Sweet Damage (31 page)

‘I wasn't going through your bag. You threw the picture on the table yourself the day we were in Manly. I was just putting it back, cleaning up your bloody mess as usual, just like we had to clean up the spiders. And the paint on the wall.'

‘My mess?' Lilla says viciously. ‘My bloody mess? I don't think so, Tim. It wasn't me who started this. The truth is you and Anna have been invading my—'

‘Oh for Christ's sake,' Marcus interrupts, standing up. ‘This is all getting out of hand. You're all getting worked up and hysterical and if you want my opinion all three of you are sounding quite mad right now. I think you'd be a lot better off having this conversation tomorrow. When you haven't been drinking.'

‘Marcus, stop. Wait,' Fiona suddenly interrupts. She has been sitting there in silence, staring at the laptop. She turns to Lilla. ‘It says here that your last name's Buchanan?'

‘Yeah? So?'

‘What's your mother's name?'

Lilla is completely taken aback. ‘What?'

‘Hazel,' I answer for her. ‘Hazel Buchanan.'

‘Hazel Buchanan,' Fiona turns to Marcus. She straightens up, her voice is crisp and full of urgency. ‘I knew Lilla's name was familiar. My God, Marcus. We set the payment up, for Anna's father, for Stephen London. Remember? He asked us to keep it strictly confidential. You must remember? Two hundred dollars a month to Hazel Buchanan. And then in his will, to be paid from the estate, in perpetuity . . .'

Marcus puts his head in his hands. ‘What?'

‘Where did you meet her?' Fiona asks, taking his arm. ‘Marcus? Listen to me. Where did you and Lilla meet?'

‘Don't answer that,' Lilla says to Marcus, grabbing his other arm. Marcus looks from Lilla to Fiona and back again. Lilla's voice is as brash and as arrogant as ever, but there's a change in her eyes, a distinct flicker of fear. ‘It's none of their damn business.'

Marcus brushes her away. ‘That's easy,' he says to Fiona. ‘We met at Stephen London's funeral.'

‘Right,' Fiona says. ‘The funeral. Of course. So—'

‘
Daddy's
funeral?' Anna's interrupts.

Marcus nods.

‘But . . .'Anna looks over at Lilla. ‘Why were you there? You didn't know my father. Why would you go to his funeral?'

Lilla doesn't respond. She toys with the knife in the centre of the table, pressing it down on one end so the blade lifts in the air.

‘Lilla,' Anna says. ‘Answer me.'

‘You're right,' Lilla says. ‘I didn't know him at all. I never met the man. Not once.'

‘So why were you at his funeral?'

An odd-looking smile appears on Lilla's face. ‘I had every right to go to that funeral. Every right in the world.'

‘Every right? What?
'
Anna's voice is low and full of loathing. ‘What are you, Lilla? Some kind of gold-digger? Is that it? Money? Is that what you're after? Or . . .
what
? Do you just like to prey on vulnerable people? Grieving people? What is it? What's your game?'

‘Vulnerable people?' Lilla says, still giving all her attention to the knife. Her voice is mild enough, but I can see the tremor in her fingers, the tension in her jaw. ‘What would you know about being vulnerable?'

‘Oh, for God's sake, I'm not going to get into another one of these ridiculous conversations,' Anna stands up and slaps both hands on the table so that Lilla is forced to look at her. She leans forward, speaks furiously. ‘I just want to know, Lilla.
What the fuck were you doing at Daddy's funeral?

' The response from Lilla is dramatic, shocking. She stands up and the two of them glare at each other over the table. Lilla lets out a low howl and raises her glass above her head, throws it with full force at the wall behind Anna.

Anna jumps, visibly startled. Then she shakes her head, gives a small, shaken laugh. ‘You're a fool, Lilla. A trashy fool. And I can't be bothered with you. I'm not interested in what you've been doing here or why you hate me. I just want you to get the hell out of my house.'

Lilla moans softly and shakes her head from side to side as Anna talks. She puts her hands over her ears as if she can't stand to hear the sound of Anna's voice.

‘Lilla?' I say. Seeing her like this is disturbing, chilling. For all her talk of Anna's mental health it's Lilla who looks crazy right now. ‘Lilla?'

She opens her eyes and suddenly, her movements as quick and agile as a cat chasing a mouse, she snatches up the knife and dashes around the table towards Anna. She presses her forearm against Anna's chest and shoves her backwards, so that Anna's back slams hard against the wall.

‘I hate you, Anna London,' she screams. ‘I fucking hate you. I wish you were dead!'

‘Lilla!'

‘Stop!

‘No!'

But before anyone has had the chance to react she thrusts the knife at Anna. We all move to stop her, but Fiona's there first.

‘I hate you! I fucking hate you,' Lilla screams, raising her arm again and again, but her rage has made her oblivious and it isn't Anna who takes the brunt of her attack, but Fiona.

81

‘A
NNA
, A
NNA, ARE YOU OKAY
?' T
IM SHOUTS, AS HE AND
M
ARCUS PULL
L
ILLA
away, dragging her to the other side of the room.

‘I'm fine,' Anna says. ‘But Fiona's hurt. She needs help.'

‘I'll call an ambulance,' says Marcus. ‘And the police.'

Anna doesn't watch them, she's too intent on Fiona, but Lilla's animal sounds and Tim's raised and angry voice echo loudly around the room, making her pulse race, her mind unclear.

There's blood everywhere. All down Anna's front and on her hands. Fiona's blood.

‘Oh God,' Fiona says, collapsing to the ground. ‘I'm bleeding. Oh God.'

Anna grabs a handful of napkins from the table, crouches down and presses them against Fiona's wounds. There's so much blood it's hard to know where it's coming from or how to staunch it.

‘I'm scared,' Fiona says. ‘I'm really scared.'

‘You're going to be fine,' Anna says, trying to hide the fear in her voice. ‘It's not as bad as it looks.'

When Marcus comes back, Tim is sitting on the opposite side of the room with Lilla, their backs pressed against the wall. Tim's hands are wrapped firmly around one of Lilla's arms. Marcus goes to sit on the other side of her, pressing his elbow against her arm to restrain her. It's a particularly hostile gesture, as if he finds her repellant, as if he can't bear to touch her with his hands.

Anna slides closer to Fiona. She would like to lift Fiona's head, let it rest more comfortably in her lap, but she's afraid of making her bleed more. She settles for brushing her hand over Fiona's hair. Fiona grabs Anna's hand and pulls it close to her face, presses her lips against the skin of Anna's palm. It's the first time Fiona has ever touched her voluntarily. The only act of physical intimacy Fiona has ever initiated. The realisation brings tears to Anna's eyes.

‘I'm sorry, Anna,' Fiona says. ‘So sorry.'

‘Shhhh. Don't be silly. You've got nothing to be sorry for.'

‘All of this wouldn't have happened if not for me.'

‘No. Be quiet. Please. Just rest.'

‘I abandoned you,' she says. ‘When Benjamin died. I left you here all alone.'

‘It's okay. It's understandable. I would have left too.'

‘No you wouldn't,' Fiona says, closing her eyes for such a long while that Anna grows afraid, leans over her, whispers her name.

Fiona grimaces, opens her eyes, and Anna squeezes her hand gratefully, wills the ambulance to hurry.

‘I've been a coward,' Fiona says. ‘I couldn't handle your sadness. It was so messy and I couldn't help you. I couldn't do anything. So I ran away.'

‘It's okay, Fiona,' Anna says, crying openly now. ‘It's okay. It's not your fault.'

‘I only wanted to help,' Fiona says, closing her eyes again, her voice growing weaker. ‘From the moment I first met you I just wanted to help. Be a good friend. But then I did the worst thing possible. I left you. Just when you needed me. I abandoned you.'

82

T
HERE
'
S A LONG SILENCE IN THE ROOM AS WE ALL WAIT FOR THE
ambulance and the police to arrive. Lilla eventually stops resisting us and slumps against the wall, her head down.

Marcus sits there wide-eyed and pale. His face is covered by a thin sheet of sweat. He stares at Fiona, as if he can will her to be okay with the power of his eyes, as if he's afraid she'll die if he doesn't watch her for a second.

Suddenly Lilla lifts her head, stares at Anna. I squeeze her arm tighter in warning, but she ignores me, takes a deep breath.

‘I had every right to go to that funeral,' she says.

Anna and Marcus both seem to sigh and grow tense at the same time. Nobody wants to listen to any more of Lilla's shit. Anna lifts a blank face and gazes at Lilla with cold eyes.

‘Every right,' Lilla repeats.

‘Okay,' Anna says. ‘Whatever you say.'

‘But don't you want to know why?' Lilla says. ‘Don't you want to know why I had the right?'

‘I'm not particularly interested in what you have to say anymore,' Anna says. ‘You can tell the police.'

Lilla smiles at this, shakes her head as though Anna is an amusing child. ‘Oh, but you would be interested. If you knew. You'd be very interested indeed.'

Anna turns away, gives her attention to Fiona.

I can feel Lilla's mounting irritation. She's always hated being ignored. She sits up straighter, and I hold her arm more firmly. She feels poised and tight, ready for battle, like a gun cocked and ready to fire.

‘He was
my
father too,' she says.

Anna looks up sharply. ‘What?'

‘Stephen London was my father,' Lilla says, her voice triumphant, spiteful.

Anna gasps as if she's been hit. The colour drains from her face.

‘There. See? You know it's true. I can tell by the look on your face. That's why he was paying off my mother,' Lilla laughs. Her tone of voice becomes conversational, friendly even. ‘And if you think it's a shock for you, imagine what it's been like for me. My whole life. Not knowing who my father was until my mum saw his picture in the paper after he died and lost her shit. But it was too late to do anything about it by then. Nineteen years too late.'

I wait for Anna to deny it, to tell Lilla she's a liar, but she doesn't say a word.

‘Mum told me everything,' Lilla continues. ‘And what a surprise. After all that time, all those years of living in a shitty home unit, I find out that my father was rich. But not just rich, not just comfortably rich,
mega
rich
, filthy
rich. And then to make things worse I find out that he has another daughter. A daughter he actually loves.'

Anna shakes her head.

‘So,' Lilla continues, and she lifts her head to look around the room deliberately. ‘You got the big house. The private schools. The nice clothes. I got a lousy two hundred bucks a month. Shut-up money, basically. Hardly fair was it? And if you think I was neglected on a material level, on an emotional level things were even worse. I have to say Anna that your dear
daddy
was slightly negligent in his duties. I never spoke to the man, never met him. Not once in nineteen years. I didn't receive a single phone call or a letter. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. You got everything, Anna. As far as
Daddy
was concerned it would have been better if I didn't even exist.'

It's impossible to fathom. Insane. And yet Anna's making no attempt to argue, no attempt to defend her father.

‘But I wonder,' Lilla continues. ‘I wonder what he would think now. If he could see you. He wouldn't be all that proud, would he? Pregnant at eighteen. Letting your baby drown. Living here like some kind of hermit. Too scared to go out.'

‘Lilla, please.'

‘He'd probably think he'd wasted all his attention on the wrong one. All that money and time and effort and look at you. A useless waste of space. A non-contributing member of society. A freak.'

Anna starts to cry.

‘You couldn't even look after your own son. Couldn't even keep him safe.'

‘Lilla,' I say, low and angry. I pull her arm back tight against the wall, resisting a second urge to really hurt her, to smash her arm, break her bones. ‘Stop it. Now. I'm warning you.'

‘But it's true, though, Tim,' she says. ‘Anna is so useless she can't even manage to lock the wheels of a pram, stop her baby rolling into Manly Dam.'

Anna's head snaps up. ‘What did you say?'

‘You heard me. I said your—'

‘No,' Anna says, and there's a fury and determination in her voice that makes us all pay attention. ‘Not that. About Benjamin. The pram. Exactly what did you say? Repeat it.'

‘Why should I? I can't even remember what I said,' Lilla says, and I can hear the fear in her voice. ‘And anyway that's not the point.'

‘She said you didn't lock the wheels of the pram and that it rolled into Manly Dam,' Marcus says, turning to stare at Lilla with an expression of intense hatred. ‘That's exactly what she said.'

Lilla's eyes remain fixed on Anna's.

We hear the sirens then, screeching up the street towards us. But neither Lilla nor Anna move or react. They watch each other; the air between them thick with hostility and something even bigger, some emotion more fundamental than hatred, something so ugly it makes my skin crawl.

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