You Had It Coming by B.M. Carroll (best fiction novels .TXT) 📕

see positives from selling the house. Megan’s more realistic. Selling is a big deal: a lot of preparation, hard work and uncertainty lies ahead. Assuming they’re successful, she’ll miss her mum terribly: Roslyn’s her best friend. Megan will have to cook for herself every day, and do all the chores (not just the half she prefers). She’s not even sure what she’ll be able to afford to rent. Freedom has a price. She is willing to pay it, though.

Roslyn has left her laptop open on the couch. Megan picks it up, and clicks on some of the recent sales in the area, looking for houses like theirs. The few she finds seem to be in much better condition, freshly painted and well presented. Megan will start work tomorrow, cleaning out cupboards and choosing paint colours. Something stirs in her. Excitement with an underlay of treachery.

Stop feeling guilty. This is the right thing to do!

Roslyn’s laptop is slow and clunky: she has too many tabs open on the internet. Megan closes some down. Recipe websites. Medical websites. Nine news.

Neighbours shocked and frightened after well-respected barrister gunned down outside his home.

Police still looking for leads in the shooting of defence barrister, William Newson.

CCTV images released to media in appeal to find person of interest.

Roslyn knows. Oh God, she knows.

Megan should have brought it up the day after her birthday. Or that weekend, when they had breakfast together. ‘Mum, you’ll never guess what happened …’ But she couldn’t get the words to form and now it looks like Roslyn didn’t need her to break the news. A quick check of her history confirms that she has been following every single development.

Family, friends and colleagues gather for the funeral of William Newson. Oldest son, Quentin, says that his dad loved his family, his job and cricket.

Detective Sergeant Bridget Kennedy appeals to the public for help. ‘Someone somewhere has seen something. You might think it’s too small to matter, but I can assure you nothing is too small. Anyone with information is urged to contact Chatswood Police Station or Crime Stoppers.’

It’s suddenly difficult to breathe. Roslyn doesn’t just know about it: she’s all over it.

There’s a reason Megan couldn’t bring herself to mention William Newson; it’s the same reason she failed to mention Dylan’s phone call. It’s because these men have the ability to transform Roslyn – an ordinary, softly spoken suburban mum – into an explosive, unpredictable stranger.

17

JESS

Jess makes her first coffee of the day and takes it out to the balcony. Leaning over the railing, she observes the Sunday-morning bustle of the neighbourhood. Lawnmowers droning, hand-held hoses hissing water on to parched lawns, neighbours chatting over fences, probably discussing the weather forecast. The week ahead is meant to be sunny, cool and dry. Dire predictions are being made about future water supplies in New South Wales. Some large country towns are facing the prospect of running out of water within the next couple of months. If it doesn’t rain, soon and significantly, Sydney will be upgraded from Level 2 water restrictions to Level 3. This will be bad news for Alex’s business, because who wants to put in a new garden or plants in conditions such as these?

Fortunately, Alex is not the type to worry about it.

‘Can’t control the weather, babe,’ he shrugs.

He’s sleeping off last night’s hangover while Jess attempts to banish hers with coffee and fresh air. They were at a thirtieth birthday party and stumbled home in the early hours of the morning, Jess trying to steer Alex into bed.

‘Shush. You’re going to wake up the neighbours again.’

‘You care more about the neighbours than me,’ he grinned and slurred.

‘That’s because they’re fragile and sweet and you’re just a big drunken oaf.’

Alcohol makes Alex sleep like the dead while Jess invariably wakes up early, feeling seedy and annoyingly alert. The coffee is starting to take effect, though, and the fresh air, which she breathes in deeply. This afternoon there’s another birthday party, her niece’s, and a full family gathering at her brother’s house. Jess and Alex need to be one hundred per cent hangover free. Her mother will be watching as closely as ever.

She turns around from the railing. A half-full watering can is next to the vertical garden in a deliberately prominent spot. Alex built the garden; it’s Jess’s job to keep it alive. She lifts the can just as she hears the sound of a door sliding open. Then the shuffle of feet. There’s someone on the balcony next door.

‘Is that you, Helen?’

A disembodied voice answers her question. ‘Yes, dear. Another lovely morning. Not a cloud in the sky. Such a shame.’

The desire for rain is reaching manic level. At this rate there will be celebrations when it eventually happens, street parties in the deluge.

‘Sorry if we were noisy last night.’

‘Don’t be sorry, dear. Enjoy your youth.’

Helen’s such a sweetheart. Always smiling. Nothing seems to perturb her. Then again, Jess has done nothing to really test her patience. Maybe she’s tougher on her grown-up children. Jess’s thoughts are dragged back to her mother. She’s too hungover to pass Margaret’s scrutiny today; she’s really not looking forward to this birthday party.

‘Our parsley and rosemary are thriving, if you need any?’

‘That would be lovely, dear.’

‘I’ll drop some over.’

Jess finds it easier to face the woman next door than her own mother. She doesn’t know what that says about herself, or her mum.

Alex drives with one hand resting on Jess’s thigh, and the other draped casually over the steering wheel.

‘Did you give Ramsey back his jacket?’ Jess asks, noting its absence from where she left it on the middle console.

Alex shoots her a confused look. ‘What jacket?’

‘The one he left behind last week.’

‘Oh that … yeah.’

Her boyfriend’s tone is decidedly unconvincing. Something tells Jess that the jacket didn’t make its way back to its owner. Probably rolled up in a ball somewhere else. Typical.

They’re last to arrive at her brother’s house. The kids adore Alex. He’s totally unlike the other