November (9 page)

‘I think I know who that was,’ I said,
picturing
the man in the glasses who’d questioned me about which flat I lived in.

‘But don’t worry about it; they have no idea about your connection to me. No-one has a clue about you staying in my place. That’s the good thing about being hidden away, up on the roof. My guess is that most people forget I’m even up there.’

‘That’s a relief. I’d hate to get you into
trouble
.’ I adjusted my backpack. ‘Thanks heaps for getting this money for me. I’ll pay you back one day, I promise.’

‘I know you will. Can you do me a favour in the meantime?’

‘Course I can. What is it?’

‘Can you give me a place to crash tonight?’

‘Me? The treehouse?’

‘Yeah, do you mind? I don’t feel like going back to my empty flat tonight.’

‘Sure.’ For the last couple of months Winter had really shown her softer side. She definitely wasn’t the tough, cold-hearted girl I first thought she was. Far from it. ‘As long as you don’t mind sleeping on an uneven floor,’ I added.

‘I can handle that,’ she said. ‘Just lead the way.’

14 NOVEMBER

48 days to go …

A cool breeze was drifting in through the treehouse window, gently nudging the flames of the tea-light candles we’d lit. Winter wriggled closer to me. We were sitting on the floor, huddled under a blanket.

‘Hey,’ she said, softly, ‘want to see something funny?’

‘Yeah, what ya got?’

After a moment’s hesitation, she reached down into her beach bag and dug around, before finally pulling out a small, square photo.

‘Here,’ she said, passing it to me.

I took it in my hands and carefully peered at the image. In it was a girl with a black bob and fringe, wearing a huge grin, holding up a colourful drawing of a seahorse.

‘Winter, you were adorable,’ I couldn’t help saying. ‘You look so happy.’

‘I found the photo in a stash of my old things at Sligo’s place,’ she explained. ‘I’d forgotten this photo existed. Mum was always carrying around her instant camera. I used to love those first few moments after she’d take a picture. She’d always give it to me so I could watch the image slowly come into focus. I thought it was magic.’

‘When was it taken?’ I asked. I’d have guessed she was about Gabbi’s age. ‘You can talk to me, Winter,’ I said, sensing she was clamming up on me again. ‘We’re friends, right?’

She nodded. ‘You know we’re friends. The
picture
was taken on my tenth birthday,’ she said, taking it back from me.

‘Your tenth birthday—wasn’t that the day of the accident?’

She half-smiled as she nodded, as though she was happy I remembered her telling me that detail, but sad, casting her mind back to that horrible day.

‘It was taken just before we set off for the aquarium,’ she said. ‘I woke up so excited that morning. I remember ripping off my quilt and literally jumping out of bed. But when I reached the living room, Mum and Dad were pottering
around, acting like it was any other, ordinary day. They told me they were just too busy to organise anything for me, and that they’d make it up to me on my eleventh birthday. As I think I mentioned last time to you, I chucked a bit of a tantrum …’ Her voice trailed off for a moment.

‘You don’t have to go on,’ I said, ‘if it’s too hard.’

‘No, Cal. I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust you. I really want to get this out. I haven’t told you everything,’ she said, toying with her
heart-shaped
locket.

‘I’m listening.’

‘So,’ she continued, picking at a splinter in the floor. ‘I chucked this massive tantrum. I thought turning ten was such a big deal, and I couldn’t believe they were being so blasé about it. I cried and carried on until they agreed to take me to the aquarium.’

‘You wanted to see the seahorses, right?’

‘That’s right. It was a horrible day, raining and stormy, and they were both supposed to go to a meeting in the afternoon, but I insisted they take me to the aquarium instead.’

I watched as Winter lifted the splinter from the floor. ‘Ouch,’ she said, suddenly pricking her finger on the sharpest end.

‘Careful,’ I said, taking her hand and pulling
the needle-like piece of wood out. I flicked it through the window. A small drop of blood appeared on her fingertip.

‘It was on the way there,’ she continued, seemingly unfazed by the prick, ‘that Dad lost control of the car. The next thing I knew I was in hospital, wondering where my parents were. I kept watching the doorway, hoping and
praying
for Mum and Dad to appear, but they never came. Vulkan turned up instead. He walked in and knelt down beside my bed. “Your parents are dead,” he said. Four words. Just like that. My family was gone.’

I tightened my arm around my friend, wishing I could erase the memory for her. I hadn’t
realised
Sligo had come onto the scene so quickly.

‘I didn’t even cry,’ she said. ‘I just felt numb. Completely and utterly numb. Eventually we left the hospital and he took me home. It was just starting to get dark when we pulled up at the house. You remember my house?’ she asked me. ‘In Dolphin Point—the one we had to break into?’

‘I remember,’ I nodded.

How could I ever forget?

‘Sligo instructed me to go inside, go to my room and put some clothes in a bag. So I walked up to the front door, feeling so dazed and confused
in the absence of my parents. When I opened the door, a whole party of people jumped out from hiding, shouting “Surprise!”.’

‘They’d organised a party for you? They were acting blasé about your birthday because they were keeping the party a surprise?’

Winter closed her eyes. A tear fell down her cheek.

‘That’s when I burst into tears,’ she said. ‘The place was decked out with hundreds of pink and purple helium balloons, streamers and a birthday banner. There was this huge cake on the table. Everyone was staring at me, so confused,
wondering
where Mum and Dad were.’

‘What did you tell them?’

‘Nothing. I just stood there, crying. Sligo finally stepped in to explain to everyone what had happened. He told them my parents had “perished” in an accident. I just remember a sea of white faces and a wave of murmurs. The house emptied in a blur. Just before Sligo led me out again, a small suitcase in my hand, I picked up the present that sat beside my birthday cake—a small white box, tied with a pink satin bow. I opened it in the car.’ Winter held up her
heart-shaped
locket for me to see. ‘It was this. Mum and Dad had it engraved for me. But they never had the chance to see me wear it.’

Winter picked up the photo again, and stared at the younger version of herself. ‘They always called me Little Bird. I think this was the last time I ever really smiled. Like that, I mean, with all my heart. If I hadn’t acted like such a brat, making them take me to the aquarium that day …’

‘It was raining,’ I pleaded. ‘Accidents happen on wet roads. Brakes fail. You can’t blame yourself,’ I reminded her again. ‘You can’t keep beating yourself up about it. What’s the point? You need to let it go.’

‘Cal, I can’t just
let it go,
’ she said firmly. ‘Whether I feel guilty or not, it’s not over until
I find out the truth. I told you, I need to see the wreck of our car. Sligo said that brake failure was the reason for the fatal accident, and I need to see that for myself before I can move on. The guy forged my dad’s signature on his will. What else has he done that I don’t know about?’

I nodded, and continued listening.

‘Look, I know this year has been one crazy, dangerous ride for you, but once it’s over,’ she said, ‘after we’ve been to Ireland and discovered the truth about the Ormond Singularity—’

I went to interrupt her, but she stopped me short.

‘Cal. After all this is over for you, and you’ve cleared your name, you can go home … it may not be your place in Richmond, but you have a family. I can never go
home
. I don’t have a home any more. Mum and Dad are gone and Sligo
gave
my parents’ house to Murray Durham to pay him off for something. Just gave it away. All I have left is the truth. That’s the only thing that will make me feel complete again.’

‘Winter,’ I said, looking straight into her eyes, ‘I will help you, I mean it. I only have one month and a half left to get through, then—if all goes to plan—I will be free to do anything you need me to do. I will help you check the car at the yard, then I will stand by you when you go to
the police with the forged will. Everything that belonged to your family will be returned to you. You will have your home back, I promise.’

I was always so worried I was going to say something stupid to her, but right now I could see that I had comforted her. She was listening to me and nodding.

‘Thanks, Cal,’ she whispered. ‘I’m really tired. Let’s get some sleep.’

As soon as I woke up, I looked down to the floor of the treehouse for Winter. She was gone.

She’d left behind another note, with a couple of dollars on top.