Chapters (44)
He worked the axe handle between the palms of his hands and glared at her, waiting for her to continue. So, she did.
‘You know how I got this?’ she held up the bandaged thumb on her left hand. ‘I was in the garage, skinning that possum Susi saved for me, and I nicked myself. I thought I’d find a bandaid in the first-aid kit behind your bench. Instead, I found your magazines.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ab.’
‘Boyz. Truck Stop. Man O Man. Stud-Fucker…’
‘Jesus.’ His lips closed tightly. His muscles tensed. He fingered the axe handle, looking into the forest of paperbark trees that lined the edge of the estate.
‘Did you know him, Ray?’ she asked. ‘The guy who was killed, the guy who called the house, did you know him?’
‘Of course not. He called the house. He asked me how much it would cost to hire me as his caretaker. That’s it. Honestly, Abby, I don’t know what the hell has got into you?’
‘Into me? Ray, what am I expected to think? Why are you looking at magazines like that?’
‘It’s not…’ He trailed off and rested the axe over one shoulder. The blade was sticky with tree sap that reminded Abby of blood. ‘It’s not what you’re thinking.’
‘Lori heard you crying the other night,’ Abby said.
‘Did she?’ he said. His tone was suddenly cold. ‘In that case, I wish Lori would crawl out of my arsehole and I wish you would too.’
Abby took an instinctive step backwards, nearly stumbling on a chunk of concrete from the birdbath. Ray, who had been staring down at the fallen tree, looked up. His face had contorted into a twisted version of itself. His skin looked waxy in the morning light, like a Madame Tussauds model. His eyes had been replaced with those of a stranger. She didn’t know those eyes, and for a moment, she didn’t know the man.
‘Back off, babe,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘Forget about those magazines, forget about that phone call, and back off. I said I’d take care of it, and I will.’
‘I don’t know if I can do that, Ray.’
For one jarring, terrifying moment, Abby pictured her husband lurching forward, raising the axe high over his shoulders and … Suddenly their jokes about Jack Torrance and the roque mallet didn’t seem the least bit funny.
‘Not even for the kids?’ he asked.
‘What are you telling me, Ray?’
‘To tread lightly, Abby, and to back the fuck off.’
He hoisted the axe into the air and buried the blade in the trunk of the tree. Then he marched up the stone path towards the house. Abby gazed west, to the deep blue waters of Bass Strait, and wondered how it might feel to wade into them.