was okay. Since he only let her stay as a courtesy, she knew that the answer should always be a grateful yes.
She often wonders if he is lonely. Maya’s grandmother Hester has been dead for over ten years now. When Charlie isn’t in the office or out on errands, he keeps himself to himself, behind the closed curtains of his house. Maya has been in there a few times; it is gloomy and smells damp. Her grandfather has two steadfast companions: the small staffy that often sits panting in the shade of the verandah, and the large flat-screen television that dominates his small lounge.
Maya hears the quad bike near the caravan, and draws the curtains to peer out. Charlie sees her and raises his hand in acknowledgement, then turns back to the track. He pulls over to empty a bin and slings the black bag onto the trailer. Then he is gone.
Maya keeps watching, focusing absent-mindedly on the tracks left in the dust. Will he allow her to stay here now that her mother is coming home? If necessary, she will have to persuade him. One thing is for certain: she is never going to live with Desi again. Not after what she has done.
2
Pete
‘Do you want to stop anywhere? We could have a drink … Celebrate?’
‘I just want to go home.’
Pete immediately regrets his choice of words. Celebrate? What is he thinking? He sneaks a glance at Desi as he drives, but she is absorbed by the view, her back to him. Through her thin T-shirt he can see the clenched knots of her spine.
He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but the silence is draining. He concentrates on the drive, as the endless streak of dry, featureless bushland gives way first to industrial strips, and then to densely packed housing estates as they near the coast. The sun is low in the sky, blinding him, making it hard to follow the road. Desi barely moves, but her head leans against the padded seat, and he wonders if she is sleeping. Or perhaps she is noticing the changes, all the new billboards and half-built houses, all the bushland cleared overnight to render the land fit for human habitation. If she were really looking, she would have something to say about it. Her thoughts must be elsewhere.
How did you talk to someone fresh out of prison? Pete is out of his depth, despite the fact he has visited her every week for the past fifteen months, when they have always found something to say. The future, for so long a blip on the horizon, has careened into view. But does Desi have the courage to look? Does he?
His mind has been busy on the journey so far, trying to decide how much he should tell her. He has only kept things from her so she won’t have extra worry, but now he can’t figure out where to start. She doesn’t know how much his life has changed. She doesn’t know how worried he is about Maya. And she doesn’t know anything at all about Kate.
Desi shifts in her seat slightly, as though she is going to turn to him, and the sudden movement makes Pete tense. Then she twists away again, and he hopes she didn’t notice his reaction. Why is he so on edge today, when they have known one another for so long, and been through so much?
Because he wants to help.
He imagines Connor listening to them, laughing at him, and hears his American drawl loud and clear. ‘Hardly the time to declare your undying love, my man.’ He finds himself smiling. That was one of Connor’s gifts – to find the humour in a tough situation. She’d be better off with Connor right now, he thinks, as a gust of wind causes him to quickly correct his steering. But if Connor were still here, this would never have happened.
What Pete wants to say to her, more than anything else, is this: You didn’t deserve this, Des. I realise you made a mistake, a bad one, but anyone who knows you, even remotely, knows you didn’t deserve this.
Would it help? The right or wrong of it is irrelevant. It happened. It’s over. Now she has to adjust. But he cannot shake the notion that, until she gets herself together, her life will be harder than it has ever been before.
‘It’s all changed, hasn’t it?’ Her voice snaps the silence.