Hamish drove Dwayne home hoping that Honey would be there, hoping they could work at unscrambling the tortured mess of their relationship. They’d had some golden days as a couple — mother, father, and cute babe in arms. As he pulled up outside her house, Hamish spotted Honey’s car parked on the lawn. He scooped his son from the back seat, cradled him in strong arms, and headed inside.
‘That you, darl?’ The slurred voice came from Honey’s bedroom. He carried Dwayne down the hall, saw his partner lying on the bed in the semi-darkness, wearing only lurid bra and panties.
‘I brought our son back,’ he said, lowering Dwayne to the floor. The child clung to him, eyeing his mother nervously. ‘You left Dwayne today.’ Hamish choked back the judgemental chill that washed through his brain. ‘Again. You went out drinking. Why?’
‘No worries, Hamey. Dwayney was having his sleep. His afternoon sleep. I just went into town. For a coffee.’
‘Tell it like it is, Honey. You went out drinking. Abandoned our son. Why?’
‘A girl’s gotta have a little drink now and again.’ She flexed her near-naked body, smiled. For a split second, Hamish felt a part of him seduced by that body, as he had a thousand times before. He batted the feeling away.
‘Neglecting Dwayne like that. It’s a criminal offence.’
‘I told you, darl. He was having his sleep.’ She giggled. ‘Okay, it wasn’t exactly a coffee. I was coming back real soon. Before he woke.’
‘This afternoon, around three, Dwayne was found hysterical, screaming, running around the yard. By a client of mine. She brought him into the office, soothed him, cared for him. I was away on a call.’
‘Sorry Hamey. Sorry Dwayney. Hop into bed, boys. Big, big cuddles.’
‘Honey. This sort of behaviour absolutely has to stop. You’re breaking the law. Ripping away our last shreds of respectability as a family in this town.’
‘I don’t care about respectability in this bloody town. I don’t care about anything in this bloody town.’
‘I know that. I’ve seen the way you behave. So has everyone else. But what about our son? Don’t you care that you hurt him so much? That you could be damaging him? Making him grow up with all kinds of pain?’
‘Come to bed with Honeypie, darl.’ She flexed her body again, smiled up at him ‘Don’t be cross at me now, darl.’
‘You’re too drunk to care. About me, or about Dwayne. About anything.’
‘I love my Dwayney. Heaps. Course I do.’ She turned towards her son. ‘Here, Dwayney baby. Come and cuddle Mumsy.’ Dwayne looked at her, eyes wide, then gripped his father’s trouser leg harder. Hamish lifted his son into his arms.
‘I’m going to make Dwayne’s dinner. If you want to join us, fine.’ He turned and headed for the door.
‘Wait, Hamey.’ Her voice rang with sadness. ‘Come back a minute.’
‘No.’ To give in to her would kill the message he desperately wanted to get across.
‘I’m sorry, love,’ she sniffed. ‘I’ve been a naughty girl. Don’t be mad at me.’
‘You don’t really give me any options, Honey.’ Hamish recovered his determination, looked down at her coldly. ‘First it was only once or twice. A tough day with Dwayne. You needed a break. Now you’re making a habit of this…this…slipping off to the pub in the afternoons. Where will it end?’
‘Never again, love. Promise.’ She smiled up at him. ‘Hey, I had a great idea. Go and order a pizza. Then we’ll have a nice lovey dinner together. Pizza and beer. Then go to bed and make hot love. All night.’
‘No.’ He let the message sink in. ‘I have to care for Dwayne.’
‘Just put him to bed. Right now. Then come to my bed.’ She reacted to his cold expression. ‘You know I love my Dwayney.’
‘He doesn’t seem to think so.’
‘He’s just kidding.’
‘He says you hit him.’
‘I never did! He was telling a big fat —’ Suddenly she screamed, burst into hysterical sobs, and buried her face in the pillow. Hamish headed up the hall, put his son into his high chair, and began to explore the fridge. He closed the kitchen door to muffle the still-desperate sobbing coming from Honey’s room. Dwayne had suffered enough pain for one day.
Minutes later, as Hamish opened a forgotten jar of baby vegetables he’d found in a high cupboard, he heard a door slam. As he looked through the window, he saw Honey heading for her car, high heels sinking into the lawn, handbag swinging. She wore a scarlet dress, skin-tight, with a side split running up to her panty line. She fell into the car, started the engine. He put down Dwayne’s plate. She was going to drive while very drunk. He should dash outside, stop her. Too late. Hamish watched as the spinning wheels dug a muddy track across the lawn, then powered onto the driveway.
Around eight that evening, as Erin cleaned up after dinner, she remembered to check the date for her next meeting with her agent, Stacey Hill. She headed to the bedroom to find her handbag. Bother! The handbag wasn’t there. Then she remembered. She’d dropped it on the sofa in Hamish’s office when she gave Dwayne a final goodbye hug. It was Friday. She’d need things from that bag over the weekend — credit cards, makeup, her diary. She’d better get it back now, and that would mean calling Hamish at home. Not a good idea, for a lot of reasons, but she had no choice. Hopefully the couple would be relaxing over dinner as Dwayne played on the carpet. She dialled his number.
‘Hamish Bourke,’ the voice answered.
‘Terribly sorry to bother you, Hamish,’ Erin said, genuinely upset that she had to call out of hours. ‘Erin here. When I dropped Dwayne back at your office this afternoon, I left my handbag on the sofa in your office. I’ll need it over the weekend.’
‘Of course you will. I know about women’s handbags. Right now, I’m stuck at home babysitting. Honey’s having a…night out. With the girls.’ Erin saw through his white lie.
‘Could I drop by and borrow the office keys?’ she said. ‘I’ll have them back to you in ten minutes.’
‘Would you mind? I’d love to collect your bag for you, but Dwayne might wake. Then all hell could break loose. He had a pretty heavy day. As you know.’
‘No problem. See you in ten.’ She drove to the house, found the porch light on, and knocked.
‘Hi Erin,’ he said as he opened the door. ‘That was quick.’ He looked drawn, pale.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I thought that the sooner I got it over with, the less I’d disturb you.’ Her pre-rehearsed speech was all the more appropriate now she’d seen his face.
‘Thanks. That’s very considerate of you.’ He smiled down at her. She could see he was making a huge effort to look polite and relaxed, and not quite making it. ‘You wouldn’t like to come in for a few minutes?’
‘Er…no thanks.’ Erin knew without setting foot inside his house that it would look like a battleground. ‘Best be getting out of your way.’
‘Okay, then. The keys.’ He held them out to her.
Ten minutes later she was back at his door, keys in hand, handbag safely in her car.
‘Do come in. Please.’ There was an edge of desperation in Hamish’s voice.
‘Thank you.’ Bracing herself for a shock, she stepped inside. The kitchen sink overflowed with dirty dishes. She saw wet streaks on the dining table. In the last few minutes Hamish had given the place a lick and a promise.
‘Let’s have a glass of wine together,’ he said. Again, she sensed tension below the thin ice of his politeness. ‘Take a seat on the sofa,’ he said. ‘I’ll find something in the kitchen.’
Erin sat, wondering why she could barely control her uneasiness. Maybe it was the all-enveloping smell of the place — dirty nappies overlain by the stench of garbage, unwashed dishes. Someone could straighten the jumble of chairs pretty quickly, but it would take serious housecleaning to make the place smell sweet again. Hamish would have his work cut out over the weekend.
‘Sorry, but we seem to be out of anything drinkable. I thought I had a case or two of respectable wine tucked away, but… This brandy is all I could find.’ He put two shot glasses on the table and filled them. ‘See it as a nightcap.’
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I should be getting home anyway.’
‘Don’t go for a minute. Please.’ Desperation still rang in his voice. ‘Well, cheers.’ They lifted their glasses and drank. Despite Todd’s efforts to educate her palate to the joys of spirits, Erin had never liked them. Wine or the occasional glass of beer on a hot evening was the best she’d achieved to date. She would swallow her drink quickly, then leave. She took a mouthful of brandy, gulped as it burned its way down her throat. Her senses reeled.
‘I — I know you’ve had a — bad day, Hamish,’ she said. ‘It’s nice of you to ask me to stay for a drink. But shouldn’t you be catching up on your rest? A quiet read for an hour might relax you.’
‘Relax? You’re right. It’s been a tough day.’
The brandy told her it was okay to let her instincts take over. ‘Is it…Honey?’ she said quietly.
‘As if you didn’t know.’ His voice fell to a whisper.
‘This is a small town,’ she said. ‘People talk.’
‘Yes. And I’d guess everything you’ve heard is true.’ Erin suspected they were due for a Hamish silence. She watched him as he bowed his head, put his empty glass on the floor beside his chair.
‘I have to face it,’ he said eventually. ‘Honey is — an alcoholic.’ He looked up. ‘There. I’ve said it. For years, I couldn’t bring myself to accept the obvious. Her family bloodlines. Her terrible childhood. I was so unbelievably naïve. I thought I could save her from her past. I thought love would find a way.’
‘I understand,’ Erin said, feeling her heart flow out to him. Not that she did understand. Her family life, such as it was, had never exposed her to tragedy like that. The man opposite her cried out for understanding.
A childish scream cut across the silence. Hamish sprinted to Dwayne’s room. The little boy could be waking from a nightmare. His screams got louder, more terrified. He must be scared out of his mind. What monsters had just crashed into his world?
‘Erin.’ Hamish reappeared, holding the hysterical little boy tight against his chest. ‘Please go. Now. While the going’s good.’
‘Thanks.’ She stood quickly. ‘I wish I could help. One day, I’ll —’
‘Any minute, things may get out of hand,’ he said. ‘Just go.’
She headed for the door. As she opened it, she heard Dwayne scream again.
Next morning Erin decided to risk an early visit to Sarah’s café. A soothing coffee would help her to cope with the pain of those fraught minutes with Hamish the night before. As she headed for the coffee shop in the cool of the morning, she sensed something amiss in the little town. People were silent, heads down as they walked. There were no little clusters passing the time of day near the post office steps or outside the general store. Sarah’s was deserted — unusual for this time of the morning. She stepped inside and ordered her usual flat white.
‘Heard the news?’ Sarah said as she tended the hissing coffee machine.
‘No.’
‘Honey Biggs. Poor, poor kid.’ The fiftyish café proprietor, sad-faced, wiped away a tear. ‘Killed last night. Driving home from the pub, they said. Latish. Hit a milk tanker. Bailey’s Corner. Apparently she took the corner way over on the wrong side. Her car was just a flattened mess, they said. Bits all over the road. They told me the highway was blocked for three hours.’
‘I’m — so sorry.’ Erin reeled. The night before, she’d spent time in a house where Honey’s presence was almost tangible. Whatever her weaknesses, she’d played her part in that elemental mother-father-child triangle — talking, eating, crying, sleeping, giving birth.
Now she was dead. Hamish was alone. He’d be broken, shocked. All his years with Honey — the good times, the pain, the defeat — would bear down on him. Erin felt her heart melt for him. A tear fell onto her cheek.
‘How’s Hamish?’ she asked.
‘No one’s seen him. He’ll be devastated. Always had a soft heart, our Hamish.’ Erin pictured him, holding his son on his lap, sitting in the gloom of his lounge with its drawn curtains.
‘Everyone knew they didn’t get along,’ Sarah said as she set Erin’s coffee on the table. ‘But lately, Honey’s behaviour — it’s been way over the top. Getting worse by the minute. The drinking, neglecting Dwayne. The other men.’ She shook her head, sniffed away a tear. ‘But now…we can’t help but be sad for her.’
Other customers trickled in, all wearing the grey cloak of sudden sadness. Small towns were like that, Erin realised. The residents were one big messy family, strung together over generations. People felt one another’s pain, through drought and flood, sickness, loss and death. The community became woven together as generation on generation of local families intermarried, had their children, and died. Erin’s grandmother had been a loved member of that community.
She finished her coffee and walked towards her cottage. The pain in her heart reached out to Hamish; he’d be grieving, alone. As if he hadn’t enough to handle without this. Her heart begged her to go to him. She should talk with him, try to ease at least a little of his burden, just be close to him. But now was the wrong time. The wrong time for a citified, new-in-town girl to tell him she understood, wanted to care for him in his pain. As she walked, the push-pull tension drove her to despair. He’d want to be alone with his grief, and she wanted, desperately, to be with him.
The conflict gnawed at Erin all the way back to her cottage. What would her grandmother have done? Easy. She’d have whipped up a nice cake, taken it over to his place, and poured him a generous cupful of consolation, straight from her heart.
Erin opened her Katies document and tried to write. Nothing came. She wandered round the cottage, putting away stray bits of laundry, wiping the kitchen bench for the twentieth time that day. A few minutes after lunch, she found herself walking up the path to her front gate, car keys in one hand, a bunch of daisies in the other.
Hamish’s house stood quiet, blinds drawn. There were no cars parked outside. She took the daisies, walked up to the front door and knocked. Seconds later, he opened it, face pale, body stooped.
‘Come in,’ he whispered. She followed him down a hall. At the door to the lounge, he turned, eyes red. ‘Why did you come?’
‘Because I want to be here for you, Hamish.’ He sat on a sofa in the darkened room, pointed to an armchair. She put the flowers on a sideboard and took a seat. ‘I know you’ve been feeling bad about…the way things just seem to happen between us,’ she said. ‘Like — our time at the beach.’ She paused, looked down. ‘I just came to tell you I want to help. If you’ll let me.’ His eyes locked onto hers. For a moment, she thought he’d say something, then he leaned back into the sofa.
‘You know, I believe you,’ he said eventually. ‘It took guts for you to come. I need to apologise for last night — Dwayne’s losing it, my not being there for you.’
‘It was nothing.’ she said. ‘Your little boy needed his daddy. Now you have…so much more to bear. I thought if I could tell you I really want to be your friend, it might help a little.’
‘It does.’ A tired smile flicked across his lips. ‘Maybe I over-reacted about that night at the beach. And as for last night…’ His eyes burned into hers again. ‘Tell me we’re friends, Erin.’ The desperation in his voice spoke more powerfully than his tortured words.
‘We are, we are.’ Tears spilled down her cheeks. The silence that settled felt kindly — a bandage wrapped over a bleeding wound. Erin stood, picked up the daisies and walked to the kitchen. She filled a glass with water and arranged the flowers in it. As she returned to the lounge, she stopped in the doorway. ‘My Grandma would have asked if you’d like something. A coffee? Some lunch?’
‘She would have too,’ he said. ‘God bless Edna.’ The ghost of a smile flickered across his face. ‘Make us both a coffee, then. I need it. Maybe you do too.’ A few minutes later she returned with coffees and a plate of biscuits she’d found in a packet.
‘The truth works better at times like this, Erin,’ he said as she set down the tray. ‘You knew how it was with Honey and me.’
‘Well — what people have told me. What I’ve seen. But I can’t imagine the pain you must have had. And Honey — she’d have been hurting too. For years.’
‘One day, I’ll come to see this time as a blessing.’
Erin looked hard into his eyes, not believing what she heard. ‘Don’t be surprised, Erin. Living with Honey was — hell. Getting worse by the minute. Dwayne’s been hurt, again and again. My parents try to help, but they have their limitations.’ He looked away. ‘I’d been wondering how much more I could stand. I toughed it out for Dwayne’s sake. Now it’s over.’ Erin slipped away to the kitchen, one ear trained towards the lounge.
‘Come back, Erin,’ he called. She took her seat again. He cleared his throat. ‘I did love her,’ he said. She listened, quiet in her chair. He wanted to purge his grief, and in some way she couldn’t understand, her being there was helping him. ‘It seems a long time ago now’, he said, clear-eyed. ‘For years, I thought we could get it all back together. Stupid. It was never going to happen. Wise people told me that. I could never bring myself to believe them.’ Again, his eyes fixed on hers. ‘Be with me, Erin,’ he whispered.
She moved to the sofa, sat close to him, took his hand. Their touching lifted her into a place she’d never been before — a place where their two hearts seemed to fuse. She felt herself becoming a part of a new being — an ‘us’. In all her time with Todd, she’d never been to such a place. It was as if a benevolent witch had cast a spell over them. They sat close and still for a long time. Occasionally, she looked up at him and he smiled down.
‘I should go now,’ she whispered.
‘Come to the funeral, Erin,’ he said. ‘Be there when — I need you.’ She stepped away, at the same moment surprised and sceptical. Why would he need her when he had family and community? When the whole town felt for him? What help could she give that he couldn’t get in spades from the other people in his life. And yet he’d said those words. Why?
‘I will.’ She leaned away from him. It would be okay to kiss him. In a chaste, sisterly way, of course. She moved her lips onto his, felt his response. They held that soft, caring kiss for a long time. Something inside her body stirred, began telling her she wanted more, must have more. Fighting her body’s wilfulness, she eased away, stood, smiled.
‘See you at the church,’ he said. ‘Saturday at two. Please come.’ She let herself out and walked to her car, still confused. Why had he asked her, so earnestly, to come? At the funeral he’d be inundated by family, by friends he’d known all his life. Was it because something new, real, had happened between them? What would come next?