Enza Gandolfo - The Bridge

An hour later, Sarah thought about Jo as she walked out of the meeting towards the station. The work they were doing had a real chance of improving the conditions of women in prison, and the whole committee was behind it, thankfully. They’d allocated funds to implement the recommendations. But it was unlikely anything would change in time for Jo.

Back in her office, interned by files that required action, Sarah gazed out the window. Across the road, a group of boys in their teens were smoking outside the 7-Eleven. She wasn’t worried about them — they weren’t drinking alcohol. Lately, the majority of her cases were alcohol- and drug-related. Kids as young as twelve and thirteen were already alcoholics and addicts. The judges were frustrated. In the courtroom, the judges, the lawyers, the probation officers, the youth workers, and the cops sat in different sections and acted as if they had something against one another, but in truth they were all in it together. They were all throwing their hands up in the air. As the judges pronounced their sentences, they made grand statements — It shouldn’t be this way; there should be more support and help — but, generally speaking, they locked them up because the parents and the community needed some relief.

Her clients often complained about being picked on by the cops, about being moved on from shopping centres and kicked out of venues for being young, or for not being white and ‘Australian’, or for hanging out together, having fun. And they were right to complain, and she’d often taken up the cause of young people wrongly accused. Because they were a gang — which meant three or four kids standing around together — or looked like trouble . Because they were Sudanese or Vietnamese and weren’t speaking English. Because they were too loud. The problem was that sometimes it was difficult to tell if a group were going to be trouble or not. Sarah was a reasonable judge of character, but sometimes the young people she represented committed crimes that shocked her, even after more than eight years working in legal aid. Still, you had to make an honest case, as honest as you could — you were obliged to even when you wanted to say to the judge, You should lock this one up and throw away the key . You never did — they knew you never would.

The boys in the street were throwing something around. Sarah couldn’t see what it was. Not a ball. Something small and square. On the bench, a younger boy was crying. Sarah considered opening the window and yelling at them to give it back, but that would be a bad move — both for her and for the kid on the bench. She kept one eye on her files and one eye on the boys.

The day before, she’d interviewed Ashleigh’s boyfriend, Kevin. He hadn’t hesitated when Sarah had asked to meet. ‘Sure. Ash and Jo were mates. Whatever I can do to help.’ Now she read over her notes.

She had interviewed Kevin at his home in Brighton. The house was about as different to Jo’s as a house could be; it reminded Sarah of her parents’ place. Kevin’s mother and her mother probably bought their floral silk-screened curtains from the same South Yarra decorator. They probably went to the same dinner parties, the same theatre productions. The house, set back behind a high fence on a corner block, was what her mother would call substantial . A period home (Sarah had no idea which period) surrounded by a lush lawn and well-established trees — grey and ghost gums. Standing on the doorstep waiting, she pondered how Kevin had met Ashleigh. Sarah’s parents and their friends didn’t go to the western suburbs; they said things like, I never drive across the bridge unless we are going to Lorne . Recently, Sarah’s Aunt Sophie, her mother’s youngest sister, told them that a friend had dragged her out to Yarraville. ‘I was kicking and screaming, I kept saying, “No, why would I want to go there?” But, you know, I was pleasantly surprised. There are some nice boutiques and cafés. I bought the perfect little clutch bag for Annie.’

Kevin had been alone when Sarah arrived. He led her through the hallway and the kitchen to a small table in the garden. The view, like the house, was expansive. There was no sense of the surrounding suburb. The backyard sloped down to a tall hedge, beyond which Sarah could see a golf course. He offered her a tea and she accepted. When he brought it out, she could see he was shaking, and she reached out to take her cup. He was lanky and tall, dressed in black jeans and a white t-shirt. His black hair was wet, and since there was no pool, Sarah assumed he’d just had a shower.

‘Thanks for letting me come and talk to you,’ Sarah said.

‘No problem. I can’t concentrate on anything. Can’t study. Can’t work. Just been hanging around the house all day.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘What do people do?’ he asked.

‘Grief takes its own time.’

‘I want to talk about Ash all the time, and everyone’s getting sick of me. They don’t say anything, but I can sense it.’ He stopped speaking to pour the tea. ‘I don’t usually talk much, but now I can’t stop.’

‘You and Ashleigh were going out? You were her boyfriend?’

The garden was quiet, the only sounds coming from the rustling of the leaves in the breeze. Sarah poured milk into her tea and took a sip. English breakfast, her mother’s favourite tea.

‘Yeah, we met at the beginning of the year but had been going out for about six months.’

‘And you know Jo as well?’

‘A little. She’s Ash’s friend, but we get on okay and the three of us go — used to go — out together.’

‘Was that a problem?’

‘It was fine, not a problem. We go out in groups, with friends. Ash liked to party.’

‘Is Jo a party person too?’

‘I guess so. She likes to go out and dance and have fun. Ash is — was — more outgoing, though. She could talk to anyone. Made friends with people quickly. Jo’s shyer.’ Kevin seemed close to tears. ‘It’s hard to believe Ash’s gone. I keep expecting her to turn up.’

Sarah apologised and offered to leave. When she rang to make the appointment, she had spoken with Kevin’s mother before she talked to Kevin. There had been no hesitation on Mrs Tang’s part. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’m sure Kevin will talk to you.’ But now Sarah wondered if it’d been such a good idea for her to interview Kevin without at least one of his parents present.

‘No, it’s fine. I guess I’ve just been lucky up to now. No one I know has died. No friends or family members, not even grandparents. So I don’t know what… how to be.’

‘I don’t think anyone knows what to do or how to be, even if they’ve had lots of experience with grief. It’s tough, especially when it’s an accident and so unexpected. Especially because Ashleigh was so young.’

‘My parents are angry at both Ash and Jo. Even though they don’t say it.’

‘Did Jo and Ashleigh drink a lot?’

‘They… Everybody drinks. Ash and Jo didn’t drink much during the week — hardly at all. Only on the weekend, when we went out.’

‘Did Jo often drive on those nights?’

‘I usually drove.’

‘But when you weren’t there?’

‘Yes, I guess she did. Obviously she did. I’m sure that wasn’t the first time.’

‘What kind of person would you say Jo is?’

‘She’s a good person. I mean, I don’t think she would’ve done anything to hurt Ash on purpose, if that’s what you mean?’

‘What else can you tell me about her, her personality?’

‘She’s a bit clingy and anxious, and sometimes it pissed Ash off.’

‘So they fought.’

‘I don’t know. I never saw them fighting. I was shocked when I heard they were fighting that night. Ash would vent sometimes, but not at Jo.’