Deep Wate - Sarah Epstein Page 0,37

though. He had the Nolans. He had Tom. He didn’t think of me like a sibling the way Henry did.

‘When we were young,’ I say, ‘we were all close—’

‘And something changed.’

‘Yeah,’ I say, a bit too loudly. ‘You did. You became secretive and started bottling everything up. You were always cold towards Henry. You lose control, Mason.’

Two women at the counter glance over and one frowns. Mason ducks his head, avoiding my eyes. ‘Sounds like you’ve got me all figured out.’

I regret my outburst. ‘Listen,’ I say, softening. ‘What I—’

He walks away from me. He gets all the way to the exit doors before doubling back. As he strides towards the card rack, I find myself shrinking away from him. Mason notices and his lips part as though he’s offended.

‘You know what?’ he says, his voice unsteady. ‘I don’t even know who I am. So how the hell do you?’

His words ring out across the post office and everybody turns to stare.

‘Excuse me, young man,’ says the postal worker behind the counter. ‘You can’t be raising your voice like that. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’

Mason ignores her, his eyes locked on my face. He scowls at whatever he sees there, then takes off again towards the exit. As the glass doors open for him, he shoots me one last look over his shoulder.

‘Do me a favour,’ he says. ‘Tell your old man to back off and stop talking to my mother.’

Seven weeks before the storm

21 NOVEMBER 2018, 16:05

Missy: Hey! How’s it going? Any luck finding your dad?

Henry: Not yet. Don’t think he’s on Facebook after all. I’ve tried to google him.

Missy: What’s his job?

Henry: Dunno. Can’t exactly ask my mum either.

Missy: What about your brother?

Henry: He never wants to talk about my dad. He says the only way to get out of here is to do it on your own.

Missy: You think he’s planning to leave?

Henry: Mason?

Missy: Would he tell you?

Henry: Probably not. He isn’t happy though.

Missy: What do you mean?

Henry: Our mum is hard to live with.

Missy: It could be other things too. Stuff he doesn’t talk about.

Has he been acting differently?

Henry: He’s always in a bad mood.

Missy: You think he’s hiding something?

Henry: Why so many questions about my brother?

Missy: Sorry, we got sidetracked. If you find your dad will you leave?

Henry: I wanna visit him in Sydney first. See what he’s like.

Missy: Would your mother let you go?

Henry: No way.

Missy: Then how will you do it?

Henry: I’ll have to sneak out. She can’t stop me if I’m already gone.

Now

I’ve never been inside a police station before. It reminds me of a medical centre’s waiting room, only without the magazines and daytime TV. Grey-tiled floor, white walls, a row of fixed vinyl chairs along one side and a large counter running the full width of the reception area. It’s currently deserted; just me, a lone table of pamphlets and the humming ceiling vent.

Perhaps if I hadn’t seen Mason in the post office, I might have put this off for a little while longer. I might have tried to find some kind of workaround that didn’t involve having to speak to my mother’s ex-lover. But Mason’s passport application has unsettled me and I now feel a sense of urgency I can’t quite put my finger on. One Weaver brother is missing, another is about to leave town. It feels like any answers will disappear along with him.

There are two empty chairs behind the counter, and a much larger room with desks and computers behind a plate glass window. A young female officer is tapping at a computer keyboard, her red hair pulled into a sensible ponytail. She notices me and takes a sip from her coffee mug as she rolls her swivel chair out to stand, smoothing her pants as she makes her way over to the door leading out to the reception counter.

Just as she’s about to come through, Sergeant Doherty approaches her with some papers in his hand. They have a short conversation I’m unable to hear, and the female officer gestures in my general direction. Doherty blinks as though he’s surprised, then says a few words to the other officer, who returns to her desk. Doherty disappears through a doorway.

What am I supposed to do now? Take a number? Is it normal protocol to leave people waiting when they come into a police station? I lean awkwardly against the counter, wondering what Doherty said to the other officer to make her ignore me.

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