Sweet Damage (27 page)

I follow them onto the grass and push myself between them so that he's forced to let go of Lilla's arm.

‘Fuck
off
,' Patrick screams at me. ‘Just fuck off and leave us alone, you dumb fucking loser.'

He lurches towards Lilla again and I grab his shoulder, trying to hold him back, but he's stronger and angrier than me and I don't have much chance. He reaches for Lilla with one hand and takes a swing at me with the other, hitting me straight in the gut. It's not a full-blown punch, more a distracted backhander, but it still hurts like hell, knocks the air out of me, and I double over, trying to catch my breath.

And then a shout comes from the front porch that makes us all stop. It's Anna, her voice strong and furious.

‘Let go of her right now and get the hell off my property!' It's the first time I've seen her so angry, and I'm so startled I forget the pain in my gut, stare up at her. Her eyes are flashing, her cheeks are flushed. She's magnificent with rage. ‘How dare you come here and act like such an arsehole! Get out of here! Now! Or I'll call the police.'

Patrick looks startled too, as if he can't quite believe the small blonde girl on the porch could have such authority. He lets go of Lilla and looks from me to Anna, then back at me. I can almost see his brain ticking over, weighing up his options. Should he stay and fight, or go before he makes things worse? Anna has her phone in her hand and is holding it up for Patrick to see. Lilla has her arms folded across her chest and is staring at him with dagger eyes.

‘Okay, okay,' he calls. ‘You don't need to call anyone. I'm going.'

He takes a step away, but suddenly stops, lurches towards me and grabs my shirt front. He pulls me so close I can feel his breath against my skin, smell the fumes of whatever it is he's been drinking. ‘You watch your back, arsehole. Stay the fuck out of my way.'

‘I have no intention of getting in your way, Patrick,' I say. ‘I'd rather not go anywhere near you.' He shoves me and I stumble backwards, only just managing to stay on my feet.

He staggers to the gate, looking drunker than he did when he first got here. It's a pathetic sight, and with the safety of distance, he starts looking more ridiculous than threatening.

He stops and points at me before he crosses the road. ‘I'm watching you, Ellison,' he says. ‘Ya fucking dog. I'm watching you.'

*

After he's gone, Anna, Lilla and I sit around the kitchen table and have coffee.

‘Well, that was an unexpected adventure,' I say. ‘You certainly picked him from the bottom of the barrel, Lilla.'

‘But he's not like that,' she says. ‘Not really.'

‘But he
is
like that,' I say, exasperated. I'm no longer jealous of Patrick, but it still annoys me that she's sticking up for him. ‘Obviously. He was just here
being
like that. And what was that he said about your job? You didn't tell me you got fired.'

Lilla glares at me. ‘It's a complicated story. I was treated unfairly. And I didn't tell you because you would only say it was my own fault. Anyway.' She turns to Anna. ‘I'm sorry. I've never seen Patrick act like that before.'

‘It was probably just an aberration,' Anna puts in, diplomatically.

‘Exactly,' Lilla nods. ‘I'm sure he'll be devastated tomorrow. He'll probably ring and apologise.'

‘I bloody hope not.' I think of the night I saw him at the pub, the footsteps I heard later, the feeling that I was being followed. ‘I just wonder how well you really know the guy, Lilla.'

68

T
HE NEXT MORNING, FOR THE FIRST TIME IN WEEKS
, I
GET UP
early for a surf. The air is cool but the water's warm, and once I'm actually out there, I forget about everything but the water and my body and the sky and the sea. I exist as I only ever do when I'm surfing or having sex – purely in the rush of the moment. And as I walk back up the beach I have my usual post-excellent-surf thoughts: I bag myself for forgetting how awesome and perfect it is, for forgetting how an early-morning surf can set a good tone for the rest of the day. And I swear to myself that I'll make the effort to come out more often – every day, if possible.

When I get back to the house I run upstairs to Anna. It's dark in our room, the curtains drawn, and I take off my clothes quietly. I get beneath the sheet and wrap my arms around her back. Pressing my skin against hers is like lowering myself into a fragrant bath.

‘Oh,' she says in a soft murmur. ‘You're cold.'

‘Make me warm, then.'

And she turns to face me, opens her arms, and does just that.

*

Later, I go to the kitchen and make enough bacon and eggs and fried mushrooms for the three of us. When it's done I go upstairs and tell the girls to come down. Lilla enters the kitchen in her dressing-gown, looking a lot healthier than she did yesterday. Anna appears a moment later. She's dressed, her hair wet from the shower. We smile at each other.

‘Oh, stop it, you two,' Lilla says. ‘Those looks you're giving each other. You're making me sick.'

We each have a huge plate of food and we all go back for seconds. Lilla makes coffee when we've finished and we sit around the table, content, bellies full.

‘Why don't we have a dinner party?' Lilla says.

‘We just had a party,' I say.

‘No. I meant a small thing. A
dinner
party, Tim. It's quite different.' She smiles sheepishly, looks at Anna. ‘Actually, I was thinking we should invite your friends over for dinner, Anna. That bloke I met at your party last week. Marcus? And his sister?'

‘Fiona?'

‘Yes. Them. They seemed pretty nice.'

‘They are nice,' Anna says, looking puzzled. ‘I'm just not sure—'

‘But wait,' Lilla interrupts. ‘I just have one really important question I need to ask first.' She grins. ‘Is Marcus single?'

‘You can't be serious,' I say. ‘You haven't even got rid of Patrick yet.'

‘I have so got rid of Patrick. It's not my fault he's having problems understanding that fact.'

‘Shouldn't you try being single for a week or two?' I say. ‘So you can find yourself or something?'

‘Nah. That's all bullshit. Why am I more likely to find myself by being alone? All I'll discover that way is that I'm lonely,' she says. ‘And horny.'

‘God, Lilla.'

‘Don't be so uptight, Tim. Why shouldn't I pursue love if I want to? I don't like being alone and I'm happy to admit it. It's boring.' She shrugs. ‘And I just thought Marcus seemed nice. Mature. It can't hurt to get to know him, can it? I'm not going to ask him to marry me or anything. I just thought it might be fun to get to know some new people. You know, plant some new trees in my social garden.'

I look at Anna but it's hard to know if she's upset or not. I know she wouldn't like the idea, though. She makes an uncertain gesture, lifts her shoulders.

‘What is it?' Lilla asks, looking at Anna. ‘Have I put my foot in it? Did you two have a thing or something?'

‘No,' Anna says. ‘Not that. And yes, he is single, but he's also very shy.'

‘That's okay,' Lilla says. ‘I like shy. I can handle shy. In fact, I'm so
not
shy, I think I'm better off with a shy person. You know, yin and yang? A bit of karmic balance or something?'

‘I don't know,' Anna says. ‘He's not really the type to enjoy being . . . I don't know . . . what is this? A set-up? A blind date?'

‘No,' Lilla says. ‘It's nothing like that. Not at all. It would just be a normal dinner party. I won't make it obvious or anything. If we hit it off, we hit it off. If we don't, we don't. No harm done.'

‘I suppose I could call him,' Anna says. ‘I suppose it couldn't hurt.'

‘Of course it won't hurt! It'll be fun!' Lilla stands up and grabs Anna's phone off the kitchen bench, slides it across the table. ‘Call him now.'

‘Not now,' Anna says. ‘It's too early. Later.'

‘Today?'

‘Maybe.'

‘Please?'

‘Okay. Later.'

‘Promise?'

‘Promise.'

69

S
HE DOES AS
L
ILLA HAS ASKED, AND CALLS
M
ARCUS
. H
E AGREES TO COME TO
dinner the following weekend. When she tells him that Lilla will be there, that she's staying with them at the moment, Anna is sure she hears a change in his voice, a slight sharpening in his interest
.

She's not sure why she feels bad about it, or quite where this feeling of possessiveness comes from. Surely she wouldn't begrudge him love? Especially not now that she has Tim. All the same, she feels out of sorts and irritable for the rest of the morning.

Later that day, Lilla suggests that they all go down to Manly.

‘There's a band playing down at the Corso. And it's such a beautiful day. We can have a beer or ten.'

Tim looks keen for a second, then he glances over at Anna, as if only just remembering that she can't leave the house. He shakes his head. ‘Nah. We might just stay here.'

‘What?' Lilla says. ‘You're joking, right? Since when have you been such a homebody? Come on, the weather's perfect. It'll be awesome.'

‘I won't,' Anna says. ‘But you go, Tim. Really, I don't mind,' she says, as cheerfully as she can. ‘I've got some things I need to do here.'

‘Oh, come on, Anna,' Lilla says, taking Anna's hand, bouncing around her. ‘Let's go and have some fun.'

And though Lilla's words and actions seem friendly enough there's something cold in her face, something sharp in her eyes that bothers Anna, makes her wonder what Lilla is playing at. She gets the strange feeling that Lilla is performing – she just can't work out what or why.

‘No. Really.' She pulls her hand away. ‘I can't.'

‘I'll stay here too,' Tim says, ‘and help you out.'

Anna shakes her head and plasters a big smile on her face. ‘Don't be stupid. Go on. Leave me alone for a while.'

‘If you're sure?' Tim can't help but show his pleasure, and though she doesn't show it – it would be like trying to keep him trapped, just as she is trapped – she can't help feeling disappointed.

‘Of course,' she says. ‘Go. Have a beer for me.'

*

She watches them from the living-room window.

They walk together, Lilla's shapely brown legs going fast to keep pace with Tim's much longer ones. The two of them are laughing, Lilla leaning into him when she talks, looking up at him, her face so pretty and animated. Both of them are oblivious, taking everything for granted: the world and the fact that they can be a part of it, their own easy confidence.

When she can no longer see them, Anna pulls closed the curtain, turns back to the empty room.

She lies belly-down on the sofa and buries her face in a cushion. She screams as loudly as she can. Nobody can hear her and she screams until her throat is hoarse, screams until the fabric is wet with her spit and tears. She screams until the image of Tim and Lilla walking down the road, away from her, is replaced by a head full of black.

70

‘I
LIKE
A
NNA
,' L
ILLA SAYS, AS WE WALK
. ‘I
REALLY DO
. B
UT
S
HE
'
S
definitely pretty messed up. You should be careful. I mean, I know her baby died and everything, but that shrine she's got up in the attic? Why the hell—'

‘I don't want to hear it, Lilla,' I interrupt. ‘Stop now before you start pissing me off.'

‘But come on, Tim,' she says, glancing at me sideways. ‘It's creepy. It totally gave me the shivers. You should be worried about her. I mean, I certainly am. She's totally depressed. Like, why didn't she want to come out with us? She never does anything. It's
weird
. She hangs around that house like an old lady.'

I watch her face but can't properly read her expression. Is the smile on her face a smug and knowing one, or is she just being mischievous, her normal tactless self?

‘Maybe she just likes doing her own thing,' I say, neutrally. ‘She's independent. Self-contained. You'd probably benefit from being more like that yourself.'

She shrugs and the strange smile is replaced with a more natural one. ‘Yeah,' she laughs. ‘Maybe you're right. Maybe I would.'

*

When we get to Manly we stand and watch the band for a while but it's hot in the sun and my throat is dry and I long for the beer Lilla mentioned back at the house. We go to one of the restaurants with outdoor seating and order beers and hot chips. And as we eat and drink, and finish our first beer and order a second, Lilla talks, telling me about the recent workplace drama that ended in her being sacked. Lilla's outrage seems misplaced but I don't bother saying anything, instead I nod, only half-listening, enjoying the atmosphere, the noises, the people.

I'm sitting there half-listening to Lilla, relaxed with the sun and the music and my gently inebriated state, when Lilla's phone rings. She lifts her bag to the table and rummages through it, tossing scraps of paper and tissues on the table as she searches.

By the time she's found the phone it's stopped.

‘Dammit,' she says, standing up. ‘Sorry, Tim. I just need to return that call. Won't be a sec.'

She walks away, phone pressed against her ear. I start cleaning up the mess she made, putting tissues and papers back into her bag.

Among the mess I find a photo. A photo that has been ripped in half and defaced. It was clearly a picture of Anna and somebody else – the blonde hair and thin body are unmistakable – but the second person has been torn away, and Anna's face has been scratched off with something sharp. Jagged marks zigzag aggressively through her head, leaving her face an eerie-looking blank.