Be there soon.
He was still pretty wasted. High and drunk. But he was glad for the contact, glad Cooper wanted to talk. Glad to be chosen. He’d been feeling bad since Cooper left. Sad and sorry for being such a jerk.
Now he’d get the chance to make it up to him.
He wondered what the problem was, and for a brief happy moment he wondered if Cooper had broken up with Libby. Maybe he’d called Sebastian because he needed a shoulder to cry on. Some comfort from an old friend.
But as he dressed, found his coat, his keys and his wallet, Sebastian came up with a much more likely scenario. Claire had said something about Tessa and Leonard on the trip home. Spilled her guts. Now Cooper was upset and needed reassurance.
Still. It was something.
Driving made him realise how wasted he really was. He had to bend towards the steering wheel to see the road properly. He kept under the speed limit without going too slowly – he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.
As he pulled into the reserve carpark, his headlights shone over the picnic area and he spotted Cooper sitting on the ground. Sebastian parked and got out of the car. He walked across to Cooper, sat down beside him. He could feel the cool damp of the grass through his jeans.
‘Hey,’ he said.
Cooper turned to face him. The carpark lights were on and enough light shone on Cooper’s face to show that he’d been crying.
‘You okay?’
‘Not really.’
‘Big night, eh?’
‘You could say that.’
Cooper turned away. He was silent and still. Sebastian pulled his knees up and rested his head on them. He closed his eyes for a moment, only a moment, but when he opened them again he realised that Cooper had been talking for a while. He tried to concentrate, grasp the tail-end of Cooper’s words, but it was all too hard. He was wasted, so woozy and tired. All he knew was he liked being so close to Cooper. He recognised the distress on Cooper’s face and wanted to take it away. Ease his friend’s pain. He didn’t think. He put his arm around Cooper’s back, and when Cooper didn’t move away he got closer, put his hand on Cooper’s chin, leaned forward to kiss him on the lips.
‘Fuck.’ Cooper pushed him. Hard. The look on his face was one of disgust. ‘What the fuck are you doing? Were you even listening to what I just said? We’re brothers, Sebastian. Brothers.’
‘Cooper,’ he said, reaching his arm out. ‘Please.’
Cooper scrambled away, got to his feet. ‘Are you listening?’ he shouted. ‘Tessa and Leonard. They had a thing. Leonard is my father.’
The meaning of Cooper’s words broke through his drunken haze. It hit him like a slap in the face. He shook his head as though trying to eject the understanding from his mind. But it was too late.
To his own shock and shame he started crying.
It wasn’t as though he hadn’t suspected. It wasn’t as though the idea was new to him. Since the day he’d seen the video, horrible thoughts, as persistent and unwelcome as flies, had flitted across his mind with regularity, disturbing him while he was trying to read or watch TV or sleep, making it impossible to concentrate, keeping him awake.
The gifts. The family holidays when Leonard insisted they take Cooper. But most telling and painful of all, the easy affection Leonard had always shown Cooper. It was all so obvious now that Sebastian knew the truth.
Rage surged through him. White-hot and uncontrollable. In an instant he was on his feet and slamming into Cooper with his fists.
‘Fuck, Seb.’ Cooper stepped away, moving backwards, putting his hands up protectively to cover his face. ‘Stop. Fuck off.’
But Sebastian had lost control. Years of hurt and rage seemed to give him strength, and he swung his arm back and shoved his fist hard into Cooper’s stomach. Cooper doubled over, swore, grabbed Seb around the legs, tackling him to the ground. They tussled in the grass and dirt, shoving and swearing and thumping.
‘Fuck you.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘Let go of me.’
‘Get off. Get off. Get off!’
Sebastian ended up flat on his back, with Cooper on top. Cooper pressed his forearm into Sebastian’s neck, harder and harder until Sebastian was struggling to breathe, his face burning, his mouth gaping open like a fish.
Cooper swore, lifted his arm and rolled away.
Sebastian jumped to his feet. He gasped, clutching at his neck.
‘You’re a fucking mental-case!’ he screamed. ‘You could have killed me.’
Cooper sat up, ran his hands through his hair. ‘Sorry.’
‘Not good enough, Cooper. Not bloody good enough!’
Cooper shrugged. ‘So what do you want me to do about it?’
‘I want you to fuck off and leave me alone.’
Cooper nodded. ‘Fair enough.’
‘Fair enough? Fair enough? You bring me up here and almost kill me and then you just . . . That’s all you can say?’
‘You actually started it, Seb. You hit me first. And maybe I just couldn’t be bothered fighting anymore.’
Sebastian sighed. He couldn’t be bothered fighting either.
‘You’ve got grass and shit all over you,’ he said.
‘So have you.’
‘You look like an idiot.’
‘You look like an arsehole.’
They both laughed. It was just a small self-conscious snort, but it was better than trying to smash each other senseless.
Sebastian reached out a hand to help Cooper up. ‘Come back to my place,’ he said. ‘I think we both need a drink.’
‘Or two or three. Or four.’
Their hands were clasped together. Skin on skin. Sweat. Heat. And at that moment their eyes met and there was something good there. Something with a more benevolent shape sitting right next to all the anger: a silent but stubborn companion. Affection. Regret. Love.
They were brothers. And that couldn’t be all bad.
As Cooper got up, his back foot slipped and his body shifted down. When Sebastian glanced past Cooper he only saw black space and nothingness. His skin crawled with horror. They had shifted while they’d fought. Cooper was right on the edge.
‘Don’t move,’ Sebastian yelled. ‘Don’t move!’
Rocks shifted and fell and Cooper panicked. He looked backwards, lost his footing, started to slide. Sebastian still had hold of Cooper’s hand, but they were both sweating, their skin slippery, their grip weakening.
‘Seb,’ Cooper screamed. ‘Hold on. Don’t let me go!’
Sebastian tried harder than he’d ever tried before. He squeezed his hand around Cooper’s and pulled with his entire body, using every bit of strength he had. He felt the strain in his shoulders and his back. He felt the terror of failure in his blood and his soul. But his palms were too sweaty and his arms were too weak. He was so tired. So fucking tired.
He couldn’t hold on.
NOW
69
LiBBy
I cry the whole time Sebastian is speaking. I cry because I already know that this story doesn’t have a happy ending. I cry because I miss Cooper so much it feels like someone has their knee against my chest, pressing it hard against me, crushing my heart. Knowing that Cooper didn’t kill himself, knowing that he didn’t choose to leave me, doesn’t change a thing.
The ending is still the same. Cooper is still dead.
SiX MONTHS
LATER
70
LiBBY
It’s New Year’s Eve and we’re having a party on the beach. We’ve made a bonfire, though we don’t really need it – the night is warm and it’s still light – and most people are standing with their backs to it, avoiding the heat. Later, when it cools down and gets dark, we’ll appreciate the flickering light, the glowing warmth.
All my friends are here, celebrating the end of the year, the beginning of a new one. Atticus and Hari and Cate, and now Claire as well. She’s been around a lot lately. Wherever Atticus goes, Claire i
sn’t far behind.
Atticus and Claire are both wearing black berets. Atticus has a proper head of hair again. It’s even long enough to curl around the bottom of his hat, making him look scruffy and artistic, the way he always used to.
I go to the esky, pull out a bottle of beer, twist the lid off and drink. Atticus spots me and smiles. He says something to Claire, kisses her, strides over to join me.
‘Nice hats,’ I say.
‘Thanks,’ he says. ‘It’s kind of a joke between us.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yep. We’re cultivating our most pretentious selves.’
‘So, you and Claire?’ I smile. ‘I never asked you, but she was the one? The hot babe you mentioned in your email that time?’
‘Yup.’
‘Well, look at you now.’ I nudge him. ‘All your wildest dreams have come true.’
‘Pretty much. So far, anyway.’ He looks at me seriously. ‘What about you? How are you going?’
I push my hands into my pockets. I hate this question. How do I answer it honestly? I’m okay. I’m breathing, I’m alive. I wake up every day and get out of bed and do what I have to do. I go to uni and work. I eat and sleep, and I walk and swim. Sometimes I laugh. Sometimes I’m even genuinely happy. But there’s still something missing, and I know there always will be. The perfect person made a brief appearance in my life, and then, snap, it was over. He was ripped away, leaving an ugly jagged gap. And though I can try to stick things back together and patch up the hole, I’ll never be able to make everything smooth and perfect again.
And nobody really wants to hear that.
‘I’m good,’ I say. ‘Looking forward to the new year.’
Claire walks over and joins us. She looks the same as she always did. She’s straightened her hair and she’s wearing too much make-up for a beach party and her clothes are way too fancy. But I can’t bring myself to hate her like I used to, and when I smile it’s with genuine warmth.
‘How’s Sebastian going?’ I ask her. ‘Have you heard anything?’
She looks uncomfortable, and I know she’s thinking that I’m only asking to be polite, that I must secretly want the worst for her friend. The truth is, I’m not sure how I feel. When I think about Sebastian I waver between pity and anger; nothing is straightforward. I can’t imagine how awful things must be for him, and I genuinely believe what he told me. Cooper’s death was an accident. But I’m still furious that he lied.
‘He’s okay. Still on bail.’
‘He’s lucky he has a rich father,’ I say.
‘Lucky?’ Atticus says. ‘I don’t know about that.’
I could point out that he’s certainly been a lot luckier than Cooper, but I don’t want to argue, or come across as bitter.
‘I know the trial is coming up soon,’ I say. ‘I saw it in the paper. I hope it goes well for him. I do.’
‘His lawyer thinks it’s going to be fine,’ Claire says, linking her arm through Atticus’s. ‘Did you know he’s moved into the flat with Bree?’
I shake my head.
‘His mum and dad broke up. They’ve put the house on the market. He’s in my old room. Can you believe it? I mean, he hated that flat. Absolutely hated it. Apparently he got the carpets cleaned before he moved in. The stairwell too. He changed all the curtains. Bought new sofas. It’s mad.’
I laugh. ‘Sounds a bit mad.’
And the unspoken thought that Sebastian could end up in gaol soon hangs there between us. Obvious but unsayable.
‘You could go and see him one day,’ Claire says. ‘I think he’d appreciate it.’
‘Maybe,’ I say. ‘Eventually. I will . . . it’s just—’
‘Don’t worry. You don’t have to explain.’
‘Anyway. Where are you staying? If Seb’s in your room?’
‘At Mum and Dad’s,’ she says. ‘Just for a while. I’ve quit uni too. I just need to sort some shit out.’
Atticus puts his arm around Claire’s shoulder and smiles. She looks up at him and he bends down to kiss her. I take it as my cue to leave.
I’m glad to see Atticus so happy, he deserves it, but there’s a small ungenerous part of me that can’t stand being so close to happy couples anymore. The easy way they touch each other, lean into each other. Their smiles and their kisses. I have to force myself not to tug them apart, beg them to stop. It’s easier just to turn away.
I roll my jeans up to my knees and walk down closer to the shoreline.
I haven’t told any of my friends yet, but I’ll be leaving Walloma in the new year. Mum has been offered a job in Melbourne and I’ve decided to go with her. When she first mentioned it I told her I didn’t want to leave my friends, but we went to Melbourne for a reconnaissance trip and I changed my mind. I loved the trams and the cobbled streets and the narrow lanes. I loved the energy, the sense of anonymity, the way everyone in the city looked so busy and purposeful. Nobody knew who I was and nobody cared. I found it liberating. I walked the streets and imagined myself living there and for the first time in months I felt a small but definite rush of excitement. I knew then that I would go.
I’ve transferred my course to Melbourne Uni and we’ve rented a flat a short tram ride from the city. The flat is old but full of character. Instead of a garden we’ll have a small balcony. Instead of the beach we’ll have laneways and cafes and trendy bars and bookshops. Instead of the sleepy calm of Walloma we’ll have the energetic buzz of a big city. I’ll miss my friends and I’ll miss home – I’ve lived here my whole life – but I know I’ve made the right choice. I’m looking forward to the change of pace.
When I glance up I notice a man out surfing. He’s slicing through the waves with ease, elegant and in control. I pretend for a moment that it’s Cooper. I imagine he’ll be coming in soon. He’ll be cold and hungry. I’ll help him peel his wetsuit off. We’ll sit by the fire and hold each other. We’ll kiss for hours, completely oblivious to everyone else. Indifferent to their stares. Happy and untouchable. Greedy and selfish with love.
I’ve spent a lot of time pretending over the last few months.
I push my hands into my pockets. I feel something brush against my fingertips and pull it out, hold it up to the fading light. A daisy. The one Cooper gave me up on Bradley’s Edge. I look up towards Mount Timbi and bite back tears.
The daisy is old now. Brown and dead, the petals curled and decayed. Even as I hold it, it starts to crumble in my palm. I had promised to keep it forever, but there’s nothing to keep. A mere bundle of dust. I step into the water; the waves rush at my ankles, rising up my calves, wetting the bottom of my jeans. I stand there for a moment and stare down at my feet as they sink into sand.
I let the flower fall. I watch it linger around my legs before it’s tugged away and buried by the churning whitewash. I bend over, suddenly desperate to retrieve it, scoop it up, keep it in my pocket forever. But I’m too late, it’s gone.
‘Libby.’
There’s a hand on my shoulder. I turn to find Cate standing right behind me. Hari and Atticus and Claire are a few steps behind her. All four of them are waiting.
Cate links her arm through mine, tugs me close. ‘Come back up, Libby. Come and sit with us,’ she says. ‘We miss you.’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thanks and affection to Erica Wagner for her continued faith in my work. I’m so grateful to her for seeing potential in this story and for her patience and help while I got it into shape.
Sonja Heijn, editor extraordinaire, put an enormous amount of careful thought and hard work into this book. I really can’t thank her enough but I’ll try. Thank you, Sonja. I sincerely hope we get to work together again.
For her input, advice and faith, huge thanks to my agent, Sue Armstrong.
And for her earlier encouragement and advice, thanks also to my former agent, Jo Unwin.
For all her help and encouragement, and for reading this book (more than once), enormous thanks to my sister, Wendy James.
A great big hearty thank you to Fleur Ferris: for reading several versions of this book and for being so excited by the story and the characters. Your enthusiasm and generosity kept me inspired.
And big thanks to all my first readers for their time, input and encouragement: Haidee Hudson, Emma James, Jenny James and Prue Macfarlane.
Thanks to the everyone at Allen & Unwin. I’m so happy to be published by such a dynamic and supportive team. Particular thanks to Sue Harvey for her brilliant copyedit, Marie Trinchant and Hilary Reynolds for all their help, to Lisa White for the amazing cover and to Lara Wallace, for always doing a great job.
And to Hilary, Charlie, Oscar, Jack and Jimmy, hugs and kisses for all of you. You make it all worthwhile.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rebecca James was born in Sydney in 1970.
She spent her early twenties working as a waitress, her late twenties teaching English in Indonesia and Japan, and most of her thirties having babies and working as a kitchen designer.
Her first novel, Beautiful Malice, was an international publishing sensation, selling in 52 countries. This was followed by Sweet Damage, published in Australia in 2013 and described by the Weekly Book Newsletter as ‘a confident second novel . . . tapping into our deepest fears about trust and vulnerability, and showing off [James’] forte for capturing the sinister manipulations between friends and lovers . . . so effortlessly readable you’re left wanting more’.
Rebecca lives in Canberra with her partner and their four sons.
‘A fast paced, sexy thriller’
Sun Herald
‘A fantastic gothic thriller novel … full of careening twists and turns.’
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