Blood Tears (29 page)

“
Hospitality? Aren’t you the woman who complains about
everything I prepare for her?”

“
Yeah, but come on – it’s always tuna. Who wouldn’t
complain?”

“
Not
tuna today then?”

“
Nope. I have lots of eggs though.”

Now it was his turn to
look unenthusiastic. “All right. If you insist.”

“
I
hope my Land Rover gets fixed soon,” I said as he locked the front
door of the station. “You’re going to have to let me use the patrol
car until it is.”

“
I’m
going to
have
to?”

“
Yes,” I replied firmly. “I can’t go without wheels. How am I
supposed to get to work otherwise?”

“
I’ll
give the mechanics a ring to see if I can hurry them up. I know
what happens when I let you have control of the patrol
car.”

“
And
what’s that?”

“
Reckless pursuits, that’s what.”

I blew a disrespectful
raspberry at him. “That’s nothing but slanderous rubbish. I haven’t
chased anyone since you left.”

“
I
presume that had something to do with the fact that Baz wouldn’t
let you drive.”

“
I
know. He was such a pain in the arse about it, no matter how much I
asked him. You have no idea what I had to endure working with
him.”

He laughed. “I’m glad
he forced you to behave yourself. And I’d appreciate it if you did
me a huge favour and continue to behave yourself. It would make my
relationship with the Super so much more congenial.”

It was my turn to
laugh. “She doesn’t have a congenial relationship with anyone, so
don’t think she’s going to treat you like some special little
snowflake.”

“
Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, waiting for a semi-trailer to
pass before pulling out on to the highway.

My tummy grumbled
loudly again.

“
Speaking of food, I heard you had dinner with Trig and Harry
while they were here,” he said casually.

“
Yeah,” I admitted, pausing for an embarrassed moment. “It
didn’t go very well.”

“
I
heard you pulled your knife on Harry.”

“
He
tried to hug me without any warning. I barely knew him, and you
know how I feel about strangers touching me. I reacted
badly.”

“
He’s
a nice guy, Tessie. One of the good ones. He didn’t mean you any
harm.”

“
I
know that, and I felt really bad about being so . . . um . .
.”

“
Threatening?”

“
Is
that what he called me?” His diplomatic silence told me everything.
“I did apologise to him the next day. And I genuinely did feel bad
about it.”

“
I
suppose you haven’t had much to feel good about for a
while.”

“
Not
really.”

“
Then
we’ll have to think of something that will make you feel
good.”

“
Like
what?”

“
I
don’t know. What would make you feel good about life?”

“
Looking after my chickens makes me feel good. Eating Tim Tams
does too. And I’ve started making my own bread. I find that very
relaxing, not to mention budget-friendly.” I considered his
question more. “Being with Jakey makes me happy. If we’re not
arguing, that is.”

“
Okay.”

“
All
the Bycrafts being wiped out by some sort of extremely painful and
Bycraft-specific plague would make me feel
really
good.”

“
Um,
that one might be going a step too far.”

“
Perhaps, but do you want to know the one thing that would
make me genuinely happy?”

“
Yes.
Of course I do. That’s why I asked.”

“
Taking your Beemer for a spin,” I said with a sly
smile.

“
Oh,
God. You never give up, do you?” he groaned. “And by ‘spin’, I
assume you mean chasing some Bycrafts at a ridiculous speed into
the next state?”

“
Maybe,” I smiled again as he pulled into my
driveway.

“
If
that’s what would make you happy, then I’m sorry to say, you’re
just going to have to stay unhappy.”

“
Geez, you’re so mean to me sometimes. Do you want me to make
you lunch or not?”

“
Only
because it’s a slightly better option than starving. Although now
that I think about it . . .”

“
Mean
and
rude, Maguire.”

I preceded him into the
house, calling out to Dad that we were home for lunch. He was in
the lounge room, asleep in his wheelchair, a cold, untouched cup of
tea on the small table next to him.

“
Dad?” I asked, gently shaking his shoulder.

He woke with a jolt,
groggily looking around before he managed to focus and snap out of
his slumber.

“
Sorry, love. I didn’t hear you come in. Must have dozed off
for a second.”

“
You
probably needed it,” I said, despairing at the lines of tiredness
and pain etched into his pale face, the shape of his bones visible
in his increasingly thin body and face. “I’ll make you some
lunch.”

“
I’m
not that hungry, Tessie.”

“
Just
a little sandwich. I’m sure you can eat that,” I urged.

“
Hello, Trev,” said the Sarge quietly.

“
Hello, Finn.”

Dad shook his head as
if trying to shake out some cobwebs, wheeling himself towards the
kitchen, his bony wrists protruding from the long-sleeved shirt he
wore. It seemed these days that he felt the cold intensely, even
though it was a warmish summer day.

I hovered around him,
wanting to push him myself and save him the energy, but he
impatiently waved me away like a particularly annoying
mosquito.

My heart sank when I
noticed the breakfast I’d left him this morning still sitting in
the fridge. He hadn’t eaten a bite of it. Without saying anything,
I scraped it into the bin.

The two men sat at the
table chatting while I bustled around making egg salad sandwiches
and cutting up some fruit. Staring into the fridge, I realised we
had no juice, so I placed a jug of chilled water on the table
instead. I really needed to go to the supermarket some time soon.
But thinking of that only reminded me about the Land Rover. I told
Dad about that new disaster as the Sarge and I ate and he picked at
his food.

“
Maybe if we put off the electricity bill until the final
reminder, we’ll be able to afford the mechanic?” he suggested,
struggling to finish even a few mouthfuls of his
sandwich.

“
Dad,
can we talk about it later?” I asked, conscious of the Sarge
listening in, and embarrassed to discuss our dire financial affairs
in front of him.

We ate in silence for a
while.

“
What’s this I hear about Dave?” Dad asked, putting down his
sandwich and taking a few sips of water.

It was no surprise to
me that most of the townsfolk had probably found out about what had
happened to Dave by now, though I was never quite sure how they
did. We certainly hadn’t breathed a word about it to anyone.

“
Yes,
it’s true. It was . . . distressing. Especially for Mrs Gatton,” I
told him.

“
It’s
a damn shame he felt like that,” Dad said. “Remember that awful
summer about twelve years ago when it stormed and hailed almost
every day for weeks? And how, even though his own crops were
ruined, Dave worked so hard to help me save most of
mine?”

“
Yeah, I remember.” I’d had to drop everything to pitch in
before and after school in the fields to protect that precious
source of money for us.

“
I
don’t know what I would have done without his help that
year.”

“
He’s
a decent person,” I said.

“
I
suppose that whole sordid event last year was responsible for . . .
what he tried to do.”

“
Yep.
He’s never lived it down. A lot of the townsfolk have blanked him
since then. He feels like a pariah.”

Dad shook his head
sadly. “Damn shame. Some people in this town are so narrow-minded.
And all because the guy took a piss in the wrong park at the wrong
time. He’s lived in this town his whole life. People should know
him better than that.”

Once more, I felt
terrible about arresting Dave that day. “I didn’t have a choice,
Dad.”

He patted my forearm.
“I’m not blaming you, love. You were just doing your job. But I
might give him a ring in the next few days, and let him know if he
ever wants to talk about anything, I’m just a phone call away.”

“
That’s very decent of you, Trev,” said the Sarge.

“
Like
I said, he helped me when I needed it. And if I hadn’t managed to
save those crops, I don’t know how I would have been able to look
after Tessie and my mother. And Mrs Gatton and my mother were very
good friends.”

Him speaking of Nana
Fuller made me realise I’d never known that Dad had financially
assisted her as well. I’d always assumed that she lived on a
pension and what she earned from giving piano and singing lessons.
I could see now why that year had been so stressful for Dad, and
why he’d worked himself to the bone to save his crops.

“
Something that’s always made me curious, Dad. Why didn’t Nana
Fuller just sell her house and come to live with us? It would have
been cheaper for all of us, wouldn’t it?”

He smiled tiredly. “I
tried to convince her to do that, Tessie, believe me. But she was a
very stubborn and independent person.”

I smiled back at him,
patting his hand. “Sounds like someone I know.”

“
Sounds like someone I know,” said the Sarge
sotto
voce
, looking pointedly at me.

“
Guess it must run in the family,” I said lightly. I took our
plates to the sink and quickly washed them, not willing to engage
him in any kind of discussion about my alleged character
flaws.

The Sarge checked his
watch. “Time to get back to the station, Tessie. You have those
reports to write, remember?”

“
How
could I forget with you reminding me every five
minutes?”

“
They
should keep you out of trouble for the rest of the day.”

“
Good
luck with that, Finn,” chuckled Dad.

“
I
resent the implication that I’m bound to end up in some kind of
trouble this afternoon,” I huffed. “And to prove my point, I will
return to my desk and complete my paperwork like the obedient and
dutiful police officer that I always strive to be.”

Dad laughed harder.
“Even better luck with that, Finn.”

“
That’s enough sass from you, sir,” I said affectionately,
ruffling what was left of his hair and dropping a kiss on the top
of his head. “I’ll see you at dinnertime.”

“
Do
you want me to make something?” he asked.

“
No,”
I said immediately. “I’ll make something when I get home. You rest
for a while.”

“
Okay, love. That sounds like a good idea,” he said. His
instant acquiescence made me worry about him even more.

On our way back to the
station, the Sarge said, “I hate to say it, Tessie, but your father
seems much worse than he was when I left. Is he okay?”

“
No,
he’s not okay. He gets more disabled every day. I used to be able
to ignore the fact that he’s so sick because he was still mobile
and active. But now . . . I can’t run from it anymore.”

“
Tessie . . . I’m sorry.”

“
One
day, maybe even much sooner than I dread, I’m going to be the last
Fuller left in town. The last Fuller from this line of the family
left at all.”

“
You
won’t be a Fuller forever.”

“
What
do you mean?”

“
You’ll get married one day and change your name.”

“
Maybe I won’t ever get married. And even if I did, I might
keep my own name. I’m not ashamed of being a Fuller. I often wish I
hadn’t been born a Fuller here in Little Town, but I’m not ashamed
of being one. And even if I did change my name, I would still
consider myself a Fuller.”

“
I’m
sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you’d change it for that reason. I
was just talking about tradition.”

“
Was
Melissa going to change hers?”

“
I
believe so. That was always my assumption, but we never really
talked about it.”

“
Then
why did you assume that she would?”

“
Don’t know. I suppose that most married women I know have.
Harry’s wife did when they were married. And my mum changed her
name when she married my father, and then again when she married my
step-father.” He shrugged. “I never really thought about it
before.”

“
What’s your mother’s surname now?” I asked out of sheer
curiosity.

“
Er .
. .” His phone rang. “Can you get that for me?”

I picked it up from the
console, frowning at him, sure that it was a very convenient
interruption for him.

“
Sergeant Maguire’s phone.”

I listened before
agreeing to be in attendance as quickly as possible.

“
Trouble in town,” I told the Sarge.