Only Daughter Read online

  I type Rebecca’s name into the search engine of the phone. Pages and pages of results come up. I click on one at random: Police Fear Rebecca Winter’s Body Incinerated and May Never Be Recovered. The link loads and a picture of Andopolis heads the article. His hair is jet black and the droopiness has gone from his face, although he looks tired. He stands behind a podium, mouth open in midspeech. I scan the article.

  Senior Investigator Vincent Andopolis today announced that police fear that Rebecca Winter’s body may have been incinerated in the Canberra Bushfires of January 18.

  “Whether Rebecca left on her own accord or she met with foul play is still being investigated,” he said. “However, the proximity of the fires to the Winter home and the timing of her disappearance lead the ACT Police to consider the possibility her remains may never be recovered.”

  My head fills with the image of her face, which looked so much like my own, covered in flame. Burning. I don’t want to imagine it.

  “I have made a promise to the Winter family that if their daughter is still alive, I will find her.”

  Senior Investigator Andopolis did not take questions on whether there are any suspects in the case at this time.

  All I want to do is stay at home. Hang out with the mom, maybe even cook something together. I feel worn out, tired beyond tired, and my arm really is hurting again. But it’s time to go see Lizzie. She hadn’t stayed long when she came by yesterday. She’d stood in the doorway crying and hiccuping and saying she had to get back to work but not leaving. Eventually she made me promise to come over and see her today, texting me the address with a smiley face. It’s the last thing I want to do but everyone seems to think I should be eager to see Liz. She was Rebecca’s best friend, after all. Avoiding her would be suspicious.

  I dress quickly, finding the most adult dress I can in Bec’s closet. Lizzie had looked so well-groomed yesterday, despite the snot; it would feel weird to turn up in a child’s clothes. I decide to just bring the cigarettes with me; it’s easier than hiding them and means I might even get a chance to sneak one if I have a minute to myself. When I go downstairs the tea is waiting for me on the kitchen table, next to a packet of ibuprofen.

  “We’re going to take you to Lizzie’s instead of Mom, okay?” says one of the twins, walking into the kitchen.

  “We’ve barely spent any time with you!” the other calls from the lounge room.

  “Are you sure it’s not too much hassle?” I ask. I was hoping to use the undoubtedly silent car ride with the mother to come up with a game plan for my time with Lizzie.

  “No, it’s on our way,” the first twin says, leaning against the kitchen doorway. “I’m going to visit some mates from med school who work at the hospital here.”

  That one must be Andrew, then.

  “Okay, thanks.” I quickly down the painkillers with a glass of water and leave the tea untouched. Walking out the front door, I notice the mom dusting the spotless shelves in the lounge room.

  “’Bye, Mom,” I say.

  “’Bye,” she says, but doesn’t turn to look at me. I linger for a moment but she keeps dusting like I’m not there.

  “Come on,” says Paul from behind me. I turn away from her and walk down the path to the car. Andrew lets me sit in the front seat with Paul while he sits in the back. I wish I could have a cigarette.

  Paul leans forward and carefully touches the remnants of the yellow bruise on the side of my face. “Does it hurt?”

  “Nah,” I say. It’s basically gone now.

  Paul smiles at me. “Good.”

  “Does it feel strange being back?” Andrew asks as Paul pulls out of the driveway.

  “It’s great,” I say, turning to look at him. He has his hair brushed forward, where Paul’s hair is slicked back. I’ll have to remember that—otherwise they seem to be the same right down to their freckles.

  “We really missed you,” he says. I’m struck again by how attractive he is. How attractive they both are. I almost blush as I turn back around. I’m meant to be their sister.

  “I missed you, too,” I say.

  “Good,” says Paul. “We don’t want you to leave again.”

  I stare at his profile. What a strange thing for him to say. It’s like he thought Bec chose to leave. Then I finally get it; I understand why they’ve been so distant with me. Deep down, they must believe Bec ran away. They must think that she abandoned them.

  “I didn’t want to leave you,” I say softly. “I had no choice.”

  They don’t say anything.

  “I love both of you more than anything,” I say, trying to fill my voice with as much pain and love as possible.

  “We know,” says Paul. “We love you, too.”

  “Come here!” says Andrew and he pulls himself forward and throws his arms around me from behind the seat.

  “That got mushy so quickly!” he says into my ear. I can feel my skin tingle where he touches me and I try not to focus on it.

  “Yeah, I thought Andrew would start the waterworks any second.”

  “What about you? I remember you crying about Bec all night when we were little,” Andrew says and they both laugh. That seems a little harsh to me but I laugh along with them, not wanting to lose this newfound solidarity.

  Paul pulls up outside a small white brick house.

  “See you later, alligator!” he says. I guess this must be Lizzie’s house.

  “’Bye, guys!” I say as I get out of the car, equal parts relieved to leave that situation and dreading what’s coming next.

  I try to think about what role Lizzie would like from me as I nervously walk up to her front door. I remember those girls at school who had close-knit best friends. Always skipping around together with linked arms and in-jokes. How could I possibly fake that?

  In the video Andopolis showed me, Liz had said she and Bec were so close she’d even noticed her posture changing. I had the decade of separation to my advantage, but still. This is going to be really hard. I wonder if I would have time to sneak a cigarette outside her house before I go in, but she opens the door before I even knock.

  “Hey, babe! Thought I heard you walking up the path. Come in.”

  She doesn’t look at me as she talks, then turns abruptly on her heel. I follow her into the house. It’s beautifully decorated, with simple furniture and paintings all over the walls.

  “I thought we could sit outside but it’s a bit cold, so I set us up in the lounge room instead.”

  “That’s fine,” I say, sitting down on the sofa. A bottle of red sits in the middle of the coffee table, with two wineglasses next to it. She goes to sit down in the chair across from me, but then stops.

  “Do you prefer white? I have white wine in the fridge if you prefer that.”

  “Red is fine.”

  “Okay, good,” she says, sitting down. There’s a split second of silence and then she jumps back up.

  “I’ll go get the cheese.”

  She’s nervous and has made a huge effort. I’m glad now I got changed into something more adult before I came. She comes bustling back in with an elaborate cheese plank and sets it on the table between us before she sits down again, then leans forward to rearrange it. I grab her hand.

  “Lizzie,” I say, looking at her, “stop it. It’s me.”

  For a moment we stare at each other in silence. Then she starts to laugh, slightly hysterically.

  “Fuck, I’m sorry,” she says. “This is just so crazy I don’t even know how to act.”

  “Open the wine, then,” I say.

  “Good idea.”

  Lizzie picks up the bottle, pierces the foil and starts turning the corkscrew. I notice her hands are shaking as she tries to pull out the cork. She starts laughing again, not being able to get it out.

  “Do you want me to try?” I ask.

  She looks up at me. Her eyes well up and she puts a hand over her mouth.

  “Where have you been, Bec?” she whispers. “What happened?”


  “I can’t remember,” I say, quietly. For the first time, I feel terrible for saying it. Lizzie so desperately wants answers and I can’t give them to her. I look at my lap as she cries, waiting for her to stop. And as I sit there something niggles at my mind. Something my subconscious knows is important, but I can’t quite put my finger on.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, interrupting my thought. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

  “It’s okay.” I wish people would stop apologizing to me. It was starting to make me feel guilty. She puts the bottle down and gets up to get some tissues. I take it off the table and pull the cork out. It makes a dull little popping noise. I fill up both glasses and then, while her back is turned, quickly gulp mine down and then refill it to the same level. Lizzie sits back down across from me, her face blotchy and her mascara slightly smudged, as the heat of the alcohol trickles through my body.

  “Cheers,” I say, holding out the glass.

  “Cheers,” she says and clinks hers to mine.

  “Your house is beautiful, by the way,” I say, trying to get the conversation into safer territory.

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you live here by yourself?”

  “Yes. I just bought the place last year. I’m a bit of a homebody these days.”

  “Well, it works for me to stay inside. I’m trying to keep everything low-key for a while.” I lean forward and load up a cracker with cheese.

  “That makes sense,” she says. “Pity, though. We could have gone to Gus’s, had some eggs.”

  “Bit late for breakfast, isn’t it?” I say, laughing. I bite into the cheese, and it’s perfectly rich and gooey. Looking up, I realize she’s looking at me strangely. I must have said something wrong. I take my jacket off, hoping seeing my bandaged arm will distract her.

  “I remember when we got that!” she says, looking at the teal Scanlan & Theodore dress I’m wearing.

  “Me, too,” I say. “It cost me about fifty hours of wrapping Big Macs.”

  She looks at me strangely again. Then there’s a knock on her door.

  “Who’s that?” I ask.

  “I don’t know, wasn’t expecting anyone.” She gets up, giving me another funny look.

  I remember the ink tag in Bec’s drawer. Idiot. Of course she must have stolen it. I try to think of something to fix my mistake but she’s already at the front door.

  “Now’s not a good time,” I hear her say.

  “Don’t be mad at me.” It’s a guy’s voice. “I hate it when you’re mad at me.”

  “Well, don’t do it, then.”

  “Come on, let me in. We can talk about it properly.”

  “It’s really not a good time.”

  “You’re being a dick.”

  “I’m not!”

  “What’s the big secret, then?” I hear footsteps.

  “Jack! Stop it!”

  I look behind me and a tall shaggy-haired guy stands in the doorway. When he sees me his eyes widen and his mouth opens. It was a look I was becoming all too used to: shock and disbelief, like I’m the walking dead.

  “Hi,” I say.

  “Come in here!” demands Liz, pulling him into the kitchen. He lets her lead him, staring at me until he’s out of the room.

  “What the fuck?” I hear him whisper.

  “She’s back,” Lizzie whispers.

  “Where was she?”

  “I don’t know. She’s got amnesia or something.”

  A moment of silence. I smile. Amnesia sounds so ridiculous.

  “Why didn’t you tell me she was back?” His voice rises. “I’m your brother!”

  “I only just found out myself!”

  “Still! You should have called me.”

  “I had to be careful. We don’t want the media finding out.”

  “Oh, come on, that’s not it. You know I wouldn’t spread it.”

  “It’s really important! Plus, I was still pissed off at you.”

  “Well, now I’m pissed off at you!”

  He marches out of the kitchen and comes back into the lounge room.

  “Hi, Bec,” he says to me. “Sorry about staring. I didn’t know.”

  “That’s okay,” I say, feeling strange sitting while they’re both standing on the other side of the room, looking at me.

  “I guess I should go,” Jack says, looking at his shoes, his brown fringe covering his face.

  “Do you mind giving me a lift home? I’m feeling pretty tired now,” I say to Liz. Really I’m afraid I might put my foot in it again. Talking to Liz is like a minefield; she knew Bec too well.

  “Already? That’s okay. Of course.”

  “Yes. No, I mean, yep. That’s fine,” he says, stumbling over his words. I get up and put my jacket back on.

  “Thanks for everything, Liz. It’s so amazing to see you.”

  “You, too,” she says, but she looks hurt and confused.

  Jack and I walk out to his car, which is parked on the other side of the street. He keeps looking at me out of the corner of his eye, but every time I look at him he looks away.

  “Careful,” I say. “You’re going to walk into something.”

  He laughs. “I guess I’m in shock,” he says, unlocking his car. He gets in and slides across to unlock my door. His car is rickety and old, the fabric on the seats ripped. He looks too tall for it. He has to bend his head slightly to prevent it from touching the roof. I catch him eyeing me again as I clip in my seat belt. I wonder how well he and Bec knew each other.

  “So are you just going to keep staring at me, or do I get a hug?” I ask.

  “I’m sorry. I’m being a weirdo,” he says, leaning forward and pulling me against him softly. Unexpectedly, my skin tingles under his touch.

  He starts the ignition and pulls out from the curb. If I can get him on my side, I can use him to convince Liz for me. I know I messed up a bit today. I need to do some damage control.

  “I can’t believe she didn’t tell me!” he yells suddenly.

  “She said she was pissed off at you,” I say.

  “You heard that?”

  “You’re not the best whisperers.”

  “Sorry. But still, she should have told me.”

  “I agree—she should have.” People like it when you’re on their side.

  “Thank you,” he says, stopping at the traffic light. He turns to look at me again, but it’s different this time. The shock is gone; instead he is smiling warmly. Looking at me in awe, like I’m some kind of beautiful mystical being. He fancied Bec. He fancies me.

  “You should get my number off Liz,” I say. “It would be cool to hang out.”

  “Oh. Yes. It would, um, you know, be cool.” He blushes, and then the car behind us beeps and he jumps and turns. The traffic light has turned green and the cars that were in front of us are already around the bend.

  “Fuck. Shit. Whoops, sorry,” he says, changing gears. I laugh. Maybe I fancy him a bit, too.

  I look behind us at the angry traffic. Then I see it and my heart drops. A few cars behind, the black van. I turn back as we accelerate, but the sun reflects off its tinted windows. The driver’s face is hidden.

  8

  Bec, 13 January 2003

  There was something in her mouth, something stopping her from breathing. She woke with a start, heaving in air. Something soft and hot smeared over her fingers when she scrubbed at her face. Lizzie screamed with laughter.

  Bec looked down at her hand. It was covered in melted chocolate.

  “You fucking bitch!” she shrieked.

  Lizzie had done this once before when Bec had slept over, stacked chocolate buds on top of Bec’s lips to see how high the tower could get before it woke her. She jumped on top of Lizzie, wiping the chocolate all over her face. Lizzie tried to push her off, hitting her with the pillow and squealing.

  The bedroom door opened and Lizzie’s dad poked his shiny, balding head in.

  “You two girls okay?” he asked and the
n eyed them slowly. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

  Bec realized how it must look—she was barely dressed and straddling Lizzie in the bed. She got off her and pulled the blanket over her tiny singlet.

  “Shut up, Dad!” Lizzie groaned. He raised his eyebrows at them and closed the door again.

  “God, he’s so annoying sometimes!” she said.

  “He’s not that bad. At least he’s got a sense of humor,” Bec replied.

  “I guess.” Liz tried to rub the chocolate off her cheeks.

  “Bags first shower!” Bec said, jumping out of bed before Lizzie could stop her.

  She had a quick, cold shower. Just long enough to get rid of the melted chocolate and the sleepy feeling.

  Bec was glad she’d stayed over. They’d had such a fun time watching Catch Me If You Can in Manuka and the idea of going home and having to worry about whatever had been in her room that night seemed silly. She really was ready to just forget all about it.

  Running back into Lizzie’s bedroom with her towel wrapped around her, she could hear Jack’s metal music start up in his room. What a weird thing to listen to first thing in the morning. She closed Lizzie’s door so she didn’t have to hear it and watched for a moment as Lizzie flicked through her clothes. She was softly singing along to the radio and wriggling her butt.

  Bec couldn’t help but jump in.

  “I say, it’s got so hot in here, so take off all your gear,” Bec pretended to rap. Lizzie whirled around laughing.

  “That’s not even right!”

  Bec jumped onto the bed, dancing mock suggestively in her towel.

  “I am so sweaty, I smell like hot spaghetti,” she sang in a high-pitched voice, trying to follow the tune.

  “Ew!” said Lizzie, laughing and flicking Bec with the towel she had over her shoulder.

  She loved the way this looked. It could be right out of a movie.

  “Ohmegawd, you are so hot!” she said to Lizzie in an over-the-top Aussie accent.

  “Holy boly moley canoley, you are tooo sexy!” Lizzie said, giggling wildly as she walked out to the bathroom, leaving the door open a crack. Bec sat down on the bed, panting. So much for the shower—she was already beginning to sweat. Pulling on her undies and bra, she hoped for a moment that Jack would come past and see her. He didn’t, so she put yesterday’s summer dress back on and wandered out to his doorway.