“Yes, Minnow Greenwood.”
She frowns, shakes her head. “Doesn’t ring a bell. But then, we left in 1987.”
“How old was Rach when you left?”
“Ten.”
If Rachel was born in 1977, then she would have been in grade five when Heath was starting school. I make a note to ask him about her.
“Rach was…” Deb’s voice drops. “Unwell. Always had been. That town made it worse.”
The town made it worse.
I’m standing on the cliff edge with Colleen. Her eyes are full.
Felt like I was losing Trav.
To what?
The darkness in this town.
I fix my eyes on the pool, thinking of my father. Trav. The blood boys in town. The violence in their bellies coiled like snakes. Did the town tug it loose? Or do we cling to that excuse because it’s easier?
“What do you mean byunwell?”
“She was a brooder, you know what I mean? I used to call them her dark moods. She was like that even as a child. It was hard to pull her out of it.”
“How long would these moods last?”
“Sometimes minutes. Sometimes months.”
“Depression?”
She considers this. “Yeah, and…” Her voice falls off. “I don’t know. Something else, I think.”
I wait, eyes on the pine-green carpet.
“We used to fight about the movies she’d watch…” She pauses, seems to brace herself. “Lot of horror movies. Gore. Just nasty stuff.”
“You said she was doing something bad,” I murmur, eyes flicking up to hers. “Tell me about that.”
Silence.
“She got into something she shouldn’t have…” Deb finally says. “Think it pissed a few people off down there.”
“Got into what?”
She frowns like I’ve asked the wrong question, gets to her feet. “I searched her room…” She shifts her weight, considers her next words. “You need to see something.”
She tips her head in the direction of a light-filled hallway.
I get to my feet and follow.
—
There’s a sign hanging fromthe firmly shut door of the spare room.
To Plant a Garden
