The Survivors(79)

They looked at each other. Audrey, fractious all day, had at last settled. The bed was right there. Mia closed her eyes, but stayed standing.

‘We should go,’ she said. ‘If Verity feels up to babysitting.’ She still had traces of dust from the packing boxes in her hair. ‘Besides, once your mum and dad move, this might be the last time we’re here.’

Kieran hadn’t considered that, he realised with a jolt. While he texted Sean back, he wondered if it were true. When his parents left, would there still be enough here to bring him back again? Maybe, he thought as he hit the send button. Or maybe not. He honestly didn’t know.

Kieran and Mia didn’t talk much as they walked into town. The evening had an echo of that awful Saturday night that was impossible to ignore, and as they passed Fisherman’s Cottage, Mia looked away. A single large fresh bouquet had been placed among the wilting ones. From Bronte’s parents, Kieran guessed, but didn’t slow down to check.

The Surf and Turf was empty in a way he had never seen it before. There wasn’t a single person on the outside deck as they approached, and through the lit windows he could see most of the tables were unused. Kieran was about to climb the steps when he felt Mia touch his elbow. She made a subtle gesture and Kieran turned to look.

Julian was standing by the side of the road a little further along, a short way past the CCTV camera. His short silver hair was tinged yellow from the streetlight as he leaned into the driver’s side window of a white Holden four-wheel drive.

Liam’s car, Kieran recognised straight away. Was that the car he had seen on Saturday night? he wondered again. Strangely, as he looked at it now, he could picture it almost clearly, speeding around the corner out of the blackness, a little too close for comfort. Whether the memory was real or manufactured, Kieran really wasn’t sure.

He could make out Liam now sitting in the driver’s seat, mostly in silhouette. Liam held the steering wheel with one hand and was rubbing his eyes with the other.

‘Is he crying?’ Mia whispered.

‘I don’t know.’ He could be, Kieran thought as he watched Julian reach in through the open window and place a palm on his stepson’s shoulder. Julian was saying something now, leaning in further until his face was almost hidden.

Liam dropped his hand from his eyes and must have spotted them through the windshield, because suddenly Julian turned their way. He straightened and both men looked directly at them, before Julian nodded in greeting.

‘Thanks for coming by,’ he called. He shrugged in an attempt at humour. ‘Kept the best tables for you.’

Kieran nodded back in response and, as they climbed the steps to go in, he saw Julian lean back into the car.

He heard Ash well before he saw him.

‘Seems to be taking you a very long time,’ Ash was saying. ‘Writing this book. You’ve been at it for months. Poking your nose into people’s business.’

‘It’s called a research phase.’ George Barlin was already half on his feet, staring at his laptop screen as he clicked a key to shut it down. A mostly full glass of red wine stood abandoned on the table. ‘I was a journo for fifteen years. I like to look into things that interest me.’

Ash made a dismissive noise. He was leaning against George’s table, arms folded across his chest, and barely glanced over as Kieran and Mia came in.

‘Haven’t got writer’s block, I hope?’

‘Nope. Thanks for the concern.’

‘Just want to make sure you can keep up the mortgage repayments on that beautiful house of yours.’

‘Writer’s block is for amateurs, mate.’ George didn’t bother to look at Ash as he snapped his laptop shut. ‘I do this for a living.’

Kieran shot a look across the room to where Sean was seated by the window. He was watching the exchange open-mouthed, a couple of half-empty beer glasses in front of him.

‘Still.’ Ash was fully focused on the author. ‘Be a real shame to turn in a dud.’

George didn’t reply as he got out his satchel.

Ash leaned in a little. ‘I’m just saying, letting those super-high standards of yours slip would be –’

‘Ash, mate,’ Kieran tried to jump in but George held up a hand.

‘It’s fine. The thing is, Ash, I only take criticism from people I’d go to for advice.’ George’s tone was light, but cut straight through. ‘And when it comes to writing, do you know how many people are in that group? About three, my friend. And not one of them is you.’

‘Hey, I’m not implying anything, mate. I don’t even read them.’ Ash took a half-step forward as George moved out from the table. ‘But I heard reviews for your last one were – what’s the polite term? – mixed.’

‘Well.’ George looked faintly amused. ‘That book let me buy your nan’s treasured family home for cash. So I reckon I must be doing something right.’

Ash opened his mouth, then closed it again in such a way that Kieran almost had to smile. The door to the toilets swung open and Olivia appeared. She looked tired and her head was down. She started towards Sean’s table when she clocked Ash and George in the other corner and stopped in her tracks.

‘But you seem to be struggling to understand what all this means, Ash,’ George was saying. His voice was flat and slow, like he was talking to a child. ‘It means I own that house now. And the garden. It also means you’d better stop hanging around my property at all hours with that look on your face. You think I didn’t see you out there again this morning?’