The Survivors(67)

‘Is there something you want to say to me, Mum?’

‘No, Kieran.’

‘Are you sure? About Finn, maybe?’

‘No.’

‘Because I’m sensing a little passive aggression here.’ He was goading her now, using the same placid tone Verity was so fond of.

‘Well.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘I’m sorry you feel that way.’

‘Mum –’

‘Kieran.’ Verity sighed heavily. ‘Let’s not. Okay? You’re right. Audrey is your child. But if something happened to her, you would be sorry. And that’s all I want to say.’

It wasn’t, of course, but she was already turning away. ‘I’m getting coffee. You’re welcome to come, or not.’

Kieran watched her for a few moments longer, then followed.

The large screen normally reserved for sports was lit up with the local news bulletin as they pushed open the door to the Surf and Turf. The sound was off and images flickered as piped eighties music filtered from the speakers into the room.

Lyn was again back in uniform, frowning as she pointed a remote at the screen and stabbed at the buttons.

‘They had the news crew here this morning,’ she said to Kieran and Verity as they came in. ‘Wanted to see what they got.’

‘Have Bronte’s parents arrived?’ Verity said as she placed their order.

‘Yeah, Chris Renn brought them in here. They only stayed for a minute. Didn’t say much.’ Lyn nodded at the noticeboard where a printed sheet had been pinned up next to the photo of Bronte. ‘There’s a community meeting being set up for tonight, though. Reckon they’ll be there then.’

Kieran walked over. The notice announced details of the meeting at the Evelyn Bay library. Sergeant Renn’s photocopied signature was at the bottom. Kieran looked at Bronte’s face, then touched the collection tin on the table below. It barely moved, heavy now.

‘Here we go,’ Lyn said, pointing at the TV news. She tried once more with the remote, then gave up and resigned herself to watching without sound.

The dark-haired reporter was standing on the familiar stretch of beach outside Fisherman’s Cottage, speaking into a microphone. The camera panned out, capturing from a respectful distance two people standing by the shallows, their faces ashen. Kieran didn’t need the caption to know who they were. Bronte’s father had cropped greying hair and was wearing a smart wool coat over jeans. The woman was short, like Bronte, and the same shade of blonde, cut to a crisp line at her shoulders. They were both dressed in navy. Not quite funeral colours, but close. Bronte’s dad pressed a crumpled tissue to his eyes as his wife placed a huge bunch of pink roses on the pile that had collected near the water’s edge. The wind caught the cellophane and toppled the bouquet onto its side as soon as she let go. Bronte’s parents didn’t move, simply staring at the heap of decaying flowers as though it may hold some answers.

The footage was replaced by a smiling photo of Bronte, a new one Kieran hadn’t seen before. She was beaming in front of a framed painting Kieran guessed was one of her own.

The image disappeared and Sergeant Renn filled the screen. He spoke into the camera, formal and stony-faced. Kieran couldn’t read his lips but he could guess what he was saying. If anyone has any information …

‘Are you going to this community meeting, then?’ Kieran said.

‘Absolutely.’ Lyn looked away from the television as a close-up of Bronte’s pink flowers flashed up on the screen. Her eyes fell instead on the kitchen where Liam had until recently worked. ‘Wouldn’t miss it.’





Chapter 24


They were early, but others were even earlier and the library was already busy.

Ash’s dog Shifty was tethered by his leash to the bike rack outside, and Kieran rubbed his head as they passed. He remembered the day Ash had found the dog, lost or abandoned and lurking in a shifty manner around the delivery entrance of the Surf and Turf. Ash had felt bad and taken him home, where both the dog and the name had stuck.

Kieran looked past Shifty now to a notice taped above the returns chute informing visitors that the community meeting was to be held in the function room. It was unnecessary. The thick hum of chatter drifted out through the bookshelves, and the room was already near capacity as Kieran edged his way in with Mia. Verity and Brian were behind them. Mia took one look at the standing room only and turned the bulky pram around.

‘I’ll park it in the lobby,’ she said as Kieran lifted Audrey out. She wheeled the pram away, disappearing past the audiobook stand.

Kieran surveyed the room. Someone had offered Brian a seat and Verity was trying to convince him to take it. Eventually, the person in the next chair stood and gestured to Verity, who looked embarrassed but sat them both down gratefully, her grip tight on Brian’s wrist. Kieran swapped Audrey to his other arm and found a place to stand near the door.

The rows of seating faced a raised area at the front of the room, where four chairs sat empty behind a table. A laptop was open and Bronte smiled out from two large photos projected onto a presentation screen. She was dressed like she was going somewhere in the first image, smiling like it was a special occasion. In the other, she was sitting on a wall in a garden in jeans and bare feet, her arm around a large sleepy-looking Golden Retriever.