The Family Tree (15 page)

It suddenly occurred to Kate that a good source of information would be contemporaries of Frank or Sophie or even That Bugger, who could perhaps fill in some of the background. School photos would be of no assistance because, even though she knew both Frank and her father had attended local schools, class photos of the time did not include the names of students. And the odds were fairly good that That Bugger had possessed both eyes as a youth, so he wasn't likely to stand out. Other records, such as town meetings or sporting clubs, would contain many names, but no clue as to whether there was a connection. It would be different if they'd any hobbies, but all she knew for sure was that her Uncle Frank would get dressed up every now and again to, as he used to put it, ‘go hit the town'.

But it may not even have been his town he was hitting. The local area hadn't exactly been known for its nightlife, even when
she
had been a teenager. So it was more than likely Uncle Frank had been venturing further afield, going to pubs or clubs or local dances; an anonymous man in a crowd looking for a good time. As for her own father, his social life had ended with the death of her mother. He'd say, with a smile, that she had ruined him for anyone else, but because of the smile, and the matter-of-fact way he spoke, Kate never truly grasped the tragedy behind the words until she was much older.

For a moment, she stared blankly at the flickering sunlit patterns across the lounge room floor and thought about her father, living for forty-three years after the love of his life had died.
Forty-three
years. Raising a child alone, never really going out, never really moving on. Just going to bed each night alone, through the doorway at the end of the passage. She shook her head to put an end to this line of thinking.

Instead she turned back to his elusive peers, who would have spent their childhoods in the shadow of the Second World War. Where did one go to look for the elderly? Retirement homes, or bowling clubs, or bingo? Perhaps she could infiltrate, ideally by ingratiating herself with someone of the right age group. Kate grinned – the answer was right in front of her. Or at least would
soon
be right in front of her, walking briskly down the driveway with a well-behaved cocker spaniel on
a lead. Kate estimated that the elderly lady from next door would be in the right age group and, even if she herself was a dead end, she seemed to have a lot of visitors; surely
one
of them might know something. Or know of somebody else. And so on.

There was a slight risk that starting her enquiries so close to home, in fact right next door, would mean it got back to Angie sooner rather than later, but that was a risk Kate thought worth taking. She could always claim to have just been making polite conversation that was misunderstood. And now was as good a time as any.

Still deep in thought, she left the unit and walked slowly up the driveway. It was a gorgeous summery day, with very few clouds and absolutely no breeze at all, just steady sunshine. When she got to the row of letterboxes, she shaded her eyes and looked up the road in the direction of the park, but the woman was nowhere in sight. How far could someone of that age walk? And, more to the question, how long could she stand there before her contrived casualness turned into suspicious loitering?

A car could be heard approaching from the opposite direction but Kate didn't pay much attention until it slowed to pull into the driveway behind her. She turned, out of curiosity, and was somewhat surprised to see Shelley's Astra come to a halt next to the letterboxes, its engine idling. The front passenger door opened to reveal the blonde girl from the front unit, Bronte.

‘Hi . . . um, Kate,' grinned Bronte as she got out, clearly pleased at her recall.

‘Hello.' Kate nodded briefly at Bronte and then turned her attention to the car, where Shelley, with one hand on the steering wheel, was leaning across the front passenger seat and smiling up at her mother. Kate glanced into the back seat where Emma and Bronte's daughter Sherry lay sprawled in their car seats, both fast asleep with sweat-slicked hair clinging to their foreheads.

‘We've just been to the zoo,' said Shelley by way of explanation. ‘Long day.'

‘Sure was,' agreed Bronte, rather superfluously, as she opened the back
door and unstrapped her daughter, gently lifting the baby out of her seat. Sherry stiffened and her eyes flew open for a second, before slowly closing again as she settled koala-like against her mother's chest.

‘What about you?' asked Shelley curiously. ‘What are you doing skulking out here? Touting for business?'

As Bronte chortled appreciatively at her friend's humour, Kate looked at her daughter narrowly and then gestured downwards at her T-shirt and baggy tracksuit pants. ‘That's right. But I'm targeting those with a fetish for slobs.'

‘Well, I don't think you'll find them around here, dear,' said an elderly voice from behind Kate. ‘Not really the ideal area.'

Kate took a deep breath and slowly turned around. Her target stood underneath the shade of the wattle tree, smiling broadly. As Kate had assumed, she
was
around the right age group, with short white hair and pouchy jowls, which looked out of context with her very thin build. The cocker spaniel stood by her side and, although it was panting, it seemed to be grinning at her discomfiture too.

‘Hi, Mrs Jarvis,' said Bronte in a low voice so as not to wake her sleeping baby.

‘Hello, Bronte. You're looking well as always.' Mrs Jarvis turned back to Kate with interest. ‘And you must be Angie's cousin, Kate? Moved in next door?'

‘Exactly,' replied Kate rather stupidly.

‘Lovely to meet you.' Mrs Jarvis gave another genial smile all around and then set off down the driveway, the spaniel trotting along at heel.

‘And I'd better be off too,' said Shelley. She jumped out, leaving the car idling, and unhooked Bronte's car seat. Then she carried it up to the unit and left it on the porch. Bronte followed, sending a wave towards Kate as she left. Emma slept on in the car, her face flushed.

Shelley ran back and clambered into the car again. She leant over and waved at Kate cheerfully. ‘See you Friday, Mum.'

Kate frowned, but before she could ask what she meant, Shelley had straightened up in her seat and was reversing out of the driveway. She pulled into the road and drove off with a slight crunching of her gears.
Kate winced, then glanced quickly down the driveway, but Mrs Jarvis was long gone. She cursed, under her breath, and childishly scuffed a foot against the ground with irritation. Not only had she missed her opportunity, but the woman probably thought she was some sort of deviant. Kate took a deep breath and then checked her letterbox so that the whole thing wasn't a complete waste of time. She fished out an elastic-banded bundle of letters and started walking back towards her unit, slapping them against her thigh in irritation.

As she neared the end of the main driveway, where the concrete narrowed and veered off towards the corner unit, Mrs Jarvis's front door suddenly opened and the elderly woman came out, walking quickly towards Kate with a smile.

‘Went right past the mailboxes and forgot to check mine!'

Kate laughed politely while she tried to think of a good conversational gambit.

‘And I didn't introduce myself properly before either, did I?' Mrs Jarvis stopped by Kate, still smiling. ‘The name's Dawn Jarvis. And I know you're Kate. Well, it's very nice to have a new neighbour. We're such a settled bunch here that it doesn't happen too often.'

‘Oh, you've been here long?'

‘Long enough. And they'll only be taking me out in a body bag, believe me.'

‘I'm sure that won't happen,' said Kate, trying to be courteous.

Mrs Jarvis looked at her. ‘Well, unless some vampire gets me and I become the
walking
dead, then it'll have to. Because, believe me, I ain't leaving here alive.'

‘Oh.'

‘But the chances are probably slim about the vampire.' Mrs Jarvis paused, seemingly rather disappointed. ‘I mean, even if one happened by, he's not likely to go for me when he's got young Bronte nearby, or even you. Much nicer necks all round.'

‘Um. Thanks.'

‘And he'd probably give up anyway because my veins are
notoriously
hard to reach. The nurse down at the health centre always has a dreadful
time getting my blood. They've all sunk, see. My mother was the same. So it'd definitely be your necks on the chopping block, so to speak.'

‘Oh.'

‘Don't look at me like that, dear,' Mrs Jarvis laughed, her jowls quivering, and laid a hand lightly on Kate's arm. ‘I'm not crazy. Just watch too much Buffy, that's all. You know, “Buffy the Vampire Slayer”. A veritable font of information, that show.'

‘Of course,' Kate nodded, rather bemused. She wondered how she could segue neatly from vampires to Sophie Painter. Perhaps via the commonality of nocturnal cavorting?

‘Anyway, I'd better let you go.' Mrs Jarvis dropped her hand and smiled. ‘I'm sure I'll see you around. Nice to meet you.'

Kate decided to just go for it. ‘Listen, I wonder if I could ask you something?'

‘Certainly, dear.'

‘It's like this. I'm doing some research for a book I'm writing and –'

‘You're an
author
?'

‘Well, not . . . yes. Yes, I am.'

‘That's amazing.' Mrs Jarvis looked very impressed by this revelation. ‘Really
amazing
.'

‘Um, thank you. Anyway, I'm doing some research on a woman who used to live in this area about forty-five to fifty years ago. And I was wondering whether, by any chance, if maybe –'

‘I knew her?'

‘Ah, yes.' Kate nodded, rather embarrassed.

Mrs Jarvis patted Kate's arm apologetically. ‘Sorry dear, but I only moved here after my husband died about ten years ago. Lived over at Blackburn until then.'

‘Oh, well. I just thought it was worth –'

‘Asking? Absolutely. And I'll tell you what,' Mrs Jarvis paused to think, ‘I've got an idea. You need to come over to one of my poker days and ask the ladies there.'

‘Poker days?'

‘Yes, every Tuesday. They start at ten sharp and you'll really need to
be there before then because once the play starts no one's going to pay you the least attention.'

Kate thought back to the stream of elderly visitors that first Tuesday. ‘Ah, I see.'

‘Yes, and I know for a fact that at least two of my regulars have lived around here all their lives. I'll introduce you to them. And even if they don't know your woman, they'll be able to ask around.'

‘That would be absolutely marvellous.' Kate smiled, amazed by this sudden turn in fortunes. ‘Thank you so
very
much.'

‘My pleasure. But tell me,' Mrs Jarvis increased the pressure on Kate's arm and leant in a little closer. ‘What did this woman do? Was it juicy?'

Kate's smile widened. ‘That would be telling. But, if this pans out, I'll put you in the acknowledgements.
And
make sure you get one of the first copies of the book.'

‘It's a deal!' Mrs Jarvis finally let go of Kate's arm. ‘
Lovely
to meet you, dear. And I'll see you next Tuesday. Don't forget, ten sharp!'

‘I'll be there.' Kate waved as the elderly woman turned and strode briskly up the driveway. She watched her go, still marvelling at such positive results, and then walked towards her unit feeling reinvigorated. She had
leads
. She carried the mail into the dining room and dropped it on the table before pulling out a chair and flopping down into it.

The results of her little stroll up the driveway could not have been better. Not only did she get to meet the next door neighbour, but it seemed she now had a willing accomplice. Mrs Jarvis might be a trifle odd, what with her sunken veins and her penchant for vampires and geriatric poker games, but she was definitely entertaining. And, most importantly, she was a conduit to the local elderly.

Kate slid the bundle of mail towards her and levered off the elastic band. She leafed through the envelopes and, rather to her surprise, found one with a computerised label addressed to her. There was no return address on the reverse. Kate slid a fingernail underneath the flap and tore the envelope open, then unfolded the single sheet of buff-coloured paper within. It was an invitation.

The presence of Katherine Rose Painter
is requested for dinner this Friday

At: 23 Haverlock Lane, Lysterfield

Dress: preferred (as there will be small children present)

Kate read through the invitation the first time with surprise, and the second time with a smile. Her day just kept getting better.