The kitchen was no cooler, but at least it was quiet. Katy was standing alone by the sink, staring out of the window. She started as Nathan clattered the jugs on the draining board.
‘Oh. Sorry,’ she said. ‘I thought you were Simon.’
‘No. Where is he, anyway?’
‘I don’t know.’
Nathan checked the fridge. No cold water in there. He went back to the sink. The water ran hot from both taps, but it would have to do.
‘Listen –’ He held the jug under the stream. ‘You two might be planning to hit the road soon but you’re still on the payroll today.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. I don’t feel a hundred percent.’ Katy leaned against the counter and Nathan saw that her face was in fact a little pale. Maybe it wasn’t a great idea to have her serving food, he thought.
‘Are you all right?’
‘It’s probably the heat.’
‘The nurse is around. Do you want me to get him?’
‘No. Thanks.’ She went over to the table and picked up another tray of sandwiches.
Nathan watched as she put it straight back down again, a pained look on her face. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘We’ll manage. Go and lie down if you’re ill –’
‘Who’s ill?’ Simon stood at the door with an empty tray in his hand.
‘No-one,’ Katy said. ‘I’m just a bit hot. Let’s get back to work.’ She swapped Simon’s empty tray for the full one. ‘You take that, and I’ll take these.’ She picked up the water jugs and flashed a smile. It looked almost real. ‘And everyone’s happy.’
She walked out of the kitchen and, after a beat, Simon followed. Nathan watched them go. Out in the hallway himself, he could hear the sound of chatter, louder now as more people spilled out from the cramped living room.
Nathan could see a few faces he recognised. Maybe he should go and try to talk to them. Go and find Melanie, even. Try to think of something to say this time. It was possible that Harry was right. Maybe people would forgive him.
Or maybe, Nathan’s thoughts darkened fast these days, maybe not. It had taken Nathan a long time – years – to get used to his life as it was. The swift cut of rejection had hurt enough at the time when it was sharp and fresh, but it was the way the wound had festered that had been the killer. He had got through it once, barely. He knew with whole-hearted certainty that he could not do it again. A group of men jostled out of the living room and down the hall in his direction. Quickly, Nathan opened the nearest door and stepped inside. Ilse’s office.
He shut the door behind him and breathed out. It was peaceful in there, the noise from the lounge and the hallway nothing more than a muffled hum. He stood for a minute, enjoying the peace, then walked over to the window. On the verandah, Sophie was playing some game with Kylie’s kids, while Lo looked on. Xander was nearby, leaning against a post and chatting to a girl who looked around his age. She was smiling.
At the other side of the yard, someone was standing alone by the graves. Bub. He seemed to have his flies done up at least, Nathan thought, so that was something. His brother wasn’t even looking at the earth. He was standing at the fence, with his back to the house, staring out into the beyond. Nathan watched for a minute more, then turned and looked at the wall calendar. Bub’s mustering plans. Written on and then firmly crossed off.
Nathan sat down in the spare office chair and reached for the day planner on the desk. He flicked to the section Ilse had pointed out to him, and began to read the mustering notes. They were detailed, laying out what a change in the schedule would involve. The pros and cons, risks and rewards. He read it through, twice, then leaned back, thinking. Bub and Cameron had both been right, in their own ways. It was a good plan, but there were snags that needed to be ironed out before anything should happen. Just because Bub was the only one left to argue his case didn’t mean Cam hadn’t had a point.
Nathan started to close the diary, then stopped. Idly, he flipped the pages to the present week. There was almost nothing listed. The activity had been halted by a combination of Christmas and Cameron’s death. The days were mostly empty and whatever was written there looked as though it had been added some weeks earlier.
He turned back another page, to the day Cameron had gone missing. There were quite a few items written down, listed in Ilse’s handwriting. Reminders of several phone calls to be made, and a handful of invoices to chase before the end of the year. The weeks before showed more of the same. The day Ilse’s husband had died looked to have been just another busy day for her in a busy six months.
He turned back and forth a few more pages. Everything she had written down appeared to be fairly standard stuff. He made similar phone calls and orders himself, he just didn’t record them as efficiently. Ilse may not have asked for this, Nathan thought, and Bub may not like it, but she would probably be pretty good at running this place if she had to. Now she did have to, he supposed. He was about to close the book again when something at the bottom of a page caught his eye.
In the corner was a single tick with a time written next to it. Nathan frowned and turned back a few pages, then a few more. The same mark had been made every day for the whole year as far as he could see. There was no other information, just the checkmark and the numbers. The time recorded varied over two hours, coming in anywhere between 7 pm and 9 pm. Nathan stared at it. Somewhere, deep inside, he felt a stirring of recognition.
He was still trying to work it out when he heard a noise outside. He looked up as Ilse came through the door, Duffy at her feet. She jumped when she saw him.
‘My God.’ She put a hand to her chest. ‘You scared me.’
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I was –’ He held up the planner.
‘Oh, right. Fine.’ She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, her face flushed.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘It’s my husband’s funeral,’ she snapped.
