Tristan Bancks - The Fall

A lock twisted. A chain jangled. I took two steps back from the door as it inched open.

Scarlet’s slightly puffy, just-woken face appeared in the gap between door and jamb.

‘What do you want?’ she croaked, squinting against the sickly yellow light from the landing.

‘Could I come in? Please? I need to tell you something.’

She looked uncertain.

‘It’s important,’ I said. ‘I’m worried. I don’t know where else to go.’

She looked at me the way the police officer had, sizing me up. Her face disappeared from view and the door closed. The chain slid across and the door swung open. Her hair was wild. She wore a pink onesie with thick, pink socks.

‘Don’t judge,’ she said. ‘Whose dog?’

‘Sorry, I–’

She bent down and ruffled Magic all around the face. ‘Cute,’ she whispered. Magic licked her neck and chin. She took the dog by the collar. ‘My mum’s asleep. We have to be quiet.’

I followed Scarlet and Magic down the dark, narrow hall to the lounge room. The apartment smelt like food. Something spicy. Magic’s never-been-cut toenails tapped loudly on the floorboards. We passed an open bedroom. It was dark and small with an empty single bed. Scarlet’s, I figured. There was a closed door on the left and a little bathroom – shower, sink and toilet. Then a tiny kitchen. A very different layout to Harry’s place. The same size but different.

The lounge room was shabby, which surprised me. I always imagine that other people must have perfect lives and live in perfect houses, have perfect families with perfect cats and well-behaved guinea pigs. I had assumed that about my dad, too. Not that I thought he had a guinea pig.

Scarlet’s place was hectic. A giant messy bookshelf filled one wall, with books parked at odd angles. There was a torn orange lamp on a table in the corner, a ratty old rug, vases and ornaments everywhere, magazines and papers on every available surface. Like Mum’s and my house, it was stuffed with life. Harry’s apartment felt temporary, like he was just surviving there for a moment. Scarlet’s apartment looked and smelt and felt like lives were being lived there.

I moved carefully towards the wide glass sliding door and peered out. I couldn’t see the other balcony from there. Still, my stomach flipped.

‘Does your dad know you’re here?’ Scarlet whispered, taking a seat on the tired grey leather couch. She flicked on the TV in the corner of the room and turned the sound down low.

I shook my head. ‘He didn’t come home.’

‘Why not? Did you go to the police?’ she asked.

I nodded.

‘What happened?’

Magic sniffed around the room, licking crumbs from under the coffee table. A music video played on the TV. An old hip-hop clip with a guy wearing a clock around his neck.

I had rehearsed what I would say but now I hesitated, unsure where to begin.

‘What?’ she asked, seeing my fear.

‘The man who I told you pushed the other man from the balcony…’ I whispered.

‘Did they catch him?’

I shook my head.

‘So what happened?’

‘He’s a police officer.’

Scarlet looked at me blankly. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I saw him. Half an hour ago.’ I tried to keep my voice from shaking all over the place. ‘He was in uniform, in an office at the police station just down there.’

Scarlet watched me carefully, her left hand slowly scruffing the fur on Magic’s neck.

‘I swear it was him,’ I said.

‘Why would a police officer–’

‘I don’t know. But it was definitely him.’

‘That’s crazy. Are you sure?’

‘One hundred per cent.’

‘Did you see him close up?’

I thought about it, then shook my head.

‘From me to the front door away?’ she asked.

I looked down the darkened hallway and shrugged.

‘Further?’ she probed.

‘Yeah.’

‘Twice that far?’

I nodded. ‘Maybe three times.’

‘That’s like thirty metres or something. Are you sure–’

‘It was him.’

She raised one eyebrow. ‘I don’t know what police officers are supposed to do in the Blue Mountains but here, in the city, their job is to help people.’

‘That’s what I thought but–’

‘And I told you that the Hills are in Queensland. No one’s even living in that apartment.’

‘Well, there was someone there last night.’

‘Are you sure it was that balc–’

‘Yes, I told you! It was the balcony next door.’ I pointed outside, raising my voice.

‘Shhhhh.’

‘Sorry,’ I whispered.

Scarlet continued scratching Magic. She watched the TV screen. Another old rap video with three guys wearing thick gold chains. We didn’t talk for a while. Scarlet just sat there.

I looked at her silver bracelet. It had the words ‘Nanakorobi yaoki’ engraved on it and some Japanese characters underneath. Well, they looked Japanese. I figured Scarlet’s mum or dad or both might be from Japan.

‘What does that mean?’ I asked.

‘Fall down seven times, stand up eight. It’s about resilience,’ she said, and without missing a beat: ‘Last night, did you actually see the face of the man while he was speaking? Or did you hear his voice and see his face separately?’

‘What difference does it make?’

‘Just… did you?’

I thought about it. I had heard the voice upstairs although not exactly what he was saying, and then, later, I saw the man’s face down below, those eyes looking up at me. But I hadn’t actually seen his face when he spoke because he was up on the balcony.

‘No,’ I said. ‘But I heard his voice. Then I heard the footsteps and the lift. And then I saw his face down there.’

‘But did you ever actually hear that voice come out of his face?’

‘No,’ I said. Magic had settled in under Scarlet’s legs, the traitor. ‘But what difference does it make? I know it was him.’

‘Right,’ she said, looking at me like she was waiting for me to say something. ‘I know it’s a crazy idea but what if the man you saw last night was a police officer?’

‘He was!’ I said. ‘That’s what I’m telling you.’

‘But what if it wasn’t his voice that you heard above, the person who did the pushing? What if, when he was standing over the body, holding the umbrella, he was there on police duty? What if he lives in this building or the block next door or what if he was walking past and heard the guy fall and went to help him?’

‘ Help him?’ I said. ‘He wasn’t helping him.’ I started to hate Scarlet in that moment.

‘What makes you so sure that you’re the only person in the world who saw him fall?’ she asked. ‘I mean, wouldn’t it make more sense if other people had seen it, too? There are fourteen apartments in our block and heaps next door on either side. You’re not in the Mountains any more.’

Anger bubbled up in me. I had to keep my head, though. ‘Why would he follow me upstairs? And break into the apartment? It was after two in the morning.’

‘Did you see him break into the apartment?’

‘What?’

‘Do you know for sure that it was him? Did you ever see him apart from when he looked up at you from the yard?’

I hesitated. ‘No.’

She looked at me like she pitied me. ‘So, one possibility is that they were two different people. Or maybe he thought you pushed the guy.’

‘What?’

‘Think about it,’ she said. ‘Two in the morning. A man is pushed from a building. A policeman goes to help him. He hears a noise from above and looks up to see a face at a window, someone taking a photo. The face disappears. What’s he going to do? He’s going to radio for someone to come investigate the scene and take the body to the morgue or something and maybe he’s going to go up and try to arrest whoever was at the window. Maybe he did break into your apartment. Maybe you’re the prime suspect.’