Deep Wate - Sarah Epstein Page 0,41

paintbrush again and dips it in the tin. ‘I told her I think Mason’s having a rough time of it. He might need some help.’

‘And what did Ivy say?’

‘She said I should mind my own business, that she’s sick and tired of everybody giving their two cents about her family. She got pretty riled up. I’m guessing I made things worse.’

‘You think that’s why Mason smashed the window?’

Dad shrugs. ‘Didn’t ask. Not going to. Just going to keep that room free—’ he nods towards the forecourt, ‘—for whenever he needs it.’

‘Don’t be too hard on yourself, Dad. Mason could have left that house any time he wanted.’

‘Could he?’

‘Why not?’

‘Same reason I didn’t do a runner growing up,’ he says. ‘Couldn’t leave Paul alone with our old man.’

‘Well, Henry’s not here anymore,’ I point out. ‘And Mason’s eighteen. He can walk away right now.’

‘Not always that easy, chook.’

‘Why?’

‘She’s still his mother.’

I’m about to protest until I think about how we didn’t leave Sydney until after Granddad Bill died. Dad told me that ever since he left school his dream was to live in the country, but it wasn’t until twenty years later, after his father passed away in a south Sydney nursing home, that we actually sold the house and hit the road. It was like Dad couldn’t leave his father, compelled to stay out of some sense of duty. It seems both incredibly generous and heartbreakingly sad what a child will do for their parent despite everything that parent may have put them through.

‘I saw Mason getting a passport photo taken at the post office,’ I say.

Dad raises his eyebrows. ‘Yeah? Better not let that get back to Ivy or we might be replacing another window.’

‘He lied to me about it, like he didn’t want me to know.’

‘Can’t really blame him for wanting to keep things hush-hush till he’s ready to leave.’

‘You think that’s what happened with Henry?’

Dad’s head tilts as he considers this. ‘Maybe. Less chance of anyone stopping him.’

‘You mean Ivy stopping him,’ I say.

‘Or his friends, for whatever reason.’

A small groan of annoyance escapes me. ‘I wish I knew what Henry was thinking! I feel like I’m stumbling around in the dark.’

‘You’re not supposed to have all the answers, chook,’ Dad says. ‘I’m forty-eight and still figuring it all out as I go along.’

I place my chin in my hands. ‘I’m going to keep searching for Henry. Problem is, I don’t know what to try next.’

As I say the words I realise that’s not entirely true. I do know somewhere I might be able to find more information, but it’s a place I’ve never been allowed to go.

‘The important thing is not to give up hope,’ Dad says.

I stand up and cross the room to give my father a spontaneous hug. ‘Good talk, Dad,’ I say, planting a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

‘Well,’ he says, ‘you can blame Luisa. She doesn’t let me get away with grunts and one-word answers.’

‘Good,’ I say, and mean it. It seems Luisa might be helping my dad in more ways than simply answering phones.

I leave him to finish painting while I try to figure out how on earth I’m going to get inside the Weavers’ home.

Six weeks before the storm

Henry stared across the table at Mason, his back to the kitchen where their mother stood by the window with her arms folded. He looked five years old again, the way he silently appealed to Mason with his huge blue eyes. It’s too late, Mason wanted to tell him. We can’t leave. You have to sit here and white-knuckle your way through this. He had no idea what they’d done this time. Had Ivy realised one of the missing whisky bottles was not her doing? Maybe she’d heard about that fight with Darren Foster at school. It could be something as simple as Mason not having done the washing up.

‘Mason?’ Henry asked tentatively. He had trouble picking up on Ivy’s cues. This wasn’t a time for talking; it was a time for keeping your head down. Things would be so much simpler, Mason thought, if I didn’t have you to worry about.

He’d been an only child for four and a half years by the time Henry came along. His mother was working part-time back then at a hardware store in Mittagong, driving a beat-up red sedan everywhere that she ended up selling for parts years later when she lost her licence. Mason had done the calculations and worked out Ivy must have