‘My husband called me five minutes after you left South Hallston and told me to expect a visit from John Keddie’s widow. I should have said something when I saw you creeping around out there, but you’d gone to all that trouble making up that caretaking cover story and I didn’t want to make you feel awkward. Too late for that now, I suppose.

The muscles in Kate’s neck tightened. Her cheeks flushed with colour.

‘How did Ray look, by the way?’ Abby asked. ‘He resembled a big old bag of pork crackers last time I visited.’

‘He looked fine,’ Kate said.

‘It’s nice of you to lie,’ Abby said. Leaving the cigarette skilfully balanced between her lips, she took a sip of beer. ‘So, what do you want with my son, really?’

‘I think Ed and John knew each other as kids. I’m just here to ask him some questions.’

‘About what?’

Well, I’ve come this far, Kate thought.

‘About David Stemple,’ she said.

Abby flinched at the sound of his name, but only slightly. ‘What do you know about David Stemple?’

‘I know that John had information about his murder,’ Kate said, as coolly as she could. ‘And I know that’s why he came to Belport.’

Abby dragged deeply on her cigarette. She ashed into a ceramic ramekin. ‘You have a daughter, don’t you? What’s her name?’

‘… Mia.’

‘How old?’

‘Ten.’

‘That’s a good age,’ she said. ‘Is she here with you, in Belport?’

‘No,’ Kate said. ‘She’s in Melbourne, staying with her grandparents.’

Abby stubbed out her cigarette in the ramekin and finished her beer in three steady gulps.

‘Life is funny, don’t you think? We bring babies into this world, let them rip up our bodies, let them drink from us, bleed us dry, and we love them for it. We give and we give and we give. We sacrifice. And do you know why? Because we’re mothers. It’s what we do. I’m having another beer. You sure you won’t join me?’

‘No, thanks.’

Abby stood, struggling against a little lower back pain, and went to the fridge. ‘I mean, think about it: is there anything you wouldn’t do for your daughter?’

‘… No,’ Kate said.

‘That’s right,’ Abby told her, smiling a sad and distant smile. ‘So you understand?’

She didn’t think much of it when Abby moved behind her, nor did she notice that the knife was missing from the table. Not until it was too late.

‘Understand what?’ she asked.

‘What I had to do,’ Abby said. ‘And what I have to.’

30

THE WIFE

‘Do you need cash for your ticket?’ Abby asked.

John shook his head. ‘I bought a return.’

‘What about breakfast? You should eat something on the ferry. You need a couple of bucks?’