Chapter 76
The next morning, Nel tossed her suitcase into the boot and slammed it shut, then turned to face the others who stood on the kerb.
Her preferred exit strategy would have been to slink away unannounced then send an apologetic text message from a rest stop halfway to Sydney, but Cath had invited the whole family around for breakfast and a prolonged farewell.
‘Well …’ she said, ‘I guess this is it.’
She looked from Cath to Lauren to Poppy, who stood next to Jack, his arm loosely draped over her shoulder. They’d just been for a run and both looked rosy-cheeked and impossibly youthful.
That was another thing that had changed in the last month. ‘She’s almost sixteen,’ Lauren had said through gritted teeth when she filled Nel in. ‘It’s going to happen sooner or later, and he seems like quite a nice kid actually.’
Obviously it was nearly killing her, but Nel sensed something had shifted between mother and daughter. There was a warmth there she hadn’t seen before.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a shriek from Archie, who was trapped under his brother on the lawn.
‘Get off him, Leo!’ Lauren ordered. She glared at him until he released his younger brother, then she turned back to Nel. ‘Bye, hon.’ Lauren gave her a quick kiss. ‘Drive safe.’
Cath pulled Nel into a warm embrace. ‘Goodbye, Nellie! Thank you for staying so long, darling girl.’
‘Bye, Mum,’ Nel murmured, savouring the floral scent of her shampoo.
Cath wiped away an uncharacteristic tear. ‘Goodness, I feel all emotional.’
‘You’re turning into a big softie in your old age.’
Cath smiled. ‘Me? Never!’
Poppy stepped up next. ‘Bye, Auntie Nel! I’m going to miss you so much!’
Nel hugged her and kissed her freckled cheek.
‘For god’s sake, the way you’re all carrying on you’d think I was leaving for good!’ Nel said. ‘You know I’m coming back, don’t you?’
They all laughed as Nel opened the car door. ‘Bye, boys!’ she called out, and Leo and Archie paused mid-wrestle to shout unintelligibly in her direction.
She beeped the horn as she pulled away from the kerb. In the rear-view mirror she could see them standing on the road. Cath, Lauren, Poppy. Three generations of women. Her people.
Five minutes later, Nel skipped up the steps of the police station and pushed the buzzer by the door.
While she waited, she looked across the main street sparkling in the brilliant sunshine.
The sky was already a spectacular blue. She breathed in deeply, savouring the sweet warm air, the promise of summer.
The doors slid open and she stepped inside the foyer as Jimmy appeared through the door on the other side. He reached out and took her hands, drawing them to his chest, studying them. When he looked up, his eyes were shining.
She swallowed. ‘I came to say goodbye.’
He shook his head. ‘No you didn’t.’
‘No?’
‘No goodbyes.’
‘Well … how about “see you soon” then?’
‘Much better.’
He smiled and kissed her hands then wrapped his arms around her. She rested her head on his chest.
‘A month, that’s all.’ She paused. ‘Just long enough to sort out my flat.’
‘I’ll be waiting for you.’ He kissed her gently and they stood like that for a couple of minutes.
She sighed. ‘All right, I’ve got to go.’
As he followed her down the steps to the car, she stopped and turned to him, breathing in deeply. ‘That smell. What is it?’
‘Wattle.’
‘That’s it,’ she said, remembering lying on Maddie’s trampoline on a warm night watching the sky for shooting stars. The memory lingered as she got in the car and wound down the window.
‘I nearly forgot.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Caramello Koala.
Nel smiled and took the chocolate from him. He leaned down and kissed her one last time.
She stopped again on the next block outside the supermarket, where a collection of plastic buckets held cellophane-wrapped flowers. Nel selected two bunches and went inside to pay.
She laid the flowers on the passenger seat, and indicated left at the anchor roundabout, following the smaller winding road down the hill instead of the main road to Mount Clare and Sydney.
As she passed the church, deserted on this Monday morning, she imagined watching herself from a distance, following her father’s coffin down the steps just a few months ago.
It felt like another lifetime. She was leaving that old Nel behind.
The Nel who only saw black and white, who was so certain she knew the truth, so utterly convinced that Ryan Warner had killed Maddie.
It had all seemed so simple, so obvious.
Except that it wasn’t. She had been wrong.
Gravel crunched under her tyres as she pulled to a stop at the cemetery. She cut the engine and sat for a moment, listening to the rhythmic roar of the waves through the open window, then she unclicked her seatbelt and reached for the flowers.
The cemetery was divided into two distinct parts by a wide path that ran through the middle.
On her right, closer to the beach, was the Carrinya Historic Cemetery where the headstones stood taller.
Some were ancient, broken, their graves bordered by ornate fences, once grand, now rusty from years of sea salt and southerlies.
Others were newer, made from polished stone.
Nel must have walked past them the day they buried her dad, but she had no memory of ever seeing them before.
She read the inscriptions. Names, birth dates, death dates, and sometimes the names of the people they loved.
Some bore photos of the deceased and descriptions of tragic accidents that had taken them far too young.
She looked over to the other section, the Carrinya Lawn Cemetery, where manicured grass surrounded low plaques arranged in orderly rows.
There was something odd about it, she thought.
Jarring. It was too organised, too clinical, sanitising death too much, erasing the differences between those whose bones lay decomposing in the soil below.
She preferred the eclectic disorder of the graves by the beach.
It was easy to spot her dad’s grave. A mound of dirt filled the deep hole they’d stood beside on that grey day in late July.
She walked over. The grass was just starting to encroach onto the dirt, like a wound starting to heal.
One day it would be flat and green, discreetly blending in with those on either side, and she would have to walk up and down the rows, looking carefully for her father’s name.
A bronze plaque had been put in place.
ROBERT JOHN FOLEY
Loving Husband of Catherine
Father of Lauren and Nel
Grandfather of Poppy, Leo and Archie
That was all that was left once you were gone. The relationships you had with the people you loved. She felt a pang of grief thinking of the time she’d wasted running and hiding.
She laid one of the bouquets beside the plaque.
She’d chosen wildflowers, like the ones on his coffin at the funeral.
Banksias and kangaroo paws. She read the names again.
It looked so simple, but it wasn’t the whole story.
She thought of Viv, and all the people missing from the other headstones. The people who were loved unofficially.
There was a blank space alongside Rob’s plaque.
For Cath, she supposed, shivering at the thought of one day standing here throwing dirt on her mother’s coffin.
Nel pulled the sleeves of her jumper down over her hands.
A memory surfaced of wearing her dad’s rugby jersey, which came down past her knees, the long sleeves hanging past her fingers. Hot tears pooled in her eyes.
‘I’m sorry, Dad.’ She took an unsteady breath. ‘I’m so sorry that you had to die for me to find my way home.’
Maddie’s grave was in the other section. Nel weaved between the headstones until she reached a large, pink granite monument. MARSHALL, it read in gold lettering, MADELINE may underneath.
Nel scrutinised the conspicuous headstone. Was it Faye or Geoff who had chosen the design? There was a showiness about it that made her think it must have been Geoff. She pictured him selecting the stone, the font, the wording, the whole time knowing the truth.
She looked at the dates on the headstone and felt a sudden jolt. Today was Maddie’s birthday. She would have been thirty-two. What would her life be like, Nel wondered, if it hadn’t ended under that full moon sixteen years ago?
She placed her flowers on the grave. Poppies with wild stems and untamed beauty.
‘I’m so sorry for leaving you that night,’ she said.
Feeling self-conscious, she looked around, but the only person in sight was a gardener in the distance, a dot of fluorescent orange on a ride-on mower.
‘I’ve spent sixteen years crippled with shame because of what I did.
Jimmy says I did nothing wrong, but that isn’t true.
I wasn’t a good friend to you that night when you needed me most.’ Tears streamed down her cheeks now.
Tears of sadness and loss and regret and relief.
‘But I’ve decided to forgive myself, Maddie. ’
She let herself cry, for the lost years and her lost friend. When she had no tears left, she wiped her eyes and walked back to the car.
There was just one more stop to make before she left town.
The old cottage was nestled into the headland, set apart from the row of sprawling modern mansions along the beach.
Nel stopped the car in front of the FOR SALE sign. Roy Warner’s smiling face was obscured by a shiny SOLD sticker, which it wore like a sash.
The house was losing its battle with the elements.
White paint bubbled and peeled on the weatherboards.
Rust spots stained the corrugated-iron roof.
Waist-high weeds flourished in the garden bed under the cracked front windows.
The whole place appeared to be held together by cobwebs that spanned the eaves and window frames.
It was over a hundred years old, according to the agent. The local kids thought it was haunted, and Nel could see why, but its bones were good. The minute she’d seen it she knew it was the one. She’d made an offer that same day.
Inside, two small bedrooms sat on either side of a central hallway, perfect for consulting rooms. She would convert the sunroom at the front into a small reception area. There was a driveway down one side leading to a backyard that would become a car park, a discreet entrance away from prying eyes.
Nel squinted, imagining it freshly painted, windows shining, and felt a ripple of excitement. The builders would start as soon as she was back in town.
She’d pitched to a lot of investors this past month.
Her mum was the first, followed by Jimmy’s parents, then Lauren and Steve and a bunch of other locals, including the publican Dan Hammond, who had made a very generous contribution.
She’d also spoken to Geoff Marshall about federal funding for the ongoing running costs, even though he was no longer in parliament.
That had been Faye’s idea. Nel was reluctant at first, but he’d been very obliging.
He said he was owed a few favours and to leave it with him.
A couple of days later, the funding was approved.
Nel couldn’t believe it. Was it a form of atonement?
An act of redemption? At any rate, at least some good would come out of the terrible thing he did.
Nel had been working on staffing too. She needed the right team. It was a work in progress, but she’d already approached a smart young psychologist currently practising in Mount Clare. She was excited by Nel’s plans, she said, and she couldn’t wait to be a part of them.
Nel looked at the facade of the cottage again and felt a flutter in her stomach. Her vision was taking shape. Soon this would be a place where women and girls could come for support, a listening ear and access to the services they needed, without judgement.
She closed her eyes and pictured it sparkling in the sunlight, humming with activity, a brand-new sign above the door. She knew exactly what it would say: the lighthouse centre. It would be a beacon, a light in the darkness, guiding girls and women to safety.
She opened her eyes and the vision dissolved. The clock on the dashboard said 10:55. At this rate it would be late afternoon by the time she arrived back in Sydney’s congested streets.
Reluctantly, she turned on the ignition, took one last look at the lighthouse up on the hill, and followed the road back along the beach and out of town.