The Washup, page 14
That was where Eve and Tilly had scattered their parents. Eve would put Tilly’s ashes there too, but this time she intended to wait for low tide. High tide put too much water under the mangrove tree and ashes were inconsistent – not all of them liked to sink, so scattering them in knee-deep water meant that some of them would stay on the surface and stick to your legs. She’d learned that the hard way.
The school holidays were over, but her boss had said she could take as much time off as she needed – they would get a substitute in for the whole term if necessary – so Eve was spending her time feeding bananas to Peanut and avoiding social media. Tilly and Jack were all over the news. Everyone seemed to think the real tragedy was not that they were dead but that they were both so good looking and dead.
Matt was calling three or four times a day. He rang when she was on the phone to the funeral people. He rang when she was eating days-old pasta, and when she was watering the birds. She didn’t answer any of these calls. Instead, she stared at the screen and manifested. She put everything she had into that stare, feeling all the atoms in her body buzzing with the energy of her hatred. The air around her face hummed. I hope you get cancer, she thought, and I hope you go bald overnight. She repeated these prayers while she waited for the call to go to voicemail. And then she didn’t listen to any of the voicemails.
Monday arrived, and with it Jack’s funeral. Eve was only half ready when Sandra showed up at her house.
‘I don’t know if I should go with earrings or not,’ she said miserably and held out a pair of silver hoops.
‘I always go with earrings,’ Sandra said. ‘Especially when I’m depressed. They’re a good mood booster.’ Then she glanced down the hall to Eve’s room. ‘I’m going to assume you don’t want your black heels, so are your navy ballet flats in the wardrobe? They’ll be comfortable and will match your dress.’
She ran off to get the shoes while Eve grappled with the earrings she hadn’t worn in at least a year. Then her phone rang in her bag and she ignored it.
‘At least check who it is,’ Sandra called from the bedroom. ‘You don’t know for sure that it’s Matt.’
‘You’re so bossy,’ Eve complained but went to her phone. ‘Shit, it’s Shane. I don’t know if I can talk to him right now.’
‘You should answer it.’ Sandra had found the shoes and was back. ‘He’s not the enemy.’
Eve groaned and took the call. ‘Hi, Shane.’
‘Hi. I just, um, thought I’d check and see how you’re going. I heard it’s Jack’s funeral today.’
‘Yeah. I’m getting ready to get the ferry.’
‘Good. Wait. It’s not good. I didn’t mean that it’s good. I just meant that it’s good that you’re getting ready? Jesus …’ Eve could almost see him dying quietly through the phone. ‘Scratch all that. I was calling because since I’ve got some time off this week I thought I might come. I can give you a lift. Only if that’s okay, though. You can totally say no if it’s not appropriate.’
‘You want to come?’ Eve looked to Sandra.
‘What? Your hot cop wants to come to the funeral? Of course he can come. I wanna meet him.’
Eve took the phone away from her face. ‘What if I don’t want him to come? It’s a funeral, Sandra, not the Mad Cow on a Saturday night.’ She put the phone back to her ear.
‘Hey, I don’t have to come,’ Shane said.
‘Oh. You heard that?’
‘Yeah. You might want to cover the speaker next time. I don’t want to get in the way or make you uncomfortable.’
‘No, it’s okay.’ Eve motioned for Sandra to keep quiet. ‘I guess we could use the lift. Thanks.’ More than anything else she wanted to ask about his nose, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
‘Cool. I’ll see you at the ferry, then.’ He hung up.
Sandra was hopping from foot to foot. ‘Awesome. He’s coming.’
‘I don’t know why you’re excited about this.’
‘I don’t know why you don’t want him to come.’
Eve picked at a thumbnail.
‘Don’t be mean to him, Evie. Not unless he’s an actual dirtbag. So far, he sounds nice.’
The afternoon felt hotter than usual as Eve stood with Sandra at the pickup zone of the ferry terminal on the mainland. She wished she had a job in town. Then she’d have a car here. She’d be one of the many people right now getting off the ferry and turning left to the carpark. Instead, she and Sandra squinted past the bus and taxi lanes and out into the road, waiting. ‘Maybe nobody will notice if I don’t show up,’ she said. If you went by the faces of the locals, the funeral had started on the ferry. Some of them had been in tears before the boat even left the island.
Eve should have cried but couldn’t. She felt bad about it. Here she was on her way to the funeral of her oldest friend, and instead of crying she was freaking out about Shane. Psychology would have a name for it. Pathological diversion.
Sandra touched her on the arm. ‘Half the island saw you on the ferry. They’ll notice if you don’t show up to the funeral. What does his car look like?’
Cars of all shapes and sizes rounded the corner and pulled into the pickup zone. ‘I … oh shit.’ Eve put a hand to her head and squeezed her messy bun. ‘I can’t remember. Maybe it was white? How can I not remember Shane’s car when I’ve been in it?’ She stepped aside for an old couple heading to the bus. ‘We should have got an Uber or a cab.’ She began to fan her armpits. ‘Is it really fucking hot or is it just me?’
‘He wants to pick you up, Eve. He said so, remember? You need to let people be nice to you sometimes.’
Eve fanned harder and watched two more cars pull into the pickup zone. They were both white. Neither of them had Shane at the wheel. ‘He just wants to get rid of the teddy bear,’ she said, and then dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘I bit him, Sandra. On the face. I bet he’s still got the bruise.’ She pulled her dress away from where it clung to her ribcage. Digging out her funeral dress had meant going right to the back of the wardrobe. ‘He’s not coming. We’ll probably have to get a lift with Louise.’ She looked to the carpark and sighed. ‘Her town car always smells like cats. And she doesn’t even have any cats.’ She could feel herself getting angry. The diversion again. ‘Tell me, Sandra, how the fuck can a car smell like cats when it’s never had a cat in it?’
‘Are you spiralling?’ Sandra squinted at her. ‘I feel like you’re spiralling.’
‘Why don’t I have a town car?’ Eve whined. ‘Look at all these people who can go wherever they like whenever they like. They don’t have to beg lifts off people.’
‘Stop pulling at your dress.’ Sandra slapped at Eve’s hands. ‘You have a car on the island. You want to pay registration on two cars?’
‘Maybe I do.’
‘For a car you’ll use once or twice a month?’
Eve ignored her. She pursed her lips and looked out into the road, had to squint even though she was wearing sunglasses. ‘He’s late,’ she said. ‘I don’t think he’s the sort of person to be late. That means he’s not coming.’ She dug around in her bag until she found a tissue. ‘Or maybe it’s worse.’ She pressed it to the sweat on her top lip. ‘He’ll show up, but he won’t stop. He’ll just slow right down, chuck the bear out the window and drive off. I would totally do that if someone bit me on the face.’
‘Now you’re being dramatic.’
A series of cars pulled up. Now, there were more cars leaving than arriving. Eve was all too aware that the chances of them getting a lift with any of the funeral-goers were getting smaller. They moved over to the bench seat that ran the length of the terminal wall and Eve felt her heartbeat speed up uncomfortably. ‘Matt’s definitely going to be there, isn’t he?’
Sandra spent more time than she needed to brushing dust off the seat before she sat down. ‘Probably.’
‘God. What do you wanna bet he’ll be there all grandstanding and shit, making out he’s the biggest victim? I bet he’s got pretend crying down to an art. He’ll have an onion in his pocket for rubbing into his eyes. What a fucking mongrel. Accident my arse. He killed two people and he’s getting away with it.’ She turned and looked Sandra in the face, her eyes full of fury. ‘And you know if I see him and say something, I’ll look like the bad guy. Everyone will be like, “Oh, there goes Eve again, she’s always been a firecracker,” or “Poor Eve, she’s always so angry.” And then someone will tell me to work harder on my mindfulness.’
‘I tried mindfulness once,’ Sandra said. ‘It didn’t make me hate my job less.’
‘I know, right? Like studying the lettuce leaf before you eat it is going to improve your life.’ Eve slid closer to Sandra and lowered her voice. ‘I’ve got some mindfulness for you. Something that actually works.’ She squeezed her handbag and Sandra’s face took on an expression of alarm.
‘Please don’t tell me you’ve got a death adder in there.’
‘No, but that’s not a bad idea.’ She undid the clip. Today her bag was a jumble of supermarket receipts, tissues, muesli bar wrappers, loose tampons and half-melted sticks of lip balm. But there was something else among all the rubbish. The sun caught a metal blade.
‘What the fuck, Eve?’
‘It’s just in case.’
Sandra looked again. ‘Is that a cleaver?’
The knife had been a last-minute decision on her way out of the house. She’d picked it up off the coffee table and spent an anxious ten seconds wondering if bringing it was going too far. But she’d gotten used to sleeping with it under her pillow, carrying it around the house with her from room to room. It was more of a friend now than a knife. And it was only a knife. If she was American, it would be a gun. ‘It’s a santoku knife.’
‘It looks like a cleaver.’
‘Well, it’s not.’ She sounded petulant but didn’t care. ‘Cleavers are for meat. This one’s Japanese and it’s multipurpose. It minces, slices and dices. Vegetables mostly.’
‘It barely fits in your bag. What are you planning on doing with it?’
‘I’m not planning on anything. The last thing I want to do is make a scene. I’m preparing for the worst and hoping for the best.’ She closed the handbag, locking her sharp secret inside. ‘What if he corners me, huh? I need a way to defend myself.’
‘He’s not going to corner you at a funeral,’ Sandra said. ‘That is insane.’
‘So is murdering two people and yet here we are, going to Jack’s funeral, if we ever get there.’ Eve stroked her bag and looked into the road. ‘I hope he does come at me,’ she said quietly. ‘Then I’ll have an actual reason to stab him.’
Sandra blinked.
‘Haven’t you ever really wanted to hurt someone and wanted a good reason to do it?’
‘Okay,’ Sandra said slowly, ‘but you’ll be stabbing him with a big knife. The cops will wonder why you brought a massive knife to a funeral.’
‘You think I haven’t thought of that?’ She opened her bag again. ‘Look.’ Sandra watched her pull out an orange. ‘If anybody needs to know why I’m carrying around a knife I’ll say it’s for cutting up this orange.’
A laugh. ‘You think they’ll believe that?’
Eve held the fruit to her nose and inhaled. ‘I’m dealing with a lot of grief, Sandra. No one expects me to do things the completely logical way.’
Sandra sighed and rubbed her face. ‘Okay. What I’m hearing is that you’ve got a big knife in your handbag for self-defence but also you’re planning to lure Matt into a situation where you can stab him.’
‘I’m not planning to do anything, Sandra,’ Eve repeated. ‘I’ve just considered more than one scenario.’ She gave a frustrated sigh. ‘Look, I’ve thought it all through, okay? Trust me. But don’t tell Shane.’
At that moment a very clean, white SUV pulled into the pickup zone. It came to a stop in front of the pair. It was Shane. Relieved she at least got the colour of his car right, Eve went to the front passenger door. She pulled it open and was hit by an icy blast of air conditioning.
‘Hi.’ Shane turned the music down. ‘I hope I’m not too late.’ Eve went to reply but he held up a finger to silence her. He reached across to the glove box, pushed a button and the hatch popped open.
‘Ooh shit, is that the famous shrine bear?’ Sandra’s head was at Eve’s shoulder. ‘Let me see it.’
Eve took the bear and handed it to Sandra. She looked at Shane’s cheek. The bruise that had looked so dark and ugly when she’d last seen him was gone. She checked his face for animosity and found none. His smile was wide. He smelled like aftershave and he was wearing a suit. She felt so grateful she was afraid she might cry.
‘You, um, look nice,’ Shane said to her as Sandra got into the back seat.
Eve was vaguely aware of Sandra’s voice in the background talking about the bear but she didn’t hear it. Not really. It was drowned out by Shane’s words replaying over and over. You look nice.
‘Oh.’ Eve felt the heat rise in her neck. ‘Thanks.’ She touched the fabric of her dress and resisted the urge to point out the defect, a small hole at the bottom. She wanted to tell him it had been there for years but couldn’t be fixed because it wasn’t part of a seam or hem. But it doesn’t matter, she wanted to tell him, because no one can see it ha ha. That’s what she told everybody when they complimented the dress. It was nervous habit. She went on and on about the tiny imperfection instead of taking the compliment, which just left everyone feeling awkward. ‘It’s been in the cupboard for a while,’ Eve said before she could catch herself, ‘so I hope it doesn’t smell weird.’ Wanting the earth to open up and swallow her yet again, she pressed her back into the seat.
‘If you smelled weird, I would have told you on the ferry,’ Sandra said as they pulled out onto the road. ‘I don’t know why you say stuff like that.’
Sitting in Shane’s car and feeling the seat leather, Eve’s anxiety shifted to Matt. She was about to see him. She had known she would, of course. Planned it, thought about it, brought the knife. But now, in the car, she could feel it was really going to happen. It was visceral. Her stomach was climbing up into her throat. She felt dizzy. ‘I feel like I’m going to be sick,’ she said and lowered her head to the dashboard. ‘I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I can see Matt.’
Sandra put her arm between the seats and began to rub her back. ‘You probably know by now I’m Sandra,’ she said so Shane. ‘Nice to meet you, although it’s really terrible about the circumstances. Eve says you knew Jack in school.’
‘Sort of.’ They were out of the terminal now and passing the vacant block where the aquarium used to be. ‘But we ran in different circles, so I didn’t know him well.’
Eve stared at her shoes. The floor of the passenger side was almost spotless. She could count the grains of dirt on her fingers. Shane either vacuumed his car weekly, or he didn’t often have people in the passenger seat. And by ‘people’ she was thinking of women. She caught herself hoping he’d never had a woman in his car.
Their destination was twenty minutes south of the city. Eve turned the air conditioner vent towards her face and half listened as Shane asked Sandra polite questions about her life. Sandra chatted away and Eve detected a smile in her voice. Maybe she was just impressed with the car, but she appeared to like Shane.
Eve realised with a start it had been two years since she’d done this drive. She hadn’t been this way since her parents had been cremated. Her gaze drifted to the scenery. The landscape was jarring. She was used to the hills and tight scrub of the island. Here, the scrub was patchy, abused by the weather. Brown in the dry and drowned in the wet. They passed the network of buildings and smokestacks that made up the meatworks. The cows grazing in the acres around it had no idea they were soon to be in pieces under clingwrap. This is the place for dead things, Eve thought. Because it wasn’t only the poor cows and horses.
Up ahead a black cloud lifted off the earth and into the sky. Ibis. Hundreds of them living up to their bin chicken reputation. They were feeding off the dump. Two years ago, the dump had been just visible as a mound above the tree line. Now it was a mountain, an over-stuffed burial ground for all the TVs and computers, furniture, toys, takeaway containers, and anything else the city’s southern population needed to get rid of. Some town planner had a sick sense of humour, she thought, setting up the meatworks and the dump as opening acts for the crematorium.
‘Are you alright?’ Shane said, keeping his eyes on the road.
Eve watched a lone eagle make a slow circle above the road ahead of them. Waiting for highway carrion. ‘What?’ She brought her attention back into the car. ‘Oh, I’m—’ Before she could finish, her phone rang. She pulled it out of her bag – careful to avoid the knife – and looked at the screen. ‘For fuck’s sake,’ she said. ‘It’s Matt.’
‘You going to answer it?’ Shane said.
‘No.’ She stared at the screen. Cancer, she thought. Bowel or bone. One of the really painful ones.
‘Okay,’ Sandra said. ‘Are you going to hang up?’
‘No.’ Eve returned the phone to her bag where it continued to ring. Muffled. ‘I can’t decline the call. Then he’ll know I hung up on him. I’ve just been letting it ring out.’
Five more rings and the phone went silent. ‘He called me six times yesterday,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that harassment?’
Shane glanced across at her. ‘What did he say to you?’
‘I didn’t answer.’
‘Okay, well, it’s not against the law to try to call.’
‘Well, it should be.’ Anger flashed hot in Eve’s face. ‘Every time I see his name come up in my phone, I feel like I’m going to have a panic attack.’
‘You can block his number,’ Shane said.
‘I can’t do that. What if I need the call history for evidence later on?’
A pause. ‘How do you think that would be useful as evidence?’
