The Byron Journals (20 page)

Andrew looked at the guys in the adjacent bunk. ‘Doesn't matter. I'll tell you in the morning.'

‘Okay.' She kissed him and headed to the bathroom.

Andrew scarcely slept all night. People kept coming in and out of the room, switching on the lights, rifling through their luggage, answering mobiles, flushing the toilet. When they finally fell drunk into their beds, they snored, farted and talked in their sleep. Andrew lay awake imagining how Heidi would react to his confession, and every outcome he could think of was as bad as the next. And all for what? One orgasm. Three or four seconds of pleasure that sparked and blazed through his body, then died. It was all so pathetic now.

twenty-five

They hit the road for Sydney just after ten. At the front of the bus, Jade leaned on Tim's shoulder and searched through the radio stations, while Heidi and Andrew sat hand-in-hand on the bench seat.

‘What were you going to tell me last night?' Heidi asked.

Andrew didn't look at her. ‘I'll tell you later.'

‘When?'

‘I don't know. Later.'

‘Now I'm really curious,' she said, smiling.

Andrew shook his head.

She squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek. ‘Are you okay?'

‘Yeah,' he replied. ‘I'm just feeling a little queasy.'

He couldn't put off telling her for much longer. He considered his options—explanation, fabrication, justification—but every option was as dire as the next because each came down to the same simple fact: he'd slept with Jade.

He looked out at the desolate land and he longed for the coastline, the endless expanse of ocean and the promise of redemption it somehow held. He longed for the past, for Byron and the early days with Heidi. More than anything, he longed to escape the murmur of his own thoughts. He asked Heidi for a sleeping tablet and she gave it to him without questions.

The temperature dropped as they ascended into the Great Dividing Range. They slid under a blanket of clouds and a light drizzle fell, mist settling over the paddocks on either side. The windscreen wipers beat a steady rhythm as they passed small towns with empty football fields and abandoned cemeteries, a colliery and some vineyards, before easing into a stretch of new housing. Andrew looked out at the unfinished estates standing on cleared land and watched the road signs counting down to Sydney.

He woke amid heavy traffic, rain shattering around them. At first Tim kept to the slow lane, trucks and cars whizzing past, spray flicking from tyres onto the windscreen, but nearing Sydney, he became more reckless. Andrew was sure they would crash or veer off the road at any moment. The highway shot between the scoured walls of a hacked-out mountain, and blackened trees from a recent bushfire stuttered past on one side. The road was slippery and cars were changing lanes all around them. Tim howled and shouted at the passing drivers. Andrew, however, still foggy from the sleeping tablets, couldn't see what lay ahead. There were signs everywhere, fresh decisions to be made every few seconds, and all these decisions, and the safety of those on board, rested in Tim's hands. The road snaked, corner after corner. And all the pulsing traffic pushed them forward, urging them through these clogged arterial roads to the heart of the city.

High-rises emerged on the horizon and they were soon approaching that great skeletal arch of steel: the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Tim swerved across three lanes of traffic and stopped at the tollgate. He threw some coins into the collection basket, the boom lifted and he accelerated. Steel bridge supports flashed past on either side. Far below them the water was dull and wrinkled grey. It seemed unnatural for any structure to support so much weight this high above the water.

They pulled to a stop outside Jade's dad's place, a modern apartment at the northern end of Bondi Beach. Tim parked the bus across the driveway and the four of them headed inside. Jade's dad was overseas on holiday, so they had the place to themselves. After the hostels, it was luxury. The apartment was large and modern with double-glazed windows. Abstract expressionist oil paintings hung on the walls, the bedrooms were spacious, and there was a balcony with the edge of a view of Bondi. Heidi and Tim rushed around checking out the different rooms, while Andrew lay on the long black leather couch in the living room, his eyes closed, preparing for what he had to do.

He took Heidi to a trendy café on the main strip and told her to order anything she wanted—as much as she wanted—his shout. She smiled at him as she ordered pancakes from the all-day breakfast menu, and again when they came out drowned in maple syrup with a big dollop of cream on the side. He sipped his cappuccino and waited until she swallowed the first mouthful of pancake.

‘I had sex with Jade.'

She paused. Then, without looking up, she continued cutting a section of pancake, swabbing it with syrup. She put it into her mouth and chewed it carefully.

‘I was drunk,' he said. ‘I didn't mean…it was…I don't know how…'

She continued eating without looking up.

‘Heidi?' he said. ‘Did you hear me?'

She put down her fork. ‘I was wondering why you'd take me out for breakfast. You've never done it before.'

‘Heidi—talk to me.'

‘What do you want me to say?'

‘Tell me you hate me, that I'm a prick, an arsehole— anything.'

‘Why?'

‘Because I feel so fucking guilty.'

‘You're pathetic; you don't know the first thing about guilt.'

She sighed and picked up her fork again. Her eyes were moist but she didn't cry. She was staring at something over his shoulder and when he turned he saw Jade and Tim window-shopping across the road. He and Heidi watched them pass in the distance: a beautiful couple in a beachside suburb of beautiful people.

She frowned. ‘So I guess that's it.'

Andrew panicked. ‘What do you mean?'

‘I mean it's over.'

‘No, Heidi—please. C'mon—it was a stupid mistake, a horrible, dumb accident.'

‘Sticking your dick in Jade was an accident?'

A bald man seated at the table beside them raised his eyebrows. Andrew glared at him, then leaned towards Heidi and lowered his voice. ‘Talk to me.'

‘Why? What's there to say?'

‘Tell me how you feel.'

‘I don't feel anything.'

‘But—'

‘Just go,' she said. ‘If you want to do something for me, then go. I want to be alone.'

Andrew stood, withdrew a twenty-dollar note from his wallet and placed it on the table. But Heidi pushed the note away and the wind blew it through the legs of a man seated nearby and out into the street. He walked after it, snatching and missing like an idiot, before he finally caught hold of it. When he turned back he saw Heidi, head down and shoulders shaking—she'd been too proud to cry in front of him.

He stopped at the beachfront and looked across the crowded sand. It was over. No more busking in strange towns, or music studios; no more Tim or Jade or Byron. Worst of all—no more Heidi.

After the treatment at the clinic, Heidi had begged him to hit her—and he'd refused to do it. He now understood that feeling; he wanted to be punished for what had happened, for what he'd done. Retribution would help to cure his self-loathing. But Heidi knew that's what he needed and she was too smart to give it to him. She wanted him to suffer, and she was going to make sure that he did.

He looked across the wide stretch of sand glistening with tanned bodies. A lazy orgy of flesh. Ordinarily, it would have turned him on. But right then, it seemed grotesque. An erotic trick. And it made him sick he'd fallen for it.

Tim and Jade were canoodling on the couch in front of the midday movie,
Jaws
, and Andrew was in the kitchen making a sandwich when Heidi arrived back at the apartment.

‘Hey,' she said quietly, and closed the door behind her.

Tim waved, looked over his shoulder and started laughing. ‘Whoah!'

Jade turned and shrieked. ‘What have you done, babe?'

‘I felt like a change,' she replied, as she walked into the kitchen, took a glass from the cupboard, turned on the tap, and passed her hand over what remained of her hair. She'd clippered it at number one. Her shaved head accentuated her features so that her nose looked sharper and her cheeks looked drawn, but her mouth looked softer, more vulnerable.

Jade came into the kitchen. ‘You look hot, babe.' She smiled warily.

‘Thanks,' Heidi said, flinching when Jade squeezed her shoulder.

Jade glared at Andrew, turned, walked across the living room to her bedroom and closed the door behind her.

‘Jade?' Tim called after her. ‘What are you doing?'

A rhythm of creaks and sighs broke through the darkness. Heidi turned on the bedside lamp, popped another sleeping tablet and moved closer towards the edge of the mattress. On the dressing table over Heidi's shoulder, Andrew glimpsed the framed photo of Jade's dad with his too-young girlfriend. The intensity of Jade and Tim's lovemaking lifted a notch and a passionate moan passed through the wall.

‘Bringing back memories?' Heidi said and clicked the lamp switch.

He edged across the mattress and put his arm around her, but she lay there, wooden. ‘Heidi—'

‘Was she good?'

He rolled onto his back and didn't answer.

‘Was—she—good?' Heidi repeated.

‘I don't see—'

‘Oh, cut the shit and tell me!' It came out in an abrupt, harsh whisper.

‘The whole thing was awful.'

Heidi exhaled heavily. ‘The least you could do…is have the dignity to tell me the truth.'

‘I am.'

‘So say it louder then—say it so she can hear you.'

‘What good will that do?'

‘Oh, fuck off.'

‘I wish there was—'

‘For god's sake, shut up!'

‘I wish I could fix it.'

‘You have fixed it.'

‘I was out of my mind drunk,' he said. ‘I don't know how it happened.'

She shifted further away from him. ‘It happened because you're a prick.'

‘I know, and I'm sorry.' He thought of his dad's infidelity. ‘I told you because I don't want there to be lies between us.'

‘Fuck off.'

Andrew remembered how gleefully Heidi had helped him trash the rental apartment. He thought of the Mercedes that had run down her mum and all the

Mercedes badges she'd snapped off. And he thought of the private investigator notes and photos of Cabritzi she kept in her journal. She was certainly capable of revenge. What might Heidi do to pay him back for Jade? The thumping of the bed-head and Jade's ecstatic moans rose to a frantic tempo then stopped.

‘I don't want you to tell Tim,' Heidi muttered a few minutes later, her voice drowsy. ‘Not yet.'

‘Why not?'

He waited for a response but the sleeping tablets had knocked her out. For a long time, he lay and stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep and dreading the morning.

twenty-six

Tim rapped on Jade's bedroom door. ‘He's your brother, Jade! You have to come!'

‘I don't want to,' Jade replied, sulky.

Tim walked into the living room, scowling.

‘What's going on?' Heidi asked from the kitchen table, steam curling from her mug of coffee.

‘She refused to get out of bed and now she's locked me out.' He leaned against the back of the couch. ‘She thinks we all hate her.'

‘But why would we hate her?' Heidi replied, staring at Andrew.

Andrew's nerves prickled. ‘C'mon, Jade! It's gonna be weird if you don't come.'

When there was no response, Tim snatched his keys.

‘Fuck it,' he said. ‘Let's go.'

Tim pulled the bus to a stop near Sam's place in Wool-loomooloo, on a leafy, undulating back street, lined with terrace houses fronted by wrought-iron fences.

‘We can't park here,' Andrew said.

‘Why not?' Heidi replied.

He leaned on the back of Tim's seat and pointed to the sign. ‘Permit zone.'

‘You're such a knob, Andy,' Heidi retorted.

Tim frowned. ‘What's up with you two?'

Heidi shook her head. ‘Nothing.'

Andrew waited for Tim to step off the bus, then lowered his voice. ‘Are you going to tell him, or not?'

‘No,' Heidi replied. ‘And I don't want you to either.' She moved her hand back and forth over her scalp. ‘I need to do this recording for my mum. And if Tim finds out about Tamworth, there's no way it's going to happen.'

They clambered off the bus, through the heavy iron gate and onto the tiled verandah. Tim had already rung the doorbell once and was reaching to ring a second time when Sam answered the door in slippers and a black silk kimono.

‘Heidi? Babe? What happened to your hair?' He kissed her cheek and nodded to the other two. He looked hungover. ‘Where's Jade?'

‘Sleeping,' Tim replied.

‘You didn't wake her to come and see her big brother?'

‘Sorry, man,' Tim said. ‘She didn't want to get up.'

‘She's exhausted,' Heidi added. ‘Must be all that sex…hey Tim?'

Sam raised his eyebrows, turned and led them inside. The living room had polished floorboards and a high ceiling with ornate Victorian plasterwork. The large plasma screen on one wall was boxed in by a tan leather couch with matching armchairs, and at the far end of the room was an open-plan kitchen with marble surfaces. They followed Sam up a narrow, creaking staircase to the studio on the second floor. Andrew reckoned he had over fifty grand worth of recording equipment. Thirty-two track Yamaha mixing and mastering desk. The latest Apple laptop. Bang & Olufsen speakers. A variety of microphones. But a pile of boxes, foam inserts and plastic packaging sitting in the corner of the room made Andrew dubious about Sam's recording experience. The space was divided by plexiglass. The recording area on the other side was large and square with a low ceiling, and, although it was all professionally set up, it wasn't ideal for good acoustics.