were deadened. Maybe he hadn't heard her. She could just walk away.
She stood a moment, studying her nails, and, hearing nothing from inside, turned to go. Maybe he doesn't want much to do with us anyway, she thought. That would be a relief, she decided, if he'd come to that conclusion himself.
Karen's thoughts had turned to her washing, and she had taken a step away when the door scraped open behind her, and she raised a hand to her mouth.
'Oh, Henry,' she said. 'I hope I didn't wake you.'
The man stared at her from those curiously black eyes, and she could read nothing in his expression. He didn't say a thing. He seemed to be wide awake, though, as far as she could tell, and thank goodness, he was fully dressed. She noticed a nasty smell from the room behind him and blushed in embarrassment.
'Henry, it smells like the mould's coming back in there,' she prattled, unnerved by his silence and slow- blinking eyes. 'Ken and I – he's my brother, I think I told you – we did our best to get rid of it all in there, but I think it must be coming through the paint. I'm sorry about that. We'll get onto it again.'
He said nothing, continued to study her.
'Anyway,' she continued, overly bright, 'I thought you might like to come to lunch with me and the girls. Oh, and Ken, that's my brother. Although of course if you don't want to… it's only a roast. I don't want to be intrusive; I thought I'd just ask, but…'
'Lunch would be lovely. Thank you, Karen.'
He smiled. She wished he hadn't.
'Okay, great then, that's great,' she said, backing away. 'Well, we eat at twelve, usually, although some people might think that's a bit early. It's the girls…'
'Twelve's great, Karen. I'm really looking forward to it.'
Karen Miceh managed a weak smile and half ran up her back steps to her laundry.
In the end, the roast was dry, because she wasn't sure whether he'd like it medium, as she and Ken did. The girls always preferred the crunchy edges anyway, but Karen felt miserable carving the juiceless meat. She smiled at her guest, who'd changed into a collared shirt and tied his long hair back into a ponytail. Somehow, his attempt to appear civilised rendered him even more alien.
'So, Henry, were you born in Australia?' she asked. Good one, Karen: go the race card already.
'Yes,' he said, 'and you?'
'Yes, yes. Ken and I were both born here. Our parents were proud Macedonians, but they wanted us to be Australian. They thought the names Karen and Ken were as Aussie as you could get.' She gave him a wry smile as she passed him a plate.
'Thank you,' he said, accepting the sliced roast lamb from her. 'Looks delicious. I'm glad it's well cooked. I can't stand blood.'
Her smile was forced as she fixed Ken with a stare. Great, so she and her brother should eat overcooked meat every Sunday now? Why does it have to be so hard to be neighbourly?
'You have beautiful daughters, Karen. You must be very proud.'
'Yes. Thank you,' she said. 'Maryana, sit up straight in your chair. You know better than that. I've told you twice already.'
Karen frowned. Her oldest daughter usually swamped strangers with questions and chatter, and it was all Karen could do, typically, to stop her little girl climbing all over them. Today, Maryana seemed almost to be trying to hide under the table. Eva prattled away in her highchair, playing with her potatoes.
'So, Henry, what do you do for a quid?' Ken spoke up. 'Are you in a job at the moment?'
'In and out, Ken. I'm in sales. I do a lot of door-to-door work.'
Karen almost snorted. No wonder he didn't get a lot of work. Most people wouldn't want him in their house. Damn Eddie for putting me in this situation, she thought. Still, Henry seemed to be nice enough now that she was getting used to the way he looked.
Karen finished serving and began to eat. She listened to Ken and Henry speaking for a while and tried to encourage Maryana to settle down, but her daughter had eaten none of her lunch.
'What's the matter, little Maryana, don't you feel well?' Henry asked during a break in the conversation with Ken.
Maryana squirmed in her chair, her hair covering her face.
'Did something make you feel sick?' he said.
Maryana started to cry.
'Oh baby, what's wrong?' Karen stood and went to her daughter. 'Henry, I think you're right.' She reached down and scooped Maryana into her arms. 'She's all hot. Are you feeling sick, darling?'
Karen took Maryana from the room, her daughter clinging to her like a baby. She settled her into bed and smoothed her hair a little until she stopped crying.
She returned to the table when Maryana had relaxed under her quilt, tired out by her sobs.
'Is she okay, Karen?' asked Ken.
'I don't know what's wrong with her,' she said. 'I gave her a Panadol. I'll let her sleep now and take her up to the medical centre this afternoon.'
Maryana Miceh felt a lot better.
As soon as she got away from that Henry, she didn't feel so woozy. He was probably a very nice man, she told herself. It was just that the sore on his tummy made her feel really sweaty and hot. She kept thinking about what she had seen him doing through the crack in the wall. Maybe she should tell her mum?
She decided it would probably be best to ask Jasmine Hardcastle tomorrow before class started. Even though Jasmine thought she was better than everyone else, she did seem to know a lot of stuff. Maryana didn't want to get in trouble for spying on Henry, but maybe her mum should know about his stomach. Maybe she could get him some bandaids or something. And he didn't have a car. Maybe he needed to get a lift to see Dr Kim at the medical centre.
Alerted by a sound out the window, she scrambled up and knelt on her bed.
Wow, she thought. There's a pretty lady on the lawn. She's coming to our house!
Maryana slipped off her bed and padded through the hallway to the front door. She pulled the door open and walked out onto the front steps. She held her hand up to her face to stop the sun hurting her eyes. The lady waved. Maryana could see that the lady couldn't open their gate.
'That gate's stupid,' said Maryana, hopping on one leg down the path that ran from the steps to the fence. 'My dad was supposed to fix it, but Mummy said he's stupid too.'
'I've come to visit Henry,' said Chloe Farrell, smiling. 'Does he live here?'
'No, silly!' Maryana laughed.
'Oh… okay.'
'He's renting!'
'Uh huh.'
'You know you can just climb over that gate. Uncle Ken does that. He says my dad is stupid too. Do you think that's rude?'
Chloe stepped over the low fence easily.
'My name's Chloe,' she said.
'I wish that was my name,' said Maryana. 'I'm Maryana. Everyone's in there having lunch.' She pointed back inside. 'Come on. I'll show you where Henry is renting.'
Maryana ran around the side of the house.
Chloe followed.
Chloe now felt certain that the police had this all wrong. She'd been told that the first suspect police investigated was most often the wrong one, and it was with this in mind that she'd decided to risk asking after this Henry person at the house in Cabramatta. The fact that he hadn't been brought in for questioning also strengthened her doubts that the police seriously thought this guy was one of the killers. And then she'd met Henry's grandmother, and she was so sweet! But it was little Maryana and this gingerbread house that finally convinced
