The Shadow House(87)

I should’ve been happy. Everything had been explained – the packages, the noises, the note, the symbols – but I still felt restless. Certain aspects of Michael’s story had hit uncomfortably close to home, and I’d found myself reflecting a little too deeply on my own father’s rage. The bag I’d kept packed under my bed, the page I’d ripped from my favourite book. My own grand escape plans.

And then there was Bess. I kept hearing her rasping voice. They come in the night. Listen, you’ll hear them. Voices and footsteps. They follow the path that leads to the sky. A hill of grassy green, green grass, a diamond moon, and the bluest of blue skies. That’s where it happened. Where the birds fly. They’re going north, those birds. They’re going to the moon.

Dom’s voice, too. I think there was something going on in that house.

The more I thought about the whole twisted mess, the less sense it made.

‘Can we set it up now, Mum?’ Ollie waved the headset at me. ‘Please?’

I glanced again at Jenny. ‘I don’t know if there’s enough time, mate. We’ll be heading down to the hall soon. Why don’t you go change your clothes and we’ll take a look after lunch?’

Just as he was making a big show of rolling his eyes – Ugh, Mum, you’re killing me – there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find Kit on the doorstep.

‘I won’t stay long, I’m sure you’re busy. I just wanted to drop this off.’ Shyly, he produced something from behind his back and passed it to me. It was wrapped in brown paper and tied with a piece of string.

‘Oh, now that’s not fair,’ I said. ‘I haven’t got you anything.’

‘I wasn’t expecting anything. And don’t get excited, it’s really not much. Open it.’

Inside was a piece of wood whittled crudely into the shape of a figure standing on a paddleboard. ‘It’s a bit lumpy,’ he said. ‘I’m still learning. But I found the wood down by the dam and thought of you.’

‘It’s lovely,’ I said, genuinely touched. ‘Thank you. And while we’re on that, thank you for taking care of my girl the other night. You really came through for me and I haven’t yet had an opportunity to tell you how much that means.’

‘You’re welcome. And actually, speaking of opportunities, I was hoping I could tell you something.’ Kit cleared his throat and threw a nervous glance into the unit behind me. ‘In private?’

‘Oh. Sure.’ I stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind me. ‘What’s up?’

‘I just, um …’ Kit chewed his lip for a moment. ‘I was thinking about what you said the other night about trust? And I need to be completely honest with you. But you have to promise you won’t tell anyone.’

‘Are you a spy?’ I said, with a half-smile.

‘What?’

‘I googled you. There’s literally nothing about you online, so naturally I assumed you’re with the CIA.’

I expected him to laugh, but instead his expression became even more serious. ‘Definitely not a spy. But this is kind of about that.’ He lowered his voice and shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. ‘Remember I told you I don’t speak to my folks anymore?’

I nodded, confused.

‘Well, there are lots of reasons for that, but the main one is that, um …’ Kit ran a hand over his face. ‘Okay, I’m just going to say it. My father is the CEO of one of the largest food production corporations in the world.’ He spread his arms and let out a big sigh as if he’d just relieved himself of a huge and heavy burden.

I blinked. ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Okay.’

‘His company profits massively from deforestation,’ Kit explained, as if his meaning should be obvious. ‘They buy palm oil illegally, they exploit their workers.’

I shook my head. ‘Sorry, I still don’t get it.’

Kit paused and looked down at his feet. ‘Kit Vestey isn’t my real name,’ he muttered.

My mouth fell open. ‘What?’

‘It’s Chris. Chris Langella.’

‘Huh?’

‘Langella? As in the guy who owns all the fast food chains?’

‘You own fast food chains?’

‘No, not me. My father.’ His words suddenly tumbled out at rapid-fire speed. ‘It’s a long story, one I’ll tell you another time. But the short version is that my family are not good people, and I was an unhappy kid. Fortunately, after the thing with the bridge, I discovered activism and found a new family, friends who accepted me – but I was too ashamed to tell them about Dad, so I lied about my name. I panicked and used the surname of some kid I’d vaguely known at school. And after a while it got too late to come clean, so I changed it legally.

‘It wasn’t such a big deal until I got serious about this place and then I realised that no one could ever know. I’d poured my trust fund into Pine Ridge; if the media found out, we’d never hear the end of it. The community would write me off as a spoiled rich kid spending Daddy’s dirty money. That’s why I’m not online. I don’t do social media, I removed myself from data collection sites. I’m not totally off-grid, obviously; I still have email and stuff, it’s just my personal info isn’t available anymore, so I don’t come up in search results.’