These Hills Called Home | ONC 2024

[3] That One Member

    "Apologies for disturbing your evening, folks. Some news just bears sharing face-to-face, not least the unsavoury sort. It pains me to say that the Haywood lad, Jake, is dead."

    From his farm-ready attire to the thick grey beard on his chin, Graham Gatland cut a distinct figure from past council leaders Gemma had encountered. They had been tense, terse, and all too awkward in public, while Graham had greeted every person he had passed like an old friend. Given how the pub's cordial music had faded as soon as he began his announcement, the fellowship was both sincere and mutual.

    "Now, we all know how word spreads round here. I want to make clear right now that there's no reason to be worrying; Jake's death looks like just a god-awful accident." Graham's last word rippled through the pub on a sea of muted gasps and slow shakes of heads. "I've been on the phone with the coppers, and they'll send someone over as soon as they can. Until then, have one to remember our Jake by!"

    Clusters of foaming drinks rose to a chorus of cheers. Secluded in the room's far corner, a lone woman stood unmoved by the rampant community spirit, her black jacket and jeans melding with the darkness around her. 

    "Figured you could use this." A pair of tall glasses clinked onto the table, and Avery pushed one across the surface until it shone under the exposed lightbulb overhead. Gemma studied the glass' clear, sloshing contents, and an amused huff left Avery's nostrils. "Relax. It's water. Gotta stay hydrated even when life sucks, right?"

    "I guess. Thanks," Gemma answered, swilling the chilled liquid around her mouth. As Avery slid into the booth seat opposite her, she cocked an eyebrow and lifted her voice over the buzz of resumed chatter. "You don't have to stay with me, you know. Aren't you busy?"

    Avery took a slow sip from her own glass. Red rings puffed around her eyes, smears of dried tears glinting in the booth's light. "Normally, I'd be swamped in orders at the bar. But Nana's not quite stone-cold enough to make me work tonight, and you take what perks you get when one of your best friends dies." She leaned back in her seat and rested a hand on the table, tapping her nails to the tune from the unseen jukebox. "Nate told me what happened when you found Jake."

    The wet glass slipped from Gemma's fingertips. "He told you? About how I..." Gemma started, the silent nod of Avery's head enough to fuel her anxiety's roaring fire. "Oh shit. I know it looks bad, but that was just a one-off thing. I'm not some fucked-up psycho bitch, Avery, I swear."

    "Hey, it's chill." With careful, measured movements, Avery laid a light touch on the back of Gemma's hand. A curl of a smile toiled its way to her eyes, slow breaths eking through the slight gap between her lips. "I hear you."

    As disbelief clamped Gemma's tongue down, the crowd's tide parted to unveil the woman from the corner marching towards the table. Her unflagging approach bristled with intent, yet her shoulders buckled under an immaterial burden. "Mr Gatland tells me you're Jacob's sister," the woman said, her keen stare confirming that the lack of greeting was not accidental. "Nadine Summers. I was Jacob's supervisor at the town's Silverlake office. He never talked about you."

    "I've heard that a lot today," Gemma said with a shift away from the woman's imposing stature. "Every family has that one member no one speaks about, and I guess that's me."

    "Not my business." Nadine fished in her jacket's inner pocket and produced a slim, sleek square of card. A swift flourish of her fingers tossed the card beside Gemma's elbow. Silverlake's abstract silver and blue logo clashed with the pub's warm décor, and rows of contact details swam past Gemma's eyes. "The company's launching a full investigation into Jacob's passing. We'll cooperate with the police when they arrive, too. If there's anything you need to ask about your brother's effects or belongings, call that number and ask for me."