And Then There Were Three
Some four hours later, the squawking of cockatoos at sunrise woke Jeff with a start. His back was aching from sleeping in a crooked position on the Blakes’ couch. It took him a few seconds to remember exactly why he was not sleeping next to Lynn in a comfortable bed, and his eyes opened to the sight of Kierney curled up in the foetal position on the couch opposite.
The father let out a bloodcurdling moan and swung himself swiftly to a sitting position. The loud noise woke the seventeen-year-old straightaway, and she went through a similar emotional nosedive as soon as she realised where she was.
‘Papá,’ she cried, walking over to sit next to him, hugging him as his head hung down, staring at the floor.
‘Hi, gorgeous,’ Jeff replied. ‘Sorry to wake you.’
The father and daughter sat sobbing in each other’s arms again. It was five-twenty in the morning, and the rest of the household was still asleep.
‘Let’s make some tea,’ Kierney suggested, standing up and grabbing her dad’s hand.
Reluctantly, he rose to his feet, and they walked arm in arm to the kitchen.
‘Did you sleep OK?’ he asked his daughter.
‘Yes, thanks. Did you?’
‘Must have,’ the forty-three-year-old nodded. ‘I forced myself to think happy thoughts when you fell asleep, and it must’ve worked. It took me a while to figure out where I was just now though.’
‘Yeah. Me too,’ Kierney agreed sadly. ‘What a bloody horrible feeling. I just felt really sick as soon as I remembered yesterday.’
Jeff hugged his daughter tightly. ‘So did I. I’m so glad you’re here.’
The sun was already heating up the morning, and the two Diamonds took their tea out to the pool so they could smoke. The father’s mobile telephone rang in his trouser pocket, causing their nerves to spring to attention. It was Jet.
‘Hey, mate,’ Jeff answered as positively as he could. ‘How are you?’
‘Dad! Thank God you’re awake,’ came his son’s voice, sounding stressed and upset. ‘I’ve just landed in Singapore and I need to talk to you. I’m going crazy. It’s taking so long to get to you.’
‘Talk away,’ he invited, hearing the normally energetic student trying to stifle his sobs. ‘Where are you?’
‘In a random corridor,’ Jet replied, recovering slowly. ‘It’s OK. No-one can hear me. My battery’s low, so I can’t talk for long.’
‘Well, nothing’s changed here since we last spoke, more’s the pity,’ the widower lamented, shivering upon hearing the suffering in his son’s voice. ‘What time do you take off?’
‘Not ‘til seven-thirty. I’ve got nearly five hours to spend in the airport. What the fuck am I going to do?’
‘Go into town and see a movie,’ his father suggested. ‘You’ll remember your way around, won’t you? Just go to Orchard Road, to that huge cinema by the Scotts Road intersection. They’re twenty-four hour there, I’m sure. Just don’t lose your passport.’
Jet sighed. ‘Thanks, Dad. That’s an awesome suggestion. I will. Is Kiz there?’
‘Yeah. Hold on.’
Kierney took the telephone from her dad. ‘Hey, bro. Are you OK?’
‘Shit, actually,’ her brother replied, laughing in relief. ‘What about you?’
‘Mismo mismo,’ Kierney confirmed with one of their made-up childhood phrases. ‘We’re going to try to get to the airport at the same time as you, so hang around if you arrive first.’
‘Thanks, sis,’ Jet answered. ‘Thanks for cheering me up. I’d better go because this ‘phone’s nearly dead. I’ll have to buy a spare battery.’
‘Bye, Jet. Fly safely. We’re looking forward to seeing you. Papá’s waving.’
Kierney pressed the red “end call” button and put the telephone down on the table.
‘That’s a good arrangement you lied about just now,’ her dad smiled. ‘We’d better book some flights, or he’ll be there before us.’
‘That’s what I thought as I was saying it,’ the young woman chuckled. ‘Otherwise, he should’ve met us here after all.’
‘Come on…’ Jeff announced, standing up. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’
Still without shoes and socks, the father and daughter walked over the dewy lawn and down towards the tennis court. The hems of their trousers were slowly becoming wetter and wetter, but neither cared. Getting their circulation going and breathing in the fresh, damp air helped them to lighten their mood in preparation for the morning ahead.
Half an hour later, Celia appeared, laughing at the dark rings which were creeping up their legs.
‘Look at your pants!’ she shouted. ‘What on Earth are you doing?’
‘Morning, Celia,’ Jeff waved.
The Diamonds returned to the table by the pool and shared another cup of tea with their host.
‘How are you feeling?’ the kindly woman asked, looking from father to daughter and back again.
‘Pretty low,’ Kierney admitted. ‘Jet rang. He’s in Singapore at the moment. I can’t wait to all be together.’
Not all of us, her father thought. He said nothing, just staring into the sky.
‘What about you, dear?’ Gerry’s mother urged. ‘Did you manage to get some sleep?’
‘Yeah, a little,’ the great man affirmed. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood to answer questions at the moment. Please forgive me.’
Celia squeezed his wrist compassionately. ‘That’s alright. I understand.’
The French doors swung open, and the large frame of Bart Dyson stepped out onto the decking. He was dressed in sports clothing, ready for some exercise.
‘Good morning, all,’ his voice was less booming than normal. ‘How are we?’
Jeff raised a half-hearted hand to his father-in-law. ‘Morning, sir.’
‘Hi, Grandpa,’ his granddaughter responded brightly, standing up to give him a kiss. ‘How are you?’
‘Ah... Could be better, Kierney,’ the older man answered sadly. ‘You too, I expect.’
The teenager nodded, as did their host. They were all putting on brave faces for each other, which was a good thing.
‘Would you like some tea?’ Celia asked the big man. ‘Or are you heading off for a run now?’
‘Depends if anyone else is coming with me,’ Bart retorted, looking at his son-in-law and the young woman. ‘I’ll need a map, if not. Anyone up for it?’
‘Sorry, Grandpa. I haven’t got any other clothes with me,’ Kierney replied honestly. ‘Otherwise I would.’
‘I see,’ Bart nodded. ‘Jeff?’
The younger man considered the proposition seriously. He did have running gear with him but couldn’t face the prospect of opening the suitcases which were presumably still in the hallway where he had left them. He didn’t want to see anything that would remind him of Lynn, if he could help it, yet a run with his father-in-law was a brownie-points-scoring opportunity which he would be a fool to pass up. He was going to need all the help he could get from his wife’s parents over the next few months.
‘OK, sir,’ the billionnaire resigned, standing up and shaking his wet trouser legs. ‘I will. It’ll give these a chance to dry out. Give me a few minutes to change.’
Kierney and Celia looked at their favourite tall, dark, handsome stranger with shared maternal pride. He was actually doing better than either of them expected. They both understood the significance of what the two important men were about to do for each other, but preferred to keep their thoughts to themselves.
‘Would everyone please stop staring at me,’ Jeff complained, looking from person to person. ‘I know what you’re thinking, and I’m thinking the same thing. But hey, life goes on. Unfortunately.’
The seventeen-year-old gasped as she fought to hold back tears. Her father put his hand on her shoulder and kissed the top of her head, before going inside in search of the baggage with which he had arrived. Bart sat down with a huge sigh.
‘Jeff always expresses the things we others don’t,’ the older man observed. ‘Have you noticed that?’
Celia nodded. ‘Yes. Poor thing. We’re all feeling particularly tender this morning, I imagine. How’s Marianna?’
‘Not too good,’ the Olympian answered. ‘She asked me to leave her alone for a while. I think she really needs to pay Lynn a visit, so we’ll do that today.’
‘Of course,’ their host agreed. ‘It’ll give her some certainty at least, even though it’s not the certainty any of us wishes for.’
Kierney pushed her chair back from the table. ‘Sorry. Do you mind if I leave you too? I’m going to have a shower.’
Celia brushed the girl’s arm as she passed by. ‘Are you alright, darling?’
‘Yes, thanks,’ the youngster answered politely. ‘I just want to go home, to be honest.’
Bart and Celia both gave the reserved young woman a sympathetic smile. On the way back to her bedroom, Kierney found her dad in the hallway, crouched down next to an open suitcase. He turned round when he heard the swishing of wet jeans coming towards him.
‘Shit. This is so hard,’ he confessed through gritted teeth. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Do you want some help?’ Kierney asked, kneeling down beside him. ‘What are you looking for?’
Jeff put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders.
‘I forgot,’ he laughed.
Kierney pulled out some blue shorts she recognised and a pair of sports socks, holding them up to his face like the Holy Grail. Batting them out of her hands in jest, her father found his running shoes and a t-shirt.
‘That’s all I need,’ he said, reaching over to close the case.
‘Papá,’ the pretty teenager stopped him nervously.
‘What’s wrong?’ her father responded.
‘May I borrow a pair of Mamá’s undies and a top, please?’ she asked. ‘Do you mind? If it’s too painful for you, I won’t, but I didn’t bring a change, and it would make me feel closer to her.’
Jeff began to sob, sitting down on the floor beside this beautiful young lady.
‘No, baby,’ he replied. ‘Go for it. It’s a lovely thought. It’ll probably be good for us, not just you.’
Kierney headed upstairs to the bedroom which had been reserved for her, where she was sure Celia would have provided a towel. Jeff showered and changed in the downstairs cloakroom, which immediately took his mind back to his teenage years, freshening up after a secret romp in the middle of the night with one of Gerry’s sisters. It turned his stomach.
‘I’m sorry, angel,’ he said to his wife, staring guiltily into the mirror. ‘I hate myself for still thinking about those days. I love you. That was just playtime. By the time you and I came to this house together, we were already a bona fide couple. You know that, don’t you? Let no man put asunder, and all that. Fucking hell, Lynn. When are you coming back? We need you here.’
Bart sprang out of his chair as soon as his running partner reappeared at the French windows, desperate to blow the previous day’s cobwebs away. He was still a very strong, fit man, and Celia pondered ruefully her own husband’s largely self-inflicted health issues.
‘You need to talk to Gerald about staying in condition,’ the lady of the house joked.
‘That’s what we were originally coming here to do,’ Jeff reminded her. ‘Wasn’t it?’
Celia frowned. ‘Yes, it was. Don’t let me hold you back, gentlemen. Take advantage of the cool breeze.’
Jeff squeezed the older woman’s shoulder kindly. ‘We will. Thanks.’
After a few quick stretches, the pair jogged off towards the tennis courts, round to the stables and out via the back lane onto the road behind the Blakes’ property. It was a well-worn track for the New South Wales native; one which he and Gerry had taken ever since they were teenagers.
‘I have difficulty remembering the Blakes aren’t actually your parents,’ the sixty-three-year-old opened, setting a steady pace. ‘You all know each other so well.’
His son-in-law smiled. ‘Yeah. Me too, sometimes. You’ve never seen where I grew up, have you? Not quite as nice as this.’
Bart chuckled. ‘No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound condescending.’
‘That’s fine,’ the billionnaire replied. ‘I’m way beyond caring about all that.’
‘So what are your plans for today?’ the big man asked.
‘Kiz and I have to go back pretty soon, because Jet’ll be home and we have to be there to meet him,’ the widower answered robotically, ‘which means that if they can’t complete the post-mortem until next week, we might as well all go back. Then maybe you and I can fly up again to accompany Lynn back to Melbourne.’
Bart stopped running, his face suddenly turning red.
‘Are you OK?’ the younger man asked him, walking back to his father-in-law, who had his head in his hands.
Jeff tapped him gently on the shoulder. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shock you.’
But the athlete had already pulled himself together and had set off again at a cracking lick. His partner scrambled to keep up with the older man, smiling to himself at the futility of such macho games.
‘You’re showing admirable fortitude,’ Bart praised his son-in-law, when he had caught him up. ‘I expected you to be in a bad way today.’
‘Jesus, I am in a bad way,’ Jeff countered. ‘I just had a few lucid moments last night, that’s all. And it was Kiz who reminded me that we’d have to be back in Melbourne by late afternoon, because we don’t want Jet arriving to an empty apartment.’
‘That sounds like the best plan then,’ Lynn’s father agreed. ‘My car’s at the airport, so we’ll drop you guys back. Will Gerry be coming down too?’
‘Don’t know,’ the celebrity responded. ‘That’s up to him. I don’t want him to be burdened with all our shit. He should stay here with his parents, but he’s also got a hot, new girlfriend that I expect he’s keen to get back to.’
Bart smiled a disapproving smile.
‘As you said earlier, life goes on. Isn’t he a bit old to be having hot, new girlfriends?’
‘Gerry’ll be one of those sleasy old buggers that always have a trophy on their arm,’ Jeff told his conservative father-in-law with a wry chuckle. ‘Although, having said that, he does seem to be showing signs of slowing down these days, particularly after meeting this latest woman.’
‘Each to their own,’ the older man nodded. ‘What about you? Did you and the children want to come out to Benloch for the next few days, while we sort everything out?’
His son-in-law considered their options. ‘Probably not, if you don’t mind. Being in the city’s going to be easier.’
‘The city or Mount Eliza?’ Bart checked. ‘Won’t you go back to the house?’
‘No,’ Jeff asserted. ‘I’m not going back there. That’s one of the better decisions I made last night. Escondido’s lost its appeal for me already. That was our house.’
‘What about Jet and Kierney though?’ the grandfather asked. ‘It’s their home. They might want you there.’
The tactful world-changer looked sideways at the sixty-three-year-old who was keeping up with him, stride for stride.
‘If you don’t mind, sir,’ he said again, ‘that’s something for me and the kids to work out. Some things will never be the same again, and for me that’s one.’
‘Fair enough, Jeff,’ Big D acquiesced. ‘You’re right. It’s none of my business.’
The younger man shook his sympathetic head. ‘One thing you and I need to decide, sir, and with Marianna too, is where we take Lynn to before the funeral,’ he continued. ‘I don’t want any of this “lying in state” business. Do you?’
Bart groaned. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘Good,’ the widower smiled, feeling nauseous all of a sudden. ‘That’d be horrific. The funeral’s going to be bad enough.’
It was the forty-three-year-old’s turn to stop, and he leaned into a hedge on the side of the road, vomiting on an empty stomach. Two cars went past at speed, causing both men to throw themselves deeper into the hedge.
‘Jeez! This is a dangerous state,’ Jeff laughed bitterly. ‘Next time I hope I’m not chucking up. I nearly got lucky then.’
‘Come on,’ Bart urged him, concerned that grief was mounting in both of them. ‘Let’s run back to the house. You’d better show me the way.’
The two men sprinted back in through the front gates of the Blake residence, their shoes scrunching on the gravel drive. Celia opened the front door on cue, but Jeff signalled that they would carry on round to the back to cool down. They watched the big, green door close again. When they reached the pool, Gerry and his father were sitting at the large outdoor table, drinking coffee and smoking, with Marianna and Celia inside preparing breakfast. It could have been a cosy family Christmas, and it made Jeff feel nauseous all over again.
‘Where’s Kierney?’ he asked the ladies, as he made his way through the house to change.
‘I don’t know, dear,’ Celia replied. ‘Isn’t she outside with the men?’
‘No,’ Jeff snapped, turning round and running back outside.
The frightened father ran down the steps beside the swimming pool and headed towards the stables. Why did he leave his daughter on her own? Christ. He could be so selfish sometimes. Perhaps she wasn’t as self-sufficient as he gave her credit for?
‘Kierney!’ he yelled as he approached the stables. ‘¿Estás aquí, pequeñita?’
‘Sí, Papá,’ the young woman replied, much to her dad’s relief. ‘Aquí.’
Following her voice, the athlete rounded a corner and saw his gorgeous gipsy girl sitting on top of the closed half of a stable door, leaning on the frame. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail, and his heart skipped a beat when he recognised one of Lynn’s tops. The youngster was clutching her mobile telephone, and her eyes were red.
‘Nice run?’ Kierney asked. ‘Where did you go?’
The dark-haired songwriter leaned over the door and stared at the big, chestnut thoroughbred which was munching peacefully on its feed. His heart rate was still high, prolonged by the panic that immediately set in when he couldn’t locate his precious child.
‘Am I glad to see you,’ Jeff told her, panting. ‘I had visions of you hiding in a corner rocking back and forth. My mind’s really playing tricks on me.’
The teenager gave him an empathetic look.
‘I’m sorry, Papá. My ‘phone’s been going crazy this morning, and I didn’t want to talk to people in front of Grandma and the Blakes. I needed some privacy. That’s all. I’m OK.’
‘Bueno,’ her father sounded happier. ‘Who’s been ringing?’
‘School-friends mainly, and Dylan,’ Kierney replied. ‘It’s all out in the open, and Natalie said the news is just twenty-four seven on Mamá at the moment. The TV channels are running old interviews and concerts. We won’t be able to turn on the television at all when we get back to Melbourne.’
This was the grim information the famous man knew at some point he would hear, but it hit him hard nonetheless. He would have to ring Cathy again to ask her to staff the office over the weekend to answer calls. It was going to be a nightmare.
‘I bet there’s a crowd outside the apartment,’ he moaned. ‘Christ! It’s going to be a blast going in and out of the building for the next few days. We’ll have to go everywhere by car. Shit, Kizzy, my ‘phone’ll have been going off too. I didn’t check it yet this morning. Although most people are probably too scared to ring me.’
Kierney smiled. ‘Probably. Everyone asked me how you were. I just said you were devastated, which you are. Dylan wanted to come over, but I’ve asked him to leave it for a few days.’
Jeff sighed. ‘Thanks, pequeñita. I don’t mind if he wants to come over. He’s welcome whenever. It’ll be nice for you and Jet to have someone else to talk to. Let’s not become hermits over this. Mamá wouldn’t have wanted that.’
‘No. That’s true. What about you though?’ his daughter reminded him. ‘You need someone to talk to too.’
‘Oh, I’ve got someone to talk to,’ Jeff lamented, pointing to his black ring inset with the four diamonds. ‘But she ain’t saying much back. She’s mighty pissed off about something.’
Before either of them had a chance to voice their reaction to the widower’s latest weird statement, Kierney’s telephone rang again, but she pressed the red button and the ringtone stopped.
‘Take it,’ her dad urged her.
‘No. That was Isabelle,’ the young woman told him. ‘I really don’t want to explain everything all over again. I’ll SMS her to get the info from Nat.’
Jeff nodded approvingly at his little technocrat. This mobile technology was taking hold big-time. He was reminded of Bob Fisher’s comment from the previous day and realised that the phenomenon had indeed largely come about as a result of his company’s investments. He watched his daughter’s fingers glide effortlessly over the keypad, forming words with the number combinations fluently.
Lynn’s timing was poor, he concluded. Just think what she was going to miss over the next few years... So many of their projects were bearing fruit now, after years of incubation, and she would never have the chance to sit back and watch people’s lives changing for the better.
Father and daughter wandered slowly back up to the house. The smell of a cooked breakfast wafted from the barbecue, where Gerry and Bart were cooking and chatting to the others.
‘Are you hungry?’ his old friend called, once the pair came into view.
‘I suppose I should be,’ Jeff replied. ‘Morning, mate. Do I have enough time to shower?’
Kierney sat down with her grandmother and leaned into her for a cuddle. It was enthusiastically given, and the head Diamond was pleased to see everyone together. Disappearing inside to the bathroom, he was feeling especially protective towards his children right at this moment. He stood looking at his reflection, trying again to make contact with his departed loved one.
‘Angel, can you hear me?’ he asked, eyes closing as the grief came again. ‘I miss you so much.’
The warm water from the shower mixed with the tears he was crying anew, and Jeff wished he didn’t feel quite so alone while surrounded by people who cared about him. Wretchedness was an emotion he thought he had outgrown years ago, but here he was, feeling lost and lonely just like before. He was hungry though, which he took as a good sign. Bart Dyson was a wise man when it came to physio-psychology and the beneficial effects of exercise on mood.
Unable to face rifling through Lynn’s clothing again, the grieving husband dressed in yesterday’s clothes, which he had draped over the heater when he had changed for his run. The legs of his trousers were stiff and creased from the dewy moisture, but they were good enough for their flight back to Melbourne.
By the time Jeff returned to the poolside table, breakfast was being served onto large, white plates. He helped himself to orange juice which was cold and tart on his freshly brushed teeth. He watched Kierney tucking into her meal hungrily too and relaxed a little. Turning to the man of the house, he began to say what had been on his mind since before he had gone to sleep.
‘Gerald,’ he opened.
‘Yes, Jeff?’ the older man responded in surprise.
‘We were coming to stay with you this weekend to talk about giving up the booze and the ciggies, until this happened,’ the long-time friend of the family continued. ‘I was thinking about it last night, in the context of yesterday’s shit. Lynn and I talked at length about it the night before too, and I said then it should be your choice.’
His friend’s father looked forlornly at the man he considered his second son. He didn’t understand why the great man was bringing up this topic now, but concluded that perhaps he just wanted to temporarily purge the other excruciating subject matter occupying everyone’s minds.
‘That’s true,’ he nodded. ‘It is my choice, but we don’t have to talk about this now though.’
Jeff continued, with everyone’s eyes boring into him.
‘No, but we should,’ he sighed. ‘I think you have to ask yourself some questions, such as “What do I value most?” Is it your ability to enjoy life to the full or the pain you’d save your family?’
Celia and Marianna both inhaled at the plainness of the younger man’s words but let him continue regardless.
‘Never has this question been more pertinent to me, and the answer so acute in my mind, as now.’
Bart Dyson put his knife and fork down on his plate and took a gulp of fruit juice.
‘I agree, Jeff,’ Big D nodded, staring at his son-in-law, ‘but there are also all the points in between too.’
The widower nodded, beginning to cry for the umpteenth time that morning.
‘I have to let Lynn go, because we always agreed we wouldn’t spend our life avoiding the death threats. We knew what risks we were taking, and here we are, facing the consequences of not having hidden away. It was a choice we made as a couple, and later as a family, so I can hardly sit here and preach moderation and conservatism, can I?’
Marianna looked her daughter’s mystery man in the eye, and he watched a tear roll down her cheek too.
‘Whether Lynn died yesterday or in another forty, fifty years’ time,’ the influential celebrity continued, ‘the grief would be the same. So it’s what you do with all these bonus years that’ll count, Gerald. Does that make sense?’
There were subservient nods all round. Kierney stood up and walked around the table, supportively placing her hands on her dad’s shoulders. At first he recoiled, because it was Lynn’s hands he would rather feel, but Jeff forced himself to accept the very best alternative he could be offered at this time. He reached up with his left hand and took hold of hers.
‘Thanks, gorgeous,’ he said gently. ‘I love you.’
A subdued ringtone from the other end of the table caused all heads to turn towards Jeff’s mobile telephone. Marianna picked it up gingerly, and it was passed down the table, still ringing and vibrating, as if it were a bomb about to explode. Its owner looked at the screen to see if it was a call he was willing to take. It was their office manager in Melbourne.
‘Cath, hi,’ her boss spoke into the mouthpiece, relieved he wouldn’t have to endure an awkward condolence conversation in front of his audience. ‘How did you go yesterday? Is everyone OK?’
‘Oh, Jeff, we’re not OK at all,’ Cathy cried into the telephone. ‘I didn’t know if you’d take the call. Thanks.’
‘No worries,’ the sympathetic man replied with a half-smile. ‘You’re on my very short “yes” list. I’m screening, baby! Waiting for that all important call from Lynn saying, “Surprise! Had you going there for a while, didn’t I?”’
This caustic remark caught those around the table unawares, and six jaws dropped together at the possibility, be it delusional desire or just Jeff’s dead-pan sense of humour. Seeing the effect he was having on his friends and family, the widower excused himself from the table and headed back into the house. It really wasn’t the time to be making jokes, although his mind was so twisted that he could hardly tell the bizarre from the serious any more.
‘Sorry, Cathy,’ the famous star said, once he had sat down in the kitchen with his checklist. ‘I had to escape from the circle of concern that I’m surrounded by here. How are you going over there?’
‘We’re all here,’ his Stonebridge Music right-hand person replied. ‘Everyone sends their love, Jeff. And to Kierney. How’s she doing?’
‘Ah, you know,’ he sighed. ‘It’s just a shit situation for all of us. No-one knows whether to laugh or cry at the pure pointlessness of it all. I actually went for a run with Big D this morning, which was a good idea, even though I didn’t think so at the time. And Kiz is wearing Lynn’s clothes, which is strangely comforting. So, in answer to your question, I guess you could say we’re bearing up.’
Cathy was calmer on receiving his well-articulated account of their wellbeing, or lack thereof. The celebrity heard his faithful personal assistant take a deep breath as if she was about to say something he wasn’t going to like.
‘Jeff, the Federal Police have been on the ‘phone,’ she told him. ‘I didn’t speak to them. Diana took the call, and apparently New South Wales Police has had to hand the case over, given your profile. Blah, blah, blah. They want to meet with you as soon as possible. When are you coming back?’
The sarcastic celebrity laughed. ‘Never. We’re never coming back. What’s the fucking point, huh?’
‘You’re not serious, are you?’ the woman asked, sounding worried at his change of tone.
‘No,’ Jeff responded, backing off. ‘Sorry. I’m in a very weird mood this morning. Just ignore me. I think hysteria’s setting in. I haven’t had a cigarette all morning though, which is a feat in itself.’
‘Good,’ Cathy relaxed. ‘That’s a relief. I was scared for a minute then.’
‘It’s OK,’ Jeff told her. ‘We’ll get through this. You know... She’s dead, Cath. Completely, irretrievably dead. So I don’t know why the AFP are so desperate to talk to me. They can’t do anything that’ll help us. Can they?’
‘Except put the bastard murderer away,’ the woman reminded him. ‘His picture’s all over the television and the papers. He looks so innocuous.’
‘You’re right,’ the billionnaire sighed, barely managing to avoid over-reacting to the word “murderer” used in connection with his wife. ‘I thought he was some sort of delivery guy. It’s strange, but I don’t bear any malice towards him at the moment. I should, and I’m sure I will in the future, but at the moment it doesn’t make any difference to me whether he’s banged up or free. I couldn’t give a fuck about anything except finding some way of winding back time.’
‘Oh, Jeff, that would be so wonderful,’ Cathy agreed regretfully. ‘I was wishing that all day yesterday. That it was all a bad dream, and that we’d wake up this morning and life would be back to normal.’
‘Ah, so it’s not just me then,’ the empathetic musician laughed softly. ‘I’m sure my family now thinks I’m totally off my trolley, but that’s fine. Anyway... You can tell the AFP that I’ll meet them on Monday. Can I ring you back from the telephone here, because my battery’s nearly out? I need to charge it up before we fly back. Lynn’s parents are here, so I’ll ask them if they need any flights booked. I’ll call you back in a few minutes. OK?’
‘Sure, Jeff,’ his assistant confirmed. ‘I’ll be waiting.’
‘Thanks,’ the kind employer replied. ‘Please tell everyone how grateful I am for their help today, and their good wishes. And no-one’s to come into the office tomorrow if they don’t have to. Bare minimum coverage. OK? I’ll see you all on Monday.’
‘Yes, OK. Bye, Jeff.’
The forty-three-year-old stood up and stretched his arms high in the air. His shoulders and neck were quickly stiffening up with the stress of having to focus his tired mind. Where were his cigarettes? And his telephone charger? He exhaled deeply at the thought of having to go into that case again, but there was no alternative. He walked slowly down the hallway to the downstairs cloakroom, which had become his temporary home.
Taking a deep breath and half expecting to have developed a new phobia for opening suitcases, Jeff tentatively raised the lid and started fishing around for the charger. He came across the small jewellery case which Lynn used for travelling and lifted it to his chest, picturing all the familiar items it contained, most of which he had given her over the years. Without opening it, he laid it back in amongst the clothing.
Was it his imagination or were the tattoos on his chest really starting to itch? Get a grip, Jeff chastised himself, rubbing the “JL” symbol on his left pectoral muscle gently through his shirt. It was more likely to be the effect of wearing day-old clothes, he decided. Nevertheless, foolish notion or not, it was uplifting to think there might be some sort of connection still to be had with his dearly departed, beautiful best friend.
He located the telephone charger, two new packets of cigarettes and a clean but very creased shirt, before closing the case again quickly.
‘Let’s see if it’s dirty clothes or the touch of an angel, shall we?’ he smiled into the mirror, unbuttoning his shirt. ‘Maybe I should start wearing your jocks too, angel?’
The reflection of his tattoos, obscured by thick, greying chest hair, made the sad man think back to the day they had stood in front of the mirror, designing the symbol which was to represent their relationship from that point onwards. That was the very first day of their life singular, he recalled. Before that had stretched back more than two years of forced separation, and now they had been forced to separate again.
‘What have we got now?’ Jeff pondered aloud. ‘What’s going to happen to us, Lynn?’
He felt nothing from his tattoos this time, and he shook his head, staring blankly at his own reflection. His telephone rang again, connected to the power socket next to the mirror. Madalena.
‘Fuck,’ he whispered, angry at having been brought back to reality, before pressing the green button. ‘Lena, olá.’
‘Jeff! I can’t believe it,’ his sister’s raw accent clanged through the telephone, through his ear and into the inner reaches of his brain. ‘Is it true? Are you OK?’
‘Yes and no,’ the great man answered abruptly. ‘Yes, it’s true, and no, I’m not OK. How are you?’
‘You still in Sydney?’ Madalena asked.
Jeff steeled himself, feeling his eyes stinging again. He just couldn’t face dealing with his sister today. Was this an occasion which justified a lie?
‘Yes, but I’m about to fly back,’ he told her semi-truthfully. ‘Jet’s coming home from the UK, and we have to be there to meet him.’
His sister was crying. He had never known her to cry, and it affected him more than he expected.
‘Chico, I’m sorry,’ she whined into the telephone. ‘You must of been so shocked. What happened? Did you see it happen?’
The forty-three-year-old leaned on the bathroom wall, tears once more streaming down his face.
‘No, Lena, I didn’t see it happen,’ he answered. ‘I was parking the car. Parking the fucking car. I was playing with a toy, Lena, and now she’s dead.’
‘Can I come down to Melbourne?’ Madalena begged, barely even listening to her brother’s responses. ‘Please, chico? Can I come and stay with you?’
‘Oyes, hermana mía,’ Jeff pulled himself together. ‘Sí. Vienes a Melbourne. Whenever. No puedo hablar mas ahora. I’ll ring you mañana. OK?’
‘Jeff, hold on…’ his older sibling implored. ‘Te amo, chico. I wanna help you.’
‘Gracias, Lena,’ he replied. ‘Gracias muchas. I’m going to need a shitload of help. Te amo también. Adios.’
The bereft brother terminated the call and threw the telephone down roughly onto the marble vanity. Nothing like a crisis to bring out the best in people, he cursed. So his sister finally got around to telling him she loved him, the day after he became a widower. Be grateful, he told himself. Don’t make things any worse than they already are.
Jeff slammed the cloakroom door to vent his frustration, and walked back towards the steady drone of chatter he could hear in the kitchen. Marianna and Celia were deep in conversation, like long-lost friends, probably exchanging information about grandchildren or the various good causes with which they were involved. Bart and the Blake menfolk were watching some golf on the television, and Kierney was quietly reading a magazine at the breakfast bar. Jeff put his arms round her strong shoulders and kissed the top of her head.
‘How are you going, you gorgeous thing?’ he asked. ‘We need to get our flights organised.’
‘Where’ve you been?’ his daughter asked in return. ‘You were gone for ages.’
‘Sorry,’ he replied, kissing her again. ‘Auntie Lena rang just now, but I just couldn’t talk to her. She invited herself down, so look out!’
Kierney smiled. ‘OK. That’s good, I think.’
Jeff turned and addressed everyone. ‘OK. I’m going to ask Cathy to book us some flights back to Melbourne. Who wants to take advantage of this very generous offer?’
Everyone put up their hands, even Celia and Gerald.
Jeff laughed. ‘I didn’t realise I was that generous.’
Marianna piped up. ‘Bart and I are staying until this evening, if that’s OK, dear. We’re going to do a few things in the city this afternoon.’
Jeff immediately understood this to be code for “going to see Lynn’s body” and nodded calmly. He collected everyone else’s requirements and lifted the telephone sitting next to Kierney to make the call. He asked Cathy to book his daughter and himself on the first flight available which they could feasibly make without breaking the law, and then one for the Dysons and their intrepid manager in the early evening. It was already nearly eleven o’clock.
They heard the front door open down the hall, and Gerry’s elder sister, Jacinta, arrived in floods of tears. She ran straight into the superstar’s arms when she saw him, despite her mother’s protestations.
‘Jesus Christ,’ he groaned, after he had prised the wailing woman away from his neck. ‘Is this what my life’s going to be like for the next few weeks? Jack, how are Ray and the kids?’
‘They’re fine, Jeff. Fine, thanks,’ the forty-eight-year-old, eldest of the Blake children replied, wiping her eyes and greeting everyone else. ‘I’m sorry. I was composed all the way in the car, but as soon as I saw you I went to pieces.’
‘We noticed,’ Gerald said sternly to his daughter, standing up to give her a welcoming kiss. ‘These fine people are leaving soon, so get all your histrionics out of the way now. Have you spoken to your sister?’
‘Yes. Three times already,’ the distraught woman told her father. ‘Jeff, Kierney, I don’t know how you’re coping so well. You look remarkably composed.’
The young woman looked at her father, and they shrugged in unison.
‘Composed on the outside, perhaps,’ the seventeen-year-old answered. ‘It’s just the horrible “What now?” feeling. That’s my overwhelming thought over the last hour or so, like we’re in some kind of limbo.’
‘Purgatory, more like,’ Jeff agreed, standing next to Kierney again, with his hand on her shoulder.