Deep Wate - Sarah Epstein Page 0,6

waiting for him in town with an old smartphone his grandpa no longer wanted. They said Mason could have it, and he’d already figured out he could afford a prepaid SIM if he skimmed a little money from the groceries.

With a phone and a car, Mason would have options. And when Stu Macleod’s job started paying, he’d also have cash. He could start making plans. He could find a way out.

Except …

Henry. What the hell would he do about Henry?

Mason put that question in the too-hard basket and moved quickly to the front door.

‘Wait a sec,’ his mother said. ‘What about this?’ She gestured at the laundry off the kitchen, where a pile of dirty clothing had accumulated in the doorway.

‘I’ll do it later,’ he said.

‘It’s going to rain later. Needs to be washed and hung out this morning.’

He turned back to the door, muttering under his breath, ‘You do it then.’

‘What did you say?’

Mason pressed his lips together and willed himself to stay silent. She was hungover; he knew better than to poke the bear.

‘What did you just say to me?’

Mason ignored her, reaching for the doorhandle. He’d barely gripped it when a small gust of air whooshed past his ear.

Crack!

The wall exploded half a metre from his head. He flinched and ducked as tiny fragments ricocheted off his skin, raining down into his hoodie and onto the floorboards. For a split second he thought a wall light had shattered. Then he realised he was shaking shards of the glass ashtray out of his hair.

He jerked around to gape at his mother. She was on her feet now, bent over the kitchen table, the cigarette still smouldering between her fingers. A long wisp of smoke bloomed in the air between them like a poisonous flower.

Mason swallowed, disbelief robbing him of words.

That could have hit me!

The hard look in her eyes responded, I know.

He fumbled for the door again, a sudden tremble making him clumsy. Ivy had smashed plenty of things around the house before, but she’d never thrown anything at him or Henry. Even at her worst, the most they’d copped was a verbal spray or a rough shake of the shoulder. She was definitely getting worse.

Mason struggled with the fiddly lock, trying to ignore the crunch of glass beneath his shoes. When the knob finally turned, he drew a long breath to steady himself before yanking the door open.

Chloe Baxter was standing on the doorstep, her hand poised to knock.

She was wearing one of the flowery dresses that Raf seemed to like so much, her hair braided in a cutesy farm-girl way that completely contradicted her pig-headed personality. She glanced at the floor, at the mess Mason would be cleaning up later. He stepped onto the verandah and pulled the door closed behind him, cutting off her view into the house.

In her right hand Chloe held a bucket containing hooks and lures. Her bike was propped against the front steps, a small fishing net poking out of the wire basket on the front.

‘He’s not home,’ Mason mumbled. He hated how his voice sounded. Rattled. Weak.

‘Is everything all right?’

He cleared his throat. ‘I said Henry’s not in the house.’

Chloe frowned slightly at his abrupt tone. Even though they’d grown up together, they weren’t particularly close anymore, not since she’d moved back to Sydney a few years ago and now only visited during school holidays. But Mason knew it was more than that. The closer Chloe had grown to Henry, the more she’d drifted from Mason. He wondered what his brother had been saying about him to prompt Chloe’s little digs here and there – she seemed to think Mason ought to lift his game when it came to Henry, as if she had any idea what it was like to live in their house.

‘Do you know where he is?’ she asked.

‘No,’ Mason snapped. ‘I’m not my brother’s keeper.’ As he said the words it hit him: that’s exactly who he was. It was a suffocating thought, a snare trap clutching him tighter the more he struggled to escape. He gritted his teeth as that nagging doubt returned.

What would happen to Henry if Mason left him here alone with their mother?

‘Did Henry—’

‘Look, Chloe,’ Mason said bitterly, needing this conversation to be over, needing to be far away from this house. ‘Go and look for him. I’m sure if anyone can find Henry, it’s you.’

Now

When we were kids, a couple of years after my family moved to The Shallows and bought