The Lost Man(88)

‘Hey!’ A shout from Harry, as Liz’s voice also cried out from somewhere.

‘They don’t ignore you because you’re not Cam, mate.’ Bub’s words were hot in his ear. ‘It’s not even because you left whatshisname for dead. They don’t talk to you because you’ve got a bit weird, mate. You’re a weird, lonely loser and no-one wants to be around y–’

Nathan got in a punch that time, a hard one, and they rolled again, colliding with something. Nathan felt the tremble at the same time as a gasp came from the doorway. The Christmas tree tilted, then fell in a shimmering jangle of decorations and plastic pine needles and tinsel. It caught the corner of Cameron’s painting as it fell, sending the frame rocking at an alarming angle on its twine.

‘Oh, shit,’ Bub said, his voice nearly drowned out as Liz shrieked and darted across the room. Harry got there first, smacking the frame hard against the wall as he caught the picture just in time.

‘Christ,’ he said. ‘That was close.’

Liz was already at his side, running both hands over the frame as she checked for damage. Nathan could see her shoulders move as she breathed heavily and could tell she was trying not to cry. Finally, she straightened the painting against the wall.

‘Jesus, of all days,’ Harry was shouting. ‘You realise your brother’s gone, don’t you? You can’t respect his memory for five bloody minutes?’

‘Sorry.’ Nathan pushed Bub off him and stood up. He reached out for the painting. ‘Is it all right?’

Harry slapped his arm away. ‘Don’t you bloody touch it.’

‘Hey! I was just trying to –’

‘Well, don’t! You’ve done enough damage.’

‘Stop it!’ Liz turned, tears in her eyes now. She looked from Nathan to Bub, who was still sprawled on the floor, shimmering gently with a dusting of loose tinsel particles.

‘Isn’t today already bad enough for you two?’ she said. ‘What’s wrong with you both? Not enough misery here? You have to turn on each other as well?’

‘Sorry, Mum,’ Nathan said.

She didn’t answer. She was wiping her eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ he tried again. He ignored Bub, who was clambering to his feet. ‘I’ll fix it.’

Liz took a breath. ‘I don’t want you to fix anything. I have had it up to here, Nathan. I don’t want to see you – either of you – again tonight.’

‘But –’

‘Nathan. Bub. Please. Just go away and leave me alone.’

She turned back to the painting and didn’t move again as her sons left the room.





Chapter 33



It was dark as Nathan sat on the porch, playing Sophie’s guitar. He didn’t know where Bub had gone, and he didn’t care. Xander was crashed out, asleep on top of his bed when Nathan had checked on him. A light was still on in the backpackers’ caravan. Nathan watched the shadows flicker in the windows as he sat on the steps and messed around with some chords.

‘That’s nice.’

He looked up, his fingers stopped on the strings. ‘Thanks.’

Ilse was holding two beers. ‘Can I sit down?’

‘Of course.’ He paused. ‘Always.’

She put one bottle next to him. Condensation had already started to form as she clinked it with her own and sat down opposite. ‘Merry Christmas, I suppose.’

‘Yeah. You too.’

Ilse leaned against the verandah post and tilted her head back, watching him. She’d had a shower and swapped her dark dress for shorts and a shirt. Her hair was wet and shone dark and sleek in the porch light. Nathan had changed back into his jeans earlier, and immediately felt dusty and gritty.

‘I didn’t mean to put you off.’ She nodded at the guitar. ‘Don’t stop.’

He drew a blank, scrabbling around for something to play. In the end, he settled on an old bush song his mum had used to sing when they were kids. It reminded him of Cameron when they were young. Playing cricket in the midday sun until Liz had yelled at them to get into the shade. It reminded him of the Cameron that he used to know, a long time ago.

Ilse stretched her legs out along the step, her feet bare against the wood. She took a sip of her beer.

‘How are you feeling?’ he said.

‘It’s been a terrible day. But now it’s over, I feel –’ She considered. ‘A bit better, I think. How about you?’

‘Yeah,’ Nathan said, realising it was true. ‘Me too. Are the girls asleep?’

‘In your mum’s room. Everyone’s having an early night.’

‘Yeah. Right.’

They sat as he played softly. She did seem better, he thought, in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. There was a lightness in her face that hadn’t been there before.

Ilse was looking at the bruise forming around his eye. ‘So you spoke to Bub after all?’

‘Oh.’ He touched it. It hurt quite a bit, actually. ‘He kind of spoke to me.’

‘Did you sort things out?’

‘Not really. I’ll catch him tomorrow.’

‘Well, it is Christmas. He might be more willing to make up.’