Deep Wate - Sarah Epstein Page 0,40

painting. ‘So that’s what did the job.’

‘Why did Mason throw it through the window?’ I ask. ‘You and Luisa were working late, so he must have seen you both inside the office.’

‘He did,’ Dad agrees, gliding his brush in a neat vertical line beside the doorframe. ‘Wish Luisa hadn’t been there, though. Scared her half to death.’

‘And?’

‘He was drunk and unhappy, chook. Not sure what you want me to say.’

‘Why was he unhappy?’

‘Well,’ he says, ‘only Mason can answer that.’

I shove a corner of the plastic drop sheet aside so I can sit on the bed. ‘Why are you protecting him? You didn’t tell Sergeant Doherty.’

Dad moves to the other side of the bathroom door and lowers himself to his knees with a grunt. He pauses for a moment, as though weighing something up.

‘I’ve told you a bit about my old man,’ he says, bending over to start painting along the skirting board. ‘Your granddad, Bill.’

‘Mm-hmm.’ He passed away when I was four or five and I don’t really remember him. I know Dad and his brother Paul had a difficult time growing up because their father had a bad temper. Dad never goes into much detail about it.

‘He was a hard bloke.’ Dad dips his brush into the tin, gently wiping off the excess. ‘He used to give us a walloping over the smallest things. Kids got smacked all the time back then, but this was more than discipline. It was like he was taking his frustrations out on us.’

‘God, that’s awful.’

‘You never really knew which side of him you were going to get,’ Dad says. ‘Worst part is, everybody thought he was a top bloke. Because he was. To them.’

I shift on the mattress. ‘What did your mum do?’

‘Not much. I don’t know why. Maybe she thought he’d go even harder on us if she made a fuss.’ He shrugs like that’s a reasonable excuse, though it’s far from it.

‘Did anybody help you and Uncle Paul?’

‘We never asked,’ Dad says. ‘Didn’t think we could. Our own mother knew and she didn’t stop it, so why would anyone else?’ He shifts his position, eyes still on the job at hand. ‘It was our lot in life, we thought.’

‘Oh, Dad,’ I say sadly.

He glances over. ‘Point is, I look at Mason and see myself. He has the same empty expression I had as a teenager. Like he’s worn down.’

Through the open door I have a clear view across the forecourt to Room Fifteen. ‘Is that why you offered him the room?’

‘Should’ve done it sooner,’ Dad admits. ‘I’d heard a few things from Stu Macleod before Christmas about how Mason was hanging around the workshop till all hours to avoid going home. When I saw him on New Year’s Eve, I could tell the kid needed some space for whatever he was dealing with. He seemed miserable.’

I stare into my lap, knowing I’m partly to blame. New Year’s Eve started out as such a fun night and ended so badly, leaving our circle of friends fractured. Henry’s disappearance ten days later brought us back together, but things weren’t the same as before.

‘What you said about not knowing which side of your father you were going to get,’ I say. ‘Henry used to say something similar about Ivy. Some days she’s okay, other days she’s in a bad mood from the moment she wakes up. Sometimes she sleeps the whole day away, and other times she smashes things in a rage. It’s why Henry used to hide out in his bedroom most of the time when she was home.’

Dad nods slowly. ‘There’s talk around town Ivy’s been hitting the drink again pretty hard. She’s had issues with it in the past.’

‘Has anyone ever spoken to her about it?’

Dad shifts again, resting his brush on the lip of the paint tin. ‘Sally and Liv had a word to her after New Year’s Eve, but Ivy denied having a problem. It’s tricky because you’re never sure what’s going on behind closed doors.’

‘Mason gave me a message for you to back off and stop talking to his mother,’ I say. ‘When did you do that?’

Dad side-eyes me, looking sheepish. ‘The day before you got here. Had a beer with Stu at the pub last week and we saw Mason getting mouthy with the staff ’cause they wouldn’t keep serving him. He was drinking alone and seemed in a bad way. We thought his mother ought to know.’

‘What did you say to her?’

Dad picks up his