In the Racos’ kitchen a year on, Rita was fiddling with her coffee mug.
“And I knew she was upset about Charlie and Zara not being at home that night, and it still didn’t cross my mind to go in and talk to her. Just make that effort. I was so focused on myself and what was easiest—”
“You had a baby to cope with,” Naomi said.
“Yeah, but so did Kim. That’s even worse, because I knew how hard it was, and I still did nothing. And then afterward, you remember how the next day or so someone reported that they’d heard a woman crying in the toilets—”
“That was a lot later in the evening,” Raco interjected. “And it’s a wine festival. There’s always someone crying in the toilets.”
Naomi gave a small smile. “He’s right. And look, we all have our own guilt about this. I’m not even talking about”—her eyes flicked up to Raco, then down again—“the reservoir stuff. I’m talking recently. I mean, do you know how long it’d been since I’d spoken to Kim? It was more than a year, I worked out later. And I hadn’t seen her properly since her wedding. I called a couple of times when the baby was born, didn’t get through. I didn’t keep trying, though, just sent her a gift and left it at that.” Naomi sighed. “So yeah, Rita, we all have things we wish we’d done differently.”
“Like what?”
They all looked up at the voice from the doorway. Zara was watching them. Falk hadn’t heard her approach and could see from the others’ faces that they were also wondering how long she’d been listening.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Rita said, gathering herself. “Lunch isn’t far off, but do you want something now?”
“No, thanks.” Zara’s gaze was still fixed on Naomi. “What do you wish you’d done differently?”
Naomi met her eye. “I was saying I wish I’d been a better friend to your mum.”
Zara watched her for a long moment, then: “So are you here to see my dad again?”
“What? No. I’m here for—” A flicker of something crossed Naomi’s face and she waved a hand toward Raco and Rita.
“For the christening meeting,” Rita said, frowning.
“Oh.” Zara suddenly looked drained. “Is my dad around, though?”
“He’s outside somewhere,” Raco said. “What do you need?”
“Can someone please drive me to the festival site? I’m meeting Joel.”
“Sure, I’ll do it after we’ve fed the kids.”
“I’m going to be late, he’s already down there. And I want to drop off another box of flyers at the stall.”
“Well—”
“I’ll drive you,” Falk said.
Zara looked over in surprise. “Yeah? Thank you. I’ll get my stuff.”
“You don’t have to—” Raco started as she disappeared down the hall, but Falk shook his head.
“It’s fine. Happy to.”
“Yes,” Naomi said suddenly. She visibly brightened. “He should.” She whipped her head around to Falk. “It’s a great festival. You should definitely go, Aaron. Check it out properly. It’s actually run by a very good friend of mine.” She drained her coffee and stood, gathering her fleece as she shot another glance at him, coy now. “You know her, I think? Gemma Tozer?”
“Yes,” Falk said, carefully. “She was at the festival last night.”
“Of course. Of course.” Naomi pursed her lips thoughtfully and nodded. She leaned a toned hip casually against the table. “But you’ve met, I mean. Before last night. In Melbourne, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Great. How nice. And tell me, what did you and Gemma get up to out on the town in the big city? Few drinks, dinner?” Naomi glanced at Rita, who was doing her best not to appear wholly invested. They were enjoying this.
“That sounds about right.” Falk couldn’t help but smile himself.
“Fabulous,” Naomi enthused. “And I don’t know about you, but I always think Melbourne is so beautiful at night, all lit up.”
“It is.”
“Did you—I don’t know—get the chance to take a walk at all? Soak up the atmosphere?”
“A little. It was raining.”
“Ah. Yes.” Naomi managed to look practically misty-eyed. “Although, in the right circumstances, a little rain can be quite pleasant in itself.”
“It can.”
“Well, I have to say, it sounds like it was a really lovely evening.”
“Yes, thanks, Naomi.” Falk saw Zara reappear in the hall, ready to go. “It was.”
“Mmm.” Naomi zipped up her fleece, flipped her blond hair over one shoulder, and fixed him with a conspiratorial smile. “That’s what I heard, too.”
15
“They all pretend that they were still friends with her,” Zara said out of nowhere.
“Who does, sorry?” Falk looked over as he turned in to the festival parking lot. They had driven in silence most of the way to the site. He had been lost in his own—not unpleasant—thoughts, largely involving a replay of Naomi’s words on a loop. That’s what I heard, too.
Zara shrugged in the passenger seat. “All of them. Naomi. Rita, even. Like they’re so sorry they didn’t go and speak to my mum on that last night. But it wasn’t unusual or anything. Naomi said it herself, she hadn’t really talked to Mum in a year. Probably hadn’t seen her for two. Rita would be the same, if you asked.”
“Well, adult friendships can be like that, sometimes.” Falk touched the brake as a parking attendant indicated for him to wait, then directed him to an empty spot. “You can go for long stretches without—”
“Yeah, I get that. And I know Mum wasn’t the easiest person to get hold of. Over in Adelaide. New husband. New baby. But everyone acting like it was so out of character that they hadn’t made the effort to catch up with her—” Zara fiddled with her seat belt. “It just annoys me, that’s all.”
Falk looked at Zara and remembered that call in the Racos’ kitchen last year. Kim on the phone screen, Zara leaning forward to tap her finger against the glass, cutting off her mum as she spoke. Falk doubted, as he drew the car to a stop, that Kim’s dwindling friendship circle was the whole issue here.
“So.” Zara was staring out of her window as Falk killed the engine. “Do you want me to show you why none of this stuff about Mum makes any sense?”
When he didn’t answer, she twisted in her seat toward him.
“My uncle’s probably shown you his notes, hasn’t he? The ones he thinks I haven’t seen.” She frowned when he didn’t respond. “I mean, you’re a cop, too, right? So? What did you think?”
Falk shook his head. “Zara, I honestly don’t know enough to even—”
“My uncle says you’re good at working stuff out, though.”
“He’s good at that himself. Excellent, actually. So I’d be inclined to trust his judgment—”
“But he thinks there’s something wrong, too.”