Tessa closes her eyes and a pained expression appears on her face. I take it as a yes.
‘Oh my god.’ I stand up and walk to the door, then back to the table. ‘Oh my god. So, let me get this straight. Claire told Cooper about the affair and then he came back home.’
Tessa doesn’t move.
‘He asked you about it, didn’t he? He wanted to know if it was true?’
She nods. ‘Yes.’
‘And so you told him. And you told him about Leonard?’
‘Yes,’ she says, lifting her eyes to glare at me. ‘For god’s sake, Libby, sit down. Sit.’
I do as she says. I clutch my hands between my knees and force myself to be still.
‘Leonard and I were in love,’ she says mechanically. ‘We’d been having an affair for about a year. Neither of us were happy with our marriages. Richard wasn’t a . . . well, he drank a lot. He kept losing jobs. He gambled. He practically lived at the pub. I fell for him because he was good-looking and charming, but that soon stopped mattering.’
I remember the way Cooper had talked about Richard. The innocent love he’d felt for his unknown father. It breaks my heart to think how shattered and betrayed he must have felt when Tessa told him the truth.
I want to scream. I want to wail in protest at the tragedy of it. And yet I don’t. I sit there and listen. A small part of me is amazed at my self-control, at my ability to be so still.
‘I got pregnant,’ Tessa continues. I was planning to tell Richard, Leonard was planning to tell Sarah. We were going to try to make a life together. I told Richard everything. The next day he killed himself. He just drove straight up to Bradley’s Edge. It was a cowardly act. Emotional blackmail.’
‘And you told Cooper all this? That night?’ Imagining how terrible Cooper must have felt makes me ache for him. I can picture his wounded face, the disappointment and shock. He’d needed me. I should have been there for him.
‘Listen, Libby . . .’ Tessa rubs her hand over the table and suddenly she’s crying. One moment her face is blank and indifferent, the next minute the mask is cracked and the grief spills out. She lets her tears flow unchecked down her cheeks, her neck, her collar.
‘You need to leave me alone,’ she gasps. ‘I can’t bear it. I want you to go. It’s all too late. Cooper’s gone. I don’t care what happens now. I don’t care about you. What you think or what you feel. I don’t care.’
She wipes her nose with the back of her hand, laughs bitterly, raises her eyes to the ceiling. ‘I knew something like this would happen. I knew I’d be punished. I always knew Cooper was too good to be true. I never deserved him.’
I stand up and push my chair back in towards the table. Despair is written all over Tessa’s face, in the defeated slump of her body, but I can’t muster any sympathy. If she’d done things differently Cooper might still be alive. If she hadn’t lied. If she’d taken more care. If only.
‘This isn’t about you,’ I say. ‘It’s not about what you do or don’t deserve. And I think Cooper’s the one who’s been punished. He’s the one who’s dead. You lied, you and Leonard kept your horrible secrets, and now he’s dead.’
After I leave Tessa, I drive aimlessly for a while and cruise through the streets, turning any which way, not caring where I end up. Imagining how Cooper must have felt that night is an added torture. Knowing that he’d tried to contact me, that he’d needed me, is beyond agonising. I could have saved him. If I’d only been awake.
I bawl, tears streaming down my face, until I can barely see the road, until I have to pull over to avoid crashing. I lean over my steering wheel and weep until I’m dry, until my throat is tight and my head is pounding and my eyes burn. When I’m too exhausted to cry anymore I lift my head and turn the engine on. I drive to Atticus’s house.
His little brother, Theo, answers the door. He was obviously hoping I was someone else, because he flashes a disappointed smile and tells me Atticus is down the back before disappearing into the house. I make my way inside, calling out as I go, but I get to Atticus’s room before I find anyone.
His door is open. Atticus is painting. His canvas is resting on the easel Cooper made.
‘Hello?’ I say.
He turns and smiles widely when he sees me. ‘Hey, Libs. Come in, come in.’ He puts his brush down, wipes his hands on a rag, folds his arms around me in a hug. ‘You’ve been crying,’ he says.
I shrug. ‘Normal state of affairs.’
‘Want a drink? Something hot? Coffee? Tea? Water?’
‘No, thanks.’ I walk to the glass doors and stare outside. Atticus’s father is a keen gardener and some kind of hardy winter flower is blooming in the garden. The flowers are abundant, pink and perfect. Their beauty only makes me angry. How can the world be so cruel and indifferent? How can it continue to thrive without Cooper? What’s the point of all this beauty?
I turn back to Atticus. ‘I’ve just been to see Tessa.’
‘Okay. I knew something had happened,’ he says. ‘You look very upset. What did she say?’
I start crying again and it occurs to me that Tessa was right. The truth hasn’t helped. Knowing how desperate and miserable Cooper must have been that night is unbearable. He’d tried to contact me. He’d needed me. For the millionth time I wish pointlessly that I’d stayed up late. That I’d responded to his texts.
Atticus comes and puts an arm around my shoulder, leads me to the sofa. He gets me a tissue, a glass of water, sits next to me and waits while I cry. When I can speak again I tell him what I now know about Leonard and Tessa and Cooper.
‘Wow. That is . . . surprising,’ he says. ‘And Cooper knew?’
‘Yes. He found out just before he died.’
Atticus is quiet for a moment. He rubs his chin thoughtfully, scratches his head and frowns. ‘Hmmm.’
‘What?’
‘This is getting really weird.’
‘Why?’
‘Because now personal reputations are involved. Sebastian’s dad is a well-known businessman. And he’s incredibly rich. Do you know how much the Boccardos are worth?’
‘No idea.’
‘Ten million. I actually read that on the net last year.’
‘So?’
‘So if Cooper was Leonard’s son, wouldn’t that cause a big stink? And wouldn’t he have a legitimate claim to some of that money?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I say. ‘Maybe.’
‘Do you think maybe someone had a vested interest in hiding the fact that Cooper was Leonard’s son?’
‘I’m not sure I understand.’ But I’m starting to. And the thought is hideous. Unbelievable.
‘People have killed for a lot less,’ Atticus says. ‘In fact, they do it all the time.’
65
SEBASTiAN
I saw Tessa today. We need to talk, Sebastian. If you won’t talk to me I’m going to have to talk to the police. I’ll give you until midday tomorrow.
Sebastian sees the text from Libby and turns his phone off.
He sets himself up with whisky, lemonade, ice and cigarettes and sits in an armchair near the sliding doors. Normally he wouldn’t smoke inside, but it’s cold out, and it’s not a night to worry about rules. He wraps himself in a blanket and leaves the doors open, making a token effort to blow the smoke outside. Most of it just curls back into the room behind him, thickening the air, rising and settling against the ceiling like a lazy white snake.
He stays up all night. Doesn’t even attempt to sleep. He’s physically exhausted, but his mind is buzzing.
He drinks slowly, limiting himself to one cigarette per drink. He doesn’t want to make himself sick or get so drunk he passes out. He just wants to calm the thoughts galloping around in his brain, quell the anxiety. He aims to reach a level of mellow inebriation and stay there.
Sebastian doesn’t know what’s going to happen, but he knows it’s not going to be pleasant. In fact, he’s pretty certain everything is very quickly going to turn to shit. His life wi
ll become a nightmare. His family will break apart. The story will be all over Walloma – front-page headlines in the local paper, shouted gleefully over the television on the six o’clock news.
Leonard’s business will probably close. They may lose everything. The house. The cars. Leonard’s stupid reputation. The thought almost makes Sebastian laugh.
It’s a relief to abandon the desperate and all-consuming sense that he has to lie, a relief to let go of the fear and panic. He can stop fighting, let things happen as they happen. Stop struggling for control. He’s never been concerned with protecting Leonard, it’s his mother he cares about. She doesn’t deserve to be contaminated by the fallout. She doesn’t deserve any of it. But he knows now that there’s nothing he can do. Nothing at all.
Tonight he’s going to concentrate on letting the fear go, on appreciating what he’s got in the here and now. No matter what happens, no matter how shitty everything gets, he knows he probably can’t feel much worse than he’s been feeling since Cooper died.
He manages to stay awake. He smokes almost a whole packet of cigarettes and makes a big dent in the bottle of whisky without getting ridiculously drunk. Near the early morning he starts to fade. He keeps nodding off and snapping back awake with a start. At five he gets up, finds his phone and responds to Libby’s text.
Home all day. Come and see me whenever you want. We can talk.
66
LiBBy
I wake early and immediately check my phone. A response has come from Sebastian while I’ve been asleep. I wonder if he’s been awake all night. I get dressed, go to the kitchen and make myself a mug of tea. I go out to the patio and sit in the mild wintery sunshine, taking a moment to collect myself, find the necessary strength to deal with the day ahead.
When I get to Sebastian’s I find his door open. It’s dark and gloomy inside and stinks of cigarettes. Sebastian is curled up in a chair, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. As I get closer I notice the whisky bottle at his feet, the overflowing ashtray. Sebastian himself looks unusually scruffy, his normally perfect hair limp. His skin is paler than usual and he has dark shadows under his eyes, like two purple thumb smudges. He doesn’t say hello, but he flashes a small, tight smile, and acknowledges me with a nod.
‘So. Libby. You’re here. Nice to see you as always,’ he says. ‘Pull up a chair.’
I do as he says. I sit facing him.
He looks at me mildly. ‘Maybe you should become a detective. You’re certainly determined enough.’
‘I saw Tessa yesterday. She told me that Cooper was Leonard’s son. Your half-brother.’
He waits, watching me. He doesn’t seem surprised. This obviously isn’t news to him.
‘Cooper died the night he found that out,’ I say. ‘Don’t you think that’s a bit strange? Suspicious, even?’
He lets out a sad laugh.
‘And as Atticus pointed out, your father is very rich. He’s got a lot to lose.’
He frowns. ‘I’m not sure what—’
‘Look, Sebastian,’ I say. ‘I know you’re in a really horrible position. I know you’re just trying to protect your dad. But you have to stop. You have to tell the truth.’
He sighs wearily. He lifts his hand to wipe something from the corner of his eye. His fingers are shaking so badly he has a hard time controlling his hand. He lowers it to his knee and stares at it for a moment, as if it’s a surprising, naughty child. He closes his fingers into a fist and covers his hand with his blanket. Sitting there, wrapped in his blanket, huddled in his armchair, he looks like a sad old man.
‘Where was Leonard that night?’ I ask. ‘The night Cooper died?’
He shakes his head slowly and my heart sinks. I thought he was ready to talk. I thought his text meant he’d done enough lying.
‘Sebastian. Please.’
‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ he says. ‘You’re completely off-track.’
‘I don’t think so,’ I say.
‘Leonard was at home in bed asleep,’ he says. ‘I was there, Libby. I was up there with Cooper on Bradley’s Edge.’
‘You were?’ I collapse back in my seat and stare at him.
‘I was,’ he says. He leans over to pick up his packet of cigarettes. The tremor in his hands makes him slow and clumsy, but eventually he lights up and draws in deeply. He smokes slowly and quietly, until the cigarette is half-finished. I don’t hurry him. I can wait. I have all the time in the world.
THEN
67
COOPER
Libby didn’t respond to my texts, so I drove home. I pulled into the driveway, slammed the brakes on and ran inside. It was past midnight, but I didn’t bother trying to be quiet.
‘Cooper?’ Mum called from her room. ‘Is that you? You’re making a hell of a noise.’
‘Can you come out?’ I called. ‘I need to speak to you.’
‘Now?’
‘Now!’
I waited for her in the lounge room. I stood with my arms folded, leaning up against the wall. Mum appeared looking worried, a small puzzled smile on her face.
‘What is it?’
‘Claire Forrester just told me that you had an affair with Leonard Boccardo,’ I spat. A nasty laugh came out of me as I spoke. I couldn’t help myself – the whole thought was so perverted, so wrong. ‘It’s not true, though, is it? Tell me it’s just Claire making trouble.’
Her face, which was always verging on pale, turned even whiter. It was a bizarre thing to watch, a falling away of colour. She held her dressing-gown together at the neck and went to the sofa. Sat down heavily.
‘Oh god.’ She pushed her hands through her hair. ‘Oh god.’
‘What?’ I felt my heart rate pick up, my own face turn white. I had to fight an urge to turn away and bolt. Get out of there so I didn’t have to hear any shit.
‘Cooper.’ Mum looked up, reached an arm out. ‘Come and sit down.’
‘I’d rather stand.’
‘I’d rather you sat,’ she said. ‘Please?’
‘No. I don’t want to. I won’t. Just tell me.’ My voice cracked then. I didn’t even know what I was so afraid of, I only knew that I suddenly felt trapped, that sitting down would be impossible. I needed the hall behind me. A quick and easy way of escape.
‘Okay,’ Mum said. She nodded and took a deep breath. ‘I’ve wondered for a long time how to tell you this. Whether I would ever need to, whether it would be better for you to know the truth—’
‘Fuck,’ I said. ‘Just spit it out. Stop talking in riddles.’
She nodded again, dried the palms of her hands on her knees. ‘Claire’s right. I don’t know how she knows or who could have told her. But Leonard Boccardo and I were lovers. For a while. Before you were born.’
I stared at her.
‘Cooper.’ She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. When she removed them her eyes were watery and red. ‘I’m sorry. So sorry. I probably should have told you earlier.’
‘Why would you tell me?’ I sneered. ‘Why the hell would I even want to know about some seedy affair you had twenty years ago?’
I knew I was being irrational, not making sense – but I didn’t care. I was furious.
‘That’s not all, Cooper. There’s more. I didn’t want to tell you like this, but I think I have to. I don’t want you to find out from somebody else.’
‘Find out what?’ A sickening sense of dread made my fists curl. I felt like a trapped animal, vicious with anxiety, ready to strike.
‘I’m so sorry, Cooper.’ She started crying. ‘So sorry.’
‘Stop fuckin’ saying sorry. Just stop it.’
‘Okay.’ She took a breath. ‘Okay. Cooper, Leonard is your father.’
My reaction was physical, involuntary, immediate. I felt my stomach twist. A knife in the guts. I couldn’t breathe.
‘Cooper. Darling, please. Come and sit over here.’
I supported myself against the wall.
‘Did Dad know that?’ I a
sked her. And it’s only after I said the word that I realised my mistake. Dad.
Richard had never been my dad.
‘Cooper, what has—’
‘Did he?’ I screamed at her. ‘Did he know you cheated on him? Did he know the baby in your stomach wasn’t his when he jumped off that fucking cliff?’
She started crying harder and I had my answer. I stared at her with disgust.
‘You don’t understand. Your father—’
‘My father?’ I shouted. ‘I don’t even know who you’re talking about anymore. Richard? Or Leonard fucking Boccardo? Which one, Mum? Which one?’
‘Please, Cooper,’ she said. ‘Please.’
My head was spinning. The world had shifted. Everything I’d believed about myself, my mother, my family was all wrong. All a lie.
‘The money?’ I asked. ‘The computer and the trips away? The fucking surf board? He paid for that?’
She nodded.
‘And what does that make you, Mum?’ I yelled. ‘Accepting money from him? What the fuck does that make me?’
‘It wasn’t like that.’ She shook her head. ‘It wasn’t like that. Listen. Try to understand. Things weren’t good between me and Richard. They hadn’t been for a long time. I’ve told you that he drank a lot, but it was more than that. It wasn’t just the drinking. He couldn’t keep a job. He was in trouble with the police. We were going to get a divorce. It was well and truly over between us before—’
‘Shut up,’ I said. ‘Shut up.’
Mum stood up and approached, her arms held out towards me. Her face was blotchy and red, her eyes desperate. She looked hideous. Ugly. I hated her.
‘No,’ I said. ‘Don’t come near me.’
And then I was running down the hall and out the front door. Getting away from her as fast as I could.
68
SEBASTiAN
Sebastian was about to climb into bed when he got the text from Cooper.
Need to talk to you. Am up at Bradley’s Edge. Can you come?
He texted back immediately.