The Lost Man(91)

Later, in the dark blue pre-dawn of Christmas morning, they lay side by side. A warm breeze blew through the open car doors as they watched the giant sky move through its nightly rotation. Neither had spoken for a while.

‘I don’t believe Sophie hurt her arm riding,’ Ilse whispered. Her eyes were still on the stars.

‘Don’t you?’

‘Cameron did it. I’m sure.’ They didn’t look at each other. ‘He scared himself. I could tell from his face.’

Nathan continued to stare at the sky.

‘He was the only one out at the stables with Sophie when it happened.’ Ilse propped herself up on her elbow, facing him now. ‘She can be lazy cleaning them out, and she hadn’t done it properly. And Cam had been in this terrible mood all day. Worse than usual. I didn’t realise he was alone with her or I would have –’ She stopped. ‘I don’t know what. Anyway. They came into the house, with Sophie crying her eyes out and Cameron with this story about her horse throwing her off. I suppose it could have happened. But she’s a good little rider, and when she falls she knows what to do. It was Cameron who gave himself away, though. I could see it. He was scared by how far he’d gone.’

Nathan still said nothing, just looked out at the endless stars instead.

‘It’s true,’ she said. ‘I promise.’

Slowly he reached out a hand and rested it on hers.

‘I believe you. I’m just –’ He thought about his brothers and himself. And their dad and the years growing up under him. What they’d all become. ‘Very sad.’

The sky was a whole shade lighter when they spoke again. He ran his thumb along her forearm, stopping at a deep purple bruise near her elbow.

‘That wasn’t him,’ Ilse said. ‘That was from the calf the other day.’

He moved his thumb instead to the back of her hand, where there was an old burn mark shaped like the tip of an iron. They looked at each other for a long time, then, in the dusky half-light, she nodded. She twisted gently and showed him her shoulder and another scar, older and differently shaped. She twisted again. And again. Secrets written on patches of skin.

Nathan pictured the large bottle of paracetamol on her bedside table. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘He didn’t do it all the time. Not every day. Nothing like that. Sometimes months could go by. Sometimes he wasn’t –’

‘What?’

‘As bad.’

Nathan made himself ask. ‘Did anyone else notice?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Really?’

She looked at him. ‘Did you?’

The impulse to ignore the question was so strong it was an almost physical reaction. But he made himself lie there and look at her. He thought about leaving rooms as she entered, avoiding anything but the most superficial conversation. Looking at her only through the veil of his own suffocating self-pity and regret. Finally, he shook his head. ‘No,’ he said honestly. ‘I didn’t.’

‘You’re not alone. I did wonder if maybe Harry suspected, but there’s so much to do here so he’s always so busy. Bub –’ She shrugged. ‘Cam bullied him as well in his own way. I don’t think Bub even realised it anymore. He’s so used to being pushed around he thinks it’s completely normal.’

‘What about Mum?’

Ilse’s face hardened.

‘What?’ he said.

‘I tried to talk to her once. It didn’t go well.’

‘What did she say?’

‘Nothing at first. She seemed to think I was talking about typical marriage spats. I don’t know if she honestly didn’t get it, or if she deliberately wouldn’t. So I tried again. And that time –’ Ilse stopped. ‘That time, she got annoyed. Told me this property was hard enough to run and I should be supporting Cameron, not picking fights. I was scared she would tell him what I’d said, and that would’ve made it so much worse. I never brought it up again.’

Nathan was quiet again, for longer this time as his mind ran back through the years, remembering all sorts of things. Finally, he took a breath.

‘Our dad –’ he started, then stopped, not sure how to go on.

Ilse waited. ‘I know,’ she said when he didn’t continue. ‘Cameron told me how bad he was.’

‘Did he?’ Nathan was genuinely surprised. He had never told anyone. Not Jacqui, not Xander. Not Bub and not Cameron. He and his brothers had never talked about it, not once in their whole adult lives.

‘Cameron thought he could be different,’ Ilse said. ‘I do think he wanted to be a good dad and a good husband. And he could be great, he really could, but then he would turn. It could be over nothing. He became someone else. For a long time, I was worried about him and then one day I woke up and realised I was scared of him.’

Nathan looked at her.

‘The funny thing is, I think he knew it before I did.’ She shook her head. ‘I was already too late. He’d chipped away at everything over the years. I have nothing of my own out here. Our bank account isn’t even in my name, did you know that? He checked all the statements, had to approve every transaction.’ She glanced in the direction of the garages. ‘Did you find anything wrong with my car?’