The Byron Journals (13 page)

Andrew held her, overwhelmed.

‘She never deserved that,' Heidi said. ‘I never told her…that I was sorry for the stupid things…and that I loved her.' She wiped her face with the back of her wrist. ‘Heidi, it was an accident.'

There was a long pause.

Heidi moved away from him, sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. ‘That weekend when Sam was up…I know it's bad how I dealt with it—taking all those drugs—but it's the easiest way for me to get through it.'

He placed his hand on her back and waited, wishing there was more he could do.

‘There were lots of complications in surgery,' she said eventually. ‘They put her in an induced coma. And all my extended family came down. My grandma told us that if we had faith, if we prayed hard enough, God would bring her back to us. So everyone held hands and prayed over her body, all of us, day after day. And I actually believed we were making a difference, that we could bring her back. But nothing happened. People stopped coming. About a month after the accident, I left the room to go to the toilet and when I came back Mum's eyes were open. But I could see it straight away— she was gone.'

‘But she's still alive?'

‘Yeah,' she said. ‘Her body's alive, but the rest of her…I don't know where to, but she's not here anymore.'

‘Does she know who you are?'

‘No.' Heidi looked out the window and waited a long time before continuing. ‘There were huge medical bills and Dad couldn't afford to pay them. We lost our house to the bank. He had to choose between putting her in full-time care and giving up his job to look after her.'

‘What did he do?'

‘He quit his job and we moved into a unit. I stayed for a while, but I couldn't handle it. Dad had a nervous breakdown. And I blamed myself for everything.' She held out her scarred arm. ‘I didn't fall through a window, Andy.'

Now that she'd admitted it, Andrew couldn't find any words.

‘A girl I'd known at school,' she said, ‘I remembered her once telling me about her trip to Byron. She said that while she was here she didn't think about any of her problems. I needed to get away, so I borrowed money from my uncle and flew up here—to take a break.'

‘How long ago?'

‘A year and a half.' She started crying again. ‘I haven't been strong enough to go back. I feel like everyone still blames me.'

‘No one blames you, Heidi. The driver ran a red light. Did they lock him up?'

‘No.' A thin blue vein had risen on her temple. ‘He walked. No jail time—no apology—nothing.'

Andrew stared. ‘But…I mean, surely…'

She reached under her bed and pulled out a thick, A4 hardcover journal, purple with a single frangipani flower framed in the centre. She flicked through the pages and it was clear she didn't want him to see everything. She pulled out a newspaper article, unfolded it and placed it on the bed. Andrew read the headline.
Red
Light Driver Walks Free
.

‘Paul Cabritzi,' she said, pointing at the photo. ‘That's the fucking prick who ran down my mum.'

Instead of focusing on Cabritzi, Andrew's gaze locked onto the woman in the picture, standing beside him. He closed his eyes and the soft machinery of his thoughts ground to a halt. The driver's lawyer was his mum.

‘Heidi…I…' He faltered and fell silent.

‘What's wrong?'

He shook his head. ‘Nothing.'

‘Why are you looking at me like that?' She reared away from him. ‘What? Do you know him?'

‘No,' he said. ‘Of course not. I just…I must have seen this on the news when it happened.' He stalled. ‘Heidi—I—' If he told her the truth, he'd lose her; his life in Byron would fall apart. ‘I don't know what to say. I'm just so, so sorry.'

He slipped his arms around her, and held her like that for a long time. When he let her go and looked at her, her eyes were dreamy again.

‘Maybe after Melbourne,' she said, ‘before we come back to Byron—we could go to Adelaide and visit my mum—just you and me. I think I'd find it easier if you came with me.'

‘Okay.' The word she wanted to hear fell out of his mouth.

‘And I'd like to meet your parents too,' she said.

‘Uhuh…'

‘Jeez.' She looked away. ‘Don't get too excited.'

‘I am,' he insisted. ‘It's just that Mum and Dad drink so much it's embarrassing.'

‘Well, no matter how messed up your home situation is, I can guarantee that mine is worse.'

‘I guess so.'

Heidi sighed, smiling. ‘My mum would have loved you. She loved musical souls.' Her expression brightened. ‘Tell me if this is a dumb idea, but, I've been thinking about something for a while…I'd like to record a song for her when we go to Sydney. When we get to Adelaide, I could play it to her. As a way of saying sorry. We'd have to find a singer but maybe you could write a piano part, and help me with the arrangement. What do you think?'

‘I'd love to, Heidi.'

‘I feel better now that I've told you,' she said. ‘I wasn't sure if you'd think it was my fault. Everyone else did after the lawyer put me on the witness stand. She just kept coming at me—twisting everything I said, tricking me into saying things that didn't happen. I had to answer yes or no, and she wouldn't give me time to explain.'

Right then, Andrew hated his mum more than anything. For manipulating Heidi on the stand, for skewing the facts to protect a guilty man, and for all the other criminals she defended and got off. He hated her for devoting her life to her work while their family fell to pieces.

Heidi smiled and played with his hair. ‘I love you, Andy. Do you know that?'

Her kisses were soft and gentle and he could taste the tears on her lips. She took off her clothes and at first, he resisted, unable to stop thinking about what she'd just told him, but she slipped off his boxers and kissed him all over. They started making love, Heidi on top and, as she moved, she said again and again that she loved him.

Andrew began to comprehend the reason for her secrecy, and the guilt she endured every day. He felt a strange, overwhelming sensation breaking inside him, so that when the words came, they felt perfect leaving his mouth. ‘I love you, Heidi,' he said. ‘I really love you.'

And the love that blazed inside him was like a sun splitting open.

fifteen

‘I've booked a doctor's appointment,' Heidi said, brushing her hair in front of the mirror early the next morning. ‘I want you to come with me.'

‘When?' Andrew groaned, still half-asleep. ‘Is everything okay?'

‘Friday. I'm late for work.' She snatched her handbag and rushed out.

Andrew swung his feet over the edge of the bed and sat there, staring at the floorboards. Once he was certain Heidi was far enough away, he reached for his phone. His mum's secretary answered.

‘Hi Paula, I need to speak to Mum,' he said. ‘It's important.'

‘Sorry, Andrew. She's with a client,' she replied. ‘Can I take a message?'

‘Ugh…Typical! I call her up to tell her to stay out of my life and she's not even available.'

‘Andrew…? Are you okay?'

‘No, I'm not,' he replied. ‘Tell her not to contact me again. Ever. Tell her I want her out of my life.'

‘Andrew, what's—'

‘Just tell her.'

He ended the call. The palm fronds rustled outside the bedroom window. He could hear Tim and Jade making love in their room.

This was his new life now.

His mum tried to call him twice before lunchtime.

When she tried a third time, mid-afternoon, he turned off his phone. And it wasn't until later that night, waiting for sleep beside Heidi, that a sense of doubt crept into his thoughts.

Jade slammed the front door and came running into the house. ‘Andy! Quick! Where are you?'

‘Down here!' he called from the cellar. He lifted the digital pH meter from the bubbling water in the feed tank and scratched his head. Tim had told him to keep the pH between 5.8 and 6.3 and somehow the acidity had climbed to almost 7.

Jade rushed down the stairs and through the blanket, shielding her eyes from the light. ‘Rafi's fucking lost it! He followed me home from work.'

‘Who the hell is Rafi?'

There was a thump on the front door and a muffled voice. ‘Brandi!'

Andrew turned to Jade. She was pale and biting her lip, her arms across her chest. ‘And who is Brandi?' he asked.

Two more thumps shook the air.

‘Do something,' she pleaded. ‘He's messed up on ice. He doesn't know what he's doing.'

Andrew dashed up the stairs and pulled the cellar door closed, careful to flip the rug over as he did so. Just after he slipped through the blankets, he heard the front door kicked open, then silence, footsteps up the hallway.

‘I know you're here!' came a sing-song, menacing voice.

‘He's inside!' Jade squeaked.

Andrew turned to cover her mouth with his hand. With his other hand, he flicked the switch for the power board that ran the exhaust fan, wall fans and the feed-tank aerator. Except for Jade's shallow breathing, the cellar fell silent.

The footsteps stopped.

‘You need me. I can protect you…' Rafitook two more steps and stopped again, his voice lower now. ‘I'm not going to hurt you. It's just…' He opened the door to Tim's room, paused and moved back into the living room. ‘Where are you!?'

He punched the wall. Three, four, five times.

Flakes of paint fell from the ceiling into Andrew and Jade's hair and onto the floor around them. Jade's fingernails dug into his skin. They stood, their bodies fused, and listened as he rummaged through Tim's room, muttering to himself. A minute later, they heard footsteps up the hallway and silence, before a motorbike growled and took off down the street.

Andrew swallowed, pulled Jade's hand free from his shirt and turned to her. ‘Are you okay?'

Jade nodded, her eye make-up smudged. ‘Do you think he'll come back?'

‘I don't know,' he replied and took out his phone. ‘I better call the police.'

‘We can't,' she said. ‘What if they want to look around? Or if they smell the dope in the cellar?'

He pocketed his phone. ‘Well, I don't know what else to do.'

She shut her eyes, squeezed the bridge of her nose. ‘Can you turn those fucking lights off? I can't think in here.'

Without the fans running, the temperature had risen steadily. It must have been close to forty degrees Celsius.

He flicked the switch for the fans. ‘I can't turn off the lights without messing up the system. Tim's got them all set to timers. Let's go to the stairwell, it'll be cooler.'

They went through the blankets into the small, dark space at the foot of the stairs.

Andrew took off his sunglasses and waited for his eyes to adjust. ‘Who was that guy?'

‘He's a bikie with the Rebels,' she said, her voice low. ‘He runs drugs—amphetamines and coke mostly—up and down the coast.'

Andrew's face creased in confusion. ‘Has he got you mixed up with someone else? Why was he calling you Brandi?'

She looked sideways. ‘Brandi's just a name I use.'

‘For what?'

‘For work. I'm a dancer.'

‘I thought you were a model?'

She paused. ‘I'm a dancer, babe. A stripper.'

The photo of Jade in suspenders, the bag of lingerie, and the shoebox filled with cash, all suddenly made sense. He was surprised: the whole thing turned him on. But he was also wary—how many other bikies and underworld types was she connected to? And how long had she been doing this without Tim knowing?

She looked away. ‘Rafi's one of my regulars. He comes in most nights for a private show. When we're finished, he always gives me a hundred dollar note folded in half with a gram of coke inside it. He's the one who gave me the camera and the perfume too. He's normally fine. I mean, he's never done anything like this before.' She placed a hand on his chest. ‘Please, babe. You can't tell Tim about any of this.'

‘The front door's been kicked in and there are holes punched in the wall,' he replied. ‘It's going to be pretty hard to hide.'

‘We could tell him that people broke in while we were out. He'll believe us. He'll believe you, Andy.'

Andrew sighed. ‘I don't want to lie.'

‘Please, Andy.' She was so close now he could smell rum on her breath. ‘I need things to stay as they are.'

Andrew peered through the front doorway. Between the lower branches of the flame tree, he could see a woman in fisherman's pants and a loose cotton shirt leaning on a shovel in her front garden and looking towards their house. In the driveway, Jade's car was parked on an angle with the driver's door still open. But there was no sign of Rafi. Andrew dragged a kitchen chair up the hall and propped it at an angle against the front door. After that, he returned to the living room, paused to look at the jagged row of holes in the living-room wall, then moved into Tim's room.

Jade's hands were clasped behind her neck. ‘My camera's gone.'

‘Your camera?' It took a moment for that to sink in. ‘What about the photos you took?'

‘What photos?'

‘The photos of me posing with the plants.'

‘Fuck, Andy. Who cares?'

‘I care. What if the police get hold of those photos?' ‘He's a bikie! He's not going to go to the police.'

‘But if he knows we've got a set-up, he might come back to swipe the weed.'

‘I change the memory cards back and forth 'cause

I don't want Tim to see some of my photos, the illegal stuff, you know...Rafiprobably doesn't even have those photos—and even if he does, he's not going to give a shit.'