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‘This was a tough situation, and the report writer acknowledges that. You’ll see it when you read the full report. These are unfortunate circumstances and a decision had to be made for the future and none of the options were ideal.’
Tough for him only, it seemed.
Lincoln spelled out the specifics of the time allocated to Noah. He was to drive to collect her each visit. The report writer didn’t think Lisa was up to sharing the transportation. Lisa was fragile? Holidays … special events … phone time every second night…
It was the worst-case scenario.
‘What do we do now? Is this recommendation written up and becomes law?’
‘No. You have options; this is not the rule absolute. You can accept this recommendation and avoid attending court again by entering into consent parenting orders as per this report. Or you can seek alternative orders. Something like seeking Lisa be partly responsible for visits or you return Emily to school on a Monday morning in Brisbane and not Sunday evening. Minor tweaks. Or you challenge the recommendation and run the matter to hearing. It would be one day and there would be three witnesses: you, Lisa and the report writer. We would argue that Emily lives with you.’
Noah held up his hand. ‘And my prospects of success in obtaining that order?’
‘Less than fifty/fifty. It’s difficult to get a court to rule opposite to the evidence of a highly skilled and experienced counsellor.’
And then Lincoln told him the cost of running his case to that one-day hearing.
His eyes watered and Noah hung his head. His limbs were heavy and hard to move. He needed sleep. Every ounce of energy drained from his body. His fight ebbed away like a slow-trickling stream.
With Ava’s big job still in motion, he could find the money and fight for his daughter.
‘Take the report, read it carefully and absorb what the social worker is saying. Understand why she made the decision. Remember, Noah this is about Emily not you as father and not Lisa as the mother. If you can keep that in the forefront of your mind, it’ll make more sense.’
Noah shoved the report into his back pocket where it stuck out and rubbed against his lower back, like an annoying spasming muscle that couldn’t be eased no matter how much it was rubbed or medication applied.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Twenty-four hours later, the first helicopter landed, then the second. The low-lying grass was flattened and everything else in the wake of the high-speed blades sent flying.
Men in black clothing with aviator-type sunglasses and fancy belts with equipment, exited first. A quartet of them scattered in each direction. One performed a dramatic forward roll as he alighted the aircraft and found himself in long grass. Ava rolled her eyes as Ish exclaimed, ‘Wow!’
It was like a scene from an action movie, except she wasn’t a damsel in distress that needed saving. Damsel be damned.
The all-clear must have been given by Henry’s security men, Ava refused to call him Hamid, and he exited the second chopper. A fifth man accompanied Henry but stayed back at a distance and her husband approached the house alone. At no sign of Ahmed, Ava exhaled all the air she held in her lungs.
Ish raced across the short slope from the house. She had her arm out to prevent him, but it was left hanging.
‘Papa! Papa!’
Ava stayed on the deck. In the distance, she spied movement down near the dig site. Of course, the commotion would confuse Matthew and James. What would they think? She should have warned them. Thank goodness the builders weren’t here today, how on earth would she explain? But then, it came to her, swiftly: the truth. From now on, it would be the cold and hard, ugly truth.
Standing like a preacher in her pulpit, surveying her kingdom from the sanctity of her deck, Ava watched Henry bend low and scoop up their son, crush him to his chest and twirl him on the spot. Her body tensed with fear. She hadn’t thought this through. Did Henry step forward? He was facing the chopper now. Was he going to make a run for it? Steal Ish back right in front of her? Her hands gripped the railing undecided whether she should dash across the yard and lunge for her son. She hadn’t come this far to lose him.
But then, as if in slow motion, the spinning stopped and Henry lowered Ish to the ground and handed him something.
Her son’s hands sagged with the weight of the package as they walked together towards the house.
‘Mumma! Papa bought me Lego!’ he yelled across the space, the words travelling on the wind now that the noise of the engines and blades had ceased. The valley otherwise echoed silent. Only Ava could hear the accelerated beating of her heart.
Willing her face to comply, Ava plastered on a smile that stretched her cheeks too wide. Henry trailed Ish onto the deck, making no qualm of looking around him, sizing up their home.
‘Quaint,’ he said and she was transported, that accent, those smooth and honey-deep tones, the lilt of the vowels. It had always been a mix of his homeland and upper-class British. It was out of place here in Bellethorpe along with his exotic, dark, good looks. It felt like a slap to her face.
It was the strangest sensation, knowing someone so well; the intimacies they had shared, the dreams, lives melded together and yet, not knowing them at all. Before her stood a stranger.
‘Ava.’ He approached and kissed her on the cheek.
He is not the enemy.
