The Shadow House(15)

Then someone called out. ‘Ren? Is that you?’

Renee let all her breath out in one go as she recognised the voice. Shrugging off her jacket, she padded across the tiles in her socks and peered around the corner into the hallway to find her parents, April and Frank, standing outside Gabriel’s bedroom door with their arms folded.

‘Ah, there you are,’ April said, a little sourly.

‘And there you are,’ replied Renee, ‘apparently.’ She waited for an explanation. When none came, she added: ‘You gave me a shock.’

‘I can’t imagine why.’ Behind her glasses, April’s eyes were round with bemusement, as if the house was hers and Renee was the one who had turned up unannounced.

Sighing, Renee tried again. ‘What are you doing back here?’

‘Waiting for you,’ said Frank, grimly.

‘And trying to have a chat with our grandson.’ April unfolded her arms and walked forward, presenting her cheek to be kissed. ‘But, evidently, he’s busy.’

Renee embraced her mother, holding her breath to prevent April’s cloying perfume from getting stuck in her throat.

‘Weren’t you expecting us?’ said April. ‘I said to Frank, I said, she’s forgotten. Didn’t I, Frank?’

Renee froze. Crap. What was the date? She glanced down at her soil-smeared T-shirt. ‘I hadn’t forgotten,’ she said, trying unsuccessfully to cover her blunder. ‘I just got caught up. We’re flat out these days.’ With her cheeks flushing pink, she ushered them through the kitchen and into the living room. ‘Let me just get changed and I’ll make you a nice cuppa.’

Frank shook his head. ‘Already had one.’

‘Made it ourselves,’ April added.

‘Right, well, I’ll put out some snacks, then. Here, sit down, make yourselves comfortable, I’ll be back in a tick. Dinner won’t be long.’

In the shower, Renee gave herself several mental kicks; tonight had been in the calendar for weeks. Racing through a list of meal options, she realised with a sinking heart that nothing she’d bought would go down well. Steak was too chewy for Frank’s dentures, curry too spicy for April’s delicate stomach, and so on. She sighed. Visits from her parents were hard enough even when she was organised.

‘Your latch is broken,’ said Frank, as she hurried back to the living room wearing clean clothes and smelling of soap.

‘Sorry?’

‘The latch on the front door. The lock doesn’t click in properly. You have to give it a real push before it engages.’

‘Oh, really? I’ll get Michael to have a look.’ Renee swept her gaze around the room, checking for flaws, anticipating more criticism. There were a few dishes in the sink, and a full laundry basket dumped on one of the sofas, but other than that it wasn’t too bad.

‘The whole place smells of smoke,’ said Frank. ‘Who’s smoking?’

‘No one’s smoking, Dad. They’re just burning some old frames down in the south paddock.’

‘I didn’t think burning waste materials was legal.’

‘It’s just wooden frames, Dad. Nothing to worry about.’

Chicken, she thought, closing the windows with a sigh. A nice chicken salad, garlic bread, with ice-cream and strawberries for dessert. Surely, neither of them could find fault with that?


‘Bloody quarantine services called earlier,’ said Michael, grabbing a slice of garlic bread from the basket and tearing off a hunk with his teeth. ‘Because they didn’t do a proper job on that tulip delivery, I’ve got to gas them all over again – at my own expense.’ He chewed loudly, with an open mouth. April and Frank averted their eyes.

‘Salad, Dad?’ Renee spooned dressed leaves onto her father’s plate. Michael and her parents had always been a tricky combination, best managed with good food and a hefty pinch of salt. With their ramrod-straight backs, well-practised sanctimony and starched Sunday Best, April and Frank irritated the heck out of Michael. And with his plaid shirts, sun-bleached hair and callused hands, Michael intimidated April and Frank. After many years of simmering tension, the pretence of mutual respect had been all but dropped; only Renee still seemed to have the stamina for it. They’re family, she insisted whenever Michael got fired up. And we don’t have much of that left. That evening, however, even she was feeling the strain.

She’d done her best to lighten the mood but April and Frank had remained prickly – and then Michael had blown in from the paddock like a hurricane, Ebony at his side, and the atmosphere had nosedived from there. He stomped around the house, banging doors and bellyaching and generally putting everyone around him on edge. He’d even gone so far as to call Frank’s car a ‘piece of shit’, which had prompted Frank to make ill-considered comments about the ‘shabby’ state of the farm. Thankfully, Renee managed to quickly diffuse the situation with some alcohol and a few well-placed questions about April’s blood-thinning meds and Frank’s dodgy knee, subjects of which her parents never seemed to tire.

‘Shouldn’t we wait for Gabriel?’ said April, when everyone’s plates were full. ‘Assuming, of course, that he’s joining us?’

‘I’m not sure what he’s doing,’ Renee lied. She knew full well her son wouldn’t be joining them for dinner that night. He hadn’t eaten with them for months. ‘I don’t think he’s feeling well. It’s okay, I’ll keep something warm for him.’