Nick Russo had dark hair like his brother and the same little cleft in his chin. It was funny the small details you remembered when confronted by the past, but that was one of the handful of things Henny would always remember about Mark: his cleft chin, big laugh and swagger.
‘Thanks so much for meeting with me,’ she said, giving him a quick smile. The Wren was quieter than usual and their corner table was not overlooked by any other customers.
‘That’s okay. Though I’m not sure why I’m here,’ Nick said.
‘Like I said on the phone, I’m thinking of writing an article—a memoir—about the incident at the res. I wanted to ask you a couple of questions about your brother if you don’t mind. I also want to assure you that I’m approaching this with the upmost respect.’
Nick looked at her for a moment before nodding. ‘Alright, I’ll answer your questions as long as you promise me that nothing you write will upset my mum.’
‘Thank you, Nick—I appreciate it and I promise,’ Henny said.
‘So what made you think of writing the memoir?’
‘My move back to town just happened to coincide with the ten-year memorial. I guess, like with anyone who lived through those days, it stirred up a lot of memories. I’m trying to get a snapshot and a feeling of how the day played out. Most of the town knew the families affected but added to that there are still quite a few people here who had firsthand experience of the accident. I thought it could help to have an article that explores everyone’s thoughts and personal stories of how the accident affected them,’ Henny explained. ‘I’m not trying to upset anyone. I thought if people shared their experiences it would be a kind of healing that might help us move on without forgetting those we lost.’
‘It’s a pretty idea, though I’m not sure it will work. So what do you want from me?’
‘Your impression of your brother.’
‘Well, he has a good heart and his family is everything to him, but don’t make him out to be a saint like Mum does because he is far from it.’
‘So what do you remember about him the most?’ Henny rustled around in her handbag and prayed that she had remembered to throw in a notepad and pen. A wave of relief swept through her when her hands closed around them.
‘Him being stubborn, but also how he used to stand up for me. We could fight like cats and dogs between ourselves but if anyone ever threatened me I knew that he had my back.’
‘It sounds like you admire him.’
‘I do,’ Nick said. He sat back in his chair. It was obviously hard for him to talk about his brother but Henny wanted to push a little more.
‘So do you have a large extended family?’
This comment got a smile. ‘Nothing like a good stereotype. Just because you’re of Italian descent doesn’t mean you instantly have twenty cousins, ancient nonnas and dozens of aunts and uncles.’
Henny shot him back a smile. ‘Sorry.’
He waved his hand. ‘It’s alright. No, there’s just our immediate family—Mum, Dad, Mark and then me. Dad has an uncle who lives in Richmond in the city, but that’s all the family we have.’
‘Mark is a good swimmer, isn’t he? I think I remember that he was on the swim team.’
‘Yeah, he is. Good enough to win some medals and trophies—which is why I never understood . . . never mind.’ ‘No, go on, Nick—what were you going to say?’ Henny urged.
‘I never understood how he got in such a state. He swam like a dolphin. What the hell happened to him?’
***
Henny hit the internet, searching for Mark Russo. At first, she’d been a bit reluctant to try to get in touch, only because several people had said how he was affected by the accident. However, there was something about what happened to Mark that didn’t seem to add up. If he was alive and well when the platform collapsed then how was it that he had been dragged out of the water, half drowned, bloodied and bruised? The more Henny thought about it, the more she wanted to know. Did it have any bearing on Harley’s death? Probably not, but there were still unanswered questions he may be able to shed light on.
It didn’t take her long to track down his phone number. She supposed that she could have asked Nick for it, but she’d decided it would be better to keep it to herself for the time being.
Henny grabbed her phone and keyed in the numbers. Relief washed over her—it was ringing.
‘Hello?’ answered a female voice.
‘Oh, hi! My name’s Henny Bolton and I’m looking for Mark Russo. Is this the right number?’
There was a pause for a moment. ‘Yes, this is the right number. I’m Jennifer Russo, his wife—can I ask what this is about?’
‘Of course. Sorry, Jennifer, I didn’t mean to sound weird or mysterious,’ Henny said lightly. ‘As I said, I’m Henny Bolton. Mark and I went to school together. I’m writing an article about an accident that happened just after we graduated Year 12. I’m interviewing as many people as I can find, just to get their thoughts on it. I was hoping that Mark would give me a few minutes.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Jennifer said. ‘Look he’s at work at the moment but if you give me your contact details, I’ll give them to him as soon as he gets home.’
‘Thanks so much, Jennifer. That would be great.’
‘He generally doesn’t talk much about his home town. Can I ask what sort of accident it was?’
‘I can understand that. Some of our classmates were drowned at the local reservoir. The swimming platform collapsed and, as you could imagine, it kind of shattered the town.’
‘Oh goodness, that’s terrible.’
‘Yes, it was. It happened a long time ago and I thought I should write a commemorative article. You know, not just remembering but also celebrating the people we lost.’
‘Well, I’ll make sure that I pass your message on.’ Jennifer said.
‘Thank you, I really appreciate it,’ Henny said.
***
Mark Russo didn’t return her call until late that evening. Henny had been hoping that he would but was also slightly surprised. She figured that there was a good chance that if he didn’t want anything to do with Lawson’s Bend, he wouldn’t want to talk to her either.
She managed to answer the phone on the fourth ring.
‘Henny?’
‘Yes. Mark is that you?’
‘Yes. Listen Henny—I don’t want to sound rude or anything but I really don’t want to give an interview for your article.’
‘Okay, but just to let you know it’s not a heavy piece. I mean the subject is, but really I just want to remember those we lost.’
‘I understand but I still don’t want to be part of it. It’s nice to talk to you, Henny, but the truth is I’ve put Lawson’s Bend behind me and I try really hard to forget that awful night at the res.’
‘I did the same thing but I had to go back,’ Henny said.
‘Why?’
‘I lost Mum and I had to go back and organise stuff. I landed in town just before the memorial service for the drownings.’
‘Sorry to hear that, Hen.’
‘Thanks. So what about you?
‘Not a lot to say. I work, and a couple of years ago I met Jenny and we got married. Our first child is due in about four months.’
‘That’s great, congratulations. Hey, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Leon and Kylie just had a little girl.’
‘Nice, that’s really nice. Listen Hen, I’ve got to go—I’m sorry that I can’t help but it’s just the way it is.’
‘I understand.’
‘Take care, Hen,’ he said and hung up before she could respond.
***
Deciding it was time to lose herself in work, Henny sat down with her tablet and tinkered with some designs for a banner, fliers and business cards for the shop. But the problem was she couldn’t settle no matter how hard she tried. In the end, she gave up. She filled Dover’s bowl, just in case she didn’t get back in time to feed him, grabbed her bag and keys and headed out the door.
She could pretend she didn’t know where she was going but that would have been a lie. She’d been feeling guilty about how she’d walked out on Stephen the other night. He was right: she should have stayed and talked it out instead of running off like a spoilt child. Henny knew she needed to apologise—he’d only been trying to open her eyes to the possibilities of her actions and she’d stormed off because she didn’t want to listen. Henny sighed as she drove towards Stephen’s place. Relationships could be hard.
The car bumped along the dirt track that ran outside Stephen’s barn, but as it came into view, Henny could see that his ute wasn’t there. She kept going down to the main house and, sure enough, his ute was parked near the paddock next to the house. Slowing down, she saw him herding sheep into the paddock with the help of his father and a couple of energetic cattle dogs. Henny parked her car and wandered over to the fence. It wasn’t until the last sheep had trotted through the gate that he looked up and saw her. He gave a wave as he sauntered towards her, the two dogs keeping pace with him.
Henny leant against the fence and smiled. She liked the way he walked; he had a laidback confidence that was as sexy as hell.
‘Hey,’ he said as he walked up. He paused in front of Henny for a moment before he leant in and kissed her.
‘Hey,’ she whispered as their lips parted. ‘I wasn’t sure what sort of reaction I’d get.’
‘Why?’ he asked with a confused look, which disappeared as her meaning dawned on him. ‘What, because we had a disagreement? I think we’re both stronger than that, don’t you?’
Henny nodded. ‘Yes, I guess we are.’ She looked down as a wagging tail hit her leg. ‘And who are you?’
‘These are my dad’s dogs, Rusty and Blue. Not the most original names—Dad went by their colouring rather than anything lyrical,’ Stephen said, reaching down to pat Blue on the head. ‘They’re friendly.’
Henny squatted and scratched the dogs behind their ears. ‘Aren’t you both lovely,’ she said.
Both Rusty and Blue seemed to agree with her statement and thumped their tails harder.
‘Looks like you’ve made a couple of friends there,’ Stephen’s father said as he walked up.
Henny smiled and stood up. ‘I think I have.’
‘It’s good to finally meet you, Henny,’ he said. He reached out and shook her hand. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’
‘All good, I hope,’ Henny laughed.
‘Of course, of course. Listen, son, I think I’ll take a break for a bit—it must be time for a cuppa.’
‘Okay, I’ll see you later.’
‘Bye, Henny. Come on, boys let’s go.’ He turned and headed towards the house with the two dogs trailing at his heels.
‘So, what have you been up to?’ Henny asked as she looked up at Stephen.
‘Just moving some of the ewes about. We’ve had them in the top paddock for the past six weeks or so for joining, so the rams have had their fun in the meantime. But I brought this lot down here because there’s a few in the mob that look as if we missed them when we were crutching the other week back. I guess they were hiding out in the little gully by the stream when I moved the rest of them.’
‘They look happy and healthy,’ Henny said.
‘Well, I guess good food, dietary supplements and a bit of sex will do that for you,’ Stephen said with a grin. ‘So have you been putting the final touches on the shop?’
Henny shook her head. ‘No, not today.’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘I called Mark in Melbourne . . . to talk about the res.’
Stephen stared at her for a moment. ‘What?’
‘Just what I said. I called Mark—’
‘Geez, Hen!’ Stephen didn’t let her finish her sentence. ‘Why the hell would you do something like that?’
‘I didn’t want to upset Mrs Russo by asking her questions so I asked Nick and his great-uncle.’
Stephen leant against the paddock fence. ‘Why?’
‘Because I think there is some sort of cover up. I think something else happened up at the res and Harley was silenced to keep whatever it was coming to light. And I believe that Mark Russo was involved.’
‘So you’re just going to blindly ask a heap of questions and see if anyone bites?’
Henny shrugged. ‘Not exactly. Everyone thinks that I’m writing an article—a memoir, if you like—of what happened that day. I said that I wanted the survivors’ stories and genuine impressions of the people who died.’
‘Do you think anyone is going to buy that?’
‘Look, it started off as a story to cover the fact that I was asking questions, but the more I think about it, the more I think that I will write it.’
‘For what purpose?’ Stephen asked.
‘The same one that I’ve been telling everyone—to have an accurate snapshot of what happened that day, how the event unfolded and how it affected everyone who had the misfortune to be there.’
They fell silent and Henny walked over and leant on the fence next to Stephen. She looked out across the greening paddock to the large clump of gums in the distance.
‘I’m just worried that you’re going to get yourself hurt,’ Stephen said quietly.
‘I know.’
He sighed. ‘So, did you find out anything?’
Henny wrinkled her nose. ‘Nope. I only spoke to Mark for a few minutes. Did you know he’s married and expecting their first child? He didn’t want to talk and I can understand that. Maybe it was wishful thinking but I have to say something felt a bit off.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I can’t put my finger on it. I haven’t made up my mind if he just didn’t want to talk to me because it brought up hurtful memories or . . . or if he was trying to hide something.’
‘So you think there could be something there?’ Stephen asked.
‘I don’t know. Perhaps I’m just chasing ghosts.’
‘Listen, I can’t do it tonight but do you want to go out to dinner? I’d cancel going to the movies with Dan but we haven’t hung out in a while.’
‘Is everything okay?’
‘Yeah, I think so—we’ve always spent time together but lately not so much. I guess we’re both busy.’
‘Well, dinner sounds lovely.’
‘Good. How about I pick you up tomorrow night at seven?’
Henny smiled. ‘It’s a date.’