Sunday 2 March 1975
Charlie
Abby and I sit in her kitchen enjoying the quiet. The kids are at a birthday party and Abby is reading a Stephen King novel, occasionally scooping cottage cheese out of a half-rockmelon in a bowl. I thought she’d have loads of study to do for her law subjects but I don’t think I’ve seen her crack open a textbook since uni started. I’m shuffling a pack of cards, over and over, refining my technique. ‘Midnight at the Oasis’ plays on the radio, then the news – Whitlam says Darwin will be rebuilt in five years, there’s fighting in Cambodia and Papua, the French have declared a year-long news blackout around Moruroa Atoll so they can test their nukes in the Pacific. ‘A news blackout announced on the news. Weird,’ I say. The biscuits Abby made this morning are still on a cooling rack so the room smells of coconut and golden syrup. It’s all good, but I’m bored. I’m glad for Abby that she has a plan for the year but I’m not sure about my own. Ryan and Sal have been clear: Bali is over. I’ve signed on for the dole, but what next? I put the cards down.
‘Hey, did I tell you I read that the lady who wrote Mum’s etiquette book died?’
Abby looks up in surprise. ‘Amy Vanderbilt?’
‘Committed suicide. Seems like one of the ruder ways to die.’
She raises her eyebrows at me. ‘How sensitive you are. That woman is responsible for the few table manners you have.’
‘I’ve always said hands are nature’s cutlery.’
‘Sure, and knuckles can help you walk.’
Before I can reply, there’s a knock at the door.
‘I’ll get it,’ I say. Something to do.
Through the amber-coloured glass panel next to the door I see the outline of a woman, and a boy too tall to be Petey. Though he wouldn’t be coming home without the others anyway . . . It only takes a moment for me to realise it’s Maria and Beau.
I open the door to them standing side by side on the coir mat, close but not touching. ‘Hey guys. Long time no see.’ I peer behind them, out to the street. Abby’s neighbour is hosing her driveway again. The milkman is pulling up a few doors down the road on his usual run. A mickey bird swoops low to peck a labrador waddling across the road. But what I’m looking for is Finn, and there’s no sign of him. I ask Maria for good measure, ‘Are you alone?’
‘Yeah. Are you going to let us in?’
I stand aside. ‘Wasn’t sure you were ever going to come back.’
‘I told you I’d come when the time was right.’
Abby stands at the kitchen sink washing our cups and dishes. She turns at the sound of Beau and Maria entering the room and I realise she’s never seen Beau before. She’s never met Maria either, for that matter. I introduce everyone. Abby stares at Beau, soap suds dripping down her wrist and onto the floor. Beau is taller than Sarah now, still skinny, could do with a wash, but his expression is relaxed and open.
‘You’re the daughter, yeah?’ Maria says.
At the sound of Maria’s voice, Abby snaps back, wipes her hands hurriedly, nods.
‘I need more coffee,’ I say. ‘Anyone else?’
Maria pulls out a chair and settles herself. ‘Black.’
‘You too, buddy?’ I say to Beau. ‘Cup of joe?’
He giggles and sits down as Maria has indicated he should.
‘Abby, coffee? Join in anytime.’
‘Sorry. I’m sorry. You’ve taken me by surprise. Beau, it’s so nice to meet you,’ Abby says. ‘Cordial or –?’
‘Juice or water,’ Maria says.
‘Still fresh out of soy milk,’ I say, to which Maria smiles and Abby looks confused.
Abby pours Beau a glass of apple juice and places a plate of biscuits and cut apple in front of him in no time flat. She is an Olympic-quality mother. Then she addresses Maria. ‘My father’s not here anymore. He’s gone back to the farm.’
‘Beau, the grown-ups need to talk,’ Maria says. ‘Hoof it, darling.’
He slumps in his seat. I have the feeling he hears this a lot. ‘It’s hot outside.’
‘The twins have set up a Hot Wheels track in their room,’ I say. He stares blankly at me, takes a bite of his biscuit. ‘Toy cars. Their room’s down the hallway there.’
He brightens. ‘Okay.’ He gulps a mouthful of juice, slips off the seat and scampers out of the kitchen.
Maria crosses her arms, ready to talk business. ‘Things are happening at the commune. There’s been another change of plans. And this one is kind of on you, or your husband anyway. So Beau needs to be here, out of the way, while we manage our . . . issues.’
‘He can’t stay here. That was my father’s idea. I can tell you where his farm is if Beau needs a temporary home,’ Abby says.
Maria snorts. ‘We know where you all live. And it might’ve been your Dad’s idea to begin with but now it’s Finn’s. He wants Beau here, like I said, with a mothering type and other kids, normal meals and all that.’
‘Finn knows you’re here today?’ I ask.
She rolls her eyes. ‘What did I just say?’ And then she speaks to Abby. ‘Also, the men in your family are a bit thick. Finn has a lot on right now so I’m doing the drop-off.’
‘Drop-off?’ Abby says. ‘You plan to leave him here now? For how long?’
Maria sighs. ‘My God, the questions. He’s a sweet kid and won’t be any trouble. He’ll muck in with your lot. And Finn will show up when he shows up.’
‘No, he can’t stay here,’ Abby says. ‘I was never on board with my father trying to take Beau in the first place, obviously. But if the police show up they’ll think we’ve kidnapped him. And Finn saw Dad – and Charlie – at your commune, so . . .’
‘Why would the police come here?’
Abby fumbles to answer.
‘Is Finn setting us up?’ I ask.
‘Yes, that,’ Abby says, pointing at me.
Maria shrugs. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘You don’t think so?’ I say. ‘Far out, that is not a good answer.’
‘And,’ Abby continues, ‘not that it’s any of your business, but I’m the only adult in the house right now –’
‘Excuse me?’ I say. Rude.
Maria smirks at Abby. ‘You really are.’
Abby keeps going. ‘The only adult in the house, with three kids and a dog.’
‘Hang on, Abby. Maybe we should let Beau stay,’ I say. ‘He’ll be safe here, and Dad will be pleased, and if it’s Finn’s idea –’
‘Can you not?’
‘Maybe go play with the toy cars,’ Maria says.
I ignore their barbs.
‘We’re not related to him,’ Abby says. ‘He doesn’t know us. You agree that my hands are full. And – wait: Skye has a brother in Darwin, doesn’t she?’
‘Had,’ Maria says. ‘He got crushed by a house during Tracy. Listen, this is where Finn wants Beau. There isn’t anywhere else he can go. So,’ she stands up, ‘end of discussion.’
‘Not end of discussion,’ Abby says, frowning.
Maria stands firm. ‘Listen, Skye was on her way to Beau when she died. She wanted him off the commune. And I understand why, I do. So if Finn is letting that happen for even a short while, you should step up and help the kid. I do what I can to keep the little ones safe, but they’re not. Okay? They’re not safe there.’
Abby visibly pales and rubs her eyes with the pads of her hands.
‘I’m going to say goodbye to him now. There’s a bag of clothes by your door.’
Abby steps towards her. ‘I said no.’
‘Abby,’ I say. ‘You heard her. There isn’t anywhere else.’
Maria turns when she reaches the doorway. ‘Lady, I get it. But this isn’t up to me – I’m doing what Finn told me to. You can take it up with him when he shows. Just make sure you’re not alone when you do that, okay?’
That night, after Sarah, Beau and the twins have been fed, bathed and put to bed, Abby and I watch the news, taking turns to get up and change the channel. We’re working our way through a box of moselle and a bag of Cheezels. Abby talks endlessly about the difficulties of having Beau stay with her – the legal, the logistic, the financial and emotional.
‘Who knows what that poor child has been through? Did you see him in the living room? That was the first time he’d ever seen a television. And she’s got a nerve calling that bag of scraps she left clothing. I’m going to have to buy him everything.’
‘Sounds like he needs you.’
‘And how will I explain this to Mark? You know he didn’t want Beau here. But I was railroaded, wasn’t I?’
‘So now you want to tell Mark things?’
‘No more secrets. That’s what got us into this mess.’
From what I understand, a loose zipper and a boozy neighbour got them into this particular mess, but I don’t want to pour salt on her wound. And after one too many nights of her crying about his affair, I’ve learned that I’m not good at consoling a woman in distress. Nothing I say ever makes her feel any better.
‘Well, I guess you tell Mark you’re looking after him because literally no one else is. He’ll see Beau with his own eyes anyway. You better make sure to tell Mark and Dad at the same time so there’s not any more –’ She waits for me to finish ‘controversy’.
Abby’s in the bathroom when the phone rings, so I answer it.
‘Has the boy settled in?’ Sergeant Doyle asks.
‘How’d you know he was here? You know Maria?’
‘I know everyone and everything, son.’ He sniffs. ‘Except one thing: why hasn’t your sister pulled her husband into line? I thought I’d made myself clear.’
‘You did, absolutely,’ I say. My breath quickens. I’d figured we were in a safety zone until Mark got back to Brisbane. Maybe Abby underestimated Mark’s ability to juggle multiple stories.
‘Because a boy like that, who’s lost his mother and been left to run wild by a pack of hippies, needs a stable home life. I can’t imagine how he’d fare in a foster home if you and your sister wound up in jail.’
‘Whoa, slow down. Mark’s working in Alice Springs, and Abby is going to talk to him as soon –’
‘She’d led me to believe that conversation had already happened. But it hasn’t, has it? Which means she lied to me. And now –’
‘Not lied, a misunderstanding I’m sure.’
He pauses for a moment. ‘We had an arrangement. You and your sister haven’t kept your part of it. Your brother-in-law hasn’t stopped poking around. He’s sent other people up here to snoop, and they’re getting very close to finding the commune, which is un-bloody-acceptable.’ He shouts this last mash of words. ‘You need to take me seriously because I am not fucking around. I’ve been doing this job for long enough that I don’t need fingerprints or tyre tracks. Your guilty faces and a well-typed confession will be enough. Roberts has done your drive, more than once – with pit stops for arguments and spewing – and it’ll never add up. You and your sister ran that car off the road. And unless you –’
‘No, we –’
‘Don’t.’ He takes a slow inhale. ‘Do not waste my time with more bullshit. I can either let young Roberts run with what is clearly the truth or I can shut this down once and for all. It’s your choice. You tell your sister to get her husband to back off and this goes away. Otherwise, I’ll have you both arrested by the end of the week. And the kid can fuck off into foster care forever.’
Abby doesn’t need to call Mark at his hotel in Alice Springs, though she was pacing the living room gearing herself up to do so. At six-thirty, after the kids have eaten dinner and been bathed, Mark shows up unannounced. Sarah, Petey and Joanne run down the hallway to his call, tumbling into their father as he squats down with his arms out wide.
‘I thought you were back tomorrow,’ Abby says. I see her anxiously scan the hallway, but Beau stays in the bedroom.
‘Yeah, well, I’m back early. Nice to see you, too.’
They’re spiky when they speak to one another. I don’t know how long that will last or how they’ll move on to whatever the next phase is. But because they have kids, there has to be a next phase.
‘Not a great time to get them riled up,’ Abby says. ‘It’s bedtime. They have school tomorrow.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘Don’t make a fuss, okay? I haven’t come back early to cause drama. I actually need to talk to Charlie.’ He turns his attention to me. ‘Got a minute?’
Mark starts talking as we walk into the living room, Abby following after she sends the kids back to their rooms. ‘Something huge is about to go down on the commune. We’re not entirely clear about it but we have enough intel that we know we need to be there –’
Intel. I’m about to laugh but he’s not joking. He keeps talking, on a roll.
‘– cameraman and sound guy. Like, tomorrow, Charlie. I’m going to need you to be awake at the crack of dawn, and help us get there. No.’ He holds his hand up when he sees I’m about to speak. ‘Mate, you owe me.’
‘You can’t go to the commune,’ Abby says.
‘I bloody can.’
‘Mark –’ She pauses.
He shakes his head. ‘Abby, this is separate from our stuff. It’s work, okay? I’ll make sure he doesn’t get hurt.’
‘It’s not that.’
Mark must hear the change in her voice because he turns to face her without any sign of the coldness or steel that’s become their norm. He scans Abby’s face for information. I watch her eyes soften. She tilts her head and takes a deep breath.
‘I know this is important to you but you can’t go to the commune. The police have said if you don’t back off, stay away from Eumundi, they’ll charge Charlie and me with Skye’s death.’
Mark’s shoulders drop as he makes a quiet groan. ‘How much do they know?’
‘Enough to follow through on their threats,’ she says. ‘And there’s more. We have an extra child in the house tonight, a boy.’
Mark is smart so his neurons fire fast. ‘He didn’t,’ he says, incredulous rather than angry.
‘He? No no, this is not Dad’s doing. Or Charlie’s. You’re right that something is about to happen – they want the kids off the commune. A woman called Maria brought him here. I said no, but she left him anyway.’
Mark tips his head back, stares upwards. ‘Okay, right. Well, they might have made a responsible choice. He’ll be safe here with you, and that’s a good thing.’ He’s silent for a moment. ‘I think we can go to the commune anyway. I’m sure we can get what I need without them –’
‘But then what?’ Abby says, stepping closer to him. ‘Even if you can get in and out of the commune without being caught, what happens when your story goes to air? You can’t, Mark. Please.’
‘Think of the kids, man,’ I say. And they roll their eyes at me in perfect unison.