Torn Silk by Mark Dryden

Author:Mark Dryden
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: mystery, courtroom crime comic barrister australia murder legal, thriller

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The next morning, I drove over to Yvonne's terrace in Paddington to pick up Robert for an access visit. Yvonne opened the front door wearing a flannel tracksuit and no make-up. Her smile lopped 10 years off well-preserved features. "Hi. Come in."

I followed her up the hallway. "Robert ready?"

A laugh. "You kidding? He only woke ten minutes ago." Yvonne stood at the bottom of the staircase and yelled our son's name. No response.

Yvonne shrugged. "He'll be down soon. Come into the kitchen."

"Where's little Tanya?"

Tanya was her child with Rex Marston - six years old and bright as a button.

"Rex has already picked her up. They've gone to Luna Park. He always looks terrified when he's got to spend the whole day with her. Says it's harder than appearing in the High Court. He'll be exhausted when he gets back."

I followed her into a wide kitchen with a huge marble-topped island and big French doors opening out onto a small lawn. We sat on bar stools.

She casually touched my arm and said she really enjoyed our dinner on Wednesday night. "We should do it again."

I recalled that the dinner became rather tetchy after she pushed me to apply for silk and I pushed back. However, she was now trying to paper that over. Why? She still hoped to persuade me to apply for silk? She wanted to resurrect our marriage? Or she just wanted reassurance as she re-acclimatised to single life? Probably didn't know herself. However, I was getting a bit annoyed, because I was fairly sure I didn't want a relationship. However, I had a nagging fear I might not be resolute enough if she declared she wanted one.

I said: "Yeah, I'd like that."

"When?"

"The Arnold hearing starts again on Monday. So I'll be pretty busy for most of the week. Maybe the following weekend?"

"Fine."

She got me to describe Terry's funeral service, which she missed because she was in court. She didn't seem aware I sat next to Doris and I didn't enlighten her.

Eventually, our fourteen-year-old son wandered into the kitchen, wearing a T-shirt and shorts; tall and solidly built, with broad shoulders and short brown hair. Despite his size - I no longer dared box or wrestle with him - he was mild and sensible, and didn't seem to blame me for his long incarceration under Rex Marston's roof. Of course, he might be storing up his resentment and his hormones might detonate at any moment, but I'd been lucky so far.

"Hi Dad."

"Hi. Ready to go?"

"Yup. We still going to see Grandpa?"

"Yes, that OK?"

"Sure. Staying overnight?"

"No. I'll have you back this evening."

"Cool."

Yvonne looked at me. "You want a cup of coffee, before you go?"

I shook my head. "We're already running late."

She shrugged. "OK."

At the door, she hugged Robert and pecked my cheek.

As we drove away, I glanced at my son. "How're you getting on with your mum?"

"OK. She gives me the shits sometimes. But I guess that's mutual."

"I guess so." Was Yvonne telling the truth when she said she had no time to meet any men.

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