‘Um, yes, she did. She told me the story of the women digging the hole up here.’
‘And what did you make of it?’
‘I’m not sure.’ He seemed distracted. ‘She said it was down this end of the plateau, but she was quite far away. She could have made a mistake. Her imagination perhaps filled in the rest.’
Hannah frowned. ‘Come on, Joseph, she’s hardly the type to make up ghost stories. You can’t get more rational than Suzanne.’
He kept looking out over the plateau. ‘No. Not an ounce of emotion there. But she’s gone now.’
She touched him lightly on his arm. ‘Sorry it didn’t work out with her, Jose. I know you had feelings for her.’
He looked at her then. ‘What? No, it’s fine. She didn’t get close enough for me to get my hopes up. So distant, even when we were talking. Like her heart had been cut off from her clever brain. I couldn’t get near her. But then she so clearly loves and engages with her family. I kept wondering if something had happened to her – hurt her badly, you know?’ His eyes searched Hannah’s for a moment, and then he shrugged and smiled. ‘It wasn’t to be, I guess.’
Hannah had never seen that puzzled, lost look in his eyes. Her confident, capable star of a brother. She had guessed this might happen, and had thought it would be good for him to be on the receiving end for a change. Now, seeing his confusion, she felt an empathy for him that had her putting her arm around his waist and squeezing him to her. ‘You’re a good person, Joseph, under all the crap.’
‘Right back at ya,’ he said squeezing her back and lifting her off her feet until she yelped.
Alistair pushed his hand through his hair and tipped his head back onto the chair. He was sitting on his veranda, a beer propped on one knee. ‘I don’t know how long I can go on like this, Dad. I’m exhausted. The calls, the threats. I’m ready to move on, but it doesn’t seem like I’m going to be allowed to.’
‘I think the time has come to do something more formal about Esme, my boy.’
‘What do you mean? What could we possibly do?’
‘Maybe we need to talk to Michael about some kind of legal action.’
‘How is that going to help? She can’t be locked up… And wherever she goes, if she has access to a telephone, that’s enough to make my life a misery.’
‘Let me ask Michael about it.’
Alistair nodded, his eyes fatigued. He drained the last of his beer.
‘At least come for supper,’ said Neil. ‘Your mother’s made enough bolognaise to feed the whole district.’
‘I don’t think so, Dad. I’m not hungry tonight. Don’t tell Mum about the calls carrying on – I don’t want her to worry more.’
‘I tell your mother everything, and then we both worry about it. That’s just the way it is.’ Neil hauled himself out of the deep chair, calling Jim Beam to follow him. Alistair could hear the little dog’s claws skitter on the wooden floorboards.
He stared at the darkening view, the rock faces paling from orange to beige to ghostly grey. A baboon up in the cliffs barked a warning to something, its shout in the dark raising the hairs on Alistair’s arms.
The ringing phone startled him. He sighed and then moved to answer it.
‘I see it now,’ the whisper rasped across the line. ‘It was you and your whore. You killed my little girl. The slut wanted my girl out the way.’
‘Esme, stop it! It was eight years ago. It was a horrible accident, but it’s over. You need to let Marilie go.’
The whisper became reedy: ‘I will never let this go until you pay for what you did! You murdered my beautiful girl and nobody will listen, not even Karl.’ Her breath hitched in a sob. ‘It’s time I stop asking other people for justice. I’ve waited too long. You took my girl. Now I’m going to take yours.’
‘Esme! Stop this madness!’
But the line was dead.
Alistair dialled Hannah’s house. The phone was engaged, and her cellphone went straight to voicemail. He dialled Karl, and his phone rang and rang.
No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Alistair raced through to the kitchen, sliding his keys from the counter and leaving the kitchen door open behind him as he sprinted for his pickup.
‘Joseph?’ he shouted as he ran, but the shed was quiet.
The familiar road seemed ten times longer than usual, and he pushed the accelerator to the floor. When he pulled up at Hannah’s house, he threw the gate wide to clang against the fence, bounded up the stairs, and hammered on the French door. ‘Hannah? Hannah?’
She came through with her hair wet on her shoulders, dressed in cotton pyjama trousers and a vest. She unlocked the door, anxiety drawing her brows down. ‘What’s happened? Are you okay?’
He pushed past her and went straight through to the phone in her passage, barking at her. ‘Why is your phone off the hook?’ Fear had turned to fury which coiled his insides.
‘Why are you so angry? I took it off the hook earlier. I’ve been getting strange calls.’
His hands curled into fists at his sides. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘You haven’t been around. I assumed you didn’t want to see me.’
He pushed his hand into his hair, watching her fold her arms across her chest in defence.
‘Sorry…’
Hannah moved to him and pulled his hand, leading him into the little lounge where she pushed him into the couch. ‘Stay there.’ She returned with two mugs and curled onto the end of the couch. He gripped both hands around the mug and sipped the sweet foamy Milo, thinking of his mum making it for him when he was a boy.
Hannah smiled hesitantly at him. ‘My mum used to make this for me when I was little – one of the few motherly things she used to do.’
‘Mine too.’
Hannah reached across, laying her hand lightly on his arm. ‘Alistair, what happened tonight?’
He put his mug on the coffee table. ‘It’s Esme. She’s been calling me too, silent calls, but I knew it was her. She did this before. And then tonight she called and told me she was going to get even. That I killed Marilie and nobody would believe her. That she was going to take it into her own hands. She threatened you, Hannah, and I panicked. Sorry I frightened you.’ Hannah’s brows drew down but there was no fear in her eyes, just concern.
‘Something needs to be done about her now, Alistair.’
‘I know. My dad said the same thing earlier today.’
‘I don’t know what, but I think it’s gone beyond everyone tolerating and excusing her behaviour. Poor Karl – I feel so awful for him; it will be up to him to manage this. He’ll be devastated when he hears what she’s said. Maybe there’s medication which can help her or time in a psychiatric clinic?’
Alistair leant his head back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. ‘We have to actually be proactive though, no more sitting around because if someone…’ He turned his head to the side and looked directly at Hannah, the thought of Esme’s poison chasing her away doubling his stomach into a knot. ‘If I let her get to you, I would never forgive myself.’
‘You don’t think she would physically try to hurt us, do you?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I don’t. She’s always done things remotely, over the phone or in the press, stuff like that. But I would hate for her to sabotage you in some way.’
‘She and Todd should team up,’ said Hannah, slumping back into the couch, holding her mug on her stomach. Alistair’s gaze still rested on her.
‘I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about him, Alistair. I meant to a few times and then I just didn’t want to bring him into my life here – I didn’t want to contaminate what feels like a fresh start.’