Free Times of Trouble by Victoria Rollison Page B

I’d brushed my hair or not? I
quickly waved at Liam and then excused myself back to my bedroom,
to hide from the whole wretched scene.
    I watched from my
window as the three of them took Picasso across the lawn and then
manoeuvred him onto the hydraulic platform jutting off the back of
the truck. Liam stood by, chatting to the men, having bonded over
the heavy lifting, as they padded Picasso’s edges with blankets and
tied him up with ropes. A shudder ran through me as they slammed
the back doors of the truck. I silently said goodbye. As the truck
reversed, Liam walked back towards the house, so I took a deep
breath, ready to meet him properly at the front door. I wouldn’t
show him any gratitude for helping with Picasso. I wanted him to
know I wasn’t as easy to sweet talk as mum.

Chapter 9

    ‘ Is that your piano?’
Liam asked innocently.
    I scowled at him,
tempted to tell him exactly why my piano was about to disappear
from view.
    ‘ Yes, that was my
piano. But it’s not mine anymore.’
    Liam chatted to me
like we’d known each other forever as I showed him through the
house to the kitchen. Mum had gone overboard preparing the house
for his arrival. There were flowers in a vase on the kitchen table,
and she had Bach playing on the stereo, making our home feel like a
guest house. I was painfully aware of how nervous I was, at a total
loss for words as he told me all about his flight, his taxi ride
from the airport and his pleasure at seeing his family.
    ‘ It’s mum’s 50th, I
wouldn’t miss that. They were disappointed when I …’ he stopped.
Then he grinned and said: ‘I guess I’m the black sheep of the
family.’
    So much for my idea
he had manufactured an excuse to come to Adelaide to protect his
lucrative income.
    But I wasn’t going to
get involved with the small talk. Apart from the fact I didn’t
trust him, I have never been comfortable with chatty people who
seemed to be able to talk about anything to anyone. I wanted to
psych myself up to grill him for information, so I offered him a
ginger beer and directed him to the lounge, waiting for mum to join
us. But I wasn’t prepared for the shock of what I found - or
rather, didn’t find - there. I could feel him watching me as I
stared, open mouthed at the huge void in the room. There were three
round dents in the rug, forming a Picasso-sized triangle that I
feared would never go away; a constant reminder of what used to
stand there. I was still staring when mum walked in. She knew
intuitively we would have to move if we were to have a normal
conversation.
    ‘ Honey, why don’t we
sit at the table under the veranda? It’s a lovely summery
day.’
    Liam chatted to mum
on his way outside, getting a much better response from her than he
had from me. It occurred to me he might be talking out of
nervousness, just as I was speechless for the same reason. Could
nervous people fake confidence so effectively? I doubted
it.
    Mum showed Liam
outside and went back into the kitchen to prepare some sandwiches.
My first instinct was to offer to help, and avoid confronting Liam
on my own. But it would be rude to leave him sitting outside. So as
we settled into our deck chairs, I decided to start the
conversation, just as I planned in my head.
    ‘ So Liam, how close
do you think you are to finding Sophie?’
    Liam shifted on his
seat. He obviously wasn’t expecting to have to get straight to the
point. To his credit, he didn’t squirm for long. He looked me
straight in the eyes as he spoke.
    ‘ I’m really glad
we’ve had this opportunity to talk privately, before your mum comes
out. I have been finding it very difficult to express what is
happening in emails to her...’
    Liam had a look of
compassion that only a very good actor could fake.
    'Why is that?' I
asked, failing to hide my accusing tone.
    'It's a long
story...' he started to say, and then noticed me roll my
eyes.
    'Why don't you try to
explain? Lunch won’t be ready for a while.'
    Liam sat