The Younger Wife(62)

Heather looked surprised when she answered the door.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Hi, Rachel.’

‘I brought cupcakes,’ she said brightly, opening the box. ‘To celebrate you setting the wedding date.’

Heather was wearing jeans with a hoodie that belonged to Dad and she looked tired, as if she’d just woken up. ‘That’s very sweet of you, but your dad isn’t home. He’s gone cycling.’

‘That’s okay,’ Rachel said. ‘You and I can hang out.’

‘Oh,’ Heather said. ‘All right. Well . . . why don’t you come on in.’

Rachel followed Heather into the kitchen and took a seat at the counter. The place was immaculately clean, apart from a half-drunk bottle of wine on the counter, probably from the night before.

‘Cup of tea?’ Heather said.

‘That would be lovely,’ Rachel replied.

Heather wandered around the kitchen, opening two cupboards before finding the correct one. There was definitely something off about her. She rubbed her stomach absently while she waited for the kettle to boil.

‘Are you feeling all right?’ Rachel asked.

‘Fine,’ Heather said. She got out the teabags. ‘Regular tea or herbal?’

‘Regular,’ Rachel said. ‘With a splash of milk. Have you done any wedding planning?’

Heather looked up, pausing from the tea-making for a second. She seemed apologetic. ‘Listen, I’m sorry about how we announced setting the date. It must have seemed very insensitive, us bringing it up straight after the auction.’

‘You didn’t bring it up,’ Rachel said. ‘It was Dad.’

‘Well, yes.’ She smiled. ‘But I did tell him it wasn’t the best idea.’

Rachel feigned a grimace. ‘I bet he didn’t like that. He doesn’t like to be told, does he?’

Heather looked uncertain. ‘Well . . .’

‘I imagine he was pretty angry about what Mum said at Miles’s party too. About making his life hell?’

Heather put the teabags in the mugs. ‘That was a bit weird, wasn’t it?’

‘I thought so. And it’s not the first time Mum’s said it, either. She keeps saying things like that – about Dad hurting her.’

‘Really?’

Rachel nodded. ‘I mean, she’s not in her right mind, clearly. I would totally discount it, if not for . . .’ Rachel trailed off.

Heather was watching her intently now. ‘If not for what?’

‘If not for the hot-water bottle.’

The kettle boiled but Heather ignored it. ‘The hot-water bottle?’

‘Didn’t Dad tell you? I found a hot-water bottle stuffed with cash in with Mum’s things. Nearly a hundred grand! No one knows where she got it. If she had been putting it away, she must have saved for ages.’

‘She stashed a hundred thousand dollars in a hot-water bottle?’

‘I know, right? I’ve been scratching my head over it. But then, after Miles’s party, I wondered . . .’ Rachel trailed off again.

‘Wondered what?’

Rachel closed her eyes. ‘I don’t know. I’m probably way off. But she said Dad made her life hell. Maybe she was going to use the money to leave him?’

‘You think?’

Rachel shrugged. ‘It seems bizarre to Tully and me, as we’ve never seen any evidence of him being cruel to her. But I guess things can happen in private? Behind closed doors?’

Heather had paled a shade or two. Her hand touched her stomach again and Rachel started to worry she might be sick.

‘Anyway, I’m not worried,’ Rachel continued. ‘If Dad was cruel to Mum, it’s not the kind of thing that’s a one-off. So, if Dad happened to be some kind of abusive monster, you’d definitely know about it, right?’

‘Right,’ Heather said softly.

‘And Dad has never . . . hurt you, right?’

Heather paused. She placed her hands on the counter then dropped them back to her sides.

‘Heather?’

But it was too late. Rachel had wanted a firm, decisive no. A quick no. She hadn’t realised how much she had wanted it until that very second. ‘No,’ Heather said finally. ‘Of course he hasn’t.’

Rachel wanted to be reassured by the answer. The problem was, the pause had said it all.





42


HEATHER


Heather had gone back and forth on what she was doing. Back. Forth. Back. Forth. The proverbial pendulum. She was fairly certain this was a bad idea. She’d been working so hard to keep herself together, and a meeting like this could definitely push her over the edge. At the same time, since her visit from Rachel, she had become increasingly desperate to get to the bottom of things. And she knew of only one person who could help her do that.

The drive took over an hour, and after that she underwent the extensive process of being scanned, searched and directed to leave valuables in a locker. By the time she moved into the visiting area, she was already exhausted. There were about a dozen men in the room, which was about the same size as a high school classroom. Also like a high school classroom, each man sat at a small desk, and the desks were spaced about a metre or so apart.

It took Heather a moment to locate him in the room, and when she did, she did a double take. He looked so much older. Smaller too. Admittedly it had been nearly a decade since she’d last laid eyes on her dad, and he’d spent the entirety of that time in prison, which she imagined would age a person. He was almost completely bald now. His liver-spotted head was misshapen and ugly. Wiry grey hairs grew out of the V of flesh that was exposed at the collar of his shirt. It helped her nerves a little, seeing him look so pathetic. Had he always looked like this? Or was it just his freedom that had made him look so terrifying?