and frustration in his eyes were obvious.
A breeze picked up some leaves and whirled them in a circle.
“Some say love has no beginning and no end,” she ventured. “You must have loved Therese a lot to marry her, knowing she was pregnant by another man.”
He clawed the pen and tapped the pad for her to hold.
“I don’t doubt that. You look very happy in the photo, like soul mates.” Anya wanted to be supportive. This man had buried his life partner, then lost his ability to walk, talk and stay in the home they had made together.
He brushed Anya’s chin with his hand before adding the words:
She felt the heat in her face and neck. “No, no. We’re just friends, we work together sometimes. And don’t worry, Ben’s my son. We’re not going to spring anything else on you.”
More scribbling followed.
Anya found herself laughing and a smile unravelled across the healthier side of William’s face. She could see how handsome and vibrant he would have been in his youth. This was a good man.
“I think Therese was one very lucky woman.”
Dan lurched down the ramp and Ben trotted behind, finishing off an ice-cream cup with a tiny wooden spatula. Half of the contents were smeared on his face. Sister Gillespie followed.
“Not getting burned out here, are we? Don’t want to prematurely age that peaches and cream complexion of ours.”
Mr. Brody looked up at her and rolled his eyes at Anya, then smiled again.
“Who’s that gorgeous-looking man in the wedding photo?” The nurse helped herself to the framed image. “You were a bit of all right in your day, and so was your bride. She was stunning.”
With that, the picture was back in Mr. Brody’s lap and the chair had been turned around.
Anya checked her watch. It was nearing five, probably dinnertime for the residents.
“We should go, it’s getting late and I have to get Ben packed up,” she said. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Brody.”
The old man doffed his cap and reached out with his hand.
“Would you mind if I came back some time to visit?”
He squeezed her fingers tightly. In any form of language, that was a definite yes.
They all said goodbye and then left the way they had come in.
Ben folded himself into the back seat again and Anya made sure he was strapped in securely. Dan paced around before getting in. Once on the road, he accelerated and braked, jerking the car with every gear change. Still jetlagged from the trip, Ben quickly dozed off, much to Anya’s relief.
“Would you like to talk about it?” she said, unsure whether she should leave him to brood.
“It’s just that they lied to me all these years. Mum has an affair, gets pregnant and they don’t think to mention it?”
“Will you be proud to tell your children about every woman you ever slept with?” As soon as the words were out, she regretted them.
Dan pulled over to the side of the road.
“I get it, but this isn’t just a fling. She had a baby, then buried it. For all we know, she could have murdered it, or Dad did out of anger at what she did.”
Anya realized they hadn’t asked how the baby had died. That, she thought, would be better asked without Ben or Dan around. “We know the baby had a tumor and was unlikely to have been born alive.”
Dan placed his forehead on the steering wheel. “Unlikely doesn’t mean it was stillborn.”
“Your father said it was before they were married, so she hardly betrayed him. What are you so angry about really?” He had spoken about his mother as if she were a saint. “Is this because your mother wasn’t ‘pure’ when she married your father?”
Dan turned his head and Anya recognized the flash of guilt. “Oh my God, that’s it, isn’t it? That’s what has you so churned up. Not what was in the box, but your mother’s history.”
Anya had never been so disappointed in a man. With all the sexual relationships the lawyer was reputed to have had, his double standard didn’t extend to those women, any of whom could be a mother one day. Even more annoying was that he wasn’t mature enough to see his own mother as a complete person with her own desires and needs.
“That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said-”
“Mummy,” Ben said sleepily from the back. “I don’t feel well.”
Anya turned around just in time to see her son vomit curdled ice-cream across the Ferrari’s back seat.
21
“That’s my boy.” Kate laughed. “All over the back seat?”
“It wasn’t funny!” Anya exclaimed. “You should have seen Dan’s face.”
“What on earth were you doing going out with him anyway, and with Ben? Is there something going on you should tell me about?”
“Nothing like that. It was just a favor to help him with his father. Ben was fine up until the trip back.”
Kate’s laugh was infectious and Anya had to admit the incident was now funny, even to her. The owner of the Ferrari might take some time to feel the same way, though.
“I can imagine the smell. What did Mr. Pompous do?”
“His face pretty much said it all, but he was polite. I cleaned it up with wipes and he tried to help but, honestly, it was easier to do it myself. Ben was pretty upset.” Anya felt another laugh bubble up. “But he did feel better once he’d emptied his stomach…again…all over the place.”
By the time Hayden Richards arrived at ICU, the pair were buckled over like schoolgirls. Neither saw him coming.
“He must really have the hots for you,” Kate teased.
“Is this a private conversation or can I join in?” Hayden hitched his trousers and raised an eyebrow.
Anya cleared her throat and hoped her cheeks didn’t give away the embarrassment she was suddenly feeling.
“Oh,” Kate said, “just a funny story involving Anya’s son. He’s a real little character.”
Hayden frowned and glanced at an elderly couple walking past the unit, then spoke to Anya.
“Sophie has asked for you to be with her for a further interview. You can tell us if her injuries are consistent with what she remembers.”
Anya pressed the buzzer to the unit.
“Audiovisual’s set up in a consulting room down the corridor, they’ll record everything again,” Hayden said. “We’ll need to get as much as we can from her, even if it takes all day with breaks in between.”
Anya hoped the teenager was up to the stress. Reliving that night in minute detail wasn’t going to be easy. She entered the intensive care room alone first.
Ned Goodwin wasn’t ready to hear every brutal detail of what had happened to his two daughters. He assured Sophie that he was going out for air but wouldn’t be far away if he was needed.
With the neck wound far from healed, Sophie placed slight pressure on the bandage as she whispered, “I’m scared.”
Anya pulled her chair closer. “That’s okay. Anything you remember is helpful, and if you want to stop for a while, just say so. Your wellbeing is the priority here, no matter what the police may like to think. And if it is too painful to remember or you need more time, tell us.”
The patient pressed her neck again. “Thank you for being here.”
