You Had It Coming by B.M. Carroll (snow like ashes series .txt) 📗

‘Tyler, take off your school shoes, mate.’ Tyler is a repeat offender when it comes to forgetting his mouth-guard. It’s obvious that he forgets on purpose.

The first activity involves bouncing tennis balls, and is particularly challenging for the uncoordinated kids. Balls rebound out of reach. Hands and legs quickly go out of sync. It’s hard not to laugh. Vince’s voice carries over from the ring, where the first pair have started to spar.

‘Throw hard, Andy. Like you mean it. Stop waving it at him. Up on your toes. That’s good. Long arm … Hands back to your head afterwards. Good boy.’

Sounds like Andy is landing a few good ones. Jess has a soft spot for that kid. He’s very overweight, lacking in natural athleticism as well as confidence. He puts in the hard work, though. Listens carefully to everything they say. Never forgets his mouthguard.

The beeper goes off and another pair of kids jump into the ring.

‘Sit in a line, feet balanced off the ground,’ Jess says to her own group. ‘This is a concentration and reflexes game. When I throw the ball at you, you’ve got to catch it and throw it back.’

This time it’s a soccer ball. She gives each of them an easy throw to start off with, moving in order up the line. Then she throws harder and more randomly, tricking them with dummy throws before firing it at another person.

‘Pay attention, Tyler. If you don’t pay attention in the ring, you’re going to get hit!’

Every class finishes with core work, with the two groups reunited on the mat. Andy finds the core work really difficult. Sweating and panting, he’s giving it his best. In the meantime, Tyler is doing everything he can to cheat the system, not coming the full way down for push-ups, or maintaining position for the entire duration of the planks. Tyler reminds Jess of Thomas Malouf’s younger brother, Leo. Similar in both looks and manner. Sometimes it’s hard to get past the similarity. It can be easy to get caught up feeling sorry for boys like that, even easier to mistake their true motivations and loyalties.

Tyler’s mother has arrived to pick him up. She’s hovering by the roller door, in her trendy jacket and gym wear. Vince ambles over to speak to her, probably to let her know that Tyler’s forgetfulness meant he was limited to activities on the mat again. Tyler hurriedly unwraps his hands, a stream of red bandaging spiralling downwards. He shoves the wrapping into his school bag without stopping to rezip it; it’s obvious he can’t wait to get out of here.

‘Hey, mate, hold on a minute.’ Jess touches his arm to get his attention.

‘Yeah?’ He eyes his mother, who is still talking to Vince, an earnest expression on her face.

‘If you don’t like sparring, just come out and say it, okay? It’s not compulsory. And if you don’t like coming here, even to do the activities, you should tell your mother. The worst thing you can do is go along with things.’

That’s what Leo Malouf did. Went along with things. Went along with his brother’s lies.

15

BRIDGET

The weather is far too beautiful for a funeral; it’s the kind of day when things are begun, rather than ended. Bridget feels a trickle of sweat running down her back: her jacket is too heavy. Who knew that the cold morning would transform into this glorious day? Her face will be pink, never a good look with red hair. Mourners are making their way from the car park to the church, men in black suits and women in dark dresses and heels. She’s waiting for Dave, which is becoming something of a pattern. Organ music drifts from the church. Was William Newson a religious man? Did he speak about his wishes with his sons, or with Suzanne while they were married? Some people can’t bear to talk about death and their relatives have to resort to guesswork. Bridget knows what she wants: a cremation and a non-religious service. Her husband, Shane, is planning to donate his body to science.

‘Ugh! Does that mean we’d only get some parts back for the funeral?’ Cara asked, when the topic came up during a family meal. Cara looked disgusted. Ethan looked bored. Bridget felt mildly turned off her food.

‘When the science faculty are finished dissecting me, they’ll return what’s left for burial or cremation. It could be months or years later. None of you will really care by then.’

A squad car swings into the car park, driving slightly too fast. Dave’s face is flushed. Another hug to greet each other: his squishy stomach and the scent of coffee mingled with aftershave.

‘Come on,’ Bridget says. ‘We’re late.’

The church, old and sandstone, is dark and restful inside. It’s less than half full. Bridget and Dave slide into one of the pews towards the back.

The Reverend is bespectacled and surprisingly young. ‘We are gathered here to say farewell to William Newson and commit him into the hands of God.’

Some of Bridget’s colleagues don’t attend funerals, fearful that their presence would be intrusive to the family, or might jeopardise the investigation in some unforeseen way. Bridget attends primarily out of respect. Over the coming weeks and months, from investigation to – hopefully – court proceedings, she will come to know this family quite intimately. This is the start of a journey they will take together. She also attends because it gives her a unique opportunity to observe all the players. The immediate family are seated in the front row: an elderly man and woman sitting alongside the boys, presumably their paternal grandparents. Extended family – aunts, uncles and cousins – are pressed close together in the seats directly behind. Friends are identifiable by the fact that they’re sitting further back, the gaps between bodies noticeably wider. A few lawyer types here and there: arms folded and heads bowed, probably lamenting the fact that this isn’t billable hours.

The Reverend says a prayer, followed by a