Page 30 of The Family Across the Street
There’s a real gun. That was a strange thing for a kid to say. Were they playing a game – cops and robbers or something? But why was the man who spoke to him so aggressive? Why wouldn’t they just open the bloody door and take the computer so he didn’t have to think about any of this?
What if the man who spoke to him was the husband and father, and he has a reason for not wanting the door to be opened? A series of horrible images of battered and bruised faces assaults Logan, Maddy’s face crowding out all the other pictures in his head. What if the woman inside was hiding the beating she got from the man there – and then what about those kids? Has the woman in the house been hurt the way Maddy has been hurt?
In prison there was a group of men who hung around together because they were all there thanks to the ‘bitches’ they had found themselves married to or sleeping with. They muttered about these women all the time, about what they would do once they got out and got their hands on them. They were forced into counselling and sometimes it helped. Sometimes a man saw the light and realised that putting his hands on a woman was assault even if he was married to her, that he couldn’t take his anger at the world out on the woman he claimed to love. Sometimes they didn’t see the light.
Logan knows that there are flats in their building where, every now and then, a woman emerges with a bruise on her arm or a black eye, and he also knows that he mostly doesn’t interfere. He can’t. He would hit the man who hit the woman, and that would mean back to prison for him. Debbie sometimes takes the opportunity to slip some pamphlets under the door, pamphlets that let the woman know help is out there. It’s not easy to ask for help. His own sister is in a hospital bed right now because of a man who hurt her. And he’s determined to do something about that.
Back in his van he thinks about what Debbie has said about the universe: ‘Just keep an open heart and an open mind, babes. The universe will put you where you need to be.’ Why did the universe put him here, today of all days?
He tips his head back against the seat and closes his eyes, curses this day, curses everything that has happened because now he knows what he has to do. Looking at his phone, he considers the ease and simplicity of simply calling triple zero and giving them an anonymous tip. But he’s not sure he would be able to explain it on the phone, that he will be able to make it clear enough that there is definitely something happening in the house. Would they even take him seriously? And if they didn’t, if they dismissed it as a crank call, what then?
He has no choice. He feels like he’s driving to his own execution, happily taking himself off to hand himself over to the enemy. But something is happening in that house where he knows there are at least two children, small children who may need protecting from their parents. He pulls over and looks at his GPS, locating the nearest police station.
You’re going to regret this. You know you are.
14
Gladys
‘I thought you might like to try a different flavour today,’ says Gladys, putting the bowl of salted caramel ice cream down on the tray over Lou’s legs. Her shoulder is aching a little where he leaned heavily on her on the way into and out of the bathroom. Peter is a large, strong young man, muscles bulging, and he never has a problem helping Lou. Peter is also fond of a game of chess, and Gladys knows that Lou misses this today, but she doesn’t know how to play and she fears that Lou would be more irritated than grateful if she asked him to teach her.
The ice cream should pep him up a bit. He is sitting in his chair in front of the television, watching the news break, his wheelchair next to him in case he wants to use it. ‘They think it was that girl’s boyfriend who hurt her,’ he called to her when she was in the kitchen.
‘Yes, well, it’s always the case, isn’t it? People can be dreadful,’ said Gladys.
‘What flavour is this?’ Lou asks. ‘You know I only like chocolate.’
Lou hits out at the bowl, tipping it over and spilling it on the carpet. Gladys rushes to get a rag, unable to help the few tears that appear. ‘I just wanted to give you a change,’ she says while she is down on her hands and knees, mopping up the mess. She feels herself pushing down her own anger. It’s a lump in her throat, and in her mind, she watches it move down into her stomach where it can’t force out damaging words. She takes a deep breath and wipes away the tears, not wanting Lou to see.
Lou is quiet. ‘I’m sorry, old girl,’ he says eventually. ‘I’m a bit of a difficult old man, aren’t I?’
Gladys sniffs and returns the rag to the kitchen. She brings Lou a bowl of chocolate ice cream and takes a serving of the salted caramel for herself. The news ends with the promise of a cool change that will drop the temperature by ten to fifteen degrees in an hour. ‘That’ll be a relief,’ says Lou quietly but Gladys cannot muster a reply. She allows the cool ice cream to slip down her throat, swallowing her feelings with the sweetness.
Gladys can’t concentrate on the TV – she can’t stop thinking about what to do about Katherine and the children.
Should I call the police? Should I go over there again? What if this is all in my head? What if I need to simply leave this family alone?
Your imagination is going to get you into trouble, she admonishes herself silently.
On the wall the air conditioner rattles as it pumps out cold air. Occasionally, Gladys glances at it, daring it to choose today of all days to break down. She’s sure she’s never heard it rattle like this before.
A trailer for a crime series plays during the advert break. A dead body, blue lips and twisted limbs, being studied by two police officers. Gladys moves in her chair, uncomfortable with the image.
‘Why do they keep showing the story of that young woman on the news here if it happened in Melbourne?’ she asks, needing to clear the air because she can feel Lou’s silent sulking.
‘Ah, you missed that bit,’ says Lou. ‘They’re saying that the man they want to talk to, the one in the red hat, might have left the state a day or two ago. They’re not sure, you see, so they’re showing it everywhere. He could be in Sydney by now or Perth or Adelaide, anywhere.’
Gladys takes another spoon of ice cream but it feels like too much; she swallows, feeling a sharp, cold pain from her teeth to her ears. Something about the man in the red hat bothers her more than it normally would and she has no idea why. Probably because the young woman in the pictures is so pretty. Rebecca, her niece, has just started dating a new man, and she and Lou have only met him once. He seemed nice but you never know. Most people seem nice enough but who knows what people are hiding from the world.
Inspiration strikes and she says to Lou, ‘I might just whip up a batch of chocolate muffins to take next door. If everyone is sick, it will be appreciated.’
‘You can never leave well enough alone,’ he says.
‘Yes, but… I won’t be long.’ She gets up from her chair and picks up the empty ice cream bowls to take to the kitchen.
‘They won’t want muffins if they’re not well,’ says Lou as she leaves the room, ‘leave them alone.’
‘It won’t take more than a few minutes,’ she sings, determined not to let his admonishments stop her, and she continues to the kitchen. ‘Something is definitely not well over there… Something is very unwell,’ she says as she takes out her muffin tray and finds the chocolate chips.
