AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I cut onions and carrots, sear the mince, and try to keep up with the hosts on my favourite true crime podcast. Not sure how I ever got into true crime podcasts, to be honest, and I loathe the ones that try to make crime funny. This podcast, luckily, has trigger warnings in the description of their episodes and I’m always careful to avoid the ones flagged with intimate partner or family violence.
I’ve just added tomatoes to my Bolognese sauce when I think I hear the front door open. Normally, Margie comes home like a storm, carrying bags and books, calling out as soon as she steps over the threshold.
Turning down the gas stovetop, I crane my neck around the doorway. The front door’s still closed, though I swear I’d just heard it open. ‘Marg, is that you?’
But there’s no Margie.
I lock Sadie in the walk-in cupboard while I investigate, lest she run out the front door and out the gate.
I step into the hallway, my senses on high alert, but it’s empty. I try to listen for anyone walking through the house—it’s not hard, our floorboards creak something fierce—but all I can hear is Sadie whining and scratching at the cupboard door.
I make sure to lock the front door. That’s the second time today I’ve felt paranoid, and the mental strain from being so on edge is real.
‘I’m so fucked up,’ I tell Sadie as I let her out of the walk-in. ‘Even the bloody wind makes me freak out.’
Margie gets home later that evening, announcing her entrance like she always does.
‘That smells nice, Noah! What a treat!’ She places her tote bag on the dining table and boxes of CCTV cameras spill out.
‘You’re really doing it?’
‘It’s a shame,’ she says, lining the cameras up one by one. ‘Carlton used to be such a safe place.’
‘You bought enough to cover every inch of this house,’ I say as I inspect a camera. It’s about the size of my fist, dome-shaped and completely conspicuous.
‘That’s the point. Except for the bathrooms. And the bedrooms. You just won’t be able to sneak anyone through the windows anymore.’
I raise my eyebrows. ‘Excuse me, I brought him in through the door, I introduced him to you. I acted like a completely respectable gentleman.’
In the end, the cameras don’t take long to install, so we do it while my sauce is simmering. We have most of the entry and exit points covered. It all loops into a recording system that feeds into a cloud app we each download onto our phones. There’s also an emergency call button, which Margie thinks should go under her dining table like a bank alarm.
I look at the camera by the back door while we eat dinner. ‘You don’t think it’s the kind of system people can hack, do you?’ I ask her. ‘Like they’ll see us if we walk around naked?’
‘Do you walk around naked when I’m not at home?’ Margie laughs as she adds more parmesan on top of her Bolognese. ‘Your sauce is better, but it needs more garlic.’
I poke out my tongue in mock protest. I think it tastes good. ‘You think everything needs more garlic.’
Mum texts me that night.
Mum:I’ll be in Melbourne Sunday and Monday. Are you free to catch up?
Noah:Sure! Imight be busy Sunday night but Icould meet for coffee on Monday.
Mum:Anywhere close to you?
Noah:There’s a cute coffee shop near my work—fox and pen?
Mum:Sounds good.
30
Gabriel
Since I turned pro, Papa and I have had an agreement: I don’t get up before eight-thirty. I’m not a morning person, and never have been. This agreement, however, clearly doesn’t apply to Victor. I hear him open the door to my room in the early hours of Friday morning—the day of the semi-final—whispering, ‘Gabi, Gabi, Gabi, are you awake?’ He comes closer. ‘Gabi!’
I open my eyes, but I’m not at all ready for what I see: Victor standing at the end of my bed, his thin body cast in the shadows, with only the light of his mobile phone illuminating his face. He looks like a godforsaken undertaker on a house call.
I gasp, fear shooting through me. ‘Victor!’ I hiss. ‘You can’t just sneak into my room!’
