The Shadow House(94)

Squeezing Kit’s waist, I smiled up at him. His face was as comforting to me as a map, his features like road signs pointing the way; I couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of looking at them.

‘And now the real fun starts,’ he said. ‘Do you still need a hand going over the insurance and licensing?’

I shook my head. ‘I think I’ve figured it out. And you’ve got enough on your plate anyway. Any word on the Hassop farm?’

Kit’s smile faltered and he looked uncertain. ‘Dom had his lawyer call me this morning. The place is ours if we want it.’

‘Oh. Well, that’s good news, I guess?’

‘It is,’ Kit nodded slowly. ‘I spoke to the bank and I think we can make it work. The potential for expansion is exciting and there’s a lot we could do with the orchard. It’s just … I don’t know, it all feels so uncomfortable – and still too soon, don’t you think? He ought to hang on to it a while longer, just in case. I mean, the trial hasn’t even started yet.’

I knew exactly what he meant. Any discussion of obtaining the Hassop farm seemed somehow distasteful, as if even engaging with Dom’s offer to sell was tantamount to picking over the tragedy for meat. It also seemed extremely presumptuous, given that Dom had not yet been proven guilty of anything. But I’d been there on Christmas Day; I’d seen it with my own eyes. I’d watched, confused and horrified, as the police arrived with the paramedics and Dom gave himself up, describing the night of Gabriel Kellerman’s disappearance in tense, breathless bursts as if he was trapped under something heavy. I’d never seen a man so pulverised by his own words, so broken by his own regret. It didn’t take a polygraph to know he was telling the truth – or a lawyer to confirm that he might face a lengthy sentence. And, even if by some miracle Dom was acquitted, I couldn’t see him wanting to stick around on the farm. Not now.

I exhaled heavily, as if I could expel the thought from my body along with my breath. All that pain and loss; all those damaged lives.

‘I’d like to speak to him in person,’ said Kit, ‘but apparently he’s not accepting visitors at the moment.’

‘At least Bess seems to be doing okay,’ I said, quietly. ‘She seems happier away from the farm. Less agitated. And she likes the water views, so that’s something.’

Kit smiled thinly. ‘Silver linings.’

When I’d visited the Blue Bay Aged Care Home, I found Bess sitting peacefully in a chair by the window, and I was told by the staff that she spent most of her time there, alternately napping and gazing contentedly out at the waves, for which her body was likely thanking her. No more hobbling through the forest for those old knees. I was also told that she could really ‘spin a yarn’, which sent a prickle up my spine – but as she could no longer wander, there was probably no harm in that.

‘Speaking of silver linings,’ I said, trying to rescue the mood, ‘I’ll be putting in a lot of extra hours at the office now that my proposal has the green light. Probably a few late nights too.’

‘Late nights, huh? Well, that’s a shame. Not a lot of room in that office.’

‘No. We’ll really be, ah, on top of each other.’

‘Sounds awful.’

‘If only there were some advantage to that.’

‘I can’t think of anything.’

‘Nope.’

We made it about another three metres before Kit spun me around and pulled me into a deep kiss. ‘Can we stop pretending now?’ he said, his hands in my hair. ‘Because I can actually think of a lot of benefits to that scenario.’


A little while later, after Kit and I had managed to disentangle ourselves, I set off for home, leaving him to continue on the cycle path back to his place. As I reached the steps that led to our unit, I saw Ollie coming from the opposite direction, slouching along the road in his new school uniform, shirt untucked, arm slung casually around the shoulders of his first ever girlfriend. I watched, smiling, as Violet gestured in the direction of her house and they stopped to say goodbye; he whispered something in her ear, she laughed and pressed her forehead to his. Caught in a patch of sunlight, the two of them seemed to glow like they were made of different stuff than the rest of us.

Not wanting to break their spell, I waited until she’d gone then called out when Ollie was close enough to hear me. ‘Hey,’ I said. ‘How was school?’

‘Fine.’

‘What did you do?’

‘Um … designed our own website.’

‘Really? Sounds very advanced. When I was at school, I designed leaflets. With a pencil.’

‘That’s because you went to school in the Cretaceous period.’

‘True enough.’

Side by side, we climbed the steps.

‘Did you know,’ Ollie said when we got to the top, ‘that there’s a college down the road that does software development and programming?’

‘No, I didn’t know that.’

‘They do IT security, too.’

‘Huh. Sounds interesting. And when you say down the road, you mean …?’

‘The coast.’ He caught my look. ‘It’s not that far. I could drive.’

My heart contracted. He was right. In a few weeks, he would turn fifteen; L plates would follow the year after. So much potential for adventure – and disaster. ‘Why don’t we get through this first term of school and then maybe we’ll discuss future plans, okay?’