Breakfast was done and a load of washing was hung out in the hope there’d be no rain until later in the day. The fire was ready to light. There were no more excuses to put off the inevitable.
Going back to Susie’s house was the last thing Vince wanted. Taking Mel there was even worse. How would Mel cope being back where she’d grown up, where every room held memories of her parents and her sweet little heart might break into pieces?
‘Why are you breathing funny?’ Melanie took his hand, and he drew in air slowly, concentrating on the feel of her fingers. Small and attached to the one person he had left in the world. Her needs outranked his.
Pull yourself together, Carter.
‘Must have carried a bit too much wood in the last time.’
‘Then I shall help you next time.’
‘Let’s make a deal,’ he said. ‘You write a list of everything you need from the house, and we’ll go and get those things. But if you don’t feel up to going inside, you sit in the car, and I’ll be quick getting them. Okay?’
‘I’ll be quicker.’
Vince laughed and she did too… for a moment. Then she ran out.
‘Mel?’
‘I need paper to make a list.’
Of course you do. And when you have, please tell me how to be resilient like you?
They sat in the driveway for a few minutes. Melanie had made her list and when Vince suggested bringing a suitcase she’d told him there were plenty in the upstairs hallway closet.
‘Would you like to stay here in the car?’
‘I wrote two lists. One for each of us.’ She handed him a neatly written list of five items. ‘I’ll find my homework first.’
He glanced at his list.
•Pink suitcase in upstairs hall closet
•Sheets with unicorns on the shelf above the suitcases
•Board games in cupboard in living room
•Herb box on kitchen window
•Bean bag in living room
Locations and all.
‘I’ll get the suitcase first and bring it to your bedroom, okay? So you can pack whatever you need from your room.’
She nodded and unclipped her seatbelt.
‘What is the herb box, Mel?’
‘We grow fresh herbs in it.’ She screwed up her face as if trying to find the words to describe it and held her hands about a foot apart. ‘The bottom bit is wood and there are little pots inside with the herbs. It’s my job to water them every day.’ With that, she pushed the door open and jumped out.
Shit. No water for how long now?
Mel waited for him to unlock the door, her eyes darting to his face a couple of times. He squeezed her shoulder and opened the door, and she ran straight up the stairs.
The air in the house was stale and Vince mentally kicked himself. Ignoring the problem didn’t make it go away. It was only a house. Only furniture. Belongings. Things. He’d make a start on the legal stuff. Work out what he needed to attend to. Speak to the lawyer again.
‘Grandad, can I have my suitcase?’ Mel was at the top of the stairs staring down.
‘On my way.’
The pink suitcase was stored inside a much larger black one. Vince found the unicorn sheets and took them as well, opening the suitcase on Mel’s bed and placing them in the bottom. She had already located her homework and was piling books on her small desk. ‘Need a hand?’
She shook her head.
Back downstairs, he grabbed the beanbag and took it straight to the boot of the car.
Then a dozen or so board games.
An elderly woman shuffled up the driveway with a handful of mail.
‘Letterbox full. Keeps falling out. You’re Susan’s poppa, eh?’
‘Yes, Mrs Rionetti, it’s Vince. We’ve met. And thanks for keeping these.’
‘Bad. Very bad news.’ She shook her head and switched to a few words of Italian as she went back the way she’d come.
Mel emerged with an armful of stuffed toys. ‘I can’t close the suitcase.’
‘Here, those can sit on the bean bag.’ He moved the board games to make space for the suitcase. ‘Is there a key to the letterbox?’
‘It has a code thing. Eleven-twelve.’
His breath caught. That was his birthday.
‘Grandad, what about the herb box? You get the mail and my suitcase, and I’ll find that.’ She ran inside.
It only took a minute to open the letterbox which was stuffed full with mail and junk mail. He’d go through everything later. Pay any bills. For now, they were added to the boot, and he headed upstairs again. She was right about the suitcase. Vince muttered and grunted as he squashed the lid down enough to zip it. What on earth was in here? He lugged it downstairs and repacked the boot because the beanbag made it impossible to fit the suitcase in. He stood holding the beanbag.
Mel wasn’t back.
It landed on the ground with a soft thump as he took off for the house. ‘Melanie?’
She was standing on a step she must have carried from somewhere, staring at the wooden box on the windowsill in the kitchen.
‘Shall I reach it for you?’ Not waiting for a reply, he picked up the box. The soil was dry and all but one plant was withered to the point of no return. The other didn’t look flash but might bounce back.
‘Bit of water, Mel—’
She whispered something he didn’t catch and ran a hand across her eyes leaving a trail of tears on her skin. ‘It was my job to water them. My… fault.’
The herb box found itself in the sink as he swept Mel up into his arms. Her tears flowed unchecked, and rage scorched his gut. If Susie and Mel hadn’t gone to dinner that night… if David hadn’t put his family in danger… if a killer hadn’t murdered his child…
If I hadn’t ruined everything with Susie.
There were a million words to say and none at all.
The rain began on the trip home.
After a lot of crying curled on her mother’s side of the bed, and then a long walk through the house gripping Vince’s hand as if she’d never release him, Melanie had quietly announced it was time to go. She’d reluctantly agreed to take the herb box with them. Vince knew stuff all about growing herbs, but he was about to learn. There was so much unused space around the cottage and as he drove, ideas rushed through his head. How hard could it be to create a real vegetable garden? Something they could tend together.
He hauled her suitcase into the cottage and left Mel unpacking it. She’d need the little desk from her old bedroom. And her bed was newer and nicer than the one in this room. They should fit in the old trailer out the back on a less-rainy day.
Once he’d brought the remainder of the list in, he set to work getting the fire going in the living room and found a spot for the beanbag. That done, he tossed the mail onto the kitchen table to worry about later.
For now, he needed to feed them. He rummaged around the pantry for ideas.
She wasn’t in her room, but the suitcase was empty, rezipped, and left against a wall. Her stuffed toys lined up in a row on the bed. The sheets were folded on the end. Her shoes were neatly placed near the wardrobe. Susie at this age was a tornado of mess.
Melanie had found the beanbag and was curled up in it with Raymond and a book.
‘Hungry? I am.’
She didn’t reply or look up.
‘Any fancies for lunch?’
Her head shook.
‘What about soup and some crusty bread. Being such a dull old day now, it’ll warm us both up. Tomato or chicken noodle?’
‘Don’t mind.’
‘Tomato it is.’
The rain intensified, pouring from the edge of the roof to cascade from the front of the verandah like a waterfall. Melanie took Raymond to the window to watch. The torrent formed sludgy pools in the dirt and grass, and she could barely see the road in the distance. Not like at home where her room was high and overlooked the back garden.
A tiny, bedraggled kitten ran past the verandah.
Dropping Raymond, Melanie bolted for the front door.
She shivered, rubbing her arms once she pulled the door closed behind herself. There was no time for a jacket. Somewhere out here, all alone, was a little lost kitten. Taking a quick breath, she jumped off the verandah through the sheet of water, gasping as it soaked her hair and top.
But where had the kitten gone?
Melanie padded around the side of the house in soggy socks.
‘Kitty?’
Past the cottage was another building with pieces of metal stuck out to one side covering Grandad’s wood he used for the fireplace. He’d left a big block out in the rain with an axe stuck into it.
There was a sound from under the shelter.
Melanie climbed under, stooping because of the low roof.
‘Kitty?’
There was a pitiful meow.
Trembling from the cold and wet from nose to tail, it sat upon a piece of wood.
‘Oh… it’s okay little one. I’m here now. I’m Melanie Weaver.’
She knelt and the kitten—tail high—pranced across, shaking one paw after another. When it was close, she gently lifted the tiny creature and tucked it beneath her wet top. She giggled when a purr resonated against her chest.
‘We’ll go find Grandad and get you dry.’
But somebody was striding toward her. Somebody in huge black boots, wearing a long, flapping, brown coat and wide-brimmed hat hiding most of their face. They stopped at the block of wood and yanked the axe out.
Had the angry man found her?
Melanie backed as far in as she could, but those boots stomped through the puddles until reaching the edge of the shelter, blocking the way to freedom.
The axe swung from side to side.
Melanie couldn’t breathe. Her chest hurt from holding herself so still.
Why hadn’t she told Grandad before she came out?
She clamped a hand over her mouth in case she made a noise.
The kitten popped its head up and meowed.
The figure crouched, peering into the piles of wood. They slid the axe onto its side out of the rain and took off their hat.
‘Hello there. I see you’ve found my lost baby.’
Melanie had never been so happy to see someone in her life. It wasn’t the angry man. ‘It’s you, Lyndall!’
‘Who else would it be? Come on out, darlin’.’ Lyndall offered a hand and Melanie slid forward and took it, keeping her grip on the kitten as she climbed out. ‘Well, well, well. Look at you both. As bedraggled as each other!’
‘Melanie! Melanie, where are you?’ Grandad shouted in the distance.
‘Uh-oh, here comes the spoil-sport.’
Melanie giggled.
‘Nothing wrong with a bit of a walk in the rain, huh?’
‘Thank God, Mel!’
Grandad’s hair looked funny all plastered to his head from the rain, but his face was serious and worried. He wore a raincoat and was puffing.
‘Afternoon, Vincent.’
‘Lyndall? Mel, what are you doing out here in this downpour?’
‘This downpour fills up my dam so let it rain.’
Melanie extricated the kitten from inside her top and offered it to Lyndall, who gave it a kiss on its head.
‘This clever grandchild of yours found my lost kitten. His mother’s been searching everywhere. Mind you, she’ll be happy to see the back of them soon enough. Vincent, you should get this child inside before she gets a chill.’ Lyndall squashed the big hat back on her head and winked at Mel. ‘Next visit you come to my place and spend some time with these cats, little miss.’
A moment later she disappeared around the back of the building and Mel’s hand was tightly inside Grandad’s as they headed to the front door.
‘Told you Lyndall was scary,’ he said.
‘She’s nice. Can I go and see the kittens?’
‘Maybe. Right now you’re going to get dry and have some soup. Soup! Oh no…’
He let go of her hand. She hadn’t known he could run so fast.
Soup dripped over the edge of the stove to form blood-like pools on the floor. The boiling liquid had extinguished the flame. Vince turned off the element and opened the window.
‘Ew. That smells terrible.’
Melanie held her nose with her finger and thumb.
‘It’s what happens when the gas is still going and meets up with burnt soup. How about you jump in and have a shower and I’ll start cleaning up.’
‘I can help first.’
With such a water-logged child in front of him, Vince couldn’t help himself. He chuckled.
Crossing her arms, Melanie lifted her chin.
‘You are dripping all over the floor, Melly-belly. Your clothes are drenched, and I think you collected some cobwebs in your hair.’
With a small shriek, she swatted at her head.
‘No spiders. None I can see.’
‘This isn’t funny, Grandfather.’
‘It is. A little bit.’
‘I have decided to have a shower and put on dry clothes.’ Melanie trounced out of the room. ‘And I’m really hungry.’
Atta girl.
He dropped the saucepan into the sink to fix later and used copious amounts of paper towel to sop up the soup on the stove. The floor was a mop and bucket job, but he waited for the shower to turn off before fetching them. Two taps at the same time would mean cold water for both, thanks to his antiquated hot water system and Melanie would think he’d done it to annoy her further.
He found another saucepan and heated the other can of soup, staring into it as he stirred. He had to do better. Melanie had disappeared without a word, leaving her beloved Raymond behind, and he’d run halfway to the road before thinking it through. If she’d left the property, getting the car to search for her was a better option. He’d been almost back at the cottage for the car keys when he thought he heard voices. Finding Lyndall with his granddaughter was like a gift. But he had to do better.
‘Shall I cut up the bread?’
Vince jumped. He’d not heard Mel come back in. Her hair was damp, but she wore dry clothes and had slippers on her feet. And a smile on her face.
‘Um… er, the knife is pretty sharp.’
‘I won’t cut myself.’
She cut two thick slices and buttered them. Generously. After putting them on side plates, she collected bowls and soup spoons. These all went onto the kitchen table, and she located salt and pepper from the small pantry.
‘Do you have any baking soda?’ She peered into the pantry.
‘Dunno. Why?’
‘To clean the saucepan. Oh, goodie.’ She dug out an unopened packet Vince could not recall buying. ‘After lunch I’ll fix that saucepan up. Good as new!’
Susie used to say that.
‘Daddy? You know the tear in my school uniform… well, I practiced sewing until I made it look as good as new.’
‘Don’t worry about making the stain on the carpet, Daddy. Its only red wine and I found out how to get it so it will be as good as new.’
‘Oh dear… but don’t worry, Dad. The bouquet is so fragile and you weren’t to know so let me just get one of the bridesmaids to loan me a couple of their flowers. Promise, it will be as good as new.’
‘Earth to Grandad. I’ve turned the soup off.’
With a sickening thud, Vince was back in the here and now. His hands shook as he poured soup into the bowls. He carried them to the table caught between the need to run out and find somewhere private to vomit... or cry.