Xavier pulled up at the kerb and parked his 1995 Holden in leafy Rosewater Street,
where his aunt had resided for decades. His rangy long legs cleared every second
step leading up to the front door. He rang the bell. No response. He rang the bell
again. No response. He pressed the bell a third time holding it down longer. He
walked across the front lawn to the Jacaranda, disturbed a pot plant and retrieved
the key from its customary place.
Entering the hall, he stepped over a pile of mail and found his way to the
sitting room, calling ‘Faith, Faith’. No-one at home. The lace curtains were drawn,
illuminating the room without the need for overhead lights. Bright and sunny, just as
he had remembered. He walked across to the dining table and traced his finger
along its length. An accumulation of dust. Nothing seemed out of place. Entering the
kitchen he looked around for evidence of Devil, her old black Labrador. No water or
feed bowl. No evidence of a dog in residence.
Concerned he sorted through the mail, forming two piles, junk and
correspondence. His eyes fixed on several business cards for James Hamilton, Land
Developer with a Melbourne head office in Collins Street. Pursing his lips, he
expelled a jet of air as he inspected the dates and names recorded on ten business
cards.
Securing the front door, Xavier took some loping strides in the direction of the
neighbour’s house. Rang the doorbell, introduced himself to Phil and Esmay Newton
and was invited inside.
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