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‘Hey, did you guys come with Grandpa?’

‘Yep. Mum’s not such an idiot she’s going to drive home from a party.’

‘How was he, coming over here?’

‘How was he? Grandpa? Fine, why?’

‘Oh… things have been a bit weird.’ And she told him what had been happening: the strange incident with Grandpa in the garden, and the meeting of all the aunts and uncles at her house that had followed. Laurence listened, nodding from time to time.

‘Okay, now I get it,’ he said. ‘Mum was pretty twitchy about it but she said everyone was making a big fuss over nothing. She reckons Grandpa’d just been a bit unwell. I thought he had, like, a cold or something.’

‘Nuh. He’s gonna have some tests, Uncle Robert’s organising it. Hey, here’s something I wanted to ask you, too: does your mum talk about
her
mum much?’

‘She used to. Not so much lately, maybe. But sometimes when she was pissed she used to crap on about how terrible it was to have a parent who just disappeared when you were a little kid. And I’m like, “Ma, how about a parent who disappears before you’re even
born
?”’

‘Yeah, good point. But I thought she didn’t talk about him hardly?

Your dad?

‘Nah, right. Like, what is there to say? “I had a shag, can’t remember his name or what he looked like but he seemed like a nice guy.” Good work, Ma. Nice one.’

‘Does it bug you?’

Laurence blew a little
pph
of air between his lips. ‘What’s the point? Nothing much I can do about it. Yeah, sometimes.’

They watched the party rock on from their secluded vantage point for a while, swinging companionably back and forth in the seat, which was decorated with a lion’s head at one end and a sort of enormous snake tail at the other.

‘Have I ever shown you Mum’s big journal-type things?’ asked Laurence suddenly.

Olivia shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘That’s where she writes about all that sort of stuff. Family stuff. Not just writes, she draws and pastes things in, too. They’re pretty amazing actually. Kinda like huge comic books, in a way, about her life.’

‘Yeah, really? Your mum does this? Auntie Meredith?’

‘Yep, that’s the one. You should come over next weekend, my friend Crystal’s coming to have a look at them. She’s doing Art for VCE, she’s sucking up every idea that’s going for her portfolio.’ He held his hands out as though grasping a long invisible handle and made vacuum cleaner sound effects.

‘Is that okay with your mum? I mean, for other people to look at them?’

‘Yeah, sure, she’s cool about that. You know what my mum’s like, she’ll spill her guts to the person sitting next to her on the tram.’

Olivia laughed. ‘Not like
my
mum!’

‘Hey, I’ll tell her now, if you like,’ said Laurence as he spotted his mother meandering by not far away. He called out to her and Meredith came straight over.

‘Oh, you
two
,’ she cooed, nudging in between them on the swing
seat. ‘It just makes me so happy that you get on so fabulously together. Poor little lonely-onlies!’

‘Yeah, our lives are blighted. Mum, can Ol come over next weekend and look at your journal things, too?’

‘Of course she can!’ said Meredith, planting a kiss on Olivia’s cheek. ‘But aren’t your weekends chock-a-block already? Busy going out with your pals?’

‘No,’ Olivia said simply.

‘You couldn’t
tear
me away from my friends when I was your age. We did
everything
together!’

‘Actually, I don’t have any friends,’ Olivia said in a perfectly matter-of-fact voice.

‘Oh, don’t
say
that! That can’t possibly be true!’

‘Hey, I’m your friend aren’t I, Ol?’ said Laurence.

‘Yeah, well, kind of. Sure. But you’re my cousin,’ said Olivia.

‘But you have to have
girl
friends your own age! That’s what’s so much
fun
!’ insisted Meredith. ‘You know, Ollie, sweetheart, maybe if you were just a little less, you know,
serious
all the time… Just talked more about, you know, movies and make-up and… and…’

Olivia was looking at her aunt with her customary scowl on her face. One hundred per cent serious.

‘Maybe a little makeover,’ said Meredith almost desperately. She lifted her niece’s straight hair up in wings from the sides of her head. Olivia gulped. ‘You could get a really cute cut, you know. Layers. Maybe some foils… ’

Laurence took hold of one of his mother’s wrists. ‘Mum,’ he said firmly. ‘That’s enough. Leave Ol alone, she’s fine the way she is.’

‘Of course she is!’ cried Meredith, dropping Olivia’s hair immediately and drawing back. ‘Of course you are, sweetheart! I didn’t… Oh dear, I get
everything
wrong, don’t I?’ She snatched up her empty glass from where it had fallen and peered into it as though more wine might magically appear, then turned back to Olivia. ‘Do you hate me?’ she asked beseechingly.

Olivia shook her head vehemently, speechless. Just then Laurence’s mobile beeped loudly; a text message. He read it and told them, ‘Okay, I’m gonna push off soon. Got another party to go to.’

‘Oh, Laurence, we only just got here!’ cried his mother.

‘That’s cool, Ma, you don’t have to leave yet! And I’ve talked to Ol, she was the only person I really wanted to see.’

‘That’s not very polite! You have to wish Silver a happy birthday.’

‘Don’t worry, I will. I’ll go and do that now.’

‘I’ll… I’ll go and do something, too,’ said Olivia, jumping up from the seat at the same moment as Laurence, setting it swinging wildly.

‘Whoo!’ Meredith sang, laughing as she was rocked back and forth. ‘Wait for me, I’ll come with you. My glass needs attention.’

As Meredith ordered a fresh drink from the cheerful young people at the bar, she spotted Robert nearby. He was nursing a light beer and looking a little lost.

‘Hello, Bobbit!’ she cried, embracing him and only losing the tiniest bit of her wine in the process. ‘Isn’t Vesna here yet?’

‘No, her shift only just finished so it’ll be another half hour at least. I might just go and check on the girls.’

They looked in on the clutch of children who were happily watching videos together in an upstairs room. Robert looked like he wouldn’t mind staying there but Meredith persuaded him to come back downstairs. They wandered around the flowing living areas of the big house, admiring this and that, chatting to each other. Through a window Meredith caught sight of their father standing with Olivia. They were examining the pale flowers of a tall shrub.

‘Look at Dad and Ollie,’ she said to Robert, pointing. ‘You know, I’m a bit worried about that girl. She told me just before that she doesn’t have
any friends
! Can you imagine that, Robert? That’s just not right, is it?’

‘Did she sound upset about it?’ asked Robert. Alex was bending a branch of the shrub toward Olivia, and they both leaned forward till they were almost enveloped by the blossoms.

‘Well… no, actually. And that’s strange, too, don’t you think?’

‘But that’s the thing, you see. I’ve been teaching for a long time now and you know one of the things I’ve learned, Merry? It’s not the kids like Olivia you have to worry about. It’s the ones who don’t have any friends but are desperately unhappy about it. The kids who’d do anything to be in with the in-crowd, they’re the ones to keep an eye on. Especially if they’re being bullied or ostracised. Olivia’s not like that. I think she’ll have plenty of friends in a few years, once the other kids have caught up to her.’

‘Do you think so? Well, she and Laurence get on fabulously, that’s for sure; they always have. And all his friends like her. They seem to, anyway.’

‘Yes. She just doesn’t fit with children her own age. See? Dad treats her almost like another adult and they’re… ’

‘Happy as sandboys,’ agreed Meredith, smiling as she watched the old man and the tall young girl rubbing leaf-tips between their fingers and conferring. ‘Oh, I’m glad we talked about this, you
always
know the right way to look at things!’ She patted her brother’s arm. ‘And Daddy’s looking so well, too, don’t you think? How did that assessment thingie go, by the way? Okay?’

‘Oh yes, it all went smoothly,’ said Robert. He had already talked about this with Vesna, that they wouldn’t spoil the party by discussing the rather upsetting facts of Alex’s assessment on the night. ‘Results in the next week, I expect. I’ll let everyone know what they are, of course.’

‘I’m sure it’ll be okay. I feel so sure of that,’ said Meredith.

They turned away from the window together, hearing the sound of familiar voices, and followed them to find Deborah and James standing at the long dining table.

‘Hi there, you two!’ cried Deborah, unusually expansive. ‘Come and have a look at this!’

On the wall behind the table hung the stingray painting. It had been perfectly lit; the scene seemed real, alive.

‘Oh, very nice, James! Very impressive,’ said Robert. ‘A new work?’

‘Yep. Well, just a couple of weeks. Silver likes to have ’em round the house for a while.’

‘Do you remember this?’ asked Deborah excitedly. ‘That summer, at Rosebud? When Mr Grounds got stung by the stingray?’

‘Oh, by golly, I do! How amazing! It’s an extraordinary talent you have, James.’

‘
I
don’t remember,’ pouted Meredith. ‘What summer are you talking about? Was I there?’

‘The summer Mum left,’ said Deborah baldly. She poured herself more champagne from the bottle on the table behind her.

‘You were there, Merry, but of course you were only little. We went down to Rosebud to visit some neighbours. I think it might have been New Year’s Eve.’

‘That’s right, it was!’ agreed Deborah. ‘We were supposed to stay there and let off fireworks on the beach but because of Mr Grounds getting stung we went back home and just did the fireworks in the backyard. So that was exactly a week to the day after Mum… left.’

All four siblings turned and gazed at the painting again. It seemed different now, somehow. More ominous.

‘I remember other things from that summer,’ offered Meredith. ‘I remember riding home from the pool on my new bike with Deb and how hard it was to reach the pedals. And I remember you teaching me how to swim, Bobbit, that was that summer, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, it was.’

‘I remember watching you standing with her for hours in the learners’ pool while she thrashed away,’ said Deborah. ‘You were so incredibly patient; I remember thinking: I’d be going mental by now.’ Robert gave his older sister a slightly startled look; it wasn’t like Deb to pay compliments. ‘And, James, you used to be in the big pool, just steaming up and down, up and down. You must’ve swum a hundred miles that summer. And you were only eight.’

‘Yeah, that was my big discovery, all right,’ said James. ‘The miracle of swimming. Realising you could get in the water and swim lap after lap and when you got out an hour or so had gone by and you hadn’t thought about
a thing
.’

‘I remember those yummy sandwiches you used to make when the boys got home from the pool,’ said Meredith.

‘Were they yummy?’ Deborah smiled.

‘Mmm, that fresh white bread, soft like a cloud, and the tomatoes smelt so
good
.’

‘Dad used to pick them in the morning just before he went off to work.’

‘And I loved the way you buttered the bread so thick. Why can’t we have sandwiches like that any more?’

‘That’s right. I remember when I was buttering them thinking, Mum would yell at me if she saw how much butter I was putting on. And so I’d put on even more –
So there!
’

They all laughed, the four together, and then sobered.

‘It was some summer, all right,’ said James.

‘Do you remember when the police came and talked to us?’ asked Robert suddenly.

James nodded forcefully and Deborah said, ‘Do I ever! We were petrified!’

‘Wasn’t it strange,’ said Robert, ‘the way we had all those theories about how she’d been kidnapped and we were going to get a ransom note, or perhaps she was a spy for the government – all those crazy ideas – and then when the police came we couldn’t say a single word.’

‘Well, you lot didn’t say a single word! And I just more or less said yes or no when they asked me questions.’

‘Did you tell them about that night?’ asked Meredith. ‘Christmas Eve, and the car arriving?’

‘We’d already told Dad everything we saw and then the cops asked me to tell it again but I just… couldn’t. Or wouldn’t, maybe,’
said Deborah. ‘And Dad wasn’t very happy about them talking to us either, I had that distinct impression.’

‘Daddy’s
never
been happy to talk about it,’ said Meredith petulantly. ‘Full stop!’

They were all quiet for a few moments and then Robert said with a wry smile, ‘I remember thinking,
I will never trust Deborah with a letter again
!’

Deborah turned on him with her face full of sudden fury. ‘What the
hell
do you mean by that?’

‘I just, I just,’ stuttered Robert, taken aback, ‘I just mean… I was just talking about, that summer, you know, you steamed open some letters…’

‘Uh-oh,’ said James. ‘I was your partner in crime there I’m afraid, Deb. We were looking for clues, remember?’

‘Oh yeah, yeah,’ said Deb, still flushed but looking somewhat mollified. ‘Well, big deal. We were desperate. I remember how you used to check the letterbox fifteen times a day!’ she flung at Robert.

‘I did,’ Robert said sadly. ‘I did. And I filled up all those project books with my neatest work, thinking I’d be able to show her when she came home. It was… soothing, somehow, doing those projects. You know, I’ve often thought that’s when I decided to become a teacher, that summer.’

‘And because of teaching me how to swim, too, maybe?’ suggested Meredith.

‘Hey, yeah!’ James gave a brief exclamatory laugh. ‘That was when I decided to become a swimmer!’

Deborah said, ‘That’s when I decided…’ She took another swig of champagne. Some spilled down her top, and she swiped at the drops.
Oh shit, I think I’m really pissed
. ‘No, that’s when I
realised
…’ The other three looked at her enquiringly but she was lost in memory.