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

adults; he doesn’t try too hard or get in their faces. They respond to his slight air of unavailability by climbing all over him.

‘Why is your hair so long?’ Tilly, the birthday girl, promptly begins to plait it.

‘My daddy doesn’t have any earrings in his ears.’ Charlie, her cousin, touches the gold stud with stubby fingers.

‘Are you a real-life giant?’ Noah asks guilelessly.

Jess has two nephews and two nieces, ranging between two months and five years old. The baby, Lucy, is the only one oblivious to Alex; she is ensconced in her grandmother’s arms. Margaret soothes Lucy in that brisk way of hers, all the while keeping an eye on things. What stage is the barbecue at? Are all the condiments ready on the table? Are her grown-up children on their best behaviour? Jess’s dad has a glass of red wine in his hand and a satisfied smile on his face. Richard loves his brood of children and grandchildren.

‘Big night out?’ Natasha, mother of baby Lucy, sits down next to Jess.

‘God, is it that obvious?’

‘Only because I’m a trained doctor.’

Natasha is an oncologist, currently on maternity leave.

‘Hopefully not obvious to Mum, then.’

‘Mum’s eye is keener than any doctor’s! You’re probably busted, but at least she can’t lecture you while she has Lucy to keep her busy.’

Natasha is the oldest sibling. When Jess was at primary school, her sister was at high school. When Jess was at high school, Natasha was off at university. Now she’s a new mother and – judging from her washed-out face and bleary eyes – finding it a challenge.

‘You look a bit hungover yourself, mate.’ Jess smiles, to take the sting out of her words.

‘I wish,’ her sister laughs harshly. ‘I’ve woken up so many mornings thinking I must’ve been out the night before, but all I’ve been doing is feeding Lucy, and changing Lucy, and settling Lucy. Sleep deprivation is worse than any hangover.’

‘Can Oliver help?’

Natasha’s husband is a stockbroker who works crazy hours and always looks like he’s rushing somewhere. He’s talking to Jess’s dad and her brothers, near the barbecue. Alex is notably missing from the circle of testosterone. He’s inside, splayed on the couch, three young children on top of him.

Another harsh laugh from Natasha. ‘Not a lot Oliver can do. Unless he can grow some boobs.’

Lucy has started to grizzle. Margaret props her against her shoulder. ‘Natasha, I think you’re needed over here.’

‘Coming.’ Natasha stands up. She has an odd expression on her face. ‘Keep doing your own thing, Jess. Don’t let them pressure you into anything.’

What does she mean by that? Does she regret having Lucy? Did Oliver or Margaret apply pressure, or make loaded comments about her biological clock that prompted her – for once in her life – to make a decision that she had not properly considered? Or maybe she thinks she isn’t succeeding in this new role, floundering when she is used to flourishing. This family is hard on underachievers; Jess knows this first-hand. Natasha was the standard setter. Frighteningly clever, possessing both the focus and the work ethic to see her through years and years of study and training. Maybe if she’d been a little less accomplished, their parents wouldn’t have expected so much from the rest of them.

Twenty minutes later, the men declare the meat to be cooked and everyone gathers around the outside table. The food settles Jess’s stomach, and her headache loosens its grip, which is illogical given the noise levels – Lucy is crying heartily against a backdrop of children and adults laughing and talking over each other.

Richard booms from the other end of the table, ‘So, Alex, Margaret tells me you’re going to do some work for us around the pool?’

‘Well, um, that’s not confirmed,’ Alex says, not knowing which direction to look, his face flushing under his tan. ‘Margaret hasn’t accepted my quote.’

‘Oh.’ Margaret’s fork is suspended mid-air. She’s feigning surprise. ‘Did I need to accept? I just assumed … Sorry, Alex, when can you start?’

Her mum does it on purpose. Puts Alex on the back foot and puts him in his place at the same time. Thankfully, he’s oblivious to her games; he’s just glad to get the job.

‘I have a gap later this week. Should knock it over in four or five days.’

After dinner there is a Disney princess cake, and they all sing Tilly happy birthday. Jess and Alex help with the tidy-up before making their excuses.

Jess gives Natasha – who looks as wan as one of her chemo patients – an extra-tight hug. Oliver did not offer to take his baby daughter once all afternoon. Why didn’t her dad or brothers nudge him in the right direction? Margaret would have noted what was happening yet failed to comment. How come Oliver makes the grade and Alex doesn’t? Where does doing your fair share come in the criteria? Good thing Alex doesn’t really care about making the grade.

At home, Alex slouches in front of the television with a beer and Jess lies on the bed with her phone, which she hasn’t looked at for hours. There’s a text from Vince, asking if she can work an extra hour tomorrow, and a couple of missed calls from an unknown number. A voice message has been left. She presses the phone against her ear, and the halting voice on the other end brings a rush of bad, bad memories.

‘Jess, this is … Dylan O’Shea. I just want to … t-talk. Can you m-meet me somewhere? Please say yes. Call or text this … num-num-number.’

18

BRIDGET

Another Monday morning in the Kennedy household. Two comatose teenagers who won’t get out of bed. One flustered husband who can’t find his Opal card (probably due to the comatose children, who borrow the bus cards of other people when they can’t locate their own). One frazzled wife-mother-detective who doesn’t have time to assist her flustered husband in the frantic search of likely places.

‘Jesus, Shane, I wouldn’t know where to start looking. Try