The Shadow House(17)

‘I really ought to look in on them sometime,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m sure Dom could do with some support.’

‘Yeah, right,’ sneered Michael. ‘Good old Dom needs heaps of support.’ He banged his beer bottle on the table and froth spilled over the top. ‘You know he left one of his trailers blocking that access road this morning, even though I’ve told him enough times that it’s our right of way? Couldn’t even get the truck out this morning, set me back hours. And he has the cheek to come to me and complain about a bloody bonfire! Reckons I’m burning plastic. You’ll pollute the water, he says, you’ll poison my orchard. Bloody drama queen. One of these days I’m gonna knock the bloke out with a mallet.’

‘I’m just saying,’ said Renee, her voice level, ‘that he’d be doing it tough right now. He always adored Rachel.’

‘Well, she obviously didn’t think much of him, did she? Otherwise she wouldn’t be doing a runner.’ He let out another gassy belch as if that proved his point.

Renee studied her husband. His face, already lined and ruddy from decades of days spent working in the Australian sun, was so crumpled and flushed that his freckles had all but disappeared. The tip of his nose was peeling, the skin as dry and white as ash. He looked like a volcano on the brink of eruption. He used to be so funny, so full of life, a real larrikin. Back when they were dating, he used to bring her huge bouquets of flowers and treat her to secluded sunset picnics. Down the pub, he was known for his boisterous behaviour and rowdy jokes, his ability to sink schooners at lightning speed – but alone with her, he was different. Tender and thoughtful. He used to make her feel special. Now, he just made her feel queasy.

She dropped her gaze, looking instead at her embroidered tablecloth, the vase of lilies on the counter, the dirt-spattered windows she’d been meaning to clean and the cushion near the log-burner that, heartbreakingly, was still covered in cat hair.

Somewhere behind her, a door closed softly. Footsteps sounded in the hallway and Renee turned hopefully in her seat – but Frank had returned alone.

‘What did Gabriel say?’ asked April. ‘Is he coming to eat?’

Frank sat down and retrieved his fork from his plate. ‘No,’ he said, curtly. ‘No, he is not.’

Across the table, Michael shoved another piece of garlic bread into his mouth. ‘Told ya,’ he said. ‘No bloody point.’


‘I don’t know why you won’t let me take Gabriel to church,’ April said later, as they finished dessert. ‘His soul is quite clearly in turmoil.’

‘Oh, jeez,’ muttered Michael, tossing his spoon into his bowl and leaning back in his chair. ‘Here we go again.’ On the floor, Ebony lifted her head, watching him.

‘I would’ve thought you’d be grateful for the help,’ said April, exchanging another look with Frank.

‘We’re dealing with it, Mum,’ said Renee, standing up to clear the plates. ‘Just let us handle it our own way.’

‘And what way is that, exactly?’ Frank waded in. His voice was mild, but Renee could hear the steel beneath. ‘Because I’m not seeing much evidence of strategy. Or discipline.’

‘Does he ever come out of that room?’ said April. ‘Is he even eating properly?’

‘Of course he is.’ Fumbling with the cutlery, Renee dropped a spoon and it clattered to the floor.

Ebony let out a bark. ‘Shh, girl,’ said Michael, giving the dog a reassuring pat on the head.

Renee stooped to pick up the spoon then took the plates to the sink. ‘I told you, he’s just not feeling well tonight. He’ll eat when he’s ready.’

Frank sighed. April pressed her mouth into a thin line.

Michael pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘Well, it’s getting late,’ he said. ‘You’ll probably want to head off soon, won’t you, Frank?’

‘We think,’ said April to Renee, ignoring Michael completely, ‘that if you won’t let us take him to church then you should at least let us pray. Right now.’

Michael threw up his hands and stomped over to the back door with Ebony at his heels, her tail wagging furiously. Where are you going? Renee mouthed at him, but he ignored her.

At the table, April and Frank closed their eyes and held hands. ‘Father,’ April intoned. ‘We thank you for our many blessings.’

Renee let the plates tumble into the sink with a clatter and turned on the hot water.

‘We pray today for our angel, Gabriel. May his heart be filled with the love of Christ. Help him see the light.’

Shoving his feet into his work boots, Michael grabbed his jacket and opened the door, ushering in a gust of cool evening air. Ebony slipped swiftly through the gap as if she were fleeing the scene of a crime.

‘Deliver him from the demons of this world,’ said April, her eyes still closed, ‘and break the devil’s grip.’

In the open doorway, Michael turned back and gave Renee a look she couldn’t quite read. Disgust? Derision? Regret? He opened his mouth to say something, but then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he followed his dog out into the night and slammed the door shut behind him.

Renee inhaled slowly, then let her breath out in a rush. She wanted to lie down. No, she wanted to climb right out of herself and disappear, shed her skin like a snake and leave it crumpled on the floor like a pair of old pyjamas.