Inconsolable (11 page)

She lifted her face. “Can we sit? I need to sit for a minute. My legs are made of wobble.”

He let her go. The longer he had her, the harder it would be. He took off his shirt, wet but the driest thing he owned, and wiped the couch down, made a place for her. She sat beside him, and they both faced out at the ocean. She should want to be on another planet to him.

He closed his eyes. “Why did you stay?”

“I didn't think you'd hurt me.”

He'd never wanted to hurt anyone. Never meant to. But he'd been the architect of such pain for so many.

“I know you won't hurt me,” she said.

How could she have that belief, that faith, after what he'd just done? “I am not right, Foley. I am not good and you can't be around me.”

“I don't believe that either.”

“Belief is ridiculous. It's like sea spray. It's nothing of substance.”

“You're calm now. You got angry because I broke my promise and then you—” She shook her head. “I hate that you did that thing on the edge, but I have no choice but to believe you don't want to kill yourself if you tell me that's true.” She put her elbows on her knees and hid her face in her hands.

“Why did you come?” It should've been the only thing that mattered; what made her lie, break her promise, but she didn't understand the only part of the promise that had mattered to him was not seeing her again.

She sat upright again. “I need to tell you about something that makes it unsafe for you to be here.”

He could hear distress still in the hesitant quality of her voice. “Go on.” She took a deep breath, fortifying herself. He knew she was watching him, measuring. “I won't shout at you. You can tell me. I'm back in my head now.”

“Too many people know you're here and someone started a petition. Hundreds of people have signed it. They've formed an action group. Neighbours for Resident Safety. They say it's not safe for you here and they want council to make you move, even if it means having you arrested. They want council to board up the cave so no one can use it.” She put her hand down on the couch, too close to his, but kept her eyes away. “If it was ever safe for you here, it's not now, Drum.”

He moved his hand to his knee and looked out at the horizon. It was raining out there. “When will they arrest me?”

“No one is going to arrest you. It's all meaningless if you move. It will all go away.”

“I'm not moving. This is my home.”

“Oh, Drum. This is serious. This group wants a meeting with the mayor and the mayor is a nervous man. He doesn't want any fuss.”

“I understand.”

“You say that, but I don't think you do. There is no downside for the mayor in siding with the action group. He can have you removed and board up the cave.”

“He will do what he must. I can't change that.”

He felt Foley drop her head to the back of the couch. She was distressed and he'd done that to her. He would keep doing that to her, because he didn't know how to stop. “When do they meet with the mayor?”

“I'm not sure, but the local paper knows about this. They'll run a story as early as tomorrow. People might come looking for you. People like whoever trashed your stuff. It's not safe, Drum.”

“I'll be fine.”

She lifted her head and looked at him. “You are an exasperating man.”

“I'm sorry.”

“No. You're not.” She laughed, a brittle sound. “You're sorry you yelled at me. You're sorry you scared me stupid, but you're not sorry you're being a shit. If you're staying then we have to make a new deal. You'll move out in four days time for the two weeks of the Sculptures by the Coast event. Between now and then we'll check in with each other every day.”

He stood up and stepped away from the couch. “I don't want this new deal.” This new deal was a disaster if it meant he had to keep seeing her.

“Well, I already broke the old one. I know you don't want me here. I understand that, but I can't let you be here and not know you're safe. You can choose how we do this. We can meet somewhere, or I can give you a loaner phone and you can call me.”

“I don't want a phone.”

She nodded. “Why don't you choose somewhere for us to meet? It need only be for a minute. I only need to see that you're okay. We don't need to speak.”

He didn't want any deals. He didn't care about petitions and if they boarded the cave up he'd have firewood, or maybe even half a wall; that would be useful. He watched the rain drift on the horizon, coming closer.

Last night he'd tried to make sure not too many people saw him and Foley together. She shouldn't be seen with him. There were hundreds of places he could meet her, but unless the weather co-operated or they met in the dead of night, people would see. He didn't want to meet her and he didn't want to stop.

“In the park, at the bent tree,” he said. “We can meet there.”

11: Dishonest

Hugh put his hand to the top of his head and blew out a breath. He reminded Foley of a steaming kettle, all handle, spout and lid. Gabriella reminded her of a slow loris, terminally cute, but deadly.

Nat's paper with the story about Drum, the resident action group and their two thousand signature strong petition was front page of
The Courier
, and front and centre on Hugh's desk. The slow loris stood on Hugh's right, blinking her big brown eyes.

Foley stood by the bookshelf with the perspex dust collector in her hands. For the second day in a row she was under attack and perspex made a better weapon than Chinese food.

“Run this past me again, Gab,” said Hugh. He was being reasonable; being cautious with the slow loris. They were one of the world's most poisonous animals, secreting toxins and sending their victims into anaphylactic shock with their bite.

Foley wanted to shoot, tag and bag Gabriella, turn her into a hideous taxidermy model and throw darts at her.

“Like I said, I felt we needed a backup plan in case Foley failed,” said the slow loris, turning her toxin into poison.

Foley moved the perspex from hand to hand. It had sharp corners. “I wasn't going to fail. I haven't failed. We have a deal.”

Hugh took his hand off his head. “Foley, you're not helping. Let Gab finish.”

“There's no way this can be traced to us. I am one hundred percent confident of that,” she said.

Foley jumped in. “The fact that you're—”

Hugh said, “Foley.” This time sharper than perspex corners.

The slow loris went on with her blinking, tree hugging, poison secreting ways. “It's a technique we used at my old council—”

“Which no long—”

“Foley.” The warning in Hugh's tone went up a notch.

“It's called astroturfing. It's where—”

“You ethically compromise council and everything our Homeless Charter stands for.”

The slow loris blinked her big brown eyes. “Hugh, it's very clear Foley is upset. Perhaps it would be better if she waited outside.”

“I'm not upset.”

Hugh frowned at her. “You're not?”

Foley gripped the perspex. “I'm fucking furious. This council is behind Neighbours for Resident Safety. This council set up the petition. Roger is going to have to meet with an action committee his own council got going.”

“Gab, tell me that's not what you're saying,” said Hugh.

“Of course I'm not saying that. The committee is legitimate, entirely independent. I may have suggested to—”

“May have?” Foley shouted. Hugh gave her a narrow-eyed, chin jutting, not helping look.

The slow loris changed branches, revised her position. “I suggested to the dog walk club and the paint in the park group they might want to start a petition, just in case.”

Foley weighted the perspex in one hand. “In case of what?”

Gabriella smiled, fangs bared. “In case you failed, and in preference to Geraldo going public about council's incompetence.”

You could beat a slow loris to a slow death with a hunk of perspex. “Hugh.” It wasn't warning in her tone so much as intention.

Hugh's hand went to his head. “Foley.” Another warning. “Gab, when you say you suggested this petition …”

“This is a legitimate tactic to—”

“To manipulate an agenda,” Foley said.

She had no idea what sound a slow loris made when it was riled up, but Gabriella made a tsk sound. “No, to solve difficult issues where council's reputation and community standing is at risk. With the state government considering more amalgamations, this is not the time for something as simple as a homeless man to put an unfortunate spotlight on the mayor's ability to manage community concerns.”

She was outrageous. No time spent disliking, being suspicious of Gabriella, had been wasted. “Hugh.”

Hugh put a stop sign hand in her face. “Foley. Gab, I don't know how best to say this, but we don't do things like that here. Roger might not be the most politically aware politician, but he's honest and that's why he keeps getting elected and this is, this is—”

“Evil.”

“Foley.” Hugh glared at her then flicked his eyes to Gabriella. “This is underhand and not worthy of us.”

The slow loris moved from Hugh's side, looking for another branch to cling to. “I'm sorry you feel that way.”

Hugh sat so hard he made his chair bounce. “How do we stop it?”

“Why would we stop it?” The slow loris appeared to be genuinely confused.

“Because it's underhanded and dishonest and unnecessary,” said Hugh and even if he never smirked at her ever again and wrote her a bad reference, Foley loved him with all her heart.

When Gabriella claimed credit for
The Courier's
lead story, Foley had smelled something rotten and pounced and now that rotten was all up in Hugh's nose and he was gagging, she felt vindicated.

“Gab, there's no way I will recommend Roger meets with the group. I don't want council having anything to do with it.”

“That's a little too late now, don't you think?” the poison one said, leaning over Hugh's desk and tapping the newspaper. “The way these things play out, there's a little fuss, the right decisions get made and the whole thing goes away.”

Foley looked at the lump of perspex, her fingerprints were so embedded they'd never polish off. “They have a website, and on it they say they're going to confront Drum and help him in unspecified ways to move to a safer place. You do know how dangerous that idea is. He's not homeless because he's perfectly balanced and reasonable.” The depth to which she'd underestimated that had given her a sleepless night.

Gabriella shrugged. “So they got a little enthusiastic. All the more reason for the caveman to move on now. As soon as he does, this whole thing will go away.”

“He's not a caveman and we have a deal with him.”

The slow loris tsked again. “It's not perfect, Foley. We wanted him gone for good, not two weeks. You said you understood that and you could handle it.”

Foley flashed a quick look at Hugh, then armed herself again. “I know, but it's a start. It gets us over the immediate problem of the sculpture walk and gives me time to come up with a more long-term solution.”

The slow loris folded her paws. “We have the better solution right here.”

“No we don't, you made this whole thing so much bigger than it needs to be.”

“You're blowing it all out of proportion, Foley.”

“I'm blowing it out of proportion. Me! Hugh!”

Hugh put both hands to his head. “Foley,” he warned, again. “Gab, there's to be no more, absolutely no more, contact between you and the dog walkers or the painters in the park or anyone else you might have thought to mention this idea to. We don't astroturf here, ever.” He brought his hands down. “That needs to be clear. Is it clear?”

Gabriella lifted one shoulder. The slow loris secreted its toxin from glands in its elbows, then turned it into poison with saliva. “I think it's a mistake, but it's clear. It should be noted I only acted when it became obvious Foley couldn't deliver the solution we needed.”

“Huuugh!”

“Foleeey.” Hugh did a brief double hand header. “Gab, you and I need to talk about this again, in detail. For the moment, get Donna to take any meeting with this mob out of Roger's diary and get it in mine. They'll have to make do with me instead of the mayor.”

The slow loris did a slow blink, no doubt put out about being asked to do a secretarial job. She said, “Of course,” and then, passing by Foley, added, “You might want to put that down. Hugh doesn't like it when you touch his things.”

Bugger maturity. What this called for was something incredibly juvenile. Foley couldn't help herself. She mimicked silently to Gabriella's departing back,
Hugh doesn't like it when you touch his things.

“I don't,” said Hugh. He likely meant more than a few dusty doodads on a bookshelf. Council's integrity was dear to him and Gab had mucked with it. “Find out what Nat knows. If it's all dog walkers and painters I can sleep tonight, if there's any hint of our involvement…” he pushed back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. “Shit, I must have holiday leave owing.” He righted himself. “And do what you can to get Drum off that fucking cliff. We now have a couple of hundred dog walkers and paint by numbers seniors inspired to do something stupid for his welfare, and Nat ready to make them famous for it.”

Foley rubbed a corner of her shirt across the perspex in a vague attempt at placating Hugh, and put it back carefully where she'd got it from. It was an entirely different strategy to the one she was going to need for Drum. He simply couldn't stay in the cave now. Someone would get hurt.

She went back to her desk in the mood to punish herself or anyone else who looked sideways at her. She opened the Beeton house file. She'd been avoiding it. But it struck her that the problem of the heritage house was the reverse of her problem with Drum. Council wanted the abandoned house saved, but Drum to move on. If she could solve one problem, maybe she could fix the other too.