My Brother’s Keeper (6 page)

Ned turned out to be one of the few men I’d met who could successfully pull off wearing an eye patch. Okay, he was the only man I’d met who had even tried it, but still … He admitted it was as much to avoid the double-takes from passers-by as it was for comfort. The Prego clientele and staff were way too cool to make anything of it. No doubt they thought it was a fashion statement. We were still studying the menu when Karen phoned. She apologised for failing to warn me that Ned might turn up but assured me he was harmless enough. Watching him flirt with the women at the table next to us, I wasn’t so sure about that. Karen admitted she had forgotten about the
arrangement Ned had with her mother. She and Norma had been estranged for some years and Karen knew very little about her mother’s life.

‘Luckily, we made up before she died. It would have been terrible if she’d passed away feeling all that anger towards me.’

Feeling a God lecture imminent I changed the subject. ‘Will you move in to your mother’s place now, or are you planning to sell it?’

‘I can live with very little. That’s the only worthwhile thing prison taught me. Actually,’ she added coyly, ‘it wasn’t prison that taught me, it was God. God taught me that.’ I bit my tongue. ‘I’m selling up and leaving the country. But first I have to get things sorted with Sunny.’ Sorted. As if. ‘We’re going to a Christian commune in LA. We’ll live a very simple communal life, Manny and I. He has been so supportive.’

This was the first time I’d heard there was a boyfriend on the scene but it didn’t surprise me. I wondered how supportive Manny was in helping Karen dispose of her inheritance. Call me a cynic, but I reckoned there was good chance Manny was supporting that inheritance right into his own pockets. Not my business, I reminded myself. Karen had hired me to find Sunny and I’d done that. She’d instructed me to find out if Sunny was safe and the meeting tomorrow would answer that question for her. My job would be completed and the final invoice would follow in the mail with indecent haste. My credit card balance would breathe a sigh of relief.

‘It might not go too smoothly tomorrow, Karen. You should prepare yourself for that,’ I warned her.

‘Oh, I am.’ Her voice lifted. ‘Manny and I are having a prayer
session tonight. We’re asking God to grant me a successful meeting with Sunny. And if that’s not His will, then we’re asking Him to give me strength to know what to do next.’

‘Well, good luck with that,’ I said. Being Christian, she’d no doubt recognise the doubting Thomas tone in my voice.

‘Thank you.’

Her genuine thanks shamed my sarcasm. I tried again to dampen her excitement about the meeting with Sunny but she was irrepressible. Finally, she told me she would write a cheque to cover my extra expenses. It was a gentle reminder of our employer-employee relationship. When I finished the call I was still struggling with an unease, bordering on terror. There was just no way tomorrow’s meeting between Sunny and Karen was going to go well. I relayed this to Ned, who shrugged expansively. I asked if he could articulate what he meant.

‘It means it’s not your problem,’ he explained. ‘Choosing something for us from the menu that isn’t going to break your bank account — now that’s a problem.’

The menu took on a whole new meaning. ‘I’m paying?’

‘It’s the very least you can do, given the state of my eye here, me hearty.’

There was a worrying red and blue streak leaking from below the eye patch, which appeared to be spreading down his jawline at speed. I ordered a salad and encouraged him to be equally extravagant in his choice but before I got to hear his order my phone rang again. Ned spun it around to face him. A photo of Sean I’d taken years ago lit up on the screen, his hand raised above his head in a gesture of farewell. I hadn’t
realised until now how prescient the image was. His contact name came up as a large ‘X’ on the screen. Not so subtle with the nomenclature. Ned raised an ironic eyebrow and spun the phone back in my direction.

‘Hi,’ I said.

‘It’s me,’ Sean said.

‘Yeah, I know,’ I said.

This was another of those compact little exchanges that pretty much sums up my relationship with my ex-husband. I waited for Sean to pick up the conversation while I watched Ned engage in an animated discussion with the maître d’ about his order. Ned did a lot of pointing at items on the menu. The maître d’ did a lot of writing and nodding. I did a lot of frowning.

‘Where are you?’

‘What do you want, Sean?’

‘How’d the caravan go today?’

‘The what?’ Then I remembered. ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t heard. I’ll give him a ring in the morning.’ There was silence at the other end. ‘I’m kind of busy right now, Sean,’ I explained. At that moment a woman at the table next to us shrieked with laughter.

‘Yeah, I can hear that.’

Ned pointed and laughed at my grumpy face and ordered another bottle of what was no doubt an expensive wine.

‘I gotta go,’ I said.

‘Obviously,’ he said.

‘Fuck you,’ I said cheerfully, and hung up.

With the meagre salad and the two bottles of quality rosé, I didn’t put up a fight when Ned took my phone into custody. ‘Two phone calls during dinner is the limit,’ he announced and made a big deal of switching both our phones to mute and placing them side by side on the far edge of the table. No sooner had he done this than mine lit up. Ned studied the photo of Robbie. I’d snapped him one morning as he was heading off to work. I had taken the photo from his bed, which I was still very nakedly in. His look reflected his response.

‘Who’s the good-looking policeman then?’ Ned asked, waggling his un-eye-patched eyebrow at me.

‘Robbie,’ I said, holding my hand out for the phone.

‘You’re in no condition, girl,’ he said, pocketing it. ‘Best call him back in the morning.’

The image of Robbie disappeared into his breast pocket. There was definitely something proprietorial about the way Ned took possession of my phone. The way he spoke of the morning was as if it was going to be a shared morning, a morning after. My panic button was activated. Without making a big deal about it, I knocked back three glasses of expensive water, ordered goat’s cheese and rock melon dessert, slipped the phone out of his pocket while he was engaged in a conversation with the table of women next to us and sauntered a little unsteadily to the ladies where I peed and texted (multi-tasking at its best).
Sorry I missed yr call. Goodnight xxx
, I wrote. I pulled up my knickers, washed my hands, slapped cold water on my bruised neck, checked for twenty-dollar lettuce in my teeth and finally Robbie texted back,
U2 x
.

I stared at the message for a long time, thinking of all the different interpretations I could read into that truncated little message. In the end I decided to accept it at face value. I owed Robbie that much. I signed the bill without looking at the total. We ambled the two hundred metres back to the townhouse. We slept in separate rooms. Eventually.

S
ATURDAY
24 N
OVEMBER
2012

N
ed’s bedroom door was shut, his jacket draped on the door handle. I’d booked a flight back to Wellington mid-afternoon, the plan being to catch a cab to the airport as soon as the meeting between Karen and Sunny was over. There was no reason to wake Ned to say goodbye.

At twelve thirty-five, I pushed open the big glass doors of Ja Coozy, the meeting place designated by Justin. Karen wasn’t there, which surprised me. I was five minutes late and I’d been sure Karen would be there well ahead of time. A coffee later and still no sign of her, I was worried. I fired off a text, reminding her of the address and asking where she was. The second coffee arrived and still there was no sign of her and no response to the text. So much for the pre-meeting. Sunny was due in a matter
of minutes. I rang Karen’s number and it went to voicemail. I left a message.

‘Please don’t let Sunny down, Karen. If there’s a problem, ring me.’

By now, the coffee was corroding my stomach lining. Surely Karen wasn’t going to stand Sunny up. Surely. My only hope was that Sunny would be a no-show too. No sooner had I thought this than I spotted her swinging her way towards me. All show, she had adopted a striding catwalk lope. High heels, pendulum ponytail, layered skirt, tasselled shoulder bag; all movement, all real casual. As casual as any fourteen-year-old on her way to meet the mother who had tried to murder her could look. She spotted me through the window, saw I was alone and slowed her walk. By the time she pushed the big glass doors open, her shoulders had slumped. Her little mouth had clamped shut.

‘She’s not coming, is she?’ Sunny dropped into the chair opposite but kept her bag in her lap. Her skinny little thighs were mottled with cold.

‘She may be stuck in traffic or lost or something. I’ll ring her, okay?’

She didn’t answer but squinted out the window towards the sparkling harbour. The blackened volcanic crust of Rangitoto was stark against the expanse of blue sky. Even after Karen’s phone had switched to voicemail again I kept mine pressed to my ear. This time I didn’t leave a message. Sunny stared at her bony knees, most likely struggling to hold back the tears. Her square fingers, a girl’s hand, splayed against her stomach as if pressing a bruise.

‘Bitch,’ she said, quietly. No argument from me there.

‘She was really excited about meeting you, Sunny. I don’t know what’s happened. Something really … urgent, must have stopped her’

Sunny pulled at the hem of her skirt. ‘Yeah, right,’ she said. Whorls of purple emerged like invisible writing beneath the translucent white of her skin. Bad circulation. I wanted to wrap her up tight in a soft woollen blanket, feed her good nourishing food, keep her warm and safe from harm — from further harm. I wanted to do all this, and yet I couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would lessen the hurt she was feeling.

‘Can I get you a coffee?’ Then I remembered she didn’t even drink coffee.

The chair screeched on the tiled floor, setting my teeth on edge. I followed her to the door and watched her stumble in her high heels across the courtyard. Justin appeared and walked slowly towards her. Stopping only long enough to throw her shoes away, Sunny pushed past him and ran. Following in her wake, I picked up the shoes, held them out to Justin. He ripped them out of my hands, spluttered an attempt to say something then gave up.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said to his departing back.

I didn’t know if I was saying it for Karen or for me, but I was sorry. I was sorry to have raised Sunny’s expectations and then dash them in this humiliating way; sorry to have had any part in it. Fingers looped through the straps of her shoes, Justin walked slowly away in the direction Sunny had run. He was giving her time, I think. No doubt he’d find her weeping in private somewhere further along the wharf. She wouldn’t have gone far.

Only when they were both completely out of sight did I realise how angry I was. Furious, spitting, blood-pounding anger. I hoped the anger survived the flight to Wellington. I wanted to still be feeling this rage when I confronted Karen.

E
ASTER
2005

Sunny

D
ad makes me wear my blue summer dress with the daisies on it, even though the neck is scratchy. I ask him if Falcon is going to be lifted up to heaven by the angels and if heaven is like Rainbow’s End only none of the rides are scary. And I ask if angels really are like fairies only fatter. I tell him I hope the angels make the coffin take off like a rocket ship with flames bursting out the bottom because I know Falcon would like that the best, but Dad looks out the car window as if I’ve said something bad, even though it wasn’t bad and I whispered it so the man driving the car couldn’t hear.

I’ve never been in a church before and I don’t like it. Except
I do quite like the big windows with all the coloured glass pictures. The coffin is already there but I don’t think the angels are coming to get Falcon. Kids from school walk up to it a bit scared and then the adults help them tie balloons to the handles on the side. Falcon’s too heavy and the balloons aren’t strong enough to lift it. Unless he’s really light now that he’s dead. If the angels don’t come, they’ll just have to put him in the ground with all the other coffins. Someone has put Robot Man and a football on top of the coffin. I’ve never seen the football before and I don’t know why it’s there. Robot Man is sitting there like he’s waiting for Falcon to open the lid and pick him up. There’s music playing and when I turn around to look for the person playing it the adults look at me but then their eyes slide away and they pretend they’re looking somewhere else. I don’t like it. And I don’t like it when adults stand up the front next to the coffin and say all those things about Falcon and I don’t like it when everyone sings really loud like they’re yelling. I don’t know any of the songs. Gran isn’t here. I know that without looking because she told me she wasn’t coming. She was mean to me and I hate her. Dad puts his hand on my knee and gives me his warning look to tell me to stop swinging my legs. I want to go home. Everything smells funny from the flowers. It makes my tummy feel sick and I wish I hadn’t eaten my toast even though Dad said I had to. I think I might vomit and that wouldn’t be good in the church. If the angels do come, they’ll have to crash through the windows, right through the coloured glass. I hope they don’t smash the one of the lady holding a baby. The lady and the baby both have big golden things like bike helmets on their heads but the lady’s wearing a crown
with jewels under her helmet. She has a long blue dress like a princess and she looks really sad like a princess. And then the priest tells us to kneel and take a moment to think about Falcon, and everyone does but I don’t think about Falcon because I don’t know what to think about him. The wood smells nice and I put my teeth on it and bite it a little bit because Dad has his eyes shut. I like the feeling of it on my tongue. It tastes warm and brown and makes my tummy feel better. My teeth have left marks on it like when I bite my pencil. My teeth marks will stay there forever. Everyone stands up and Dad takes my hand so I know to stand up too. My knees are sore from when we had to kneel down but I don’t rub them in case it makes Dad angry. Then Mrs Pritchard from kindy brings some of the little kids up and they have to reach up high to put flowers on the coffin. I can’t see Robot Man any more because of all the flowers. He must be drowning in the flowers. I wonder what would happen if I saved Robot Man like the man saved me. The nurses were nice to me in the hospital and even let me keep the flappy slippers to take home, but they didn’t tell me Falcon was dead. Dad told me. He said the man saved me first because I was in the front and when he went back down for Falcon he was already dead.

Everyone sings ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ but I don’t, even though I know all the words, and then some men I don’t know lift up the coffin with Falcon in it and take it out of the church. Dad takes my hand and we walk behind it. Everyone stares at me, even though they pretend not to, and I can hear all the people sniffing and crying but I don’t look at them. The light coming through the door hurts my eyes. Maybe all that
light is from the angels and they’re going to take us all up to heaven with Falcon. I tug at Dad’s sleeve to tell him I want to go with Falcon and the angels but, instead of bending down to hear me, he picks me up in his arms like when I was little and carries me out into the bright light.

Outside the light isn’t so bright any more but it’s still weird. They’re sliding the coffin into the back of the big black car like a tray going in the oven, but they leave the end sticking out and the back door open so people can put flowers on it. Dad puts me down and people come over and touch me and call me dear. I don’t like it. But the man who saved me comes up and smiles at me and I like it, but then he goes away again without saying anything. Everyone looks strange like they’re far away but their faces are really big, like balloons.

‘Where’s Mum?’ I say to Dad, but he doesn’t answer me. He’s looking at the coffin with all the flowers on it. His face is wet and puffed up from all the crying. ‘Where’s Mum?’ I say again and even though I know he’s heard me he doesn’t answer. The people beside Dad turn away, pretending they can’t hear me either. ‘I want Mum,’ I say, but I don’t really. I just want to see what Dad says. He turns his head and looks at me and I don’t know what he’s going to say. ‘It’s just you and me now, Sunny girl,’ he says.

I think of Mum standing at the kitchen bench with the weird light coming in the window and the way her eyes slide at me and make my tummy feel sick, and how the policeman put his hand on the top of her head to stop her banging it when she got into the back of the police car. She didn’t turn around to look at me when they drove away.

Dad hands me a flower. ‘Go on,’ he says. ‘Say goodbye to your brother and then we’ll go home.’ He gives me a little shove so I know to put the flower on the coffin. Everyone stands back so I can go right up to the coffin. I reach in and put the flower in the middle of all the other flowers and I feel the shiny plastic of Robot Man underneath all the flowers, like he’s drowned, like he can’t get out. I catch him and pull him out and hold him tight in my hand where no one can see and then I put him way down deep inside my blue pocket with the daisies on it where he’ll be safe.