The Outing, page 11
He shook his head again, more slowly, and patted his stomach, “No. Couldn't. Thanks.”
Her smile was indulgent and sympathetic, and he turned quickly away from it.
Say something. “I'd better get ready.”
The water drummed. His thoughts drummed.
You should have gone back. What the hell were you thinking? That's it. You weren't. Fuckwit. You could've… what? What? Held his hand? Stroked his forehead? Yes. Just been there. And what? Who would have called the ambulance? Them? But you should've gone back. And you'd have been next. You did the right thing. You got help. I don't know… Did I?
He turned up the cold tap. The water hit him like an open-hand slap. An afront, not an assault. He felt cheated. He turned the tap full on and the icy droplets pelted him.
*
The drive was silent in between Emma and Thomas's chatter, till Lauren switched on the radio and music wafted over them softly filling in the gaps. Near the end of the expressway she said, “Work? Or do you need to pick up your car?”
“I, uh…”
“Robert?”
“Sorry, not with it.”
“Work then. You shouldn't be behind a wheel if you aren't with it,” she huffed. “Maybe you shouldn't be at work either?”
“I'll be ok.” Johnny'll be ok please God.
“Hey, thanks,” he kissed Lauren goodbye through the open car window, and forced his cheeks to drag his lips into smile position, before turning to the back seat. “Be good for Mummy.”
“You be good for Mummy too,” Emma giggled.
“You be good for Mummy too,” Thomas took his turn.
“You don't smell at all boozy,” she sounded surprised.
“Listerine.”
“Hahaha. You don't smell Listerine-y either.”
“Maybe it hasn't quite caught up with me yet.”
Her shrug said not that important, “See you by five.”
He stood on the footpath in front of his office building and watched till the car joined all the other dots falling into the horizon.
*
Anna was at her old desk outside his office looking cheerily expectant, “Good morning, Mr Carson.”
He looked at her confused, half nodded and went into his office.
She watched his back as he closed the door on her disappointment.
Robert placed the handset in its cradle, then rubbed his forehead. Still no record of John Saunders at the PA or the Royal Brisbane hospitals. Emergency ambulances don't go to private hospitals, do they? Someone must have him. He'd tried asking about emergency admissions and describing Johnny and been cut off quickly, with we aren't a missing person's service, and we are very busy. We suggest you contact the police.
No chance of that. But wouldn’t the ambulance service know? He dialed 000, quickly hanging up. There'd be an administration or an office number. He scanned his bookshelves for the white or yellow pages and sank back into his chair temporarily defeated.
When Anna's head appeared in the doorway with a coffee in hand, he turned to avoid the smell. The inside of his cheeks moistened with impending vomit. He swiped his forehead, and stared at the sheen on his fingertips, “I need some air.”
He stood, without moving, as if he was waiting for permission.
“Is there anything I can do?” she asked, backing out.
“What are you doing here?”
She smiled. He did notice, “Your new girl quit, I-”
“I have to go,” he looked past her, pale, sweating and preoccupied.
“I'm coming too. You don't look well.”
He stopped walking, “I'm fine. I'll be fine,” he insisted. “I don't want to see anyone today. Can you make some calls?” Then adding, “Do you know how to call the ambulance if it isn't an emergency?”
Anna was about to answer, and he interrupted, “Doesn't matter. I'll go myself.”
“No you won't.”
She picked up her handbag, appointment book and screwed up the temper tantrum note she'd written to make herself feel better when Robert hadn't properly noticed her, and flushing, threw it into the bin, “Come on. You can fill me in,” she glanced at his profile, “or not, on the way to wherever, but you're not going by yourself.”
She pushed the call button and handed the appointment book to the receptionist, “Can you cancel Mr Carson's appointments for today. Tell them we'll call to reschedule.”
“When will you be back?”
“Not sure,” she answered as the elevator doors closed them off.
In the basement, Robert started walking to his car and stopped, remembering it wasn't there, “Shit!”
Anna reached into her bag for her car keys and tapped his elbow, “This way.”
Outside on the ramp Anna looked for a pause in the traffic, “Where to?”
“The Park Royal.”
“What?”
“My car. I left it there last night. Can you drop me off. I need to-”
“Mr Carson,” her head making an emphatic no, “I don't think you should be driving.”
Robert pushed a deep breath incrementally past the obstruction between his ribs, “I'll be fine. I have to… go check on something. Honestly,” he said, “I will. I need you to look after things at the office.”
He looked at the set of her face and back to the road, “You should change lanes here. I'll be fine. I'm feeling much better.” And he was. For now.
She pulled into the loading zone outside the carpark entrance. As he reached for the lock, she put her hand on his forearm, “You can trust me, Robert.”
He pressed his lips together and nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
She moved her hand back to the steering wheel.
“It's Johnny. Saunders. You know?” he watched her nod. Then turning to look ahead through the windscreen, “We, last night, he was hurt.”
“I'll call Judge Matthews. Surely he'll know how he is.”
“I don't know if he knows.” Robert continued to stare straight ahead, except when he looked down at his hands, inert and useless on his lap.
Anna said nothing, she glanced in the review mirror at the truck with its indicator on. She was in its way. She put hers on too, so it knew she was leaving.
“I called an ambulance. I don't know where they took him.”
“Why didn't you go with him?”
“I,” Robert paused. “It doesn't matter. I couldn't. I need to see if he's OK.” Johnny will be OK, please God.
The truck behind them beeped, Robert jumped, and hurried out.
Chapter 20
“I don't want to be a pain. I know you're busy, but I couldn't go with him. I was making the call… too far away. I couldn't get back. Not in time. But I saw the ambulance, heading towards him. I promised his sister I'd check up on him,” he looked at the duty nurse, pleading. It wasn't that much of a lie.
“I'll check again. John Saunders. Right?”
She upended the wire tray onto the tabletop. He waited as each folder with its stapled front sheet was turned, examined, and placed back into the tray.
“What if…” Robert paused, “if someone came in, an emergency, with no ID, what would happen? You know, if they were robbed or beaten up or something?”
“Is that what happened?” She glared at him. “If you were involved in this or something…”
“No. No. I saw him. He was injured. It just occurred to me that maybe he’d been robbed, so he wouldn't have any ID and well, you know, if he was unconscious, or-”
The pain in Robert's eyes must have helped and her lips uncrinkled, “We'd notify the police. They'd check missing persons. From there it depends on the circumstances. They'd contact family.”
“OK, I thought so. But were there any?”
“John Doe admissions?” she sighed and picked up the phone.
Robert listened to her half of the conversations.
She shook her head, “You've already checked with Royal Brisbane?” She watched him nod. “But not for any John Doe. And you haven't checked with St Andrews or the Mater?”
“No. No, they're private, so I didn't think of them,” he started to turn. “Thanks… heaps. You've been great.”
“Hang on,” she said, “I'll call them.”
When nothing came from her calls, he was starting to think that somehow, his entreaties to God had worked this time, “What about the ambulance. Would they be able to tell me? Us. His sister I mean.”
“Probably not you. Family yes, maybe. Or the police. I don't know for sure. No-one's ever asked me.”
“Well, you've been so help-”
“I might as well make another call and ask them.”
Robert pressed his prayered hands to his lips.
She ran the button on the phone index up to 'A' and clicked it open. The top flipped up on its spring, and her finger followed a list then dialed.
He listened to her half of the conversation again “OK,” she said and looked at Robert. “Thank you. I think.”
“What?”
“I don't know if this is good news, but, she checked the call-out sheets. There was a dispatch to Kangaroo Point 22.29.38 but there was no-one there. The caller, you obviously,” she arched an eyebrow, “didn't leave a name or a contact number. They marked it as a hoax.”
Chapter 21
Heading back to his office Robert felt like he was finally getting a good lungful of air after being repeatedly dumped in a shore break. Exhausted and grateful. He’d cope with the fallout; Johnny’s anger, disappointment or whatever it was. Thank God, he checked the review mirror, but please, if you’re still in the mood for favours, let him not be too sore, or too pissed off with me.
He imagined Johnny’s face, disappointed but forgiving, telling him he’d heard him call out, and that he knew the police were after him, and that’s how he got away himself. It was Friday. He’d be at uni. Would he have gone today? There was bound to be a message at the office.
Suddenly, he was feeling hungry.
*
“Everything OK then?” Anna said.
“The ambulance didn't pick him up. He must have been OK and gone home. Such a relief.” He opened the packet and took a bite of his sandwich, “Where's what's-her-name?”
“Gone. I've already advertised. Do you want some tea with that?” she was already getting up.
“Love some.”
Anna came in with his messages skewered in reverse order on their spike, and the tea. He sipped and floated in the carb lethargy, sorting messages and then began flicking more hastily. No calls from Johnny, three, no, four now from Harry, and from Marnie. The plug holding his contentedness in, had been yanked out, and the warmth drained as quickly as the blood from his face.
He called Harry first. No answer.
“Marnie,” he said when she answered, “what's wrong?”
“Harry called me. Johnny's not home.”
“Not home?” Robert echoed. “When did he call?”
“Early. Before work.”
“I just called there. No answer. But it's Friday. Uni. Johnny wouldn't be back before two. Let me think,” he looked at his watch and scowled.
“You keep trying Harry. Remind him about uni. Tell him to stay there and to ring you as soon as Johnny gets home. Then ring me. Tell Anna if I'm not here. I'm going to the unit. We went- he might have gone there instead of going home. Did you ring there?”
“Of course. I left a message.”
“Don't panic.” He could feel his own panic rising. There was no point in saying anything until he'd checked, “I'll leave now. I'll ring you from there.”
“How? I mean, if he isn't there.”
“I- spare key, I know where it is,” Robert lied, scraping the unspiked messages into a jumble.
*
On the drive to Johnny's, questions came one after another with no gaps for answers. Why didn't you tell Marnie about the hospital? Why didn't you tell her you'd been checking for him, half the night and all morning? That you'd been together till you spat the dummy about your stupid fucking watch? Why didn't you tell her you called an ambulance, that you ran, you were being chased, that you didn't go back. Why didn't you tell her what you saw?
At the apartment, he dropped the keys. The gap in the unlocking ritual caused a gap in the questions and into it fell an answer. Neither he nor Johnny wanted the world to know what was going on between them. They'd have to stop seeing each other. With that realization came Lauren's face. Harry's face. Terry's face, pink; ‘don't tell Dad’, and turning grey; ‘nothing happened here’; the policeman, ‘what were you doing in the water son?’; his mum's face turning away, and the phone thrust in his own face ‘go to your room’. They were clamouring to escape... all the buried guilts. He pushed them back into the hole and rolled the boulder over the planks and coverings which were no longer strong enough. One two three four five six…fifteen. He counted till they all settled into place.
Stepping inside the apartment, Robert knew no-one had been there since he left last night. He walked through anyway. The air was flat and still, like the walls hadn't been breathing.
He walked to the ferry-stop, and stood at the tree forcing himself to scan what was in front of him.
The grass was flattened in places. His jacket was nowhere to be seen. Nothing to be seen. He went to the jetty shelter. What if…? The glare outside made it almost impossible to see inside. He wrinkled his nose at the stale ammonia smell. When his eyes adjusted, he spotted the blanket stretched over something lumpy under the bench-seat. His throat seized, his head buzzed and thought disintegrated. Then a wordless wish to heaven that it be Johnny, and then another that it not be.
He crouched, touched the corner of the blanket closing his eyes, opening them as he lifted it.
Seeing a pillow, greasy and adorned with dark-brown drool flowers; socks, stiff with dirt and skin dust; an empty bottle, and a plastic zipper bag, he crumpled into a pile of relief. Then thought returned. The man in the police car. He'd been watching. Maybe this was his stuff. Maybe he'd know where Johnny went.
Robert started to run. Johnny will be OK. His eyes caught the swings and he slowed to a walk. They seemed to be nodding, yes, Johnny will be OK.
Back at Johnny's apartment he called Harry. Still no answer.
Marnie answered hers, breathless with worrying or rushing, and Robert let the opportunity to say something slip away again. He had no business dumping his dread on her, and nothing made sense. He pictured Johnny having a beer with friends after uni, buying groceries for dinner. But the question lurked. Was that possible? He'd called and Johnny didn't get up. Was he playing possum with those thugs? Pretending, so they'd stop? That had to be it. He's got to be somewhere.
“I'll leave a note here and-”
“Robert,” her tone, made him stop being person-in-charge and the stone in his chest shifted, “I know. I know about you two. OK?”
Silence.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yeah,” he blinked away the tears.
“Does anyone else know?”
“No. Just us. Johnny and me. And you.”
*
“I was hoping you or Marnie might have heard from him,” Harry said when Robert finally got him sometime after three.
Robert let Harry talk off some of his anxiety.
“I've called the hospitals. But I'm not family, they wouldn't tell me anything.”
“I should have said. Sorry, look-” Robert started.
But Harry was talking again, and Robert half-listened wondering how long he could or should keep quiet or how he could say… what? Don’t be stupid. Harry has enough to contend with at the moment, without me spilling my guts just to make myself feel better. Johnny could turn up any minute and I would have ruined everything. Breathe. Now say something useful.
“Harry, you need to be home, when Johnny comes back. Phone Marnie as soon as he does. OK?”
“Yes. You're right. Home. Yes.”
“When did you see him last?”
“Last see him? Sorry, I'm repeating everything. Yesterday. He called me about five, left a message. He goes out most Thursdays. He was meeting a friend for drinks. I have a standing arrangement with my niece.” Harry reflected, “Yes of course. Twenty-four hours. We can file a Missing Persons.”
“You know we were friends, don't you? Before all this. Johnny and I, and Marnie?” Robert waited for Harry's confirmation. “I'll go over to her place. She's worried sick. If he's not home by five, I'll look after Nikki while she goes to the police station. Her dad can go with her.”
“I'm trying not to think about it. I know he's a grown man but…” Harry's voice faded into the unsayable.
Chapter 22
Robert checked the map on the passenger seat and the number on the driveway gate-post. If he hadn't been so pre-occupied, he would have been slightly awed.
Marnie gave him a quick hug, in the doorway of the little house, a mini version of its impressive neighbour, “Come in, Dad's here. Did you ever meet?”
Robert followed Marnie into the TV room, “Nikki,” she said, “Uncle Robert's here.”
“Jack,” Jack stood extending his hand. Then heading to the door, “We'll be at Hendra Police Station. Pointless waiting around here.”
Robert followed Nikki's eyes. She was watching Marnie rubbing the back of one hand with the fingers of the other one. Say something. Say I saw him last night. He was on his way to get the ferry. With me. He was being beaten. I’m sure it was him. I called an ambulance. Go on tell her. I called out to stop them, but they came after me. For God’s sake, say it. Don't be fucking stupid. You can't say that in front of the child.'
“We won't be long I imagine,” she stopped fidgeting, and picked up a framed photo of Johnny.
