‘I told you. I read the papers. And then I was massaging Esther Hardy this morning and we talked about it. Esther heard an in-depth radio interview with a Sergeant Matheson. She knew everything.’
‘Yeah?’ Ally glanced at her mother with caution. She’d never heard her like this. Lit up. Excited. She moved across to the sink and filled the kettle. Buying herself some thinking time. ‘So what did Esther say?’
‘She said that Jerry had been arrested here, and there were children who were really ill. She said there are arrest warrants out for him from everywhere. And she also said there’s a whole community of people here that he’s been controlling. Apparently one of the kids almost died and there’s been a death in the past.’
‘So you decided to come.’
‘Esther got me thinking,’ she said, and she prepared coffee mugs. For Ally’s normally apathetic mother, preparing mugs was a pretty astounding thing to happen all by itself. ‘Did you know Esther was deaf for thirty years?’
Ally frowned. The apartment they’d had in Melbourne was one of eight and the neighbours were friendly. During the last two years as they’d practised their massage, almost every one of their neighbours had volunteered to be massage guineapigs. Esther, especially, loved their massages. But until now she’d been quiet and not forthcoming about herself at all.
‘I didn’t know she’d been deaf.’
‘She has one of those new cochlear implants,’ her mother said. ‘She’s had it in for the last three years and she said it’s like her life just started again. When she was sixty she started to hear again. Can you believe that?’
Cochlear implants were amazing, Ally knew. But where was this going?
‘Anyway, I thought,’ Elizabeth told her, reaching over for the kettle which Ally had forgotten to switch on, ‘that if Esther could be brave enough to start again at sixty, surely I could do the same at forty-five. You know what Esther does now? She teaches at the deaf school. She teaches sign language to parents of kids who are deaf. She makes bridges, Ally.’
‘Um… That’s great.’
‘Yeah, but I thought it’s what I could do,’ her mother said, in a tone she’d have used if Ally was slightly stupid. Which maybe she was. ‘All these people Jerry’s hurt… Maybe I could talk to them. Maybe I could even teach them a bit of massage. Maybe I could help.’ She gave Ally the beginnings of an excited smile. ‘You and I have created ourselves a life. Maybe I could show them that it’s possible for them to do it, too.’
Maybe it was possible.
Ally lay and stared at the ceiling. By her side her mother was deeply asleep, worn out by the day’s excitement. And exertions.
‘How did you get in?’ Ally had asked her, and her mother had actually giggled.
‘I can get into every single building in this town. Remember, this is where I grew up. I shinnied up the oak. Someone I know taught me to pick locks and I climbed in the window.’
‘Mum!’
‘I have all sorts of useful skills,’ her mother said with mock primness. ‘Now it’s time for me to start using them.’
So her mother was here. Her mother was excited. Her mother was really, really pleased to be back in the town where she’d been born.
And in the morning…
In the morning her mother would meet Darcy.
Ally stared up into the darkness and tried to figure out what on earth was going to happen. She stared up into the darkness some more.
And she kept on staring.
And then the phone rang.
It was well after midnight. If she’d been alone maybe she wouldn’t have answered it, but Elizabeth stirred and Ally grabbed the receiver before it woke her mother.
‘Ally?’
‘Darcy.’
‘That’s the one,’ he said, and his voice was almost cheerful. ‘I was hoping you’d guess. Doctors get patients calling at midnight, but massage therapists don’t much, hey?’
‘What are you doing, ringing me here?’
‘Where else would I ring you?’
‘Go away.’
‘I’m not going to go away, Ally,’ he told her, and his voice became all at once serious. ‘I know I rushed you.’
‘No.’
‘Yeah, I did,’ he said ruefully. ‘Telling you I loved you. The thing is that I’d just figured it out for myself and I got all excited.’
‘Well, get unexcited. It’s not going to happen.’
‘It already has happened. I love you. And the way you responded… Hell, Ally, you’re feeling it, too.’
‘I’m not feeling anything,’ she snapped, and there was desperation in her voice. ‘I can’t.’
‘You can.’
‘My mother’s here.’
There was a moment’s silence. ‘Elizabeth’s here?’
‘She caught the bus. She climbed up the oak tree and picked the lock of my window.’
He whistled. ‘Well, well. Bully for Elizabeth.’ He thought about it for a moment. ‘So she’s started saving herself, then. That’ll take a load off your shoulders.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘No.’ He hesitated. ‘Or maybe I do. You’re so afraid of the past.’
‘I’m not afraid of the past,’ she managed. ‘I’m afraid of the future.’
‘Now, that’s just silly,’ he said reasonably. ‘You don’t even know what the future holds. Except…me?’
He broke off on a crazy note of pathos, appeal and laughter, and it was all she could do not to slam the phone down. She should slam the phone down.
Why didn’t she slam the phone down?
‘We’ll leave,’ she whispered.
‘Why would you leave? You’ve only just got here.’
‘My mother… How do you suppose she’d feel if I fell in love with the local doctor? If I moved into my grandfather’s house, made toast on my grandfather’s wood stove…’
‘Patted my dogs. Rocked on your grandmother’s chair. Maybe, if you wanted…maybe even had our children?’
The words made her lose what little breath she had left. She was so shocked she held the receiver away from her and stared at it as if she was holding a scorpion.
Why didn’t she hang up?
But Darcy was still talking.
‘Ally, are you sure this is all about your mother?’
‘What?’ She replaced the receiver at her ear and put her spare hand up to rake her hair, distracted beyond belief.
‘Is it about you?’ he was asking.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ But maybe she did. She could almost hear the smile in his voice and she knew that if he was near, he’d be laughing. And maybe reaching to touch her.
‘I love you, Ally,’ he said softly. ‘I love you. But, unlike you, I know what love is.’
‘I-’
‘I loved Rachel,’ he said, overriding her interruption, and his voice was urgent. ‘I loved her, Ally. We were part of each other. And when she died, part of me died, too. It hurt like hell.’
‘I’m sorry, but-’
‘The thing is,’ he said, almost apologetically, ‘that all you’re seeing is the hurt. The men in your life-your
