God, she’d missed this!She’d bought a new board when she returned to Sydney, but she’d been so busy with work that she never managed to get out.Now she wondered why.
An hour later she forced herself to go in.Her mum would be up by now.She would be wondering where Nel was.They had a meeting with the undertaker at ten.
Her feet were numb as she walked across the rocks, her face tingling in the cold air.
The car park was empty.Standing at the boot of her car, she peeled her wetsuit down to her waist and pulled a hoodie over her bikini top, then crouched down, blowing warm air into her hands, trying to get the blood flowing back into her icy fingers.
As she stood up, she noticed a lycra-clad cyclist on the ring road beyond the exit of the car park, staring in her direction.He was just too far away for her to see his face clearly, but she thought she recognised the dark hair, the square jaw.
She looked away quickly, wrapping her towel around her waist and slamming the boot shut, but when she looked up again, the cyclist was still staring in her direction.She’d swear it was Ryan Warner.It felt like a long time before he turned away and rolled slowly around the bend and out of sight.
Chapter 7
The undertaker was a rotund man with rosy cheeks and a neat white beard, a solemn Santa Claus who greeted them warmly and offered condolences in a soothing baritone.Cath led him to the dining room where she’d prepared a pot of tea and a plate of Scotch Finger biscuits, and then sat back with a glazed expression as Lauren made rapid-fire decisions about everything from the timing of the funeral (Thursday at eleven) to the catering (a selection of finger sandwiches and assorted canapés).
Nel stared out the window at the mist on the hilltops.She’d felt a little off balance since she’d seen Ryan.Orthoughtshe’d seen Ryan.She pictured the cyclist again now, leaning on one foot, his gaze fixed on her.Had she imagined the likeness?Hehadbeen staring, hadn’t he?Yes.It was almost as though he wanted her to see him and—
‘Geoff Marshall,’ Cath said.
Nel looked at her mother, frowning.Why was she talking about Geoff Marshall?
‘Lovely,’ the undertaker said, making a note.‘Eulogy, Geoff Marshall.’
Nel felt dread creep up her spine.She cleared her throat.‘Won’t he be too busy campaigning to—’
‘They still played golf every second Friday, Nel,’ Lauren said.‘I’m sure he’ll manage to find the time to speak at Dad’s funeral.’
Nel took a deep breath.Lauren looked at her Apple watch as the undertaker pulled some loose pages out of his folder.
‘I’ll leave you with some suggested readings,’ he said.‘Have a look through them and let me know which ones you like in the next day or two.You’ll also need to provide any photos you’d like included in the service booklet.’
Lauren took the pages and folded them in half.‘I’ll read through them this afternoon.Nel, you can do the photos.’
Yes, ma’am, Nel thought, but she mumbled agreement instead.
Lauren checked the time again.‘I’ve got to go.I’ve got a bootcamp at midday.’
‘You’re running your bootcamp today?’Nel said.
‘It’s a business, Nel, not some little hobby.’
‘Sorry, of course.I didn’t mean …’ She didn’t intend it as criticism.She was just surprised.‘Never mind,’ she said, feeling tears threaten.She pinched the back of her hand under the table.
When the meeting was over, Cath dug a pile of yellowing photo albums out of a cupboard before going for a nap.Nel sat cross-legged in front of the fire and flipped one open.It was filled with photos from the era when she was a pot-bellied toddler and Lauren was a pigtailed preschooler with a cheesy smile.Pictures of camping trips, icecream-stained faces, Book Week costumes and birthday cakes.Nel seemed to be naked in at least fifty per cent of them.She stopped at a picture of her dad holding her as a chubby baby and put it to one side, starting a ‘maybe’ pile for the booklet.
When she flipped open the next album, she inhaled sharply at the sight of herself and Maddie at thirteen or fourteen, dressed up for a school dance.Maddie wore a floppy cap and dark eyeliner, channellingBritney Spears, one arm slung around Nel’s bony shoulders.A wave of nausea rose up in her chest and she shut the album.Everywhere she turned she was bombarded with memories of Maddie, and now Geoff was saying the eulogy!This was a nightmare.
As she tossed the album aside, she noticed something tucked into the back.A newspaper clipping.She pulled it out and Maddie’s face beamed back at her from her school photo, reprinted in black and white on the front page ofThe Opal Coast Chronicle.Her beaming smile showed two rows of white teeth.A shiny satin ribbon tied her hair up in a high ponytail.A picture of innocence under the headline: Fears for MP’s Missing Daughter, 16.
Her own name leaped off the page, halfway down the text:Penelope Foley is assisting police with their inquiries.She pictured her sixteen-year-old self, sitting in that bleak room opposite Sergeant O’Neill with his kind eyes, and Constable Frisk with his blank stare, her dad by her side.
Three weeks later, the headline in theChroniclehad read, FAMILY, FRIENDS OFMP MOURNDAUGHTERMADELINE.A large colour photo of Geoff and Faye in dark suits dominated the page, their eyes downcast.Below was a smaller one of Nel, taken as she emerged from the church behind the white coffin, her gangly frame awkward in the navy dress Cath had bought her especially for the occasion.The photographer had snapped the picture when the corners of her mouth were upturned in a strange smile that seemed callous and out of place.Was she squinting in the bright sunlight, she wondered?Were her eyes adjusting to the glare after the darkness inside the church?
When she first saw that edition of the paper on that Saturday back in November 2010, she’d felt sick with shame.She didn’t remember smiling.She remembered feeling such deep, pervasive sadness it seemed to engulf her and swallow her whole.
It was the first time she’d seen herself in the paper, but it wasn’t the last.The photo resurfaced every time there was a feature about Geoff Marshall.It’s why she’d dropped the ‘Penelope’ and officially changed her name to Nel.At least that way prospective employers didn’t stumble upon the articles when they googled her.The captions invariably referred to her as ‘the last person to see Madeline alive’, which always upset her.Surely it should say, ‘lastknownperson’?If Nel was right, the last person to see Maddie alive was Ryan War—
The sound of efficient footsteps in the hallway pulled her out of her thoughts.She screwed the article into a tight ball in her fist, then walked to the doorway of the kitchen as Lauren heaved shopping bags onto the bench.She wore a hot pink tank top and leggings.
