chapter 4

Everyone holds on to happy memories of childhood. But if you don't have happy memories then you can always hold on to a dream.

Like the photo in the silver frame. It stood on top of the television set for years yet never got broken, not even when Mum and Dad were fighting. Occasionally it even got dusted, on one of those rare days when Mum was singing as she did housework, when she still had the part-time job in Yabbie Creek before she got caught with a half empty bottle of vodka in her locker, rare days when he and Scotty got home from school to find dinner prepared and maybe even something bought in for their packed lunches.

Of course they were still walking on eggshells till Dad got home because nobody ever knew how drunk he'd be and who'd cop it worst if he was totally blotto, but, for a little while, they were the family in the photo though he was too young to remember them.

The sunlight shone in through the window behind this family he never knew, the top of a carefully pruned rosebush just visible in their garden, the parents smiling proudly as they posed with their two small sons. A moment caught forever in time, when they'd gazed happily at the photographer, Dad?s brother Joe. Kane, perched on Mum's hip, was about a year old and had chocolate all round his mouth, Scotty, halfway through eating an ice popsicle, stood in front, freckle-faced and grinning, Dad's hand resting on his head.

Kirsty asked why he wanted to keep it when his childhood had been so sad and he told her about the times when Dad was blotto or Mum was behaving strangely or Scott owed him a bashing. But they had been a family once. There was a photo.

And Kirsty didn't say anything, but she kissed him gently.

And now it was gone. Like a dream shattered by morning. While they'd been visiting their daughter?s grave, the wind that had torn down Rhys Sutherland?s fence had done one final act of damage, knocking the frame from the sill of the open window, smashing its glass and leaving the photo muddied and torn beyond repair.

The Sutherlands were preparing dinner when they arrived to pick up Jamie.

"Kirsty, Kane, great to see you? Shelley greeted them, her smile movie star wide and movie star fake.

"G'day, you're early," Rhys said, running his fingers through his hair.

"Surprise, Kirst!" Jade grinned, flinging her arms round her.

Dani was in the middle of placing a serving dish on the table. "There's plenty of food if you want to stay," she said awkwardly, with the effort she always needed to put into her voice whenever she spoke to Kane.

Jamie jumped off the chair he was kneeling on, knocking over the salt in his haste to tell his folks everything he'd done since he last saw them. But then he noticed that faraway look in his Dad's eyes, though he was laughing when Jamie told him about falling in the flour while helping Anniedani bake a cake, and he noticed Mum lightly place her hand on Dad's arm as she chatted with Anniejade. They were both real sad about something.

Melanie inhaled deeply and blew out a long plume of blue smoke.

"I'm tellin' ya, Mels. Stay with me and you'll be rich."

Melanie didn't answer. She didn't want to risk Scott's wrath again. It had been a hell of a shock when he'd lashed out like that. Her mouth was swollen and it hurt every time the cigarette touched her lips but she desperately needed this nicotine kick. It had started with them laughing and Scott had still been laughing when he flicked the television switch back to what he wanted to watch yet again, and then the back of his hand suddenly stung her face.

Shocked, she had staggered backwards into the chair with the dark, red blood pouring over her chin and into the palms of her hands. That had been over an hour ago. The blood had long since dried but Scott had been drinking and she didn't trust him not to lash out again.

Melanie had met guys like Scott before and she cursed herself for being so naive when she'd lived on the streets long enough to know. But he had seemed different. Good-looking, the gift of the gab, charismatic. Been straight with her from the start about being in the slammer though he hadn't said what for and she had chosen not to ask. There had been warning signs and she'd ignored them. Thought it was sweet he got angry when he imagined she was looking at other guys and she had to calm him down. Even though the truckie who had paid her a little too much attention had been so badly bashed the papers said his heart stopped beating twice and his own wife hadn't recognised him in the hospital. But Scott had never laid a finger on Melanie. Till now.

She listened to the TV commentator babbling over-excitedly about the footie match and watched a mouse scurry through the half light and under the door. Jeez, she hated the ------- things! And if there was one, there were bound to be more.

The game drew to a close. Scott yawned and stretched.

"How about making a cuppa and some cheese toasties then, Mels, before we hit the sack?" he asked, as if nothing had happened between them.

?Yeh," she said dully, stubbing out the cigarette and picking her to the tiny, cramped kitchen.

Small wonder the sleazy-looking guy renting out the property had let them have it so cheap and hadn't needed references. The room was filthy with ingrained dirt and grease. She rinsed the blood off her hands with cold water and a peculiar-smelling soap that had been left by the previous occupant, filled the battered old copper kettle and set it on the gas ring, wrinkling her nose at the stench of gas as she fired up a match, and pulled out the grill, unable to stop a cry of disgust when she saw the mouse droppings there.
"What's up?" Scott suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"Nothing, nothing," she said quickly, anxious to avert another blue.

He grinned at the droppings inside the grill. "If you'd growed up where I did you'd'a soon got used to that kinda thing. You wanna forget the toast and we'll have cheese sarnies?"

"Sure." Melanie reached for the loaf and froze as he grabbed hold of her wrist.

"Jeez, Mels! Anyone'd think ya was scared of me! I was only gonna say this ain't gonna be for long, y'know. Soon as my bro in Summer Bay pays me what he owes me we'll be set for life. You trust me, babes, don't ya?"

She nodded, forcing herself to return the smile. They had hitch-hiked most of their way down the vast coastline of Australia but Scott had recently acquired a rusty second-hand car and she deemed it wiser not to ask how. They were close enough now for him to drive down to the little seaside town but he'd driven there alone, telling her he needed to check things out first.

After what Scott had told her, she wasn't looking forward to meeting Kane Phillips, but she was looking forward to seeing Scott's hometown. She pictured Summer Bay with wide open countryside and golden sands, with a red evening sun setting on a calm river, where the cares of a city never touched.

Summer Bay. The name sounded so much like home.

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Jamie was already awake when he heard his Dad having a nightmare but he didn't get up and go into Mum and Dad's room like he used to. Mum and Dad got so sad when Jamie was upset that now he pretended to be asleep. No one, not even Gran or Grandad, would tell him about why Dad had the nightmares but he'd figured it out for himself. It must have been because Dad hadn't got any lollies when he was a kid. So Jamie had been saving up lollies for Dad's birthday prezzie. Except he kept eating them.

They were in a cardboard shoebox rammed into one of drawers under his bed, and every night when he got the box out to look at Jamie couldn't help sampling one or two. Tonight though he'd got even more carried away than usual.

There werevery few lollies left in the box, melted chocolate all over his hands and the pillow, and as for the jelly babies... he didn't even want to think about the jelly babies.

A tear rolled slowly down Jamie's cheek for the best Dad in the world who was having nightmares because he hadn't got any lollies when he was a kid and, thanks toJamie, wasn't going to get any now he was grown up either. Feeling crook after eating so much and not wanting to spoil Dad?s surprise by yelling for Mum, Jamie drifted off to sleep still holding on to the box.

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"Kane, it's okay, it's okay," Kirsty whispered, as she had done so many times before, when the childhood memories came back to haunt him.

He sat bolt upright, beads of sweat on his forehead, blinking back restless sleep, trying to erase the harrowing pictures from his mind.

"I didn't wake Jamie, did I? I don't wanna scare him."

"I listened. There's not a sound from his room." Kirsty said, with a quiet smile. It was so like Kane to always worry about their son. She gently stroked his face with her fingertips. "You want to talk about the dream?"

"Nah. Thanks. I'm alright."

"Okay." She never pushed him but let him choose his own time.

"Babe, you know I love you so much?"

"I know, Kane. I love you too."

The love was in her eyes, in the tears glistening there for his lost childhood, in her quiet magic smile. How could he tell her? How could he bear to lose her love? She was everything to him. He could never, ever hurt her. He pulled her close and held her tight, pressing his lips against hers, wishing the kiss could take away her every sadness. He could never tell her his darkest secret. It would devastate her.

The knife, buried in the churchyard, would have rusted by now. But the blade would still be stained with blood.