photo on his desk. ‘No kids to worry about. Sometimes I wonder if life would be easier like that, if I only had to care about myself.’
I said again that I’d talk to her.
‘Thank you. I appreciate it.’ Anthony picked up the bag of pills. ‘What do I do with these?’
‘Put them back or she’ll know you’ve been snooping.’
Anthony scoffed at me, said there was no way he’d give them back.
‘Well, if you want my advice, tell her you found them in the laundry or she’ll never trust you again. She’ll just get better at hiding it, maybe even move out. Go live with druggies, do all the rave parties, scoff pills every weekend. Next thing you know, she’ll come back when you’re not home and piss off with the DVD player. Imagine that.’
Anthony emptied the pills into his rubbish bin. ‘She’ll never trust me. Hell, I’ll never trust her.’
‘That’s the spirit.’
I picked up the picture on the desk and stared at it. On the surface they were a happy family. What about beneath the surface? As far as I knew they had always been happy. Sure, there were normal tantrums and fights, but the kids attended good schools and they never went without anything. Then again, you’d be surprised at the sort of homes we got called to after a domestic blue. And I couldn’t tell you how many smashed picture frames I’d seen. Sometimes bigger houses just hid bigger problems.
I put the picture down and thought about Anthony’s recount of the storm in 1983. We’d been busted for drinking the beer, but Anthony had taken the rap and said it was his idea. In truth it was the other way around. I’d stolen the beer from the fridge. I’d even rolled the joint. But being the eldest, Anthony accepted responsibility and Mum’s wrath with the wooden spoon. And it wasn’t the only time he’d taken the rap for me. There was the car accident. Not serious, but again I avoided accountability. Then there were the dope plants among the tomatoes, parties when our folks went away and the girls from down the street in our bedroom late at night. Bringing the memory up was clever manipulation on Anthony’s behalf. A cunning reminder of how many times he’d been there for me.
‘Andy, if you don’t want to take my advice, why did you even ask me to talk to Chloe? I mean, obviously I don’t know anything about kids. Like you said, I don’t have any of my own to worry about. So what the hell would I know?’
Anthony stared up at me with a pained expression.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, rummaging in the bin for the pills. ‘I shouldn’t have said it like that, but I’m not giving them back. I’ll tell her I found them in the bathroom. Just like you say, okay?’
‘Laundry.’
‘Whatever. Just talk to her, will you?’
‘Okay, I’ll do it, but not at the party tomorrow night. I’ll do it in my own time.’
‘Sure, whenever. Thanks, bro.’
I put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s going to be okay, mate. A lot of kids go through this and they come out the other end in one piece.’
He just nodded, eyes fixed on the picture. ‘What about Mum and Dad?’ he said after a moment. ‘You can’t forget about them either.’
‘I haven’t.’
Even as I said it I knew I wasn’t being honest. Why was it that I had time and energy to spend with my elderly neighbour, Edgar, but was avoiding contact with my parents? I left Anthony then, knowing something had to change.
5
THE DRIVE BACK TO ST KILDA took me through Albert Park where the Formula One race would be held in less than a month’s time. The normally lush lawn that surrounded the lake was brown and patchy. Even the lake itself looked like a dam on a barren farm left to dry out and die.
I plugged the earpiece into my mobile phone and dialled the St Kilda watch-house, asking to be put through to Cassie Withers. Because she’d left early last night, she’d agreed to pull the quick changeover, meaning today she would be back on duty for the afternoon shift. I slowed for a red light as she came on the line.
‘Cass, it’s Rubes. How’d you go at the hospital?’
‘Imagine spending six hours in a cheap plastic chair, then you’ve got it.’
She left it at that and I figured she didn’t want to talk about it over the phone. Eckles was probably somewhere in