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

Yesterday morning, she discussed her theory with Megan, who agreed it was possible that GHB had been put in their drinks.

‘It can only be detected in the blood for up to four hours and in the urine for twelve hours, which is why it’s the perfect date-rape drug.’

Maybe that week’s delay hadn’t cost them so much after all. Any trace of drugs would have been gone by the next day.

Megan knew quite a lot about GHB, thanks to her job. ‘It has a steep dosage response, as in a tiny increase in dose can have a dramatic increase in effects. Of course, there’s no quality control, so you can’t be sure what even qualifies as a dose to start with. If there’s alcohol in the mix, or over-the-counter medications, it’s even more dangerous. It’s one of the main culprits for accidental overdoses at clubs and parties.’

It felt good to be with Megan, sharing the problem, throwing around theories. The only interruption was Alex, but he seemed to understand that they were in the middle of something heavy; he found his phone and didn’t hang around.

Jess is not dumb. Dylan wants to either plead his innocence or say sorry. Maybe he’s in therapy because the guilt has been eating away at him. Maybe he’s become religious and wants to atone for his sins. Well, if he’s sorry, he should do the decent thing and tell the truth. Jess and Megan have a right to know if they were drugged.

Jess is meeting him at the Pymble Memorial Park. A café or a pub didn’t seem right; she is not sure she could stomach coffee or any kind of food. She didn’t want him in her apartment and neither did she want to see where he lived. A public park seemed like the only option, although yesterday Megan was concerned that it might be too deserted.

‘Will there be people around that time of day? Is there passing traffic?’

Jess is expecting plenty of mums with prams. Yes, there is passing traffic, although the park is shielded due to a slope and some well-placed foliage. Most importantly, she can walk to the train station from there and the fact that she is going to work straight afterwards also removes the question about what to wear: black gym pants and T-shirt, and a dark grey sweater. Not the most flattering colours, given her pale complexion, but uncompromising: bleak, even.

Jess doesn’t want to admit to herself that she’s nervous. What if she’s wrong, and an apology isn’t forthcoming? What if he’s angry or abusive? Is she ready to fight back, defend herself? She checks her phone: ten minutes until she needs to leave. She spends it tidying Alex’s clothes off the floor – he is such a slob sometimes – and giving the bathroom a quick once-over. She never thought she’d be the house-proud type. Things change when you have your own place. When it’s your hard work and money going into the mortgage and furnishings. If Alex doesn’t start cleaning up after himself, she’ll threaten to charge him rent. Speaking of Alex, she feels guilty that she didn’t tell him where she is going today. She was scared he’d stop her or – worse – insist on coming along. Alex would lash out at Dylan, he wouldn’t be able to help himself, and then she wouldn’t get what she wants: answers. Now it seems like a big omission, not telling him. Too late now, though.

Two minutes to go. Jess checks her backpack to make sure she has her wallet and phone. A loud buzzing sound causes her heart to leap: the intercom. There’s someone at the door downstairs. Does Dylan know where she lives?

‘Who is it?’ Her voice comes out high-pitched and nervous.

‘Me, Natasha. I’m so pleased you’re home. Can I come up?’

Fuck! Her sister, who she barely sees from one month to the next, chooses now for a visit. Baby Lucy starts to wail, letting Jess know that she is out there too.

‘Sorry, I should have called ahead.’ Natasha is being drowned out by Lucy’s wails. ‘This is a bad time, isn’t it?’

Yep, it’s a bad time. But this might never happen again. Her sister turning up unannounced at her door. Her super-organised, super-competent sister, who sounds like she is at the end of her tether.

Jess presses the button to unlock the front door. ‘What a nice surprise! Come up … I’ll put on the kettle.’

Is this a flying visit or something longer? Should she text Dylan to let him know she’s running late? Fuck him. She owes him nothing.

35

BRIDGET

Another funeral. Another sunny morning and crayon-blue sky. The church is at full capacity: Bridget and Sasha only managed to get seats because of two chivalrous middle-aged gentlemen who insisted on giving up theirs. It’s obvious that the Maloufs are an extensive family, a mini-community in their own right. Everyone here knows each other and they’re not afraid to show their grief: sobbing, nose-blowing and throat-clearing provide a backing track to the Catholic service. Bridget can easily imagine these people at the party that was thrown after the verdict. Bellowing congratulations to Thomas, backslapping him and each other, filling themselves with food and becoming intoxicated on pure relief. Telling themselves whatever they needed to tell themselves to make the situation more palatable.

The eulogy is delivered by Leo Malouf. His words come across as stiff and utilitarian. ‘My brother lived life in the fast lane. He wanted to experience everything, wasn’t afraid of anything …’

‘Fast lane’ is code for recreational drug use, which may have deteriorated Thomas’s decision-making abilities on that night, or seen him hanging around with the wrong sort of people.

‘I was always in his shadow, the annoying younger brother, but I didn’t mind …’

Leo’s words and tone are saying two different things. Maybe being stiff is the only way he can keep his emotions in check. Or maybe he wasn’t close to his brother and is struggling with what to