mother’s addictions? My father’s pleasure in an expensive glass of wine? The house is warm but a shiver passes through me.
Robert’s phone pings. ‘Your car,’ he says crisply.
When I walk out of the lounge room, he follows. I stand back as he opens the door. He kisses my cheek, a perfunctory touch.
‘I want a name, Sapphire.’
I pick up my overnight bag and the broomsticks. ‘You won’t get it.’
‘We shall see.’
‘Is that another threat?’
He looks past me as a car pulls up. ‘We’ll meet at the War Memorial tomorrow. Ten-thirty? The photographer has booked a room.’
‘Can’t we go somewhere else? Where we can be outside? The boys might like that too.’
He huffs. ‘Where do you suggest?’