The Lost Man(24)

‘Four hours?’ She had laughed. ‘If that’s true, and I don’t believe it is, by the way, they’re either really good at fighting or really bad at it.’

He had grinned back. There were other things that people sometimes did for fun out there. Like drive up on the sand dunes to watch the sun set over the desert with a bottle of wine. That could be a lot of fun with the right person.

He had looked at her and been pretty sure from the slight tilt of her head and the smile on her lips that her answer to the invitation would be yes. It didn’t have to be a big deal – God knew, he was never planning to get married again – but he was officially free and single now. And it was only a drive out to the dunes with a backpacker. There was a hell of a long way from that to a ring on anyone’s finger. But – the bitterness had slid in without him even realising it – it wasn’t so far from a ring to a four-figure invoice from the lawyers. So Nathan had shut his mouth again, and let the moment drift past.

Instead, they’d had another drink and a few more laughs and at the end of the night, when she was closing up, they had stood facing each other in the doorway, both suddenly a little awkward, and he’d asked when she was working next week. He’d camped out in the back of his car like usual, with the stars shining through the dirty windscreen, and driven home with a grin on his face for the first time in a while.

He’d gone back to the pub the next weekend, and the next. Not the one after that, though. By then, Nathan had found himself barred from the pub, the shop and everything else worth visiting within a six-hour radius. The length of his ban wasn’t specified. Ongoing, he was told when he finally broke and asked. So far it had been nine years and four months and counting.

‘Did Cam leave a note on him?’ Ilse asked from under the washing line, bringing him back to the present. ‘Or in his car?’

‘No,’ Nathan said. ‘Nothing here?’

She shook her head. ‘Was there anything in his pockets that might explain why he was there instead of Lehmann’s Hill?’

‘No. What about on the radio? Did he call in at all?’

‘I was in the office all day, nothing came through. I would have heard.’

Nathan pictured the large study where the desk-bound work that kept the property ticking over took place. It was a seven-day-a-week operation: ordering supplies, booking contractors, checking the payroll and supplier invoices. It had been Liz’s job when Nathan was younger; now it fell to Ilse.

‘Bub and Harry both said Cam had seemed under a bit of pressure lately,’ he said.

‘What? Just lately?’ Ilse sounded annoyed.

‘Longer than that?’

‘You know what it’s like running this place. They know what it’s like. There was always pressure on him, even when it’s doing well.’ She snatched a pillowcase from the line, folding it badly into a crumpled square. She took a breath and flapped it out, folding it more carefully this time. ‘I think there was something wrong, though. Harry’s right. Cam was stressed, and he was in a bad mood a lot of the time. And he was distracted, which wasn’t like him. I hoped it would pass, but it had been at least six weeks, maybe longer. It was getting worse, if anything.’

‘Did you ask him why?’

‘Of course I did.’ She was instantly defensive. ‘And he told me he was fine. There’s always something that needs attention around here. Just because Cameron was working hard, that didn’t mean –’

She stopped as they both sensed movement across the yard and turned to look. The light was fading now as they watched Bub walking near the furthest corner of the fence, where the land rose higher. He stopped and looked down at a patch of earth. Even from that distance, Nathan knew where he was standing. Bub didn’t look towards the washing line, and Nathan wasn’t sure if he had seen them amid the sheets.

‘What’s he doing over there?’ Ilse frowned.

‘God knows.’

Bub was standing at the foot of their dad’s grave and, overhead, Nathan could see the shape of the eucalyptus tree he had planted with his brothers after the funeral twenty years earlier. It had been a hot day and hard work, but it had been Liz’s idea so they’d done it, digging a hole at the head of the plot. The tree was a decent size now and its branches swayed, black against the sky.

To the left of Carl Bright’s grave was the ground earmarked for the rest of the family when their respective times came. The plot directly next to his dad’s would probably have been Liz’s under normal circumstances but now, Nathan realised with a jolt, it would be Cameron’s.

‘I need to get back inside.’ Ilse straightened suddenly. From her expression, he suspected she’d been thinking the same thing as him. ‘I want to check on the girls before the generator goes off.’

The generator was switched off each night to save fuel and money, cutting the electricity and plunging the property into a complete blackout overnight. Nathan was used to it. He had started switching off his own for longer and longer these days, lying alone in the seamless dark from sunset to sunrise.

‘Go.’ Nathan nodded at the washing line. ‘I’ll bring these in.’

‘Thank you.’ She seemed about to say something more, then changed her mind. A sheet blew in front of Nathan, hiding her from sight as she walked away, and he pushed it aside in time to see her disappear into the house. He turned back to the washing line. The white linen was a dull red-grey in the deepening gloom.