Henny sat in Gemma’s cosy kitchen sipping a cup of green tea. There was a lovely floral scent that seemed to permeate the entire house, even into the kitchen. It was an old cottage on a leafy lane, not far from the hospital.
‘You’ve got a lovely place, Gemma.’
Gemma smiled over the rim of her cup. ‘Thanks. It’s small but there’s enough room for me and Shadow,’ she said, nodding towards a sleek ink-black cat dozing on the window seat. ‘Neither of us take up much room.’
‘How was work?’
‘Busy, but always rewarding in one way or another.’
‘I don’t know how you do it,’ Henny said.
‘Whats that?’ Gemma asked with an intrigued look on her face.
‘Deal with the death. I mean, working in the hospital you have to come up against it,’ Henny said as she placed her cup back on the table. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m in awe of you—I just know I couldn’t do it.’
‘Well, I guess I feel privileged to see both the beginning and end of life and in some way be a part of it. Everything is a cycle, Henny—it’s a natural thing.’
‘Yes, but what happens when the cycle isn’t so natural, as you put it?’
Gemma nodded. ‘You mean like what happened to our friends?’
‘Yes, I suppose I do. I ran away because I couldn’t deal with the death of my best friend and here you face it every day.’
‘The drowning affected us all in different ways. I can’t speak for you or anyone else but for me, I just wanted to help. Maybe on some level I thought that I couldn’t save the friends we lost but perhaps I could help save someone else.’
Henny looked at Gemma for a moment and nodded. ‘I get it—I really do.’
‘Well, it works for me,’ Gemma said with a smile before changing the subject. ‘So, how are the plans for The Matchbox going?’
‘Yeah, good. The shop’s getting a new coat of paint next week, thanks to Aunt Janey, and everything seems to be coming together well.’
‘So when are you opening?’
‘The start of winter, at least that’s the plan. I’m still getting the stock together and waiting on the prints and a couple of the actual paintings that I’m having framed.’
‘You’re selling your mum’s paintings as well?’ Gemma asked as she topped up Henny’s cup.
‘It’s mostly the prints but I thought I might put in a few of her paintings for sale to fill up the wall space,’ Henny said with a laugh. ‘Anyway, as I said on the phone, I’ve been told by so many people that you make the best scented candles and I hoped I could buy some for the shop.’
‘Of course I’ll make you some candles,’ Gemma said. ‘You know I only do it as a hobby, to wind down after work. I love making them.’
‘Well, you must be doing a good job because so many people said that if I wanted candles, I had to check yours out. What is that beautiful scent, anyway?’
Gemma smiled as she tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. ‘White flowers: jasmine, tuberose, lily of the valley and gardenia. It’s one of my favourites—it reminds me of my grandmother’s summer garden.’
‘Well, it’s lovely.’
‘Thanks.’
Gemma was quiet for a minute and Henny sensed that the mood had changed.
‘Henny, I wanted to ask you something. I hope I’m not out of line but I heard that you’ve been asking people about Harley’s death.’
‘Wow, word’s really getting around.’
‘Can I ask why? I mean, as far as I know the police are saying that it was an accident.’
‘Yes, that’s what I’ve heard too.’
‘Then why stir things up? Sorry, it’s just that this has brought up some really hard stuff for lots of people.’
Henny shook her head. ‘I promise, Gemma, that’s the last thing that I’d want to do. It’s just Harley told me some things before he died that really made me wonder.’
‘You don’t think it was an accident?’
Henny frowned. ‘I’m just not sure.’
‘But that only leaves one other option, suicide, and I don’t believe that for a minute,’ Gemma stated firmly. ‘As far as I’m concerned, the last thing Harley would ever do is kill himself that way.’
‘What makes you so certain?’
‘A hundred different things. Harley had problems, I’m not saying he didn’t, but he wouldn’t have purposely done it.’
‘Because of his dog?’ Henny asked. ‘Many people have mentioned how attached he was to Dover.’
‘Yes, but that’s not the only reason. He was terrified of drowning and he hated the res. The only reason he was there was because of the memorial. We’d spoken about it a few days earlier and he told me that ever since the accident he’d only been back a couple of times—what he said to me was that it was haunted. He said that every time he went there he could see them.’
‘You don’t believe that?’
‘Of course not, but Harley believed it. I don’t go there either, not because of what Harley said but because I still find it confronting and I can’t help but remember that night. It’s a sad place and you can feel that as soon as you get out of the car.’
‘Yes, I definitely get that feeling too,’ Henny said. ‘So if Harley hated the res so much, why would he have gone back there?’
‘Well, I can’t really understand that either, I guess. What’s your theory?’ Gemma asked.
‘I don’t have one yet. All I know is that he spoke to me before the memorial and warned me to leave. I was rattled by it as he seemed so sincere.’
‘He told you to leave the res?’
Henny shook her head. ‘No, Lawson’s Bend. He said that it wasn’t safe here and it wasn’t an accident.’
‘What did he mean by that?’ Gemma asked.
‘I don’t know, he wouldn’t say. Did you talk to Harley often?’
‘Not often, just sometimes. I was trying to get him some help. He’d agreed to see one of the doctors and discuss how we could help him and manage his mental health.’
‘He was willing to do that? I was told that he didn’t want any help.’
‘It’s true that in the past Harley had refused it. His parents tried so hard to get the help he needed but he wouldn’t. Over the past few months I’d been talking to him and he’d got to the point that he’d agreed to talk to Philip, I mean, Dr Baxter.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, we had an appointment set up for the Wednesday after the memorial. Harley had promised he’d go as long as I went for support. I’d even arranged for Dover to stay at a friend’s house for the afternoon. So you see, Henny, I don’t believe Harley would have hurt himself because he was finally reaching out.’
***
Driving home, Henny thought about what Gemma had said. She’d been the first to tell Henny any concrete facts about Harley. Many people had all agreed that he would never have turned to suicide because of Dover, but Gemma was the first person to suggest other reasons.
She drove past her turn-off and headed into town to pick up a couple of things at the supermarket; she still had enough time before it closed. It looked as if she and Dover would both be having a late dinner.
She pulled into a space in the almost-empty car park and hurried in. Walking through the automatic doors, she glanced at the registers and noted that they were manned by a couple of young kids she didn’t recognise. At least she wouldn’t have to deal with Rosalie tonight.
She buzzed around the store quickly, avoiding the chocolate section, though she couldn’t resist picking up a couple of treats and a new chew toy for Dover.
‘Hi, what can I get you?’ the girl behind the deli counter asked.
Henny didn’t know her but she had a nice smile.
‘Um, could I please have some of that fetta, a couple of scoops of the pitted olives and some of the roasted capsicum? Thanks.’
As the girl handed over the first container she said, ‘Are you the lady who’s opening up The Matchbox?’
‘That’s right,’ Henny said with a smile.
‘It’s a gallery, right?’
‘Sort of. I’m featuring my mother’s artwork but I’ll also be selling some other arts and crafts.’
The girl handed her another container. ‘I’m Cassie, by the way.’
‘It’s nice to meet you, Cassie. I’m Henny.’
‘I don’t suppose you’d need extra staff, would you?’ the girl asked hopefully.
‘That’s something I won’t know until I open. If all goes well there may be a part-time job available, but that’s not a definite yet.’ Henny saw the disappointment in Cassie’s eyes. ‘Tell you what, when the shop opens, drop in and see me and bring your résumé, okay?’
‘Oh, thanks so much, Henny, I will.’
‘Good,’ Henny said as she picked up her items and placed them in the basket. ‘Thanks, Cassie. See you later.’
‘Bye—have a good night.’
Henny went through the checkout then headed back out to the car park. From a distance she sensed that something was wrong with her car but she couldn’t make out what it was until she got closer.
‘Oh my God!’ Henny exclaimed. What looked to be an entire carton of eggs had been smashed into the windshield, the yellow yolks making smeary trails down the glass before collecting in thick pools over the window wipers. There were more broken eggshells scattered on the ground and the bonnet. Henny scanned the parking lot but she couldn’t see anyone. In a way it would have been a relief to see a group of kids snickering behind the bushes but there was nothing. In fact the car park was dark and quiet and still.
Rattled, Henny opened the car and shoved her bags inside before grabbing a handful of tissues and trying to wipe off the mess. A few minutes later and half a box of tissues down, she finally slid into the driver’s seat and fired up the engine and the windscreen wipers. The glass was still smeary but Henny wasn’t going to hang around any longer. She drove away from the supermarket as fast as she could. Deep down she had a feeling that this wasn’t a harmless act of bored youth—it was a warning. She just had to figure out what for.
***
Saturday morning found Henny sitting in Aunt Janey’s kitchen watching Dover dutifully following Napoleon and Josephine around the small courtyard. Aunt Janey’s dogs had appeared to have taken Dover under their collective wing, restraining a little of his enthusiastic bounciness and replacing it with a more subdued snuffling. It was around eleven o’clock and Henny had been invited for brunch.
‘Well, did you call the police about it?’ Aunt Janey said as she looked over her coffee mug. ‘If someone empties a carton of eggs on your car, you should tell them.’
‘I didn’t think it was that serious. Probably just some kids acting up,’ Henny replied, but even as she said the words she didn’t believe them. However, she wasn’t going to admit that to Janey and get her worrying.
‘That’s probably true, but I still think you should mention it,’ Aunt Janey said.
‘Hmm, maybe.’
Her aunt gave her a cross look. ‘Make sure that you do. I see that young Dover is sporting a pretty new collar,’ she said, changing the subject.
‘Yes, Harley had Mia make it. I went there the other week to talk to her about putting some of her jewellery in the shop and she gave it to me,’ Henny said.
‘I see. Well, it’s very grand.’ Janey went to reach for her coffee again and stopped. ‘I can’t remember anything like that ever happening around here.’
Henny frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Egging cars,’ Janey explained. ‘I’ve just been racking my brain about it and I can’t think of this sort of thing happening before.’
Henny suppressed a groan. ‘I’m sure these sorts of things happen all the time and you just don’t hear about them. The underpass is always covered in graffiti, and what about Mr Wilson’s disappearing garden gnomes?’
‘I’ll give you the graffiti thing but we all know it was Mrs Wilson stealing the garden gnomes because she hated them. So that’s a totally different thing altogether.’
‘How did that end?’
‘The Wilsons? Divorced. Apparently there’s a line in every relationship and the gnomes were a step too far,’ Janey said with a straight face.
Henny giggled.
‘And her discovering that he was spending time with the divorcee down the road didn’t help,’ Janey added with a wink.
‘Oh, I see how that could have tipped the balance.’
‘So, kiddo, what are you up to this weekend? Other than hanging out with your poor old aunt.’
‘Not that much. I’m taking Dover on a hike tomorrow and going to the movies tonight with Stephen.’
‘You know we’re just friends.’
‘Sometimes statements like that need re-evaluating,’ Janey said. ‘He’s a lovely guy, Hen. Dependable, caring and decent—sometimes blokes like that are hard to find.’
‘Aunt Janey, you know I don’t do lovely and dependable.’ She said it with a laugh in the hope that her aunt would let the idea go and move on to something else, something safer.
‘I know, but isn’t it time to try something a little different? I understand why you do it. I know it’s your way of protecting yourself, but sometimes you have to take a chance. The world can be a big, cold place—it’s good to have people that care about you.’
‘I do. I have you and Dover and friends that I’m reconnecting with, like Stephen and Charlie.’
‘Yes, but you know what I’m talking about. When I said that you should put roots down and start living, I meant all of it.’
‘I don’t need a relationship to define who I am, Janey.’
‘You’re right, you don’t. But ask yourself this: are you choosing that path because that’s how you truly feel or because you’re terrified that whoever you love will be taken from you?’ Aunt Janey stood up to give Henny a hug. ‘Either way it’s okay, just as long as you know where the idea is coming from.’
Aunt Janey’s words hit Henny in the gut. It was true—she pretended that it wasn’t, but in the back of her mind she knew it was.
‘I love you, kiddo, and I want you to have a wonderful, happy, fulfilled life. If you’re keeping Stephen at a distance through fear of losing him, isn’t that a weird way of looking at things? My two marriages didn’t last but that doesn’t mean that I regret them. Highs and lows are the light and shadow that make our lives interesting. They prove to us that we can experience joy and that we can get through the tough times. You’ve had awful things happen in your life but that doesn’t mean you should cut yourself off from potential happiness because you’re scared. Maybe you should take a chance—sure, you might fall flat on your face, but maybe you’ll fly. Never going to know unless you give it a shot.’
‘Aunt Janey—’
‘You’re one of the bravest people I know—all I ask is that you remember that the next time it counts,’ Janey said, giving Henny a kiss on the forehead before letting her go. ‘Now, come on. Let’s eat.’