The Terrible Privacy Of Maxwell Sim

‘You want the truth?’

– Of course I want the truth. The truth is always beautiful.

‘But the truth is, Emma … The truth is … Oh God. The truth is that I hated him. Isn’t that a terrible thing to say? Just a little boy. Just a happy, curious, lively little boy. I hated him for being so happy. I hated him for having Chris as a father. For having two sisters to play with. I hated him for everything he had … that I’d never had. All the things Dad had never given me …’

– Cry if you want to.

‘I never realized, you see. I never realized how much hate I had in me. I never realized that I could hate a child like that.’

– Let the tears come, Max. It’ll do you good. So what happened? What did you do?

‘I can’t say it.’

– Yes you can. You can say it, Max. He was playing on the rope, wasn’t he? He was swinging over the nettle pit.

‘Yes.’

– And then he swung over to the edge, and he tried to get off, and what did you do then?

‘I can’t say it.’

– Yes, you can say it. You can, Max. I know what happened. You pushed him.

‘I …’

– Is that what happened? You pushed him back in? Did you push him, Max?

‘Yes. Yes, I did. He knew, too. He knew it was me. He told his father. Chris couldn’t believe him, at first, but in the end I think he did. And that’s why they all left. That’s why Chris has never spoken to me since.’

– Cry if you want to. But it’s better if you tell someone.

‘I couldn’t help it. I wanted to hurt him. I so wanted to hurt him. I’d never have believed that I could have wanted to hurt someone so much. And he was just eight years old. Eight years. FUCK. I’m a bad man. I’m a horrible man. I shouldn’t have told you that, should I? Do you hate me now, Emma? Can you ever forgive me, or like me again?’

– I’m the only person you could have told, Max. Because I don’t judge – remember? I’m glad you told me. It was right that you told me. You had to tell somebody, in the end. But the battery’s almost finished now. I’m going to have to say goodbye. I’m going to have to leave you, Max.

‘Emma, don’t go.’

– I have to. I’m going to leave you at the mercy of the elements. The snow will fall on you. The darkness will cover you. The elements have reduced you to this. Now they control you.

‘Don’t you have anything else to say to me? Because I’ve got something I want to say to you. Something I’ve been meaning to say for ages.’

– All right, then. One more thing. You go first.

‘OK. Here it is. I love you, Emma. I really do. I’ve been meaning to say it for days, but I never dared. Never had the nerve. But now it’s out. I love you. Always have. Ever since I first heard your voice.’

– Goodbye then, Max.

‘But … what were you going to say to me?’

– In three hundred yards, make a U-turn.

‘Emma …

‘Please don’t go.

‘Don’t leave me alone. Don’t leave me alone here.

‘Please.

‘Emma? Emma?’

Fairlight Beach

21

When I saw the Chinese woman and her daughter playing cards together at their restaurant table, the water and the lights of Sydney harbour shimmering behind them, I knew that it would not be long now, not long at all, before I found what I’d been looking for.

It was 11 April 2009: the second Saturday of the month.

I arrived at the restaurant at seven o’clock, and they arrived three-quarters of an hour later. They did not seem to have changed since I’d last seen them, on Valentine’s Day. They were just the same. I think the little girl might even have been wearing the same dress. And everything they did together at their table was just the same, as well. First of all they ate a big meal together – a surprisingly big meal, four courses each in fact – and then the waiter cleared all their plates and dishes away and brought some hot chocolate for the little girl and some coffee for her mother and then the Chinese woman took out her pack of cards and they started to play. Once again, I couldn’t tell exactly what game they were playing. It wasn’t a proper grown-up card game, but then again it wasn’t a childish one like snap, either. Whatever it was, they found it entirely absorbing. Once the game had started, they seemed to exist in a little cocoon of intimacy, oblivious to the presence of the other diners. The restaurant terrace was not quite as busy as it had been last time: partly because last time had been Valentine’s Day, of course, but also because Sydney had a noticeably cooler and more autumnal feel to it, already, and a lot of people had chosen to eat