Chapter 25
Nel checked her phone between every appointment the following day, hoping for an update from Jimmy, but there was nothing.
By midafternoon, her mild impatience had escalated to intense frustration.
When she saw that her last appointment was at four o’clock she decided to take matters into her own hands and visit Faye.
The thought of seeing her filled Nel with deep trepidation, but Jimmy was right.
She would never find out the truth if she kept avoiding people.
The wrought-iron gate squealed as she pushed it open, her skin tingling with a thousand memories. Running under the sprinkler. Sitting on the stone steps eating banana Paddle Pops. Practising backward walkovers on the lawn. Even the cracked path was familiar.
She knocked quickly before she could change her mind.
‘Nel,’ Faye said softly when she opened the door, looking at her with the same grey eyes Nel remembered, now creased at the corners.
‘I hope you don’t mind me stopping by,’ Nel said. ‘I didn’t get the chance to talk to you at the funeral.’
Faye gave her a sad smile. ‘I wasn’t feeling well.’ She invited Nel inside, out of politeness probably, rather than desire.
The house had hardly changed. Dozens of framed photos lined the dresser, most of Maddie. Nel studied them as Faye scooped tea leaves into a pot. There was the clink of china as she placed the cups onto saucers. ‘How’s your mum?’
‘She’s okay, I think. It’s hard to say though, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, I’ve always wondered that,’ Faye said thoughtfully as she filled the teapot. ‘How is one meant to grieve?’
She poured milk into a small jug and put it on the table.
‘How are you and Geoff?’ Nel asked. ‘He must be busy with the election coming up.’
‘Yes he is. Even when he’s not campaigning, he spends a lot of time in Canberra.’ Faye poured the tea into the cups. ‘Milk?’
‘Thanks,’ Nel said.
‘You’re working at your dad’s clinic?’
Nel nodded. ‘Just keeping things going until Mum can find a buyer.’ There was a long pause as she tried to think of something else to say. ‘Lauren said you paint?’
Faye’s face lit up. ‘Would you like to see my studio?’
Abandoning the tea, she led Nel out the back door to a weatherboard cabin at the bottom of the garden.
A single room with a vaulted ceiling. Nel inhaled deeply, trying to place the smell.
Turpentine. It reminded her of the art rooms at school.
Large canvases lined the walls, leaning against each other, four or five deep.
‘You can have a look if you like,’ Faye said.
The paintings were expressionist landscapes, an assault of red cliffs, garish blue skies and blue-green water. The brash colours of the Australian coast in broad brush strokes, raw and fierce and beautiful.
‘These are incredible,’ Nel said. Looking through the paintings felt like glimpsing into Faye’s soul. Nel had always thought of her as fragile and broken, but now she suspected there was a defiant survivor behind those sad eyes.
‘Thanks,’ Faye said. ‘Do you mind tea bags?’
‘I actually prefer them.’
‘Me too.’ Faye smiled. ‘But Geoff likes the proper stuff.’ She passed Nel a big mug of Earl Grey tea and insisted she take the old green velvet armchair. She pulled up a wooden kitchen chair for herself.
‘Do you see much of Ryan Warner around town?’ Nel asked. As soon as she said it, she wished she’d come to it more gradually, but she was sick of small talk.
Faye shook her head. ‘I don’t go into town very often these days, but he sold an investment property for us a couple of months back.’
‘Do you know his wife? Sophie?’
Faye nodded. ‘Not well, but I’ve seen her here and there over the years. Beautiful girl. Gorgeous kids too. Ryan has a lovely portrait on his desk.’
‘She came in to see me at the clinic. Their son was sick.’ Nel cleared her throat. ‘I always had a funny feeling about Ryan.’
‘Funny?’
Nel swallowed. ‘He could be quite cruel to Maddie.’ There was a flicker of something in Faye’s eyes. Nel took a breath and spoke carefully. ‘Faye, I’ve always thought that Ryan was involved in Maddie’s death. Somehow.’
Faye nodded. Nel waited for her to say something, but she didn’t.
‘What do you think?’ Nel asked gently.
‘I think …’ Faye sighed. ‘Maddie’s accident was a long time ago.’
Nel had to work hard to control a surge of frustration, to keep her voice steady. ‘But the ring was missing, Faye. The ring that Ryan gave her. She was wearing it when I saw her and then it was gone.’
‘Yes.’
Nel waited for her to say more, but she didn’t.
‘Don’t you want to know?’
Faye reached out and took her hands. ‘Nothing will bring Maddie back, Nel. I’ve had to accept that. It’s time you moved on too.’
Nel shook her head. ‘But if he hurt Maddie—’
They were interrupted by footsteps on the path outside. There was a knock, then the door opened and Geoff appeared.
‘There you are,’ he said. He looked from Faye to Nel and smiled warmly. ‘Hello, Nel.’
‘Hi, Geoff. Faye’s been showing me her incredible paintings.’
‘Lovely. They’re … interesting … aren’t they?’ He gestured to a large canvas leaning against the wall beside Nel’s armchair. ‘Did she tell you about the exhibition?’
‘She didn’t.’ Nel looked at Faye who gave a little shrug.
‘It was just a joint exhibition at a little gallery in Mount Clare. I had a few works in it.’
‘A few?’ Geoff said. ‘Eleven! And she sold them all!’ He seemed pleasantly baffled by her success.
He must be one of those people who didn’t get art, Nel supposed, like her ex-boyfriend, Pat.
She cringed remembering a visit to the Tate Modern when he’d pretended to mistake a rubbish bin for an exhibit.
She should have known then that the relationship was doomed.
‘Wow. Congratulations, Faye.’
Faye gave her a self-conscious smile, then looked at her watch. ‘Goodness, I didn’t realise the time.’ She stood and picked up the mugs.
That was the end of the visit.
On a whim, Nel drove south instead of north when she left the Marshalls’ place.
The streetlights came on as she reached the outskirts of town.
When she found Cliff Street, she scanned the houses on either side until she spotted the white Hamptons-style house she’d seen online.
The kids were playing handball on the driveway.
She drove past, not wanting Harvey to see her.
When she reached a dead end, she turned around and pulled over a couple of houses before the Warners’.
There was a shout as one of the kids—a girl, the spitting image of Sophie—threw the ball at her older brother. Charlie yelled something as she charged inside the house, slamming the door behind her. The boys played on.
A few minutes later, the porch light came on, then the front door opened and Sophie appeared.
Nel shrunk in the seat, hoping it was too dark for Sophie to see her.
She held her breath as Sophie spoke to Charlie.
He was arguing back, his gestures jerky and pointed, then he stormed into the house, leaving his mother with little Harvey.
Sophie reached out and ruffled his hair.
He smiled up at her and they turned towards the house.
Nel pulled out from the kerb, not realising that Sophie had turned back to fetch the wheelie bin from the end of the driveway.
Their eyes met. Nel looked away quickly, but she was too late.
Sophie had stopped, mid-stride. In her rear-view mirror, Nel could see her standing there, watching the car, until she turned the corner at the end of the street.