wet with tears and slept in.
In the kitchen Tess pointed to the coffee pot and a plate of buttered toast and went off to the bathroom. I was feeling seedy and hungover from the Scotch and the caffeine of the night before so I did the only thing possible. I poured the last dregs of the whisky into an inch of black coffee and slugged it down. Then I poured a full mug, added milk and drank it with sugar and three slices of toast. Then I had another mug. It was the most liquids and solids I’d taken in for breakfast in years and I have to admit that it made me feel better.
Tess came in wearing a dark dress and low heels. She’d put on her makeup and her hair was still wet but brushed so that it’d dry into a neat, slightly severe, shape around her head. With a start I realised that she bore a resemblance to Helen Broadway, a lover of some years ago. That relationship hadn’t turned out well and I pushed the thought away. She poured herself some coffee and cut a piece of toast into small squares.
‘I saw the gun,’ she said.
I’d left it on a chair in the living room meaning to put my jacket over it. I nodded.
‘Tell me what’s happened.’ she said.
I told her about Talbot being at my place and the note and my uncertainty about whether the note had referred to Megan French or her. I told her about Macleod and Miss Cartwright’s accusations and the connection with Talbot. She drank coffee, nibbled toast and listened without responding. I still didn’t tell her about my attempt to infiltrate the protest group with Geoff Samuels. I felt bad about it, but I couldn’t think of a way to make it look right. I finished talking, ate some more toast and drank some more coffee.
‘You have to go to the police,’ Tess said.
‘It wouldn’t do any good. They don’t know where to find Talbot any more than I do. And I haven’t got enough to make the police even knock on Macleod’s door.’
‘I wonder if Ramsay knows anything about Talbot and this doctor. He and Damien were close at first, or so it seemed. Until they had a falling out over tactics and… leadership.’
‘That was one of the things I was going to ask him last night, before he blew his stack.’
‘And what else?’
I fingered an irritating patch of stubble I’d missed with the blunt razor. ‘I suppose about Megan. He told the interviewer that he hardly knew her. D’you think that’s true?’
Tess was slow to answer. ‘We’re getting to it, aren’t we?’
‘Getting to what?’
‘C’mon, Cliff. You’re not that dumb. You saw how Ramsay is with me, about me. Isn’t there something you want to ask?’
‘No. Is there something you want to tell me?’
She gave it serious thought, then snapped her fingers. ‘Okay. Why not? I worked it all out with a therapist a long time ago. I’ve moved on. I’m ten years older than Ramsay. As I said, I looked after him from the time he was fifteen, when our parents died. He took it very hard. He was very close to Mum. Inconsolable. One night he came into my bed. Remember I was young, too and trying to cope with grief and responsibility. Anyway, it happened. A few times. Then we stopped. I thought I’d got through it without damage and I pretty much did. As I say, I got some help later. Ramsay didn’t get through it and he’s refused to discuss it, let alone have therapy. I don’t know anything about his sex life now. I don’t think he has one.’
I nodded and scratched at the stubble.
‘Your reaction?’
‘Admiration for you, sympathy for him.’
She put her arms around me. ‘Thanks. Look, I’m going to have to try to get in touch with him, calm him down. You understand?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘I’ll try to get him to talk to you. Might be hard.’
‘Okay. I should go and check on a few things. See if there’s anything I’ve missed that might go somewhere.’
‘I’ve got all your numbers, mate. I’ll track you down.’
I wondered if she meant it.
21
For no good reason I drove to the Homebush site and stopped at a point where I could see a lot of the activity. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I could see progress in just those few days. Staying clear of the security posts, I drove as close as I could get to the Tadpole Creek protest. There were fewer people around and one corner of the banner had broken free of its mooring and drooped down. It had the look of a show about to fold. I ran my eye along the unimpressive, sluggish little watercourse with its few scruffy mangroves and general air of insignificance. It was hard to tell what purpose the area on the protesters’ side of the creek had served before their arrival. Part playground, part rubbish dump perhaps.
The rain hadn’t amounted to much and the sky was rapidly clearing. From my vantage point I could see back towards Concord and Tess’s neighbourhood. I wondered what she’d meant about knowing there was something not right about the protest and why I hadn’t asked her. I wasn’t displaying my best form and I knew why.
I was worried about failing Cyn, worried about the young woman who might be my daughter and caught up in a relationship that might or might not go somewhere. Too many cross-currents for efficient work.
Back in the car, I fingered the irritating patch of stubble and felt like a drink, like several drinks. I was thinking seriously about a visit to the former Sheep Shit Inn when the mobile rang. My first thought was of Tess and I grabbed the phone.
‘Tess?’
‘This is Geoff Samuels, Cliff.’
‘Oh, Geoff, right. How is she?’
‘Not good, but she got through the night and they think she can pull up a bit. She doesn’t really want to except for this business about Megan French. She wants to see you, Cliff.’
‘Okay. Where are you?’
He named a private hospital in Willoughby and I said I’d be there as quickly as I could.
‘I should warn you that my sister’s here. Annie. Mum was muttering something about Megan and Annie’s latched onto it. She wants to know everything. I’ve stalled her. I’m afraid I’ve sort of lumbered you with it. Annie’s always had the edge on me. I thought you could handle it better.’
‘Well, I’ll do what I can.’
‘The thing is, she knows all about you. Has for a long time. Apparently she found some letters or something Mum had. You’re not her favourite person, Cliff.’
‘Great. See you soon.’
I forgot about alcohol and headed towards Willoughby. As I drove I thought of the time Cyn and I had spent together. Mostly, I remembered the fights and the silences and it was hard to say which were the worst. The big silence was coming and it was beginning to look as if I’d let her down, again.
Propped up against pillows, wearing a white cotton nightgown with a high neck, Cyn looked shrunken to half her proper size. I tried to arrange my face so as to conceal the waves of shock, sympathy and sadness that washed over me but, sick as she was, she could still read me accurately.
‘Pretty bad, huh,’ she said in a surprisingly strong voice. ‘Fact is that it’s worse for all of you than it is for me.’
I approached the bed and took her hand briefly. I couldn’t speak. Geoff was sitting in a chair by the window and a woman a few years older than him, but bearing a strong physical resemblance, sat close by the bed.
‘This is my daughter, Anne, Cliff.’
She returned my nod. ‘Anne Samuels,’ she said. ‘How do you do?’
She was good-looking and well dressed – dark, layer-cut hair, expert makeup, blue blouse and business suit, minimal jewellery. No sign of her pregnancy yet. No sign of a wedding ring either. A modern woman. She looked intelligent and tough, not a common combination and that sharp nod spoke volumes. Anne Samuels looked as if she
