Rustling came from the linen closet around the corner from the kitchen. She tiptoed over, hoping she wouldn’t find a rodent or something equally disgusting getting into food remnants that her brother had no doubt left scattered across the floor. When she poked her head around the corner, she saw Sean searching the linen closet frantically.
He didn’t notice her presence and continued searching. She gaped, unable to form words as he threw towels and sheets onto the floor around him. What was he doing? It was beyond the pale. She was just about to shout his name when he spun about and turned his attention to her small bedside table. The flat was one long, thin room, with her bed taking up the space beside the linen closet. It was then that she noticed he’d pulled her bed apart and shifted the mattress.
“Sean! What are you doing?” she cried, throwing her hands into the air.
He faced her with a start, cheeks red. “Nothing. I’m looking for something.”
“You’re making a huge mess. Even more so than usual. And you’re violating my privacy. It’s not appropriate to poke through someone’s drawers and cupboards without asking. You know that, right?”
“What does it matter?” His eyes narrowed. “Are you hiding something from me, little sister?”
Her eyes widened. “What? No, of course I’m not. What would I be hiding?”
“You know what I’m talking about.” He lurched towards her, a menacing look on his face.
Charmaine startled at the sudden change in his demeanour. She shrank away from him. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“Where’s the jewellery, Chaz?”
“Jewellery?”
“Mum talked to you about everything. She would’ve told you about the jewellery. I overheard her on the phone. She said she’d put it in a safe place, but when I went back to Newcastle, you’d rented out her house and I couldn’t find it anywhere.”
“You went into the house? You can’t do that, Sean. We don’t live there anymore.”
“Where’s all Mum’s stuff?” His voice rose to a shout, and he grabbed her arms, squeezing them.
“Ouch, that hurts. I got rid of most of it. I kept a few things, like a diary and some knickknacks that were meaningful to me. I didn’t think you’d want anything.”
He spun on his heel and stalked to the other side of the flat and back again, grey eyes flashing. He knocked a vase of wildflowers from the coffee table, sending it smashing to the floor. “Don’t lie to me. Where are Mum’s things?”
He grabbed her again, this time a look of desperation painting his face red.
“Sean, what’s wrong? Why are you acting like this? You’re scaring me.” She tried to shrug him off, but he wouldn’t release her.
Then he threw his hands to his sides in frustration. “You won’t understand. I need money, Chaz. I’ve borrowed from some dangerous people, and they’re after me. If you don’t give me Mum’s jewellery, I don’t know what will happen to me.”
“Why did you borrow money?”
“I like sports. Okay?” He ran his fingers through his hair, then slumped onto the couch.
“Okay . . .?” Where was this going? She’d only ever seen her brother show a passing interest in sports. And what did that have to do with money? Realisation dawned. “You’re gambling? On sports? You know that’s a good way to lose money, right? Mum always told us that. No one wins a bet but a bookie. Remember?”
He laughed. “I remember, but then I thought about how good I was with numbers. I figured out this system and how to make it work at the local casino. And I was getting good at it, too, but they kicked me out. So, I moved on to the TAB. And I won. I won enough money to live on for months. I quit my job and bought a motorbike. I thought it was the beginning of something amazing.”
Charmaine sat gingerly beside him. “But then you lost. Right?”
He nodded. “I came home to see Mum before she died, and she lent me some money. I didn’t tell her what it was for, just that I needed it. It was part of our inheritance and I lost it.”
Charmaine’s head spun. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You went to your sick mother and asked her to fund your gambling debts with her hard-earned money? How could you do that?”
“Don’t pretend to be a saint, Chaz,” he snarled. “It doesn’t suit you.”
She leapt to her feet, hands pressed to her forehead in disbelief. “I’m not saying that I’m a saint, but I certainly wouldn’t burden my dying mother with my gambling debt. That’s cruel, Sean. And you lied to me. You took our inheritance, and you used it without asking me. That was mine as much as it was yours.”
“Get over yourself, Chaz. You were always the favourite. Mum took care of everything for you. I needed the help—you didn’t. I’m always the one who ends up in trouble. No one cares about what happens to me. I have to figure it out on my own.”
His words made no sense. His face was bathed in sweat, and his eyes darted in every direction. She didn’t recognise the person he’d become. Tears pooled in her eyes but she blinked them away.
