His first thought was to protect her, to banish the fear and confusion from her eyes. He did so by gripping her hands tighter. She started to cry. Instantly he envied her ability to exhibit all the appropriate signs of grief. It had been well over a decade since she had last seen Leo.
‘Julian’s left a mobile number. He wants you to call him back straight away.’
‘I’ll unpack the groceries.’
She shook her head again. ‘I’ll do that, baby. You call Julian.’
Julian answered on the first ring, his voice surprisingly youthful and clear. Saverio had always liked Julian, had considered him good for Leo and had been distressed when he’d heard that they had split up. But Julian had remained loyal to the friendship, and Saverio was not surprised that he’d been the one there at Leo’s end. Julian was assuming all the responsibilities that, in the normal course of events, should now be Saverio’s. But Leo had never been one for the normal course of events.
‘Thank you.’
‘What for?’ Julian sounded astonished.
‘For being there.’
There was silence, then a rapidly muttered, ‘That’s okay.’
‘Rachel said that it was immediate, thank God.’
‘Yes.’ He could hear a match being struck, the long inhalation of smoke. ‘He’s been pretty crook, his liver has been giving him trouble for some time now.’ Julian hesitated, then said quickly, ‘I might as well be straight with you, Sav. He was pretty drunk when it happened — he was shooting up amphetamines.’
Saverio watched as Rachel methodically stacked the groceries on the kitchen table: toiletries for the bathroom, food and drinks for the kitchen and pantry, cat food and detergents for the laundry. Every now and then she would throw a quick glance over at him. Her eyes were still swollen and red.
He died shooting up speed, Rachel, he wanted to mouth at her. The dickhead was shooting up speed at fifty-two. The stupid, stupid fool.
‘When did it happen?’
‘Sometime last night.’
‘Who found him?’
‘There’s a woman close by who keeps an eye on him. She’s a good soul. She rang the police and then she rang me.’
‘Are you there already?’
‘Nah, nah, mate, I’m still in Sydney. I’m flying up tomorrow morning.’
‘Does the coroner have to deal with it?’
‘No. I’ve talked to the local cops and they say it’s all straightforward.’
That was it. Saverio was out of questions.
Julian cleared his throat. ‘I’ll arrange the funeral from Demons Creek. I’ve already got a copy of Leo’s will, he wants to be buried up there. Sav, I want you to come up for it.’
Rachel wasn’t concentrating. The dishwashing liquid was in the pile with the laundry stuff.
‘Of course I’ll come.’
Saverio caught the relief in her eyes, and felt it as well in Julian’s affectionate farewell. He hung up, wanting to slam the phone against the wall, wanting to explode in anger like a child.
At that moment, shirtless, with his pyjama bottoms hanging half off his arse, Matthew shuffled into the kitchen, greeting his parents with a muffled grunt. Saverio checked the clock. It was just past noon. The useless prick had been clubbing all night, wasting his money, probably doing the same stupid drugs that had just killed Leo.
‘Cazzo! This is not a civilised hour to crawl out of bed, you lazy shit!’
Rachel’s eyebrows arched and her mouth fell open, but she said nothing.
Matthew, who was peering into the fridge, swung around. ‘What the fuck’s wrong with you?’
Rachel came and stood beside Saverio, placing her hand on his shoulder. He wanted to shrug it off.
‘Matty, we’ve just heard that your uncle Leo has died.’
There was a moment of incomprehension and then Matthew sheepishly hung his head. ‘I’m sorry, Dad.’
Saverio couldn’t speak. He felt wretched. He wasn’t sorry that his brother was dead, he could only feel relief.
It was over.
•
In the end Rachel did not fly up north with him. She had been on higher duties since the beginning of the year, taking over the management of her unit from Gloria, who was on long-service leave. The extra money had been useful, allowed them to pay Matthew’s university fees upfront, but it had meant Rachel working longer hours, bringing work home on the weekends and having to fly regularly to Canberra to assist the minister while parliament was sitting. Saverio felt as if he had hardly seen her over the last month; she had worked late every night organising an international conference on industrial relations. In response to his complaints she had booked a four-day retreat for them at Mount Hotham after the conference. Saverio was a keen skier but it was years since they had visited the snow. On the night they’d heard the news about Leo, she had come into the bedroom and announced that she was going to cancel the retreat.
‘Why?’
‘I’m sorry, darling, I can’t go to both Leo’s funeral and the snow. I just don’t have the time.’
‘I want to go to Mount Hotham with you.’ He beckoned her over and pulled her onto the bed. Her hand was greasy with the lotion she’d been rubbing into her arms. ‘I really want this holiday. You don’t have to come to the funeral. I just want to bury him, say my goodbyes and that’s it. I’d rather go alone.’
Her eyes were searching his face. She didn’t believe him. Or didn’t want to believe him. ‘I think I should be there.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ he groaned. ‘As if Leo would have given a fuck if you were there or not.’
Her hand slipped out of his. Her eyes were cold, distant.
‘More than anything,’ he continued, lowering his voice, introducing a note of pleading, ‘I want to be away with you, just you. That’s what I’m going to need after the funeral.’
She gave no answer, just kissed him on the forehead and went back into the ensuite. In the mirror he watched her finish applying her creams, watched her floss and brush her teeth, grinned as she slid the door shut to take a pee, enjoying as he always did the fact that even after so many years she could still be shy with him. He’d also caught the hint of relief in her expression. She would have willingly come to say her farewell to Leo. He had always made her laugh. But Saverio knew she would have been dreading the idea of spending time with any of Leo’s old friends.
•
As the plane began its descent into Coolangatta, Saverio took out his earphones and looked down at the splendour of the Pacific and the ugly town thrusting out of the lush green landscape.
Matthew had been rendered almost dumb by the news of his uncle’s death; not from any personal shock or grief, for he had very few memories of Leo, but rather out of fear of having to communicate somehow with a supposedly mourning father. He had created a playlist on Saverio’s MP3 player filled with uncomplicated rock-and-roll from the late seventies and early eighties. A tinny whisper of ‘Brass in Pocket’ still seeped softly from the earphones as an unsmiling stewardess leaned over to scold him. ‘Please turn it off, sir, we are about to land.’
Saverio settled back in his seat. He did appreciate Matty’s clumsy effort at sympathy; it was a loving, masculine gesture. Words would have been impossible between them. Saverio didn’t dare confess to his son his ambivalence about Leo’s death. He had always been more comfortable with his daughter. On hearing the news, Adelaide had rushed to him and clutched him tight, whispering, I know it’s difficult, I know it must be. It had been exactly the right thing to say. He had marvelled at her innate wisdom: only two years older than her brother and, no matter how much Saverio still tried to deny it, undoubtedly an adult.