February Or Forever

by Juliet Madison

  ‘You sure he didn’t make any advances to you?’ Helena stepped towards her. ‘Has anything happened I should know about?’

  Chrissie’s heart skipped a beat. More than you should know. ‘Nothing. He’s been a great student.’ She smiled and walked out, leaving Helena not looking too convinced.

  When her afternoon class had finished, Chrissie sat by herself in the staff lounge, staring at the message on her phone.

  What’s going on Chrissie? Today was supposed to be our last yoga class. Please talk to me. D.

  He’d sent the text earlier, but she hadn’t replied. She leaned back into the comfortable sofa, her elbow resting on the armrest. Then she checked her watch. Not long till she had to pick up Kai from school, as catching the bus to school was one thing, catching it home was another. She pressed her finger to the screen and typed: I heard about your ex-girlfriend. It’s all a bit much, I needed some time apart.

  He replied: You don’t believe her do you? Chrissie, you know me! I’d never do that.

  Just what she’d expected him to say.

  Either way, it was a mistake to get carried away, my boss is suspicious, and I just don’t need this kind of drama in my life.

  There was longer a pause before his reply: I don’t need this drama either, but that’s life. Chrissie, I can’t leave without saying goodbye. Can we meet later?

  She’d said one too many goodbyes in her life and wasn’t about to put herself through another one. She typed in her response: I don’t think that’s a good idea.

  She switched her phone to silent and opened her web browser; it was still open at one of the interviews with Jolene. She scanned it again, as if to cement her resolve, then something made her type a new search into Google.

  The short life of Stephanie Shaw.

  It was the title of an article she’d written years ago for the newspaper she’d worked for. Stephanie was a nine-year-old girl, a talented young actress, whose tragic drowning had broken the hearts of many. Chrissie’s boss had sent her to report at the scene where she was last seen, despite asking him if someone else could do it. She didn’t want to upset her boss, so she’d done it. She thought she’d just be talking to police and witnesses to find out what happened, but hadn’t expected Search and Rescue to find the girl’s body while she was there. She’d never seen Danielle’s body, hadn’t wanted to, but had seen Stephanie’s, and knowing that the same fate claimed her sister had haunted her from that moment on. After Stephanie’s funeral, Chrissie had been assigned to interview the family and write about the young star’s short life as a sort of tribute, and she’d done it, but not without consequences. The nightmares started soon after, then the headaches, then the panic attacks. Two months later she quit her job, commenced yoga on the advice of her therapist, and went on unemployment benefits. Victor had come along at just the right time, when she needed someone, and they’d married quickly after a short period of dating.

  Chrissie read her article, and flashes of Stephanie’s bloated face flashed through her mind. Then it was Danielle’s face, quick, sharp flashes, searing through her skull. She sucked in a breath, her heart pounding, and the phone slipped from her grasp. She shot up, panting, and dashed over to the sink, leaning over it to try catching her breath. Sweat clung to her chest and that familiar fear rose up like a surge of lava ready to explode from a volcano.

  ‘No, no more, please!’ she said to herself, her hand on her heart. Techniques, Chrissie, do the techniques.

  She breathed in and raised her palm upwards, drawing in oxygen, then pushed out a slow breath as she pushed her hand downwards. She repeated the movements, forcing herself to be calm. If anyone at work saw her like this she’d feel like a total fraud and they might deem her unfit for her teaching duties. She had to get it together. She’d done so before, she could do it again, and never, ever would she look at that article again.

  The heat died down, her breath slowing, and her mind stabilising. This was crazy. She couldn’t keep going on like this. The attacks weren’t occurring that often, but there was obviously some residual fear and grief simmering away inside.

  First thing Monday morning, after Drew would be leaving, she’d call a therapist and book an appointment. It was time to take back control and leave the past where it belonged.

  Chapter 24

  The first thing Kai said to his father that night when Chrissie dropped him off for the weekend was, ‘I caught the bus today!’

  Victor’s reply? ‘Oh, I thought you already had before.’

  Did he not pay any attention to her emails? Anyway, she’d told Kai after school how proud she was of him, and that she loved him very much. Then she’d asked him to show her one of his scary faces and they’d collapsed in laughter at trying to outdo each other’s faces. It was moments like that that made all the hard times bearable.

  Chrissie got back in her car after kissing him goodbye, and rummaged in her bag for her phone to check for any messages. It hadn’t beeped all afternoon. She removed her purse and water bottle, but the phone wasn’t there. Panic almost set in; it was a strange and uncomfortable feeling to be without one’s phone in this day and age. She frowned, leaned her head on the headrest and thought back to the day that had been and gone behind the clouds and darkening sky. The staff lounge! She hadn’t put it back in her bag after her ‘episode’, dashing out to go and pick up Kai from school.

  Chrissie started the car with a view to picking it up on the way home. The night staff would be there, though there wouldn’t be many at this time.

  Just over ninety minutes later she pulled into the staff parking area of Serendipity and quietly slipped in through the private entrance. The hall was dimly lit, and conflicting emotions swirled inside; comfort at the beautiful atmosphere that resided in the retreat, and caution knowing that Drew was probably not far away. She ducked into the staff lounge and looked on the sofa, but it wasn’t there. Maybe someone found it and kept it for her. She moved the cushions and the shiny plastic of her phone cover caught her eye, stuck in the crevice between the edges of the armrest and the seat cushion. Phew. She picked it up and checked it as she walked out of the room. No messages.

  As Chrissie walked past Helena’s office, movement caught her eye. She backtracked and peered through the glass windows of the dark office, towards the window that had a partial view of the V.I.P. garden. Movement again. She narrowed her eyes and looked closer. Two figures were in the distance. Who was out there with Drew? As her eyes tried hard to focus she got a better picture. One of the figures was outside the fence of Serendipity, in a dense area of shrubbery that wasn’t really made for pedestrian access and ensured privacy for the V.I.P. guests.

  What was going on? Curiosity prickled the back of her neck, and when Drew flung his arms about she sucked in a sharp breath. He was arguing with someone. Maybe she should check if everything was okay, since she was a staff member and he was their guest. It was partly her responsibility to make sure guests were taken care of. Or maybe the ex-journalist inside her just wanted to find out what was going on.

  She grabbed her key card, checked no one was looking, and walked down the corridor to the V.I.P. entrance. She unlocked the door and edged along the hallway, towards the dining room doors that were open. The closer she got, the louder the music got. She peeked through the doors. An iPod was docked on the side table, playing music she didn’t recognise. The good thing was it would help hide the sound of her footsteps, because, yes, she was walking through those doors and had left all rational thought behind.

  Her feet stepped lightly into the room. The doors leading out to the patio and garden were wide open, and a cool breeze rushed in. Darkness filled the room, apart from a lamp in the corner and a tea light candle in a holder on the dining table, where a collection of papers lay along with a pen, a notebook, and Drew’s phone. As if sensing her presence, his phone gave off a low volume jingle and the screen lit up. Instinctively she glanced at it, freezing on the spot and wondering if Drew had heard it.
Probably not, he was too far outside and the music overtook it.

  Chrissie’s mouth gaped on looking at the screen, not at the message, a simple reminder saying, ‘Remember to email Steven’, but at the screensaver picture. The sunset he’d had on it was no longer there. In its place was a picture of her. The picture he’d taken that day they had lunch in this very room, when the butterfly had landed on her hand. Chrissie didn’t know whether to be flattered or creeped out, but some kind of jolt ran down her spine.

  She stayed close to the wall and crept along, Drew’s voice becoming louder. She couldn’t understand exactly what he was saying, but he was angry. Briefly, she thought of turning around and getting out of there. What if what she’d known of Drew was just for show? What if he really did have anger problems and he was about to make them known? No, she had to find out what was going on.

  Cool air nipped at her face when she slid through the open French doors. She edged to the right along the patio, in the direction of the voices beyond the wall that shielded her presence from them. When she got to the corner she tilted her head slightly, her view partly filtered by a tall potted fern. Her eyes focused on Drew, barefooted and in trackpants and a t-shirt, and the other person, a woman, with long blonde hair. It was her! The woman from the newspaper. Jolene. What on earth was she doing here, in Australia, in Tarrin’s Bay, at the perimeter of private property? The answer became obvious.

  ‘Why won’t you come back with me?’ she asked. ‘I came all this way for you.’

  ‘Because we’re over, Jolene. Do you really think I’d want you back after what you did to me?’ His voice was firm and strong, he sounded completely different.

  Without thinking, Chrissie held up the phone in her hand and pressed the camera button, sliding it onto the video function.

  ‘But I only did it to get your attention. Please, Drewy, come back. Things will be so much better this time.’

  ‘Don’t call me Drewy, and don’t even think I’m going back with you.’

  Jolene’s demeanour changed, like she had transformed from a needy, desperate young woman to a vicious, evil witch. Her posture straightened, her face hardened, and she gripped the metal of the fence like she had the strength to rip it to shreds. ‘Then I’ll make things worse. I’ll make your life hell. You’ll wish you did what I wanted.’

  ‘Pretty soon the media is going to get sick of you clamouring for attention.’

  ‘Not when I tell them you hurt me again. They believed me the first time, they’ll believe me again. I’ll tell them I came here to try and help you and you attacked me.’ She picked up a stray branch, held out the underside of her forearm, and scratched it fiercely.

  Chrissie covered a silent gasp with her free hand. The woman was crazy.

  ‘Jolene, stop it!’ Drew tried to take the stick from her through the small holes in the fence, then realising she probably wanted him to touch it for evidence, backed away. ‘Look, you need help. You need to go home, and get some help, okay? I can’t help you anymore.’ His hands flailed to the side in frustration. ‘Just go, Jolene.’

  Chrissie gulped and stepped out from behind the wall. ‘You should do as he says.’

  Drew spun around and Jolene’s eyes bulged.

  ‘Chrissie, what are you doing here?’ Drew held up his hands.

  ‘Chrissie? Is she your new girlfriend?’ Jolene’s voice had the tone of an overdramatic teenager scorned. ‘Look, girly, he’ll do the same to you. He’ll hurt you like he did to me. He’ll act all sweet and perfect, and then — bam!’ She slapped her palms together. ‘The real Drew Williams will emerge. What do you think about that?’ She crossed her arms.

  ‘I think you’re talking a load of crap.’ Chrissie stepped to the side of Drew in an act of alliance. ‘And I have proof.’ She held up her phone and clicked play.

  Jolene cowered behind the fence, rubbing the sides of her arms. ‘No, no, give it to me!’ She lunged forward and the fence rattled, her fingers trying to reach through to get the phone.

  ‘You’re going to retract all allegations publically, tell everyone you made it up, or this goes to the press, and the police.’ She’d still send it to the police anyway, but wanted to make sure Drew’s name could be cleared publically, and she was sure this aspiring actress would not want her reputation tarnished with a video such as this, showing how messed up and desperate she really was.

  ‘You bitch,’ she seethed.

  ‘Leave, Jolene,’ Drew said. ‘Here, call a cab to the airport.’ He shoved some money through the fence and she picked it up.

  Jolene narrowed her eyes at Drew, then Chrissie, and said, ‘Fine. I’ll go. But you’ll regret leaving me, Drew.’

  ‘I seriously doubt it.’ He crossed his arms. ‘If you don’t leave right now, you can forget about a cab, I’ll have the police come get you instead.’

  ‘I’m going, I’m going,’ she said, flinging her hand towards him and turning away to trek through the bushes.

  Drew shook his head as she disappeared through the trees, her voice as she booked a cab over her phone sounding like nothing had even happened.

  ‘How did she track you down?’ Chrissie asked. ‘I can’t believe she just turned up here.’

  ‘She’s resourceful, and it was leaked all over social media that I was in Tarrin’s Bay, which wasn’t helped by the local newspaper story. She called up Serendipity asking if the V.I.P. room was available, and when they said it wasn’t, she put two and two together that I was probably a guest here.’

  Chrissie ran her hand through her hair. ‘Oh man.’

  ‘You really filmed all of that?’ He pointed to her phone.

  ‘Yep, I’ll send it to you.’ She pressed the screen and delivered it to Drew. It was probably best if he passed it onto his lawyers, though they might want to speak to her as well, but that was okay.

  ‘Thanks, Chrissie.’ He attempted a smile but it faltered. ‘What were you doing here anyway?’

  ‘I left my phone in the staff lounge. Came to pick it up and heard some commotion outside. I’m sorry for sneaking in like that, but I don’t know, must have been the journalist in me.’

  ‘I thought you said that part of your life was history.’

  ‘It is. It’s just…something made me come in here to see what was going on. I was curious.’

  Drew put his hands on his hips and turned his head away. ‘If you’d just asked me, trusted me, you would have found out what was going on.’

  ‘I know, and I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened, I read the article and that was the first I’d heard of the drama with your ex. I didn’t know what to think.’

  ‘But you did think. You thought the worst. You believed that I was capable of doing something like that. How could you?’ Disappointment creased his face.

  A pang of guilt pinched Chrissie inside, and she wanted desperately to see his happy demeanour return. What had she done? Once again, people around her were getting hurt. ‘Drew, I’m so sorry. I didn’t really believe it, not deep down inside, I just got scared. My mind was trying to give me excuses not to see you again, not to risk getting hurt, and since your stay was almost up I thought it was a sign that it was best to leave things as they were.’

  ‘But for a moment at least, you believed it was possible, that I’d hurt this woman, that I might even do it to you. I thought you knew me and trusted me.’

  ‘Well we haven’t exactly known each other for long, it’s a bit of an ask to expect me to trust you when I barely know you!’ The higher volume of her own voice surprised Chrissie.

  ‘What do you think we’ve been doing these last few weeks, chatting about the weather?’ He raised his hands in a questioning way. ‘No, we’ve been getting to know each other! Or did our time together mean nothing? Maybe the journalist in you just wanted the inside scoop on the Tarrin’s Bay “golden boy”.’ He emphasised the nickname with finger quotes. ‘Maybe you’ve been feeding information through to your journo friend, and next week I’ll be front page n
ews again!’

  ‘No! It wasn’t like that! I would never do that.’ Frustration tensed the muscles all over her body.

  ‘But how would I know if I can trust you? I barely know you,’ he mocked her statement from before.

  Chrissie turned away, heat burning through her veins. ‘I’m not like that, and I’m not a journalist anymore,’ she said softly.

  ‘Yet you barged in here without asking, camera at the ready.’

  ‘I saved your ass, didn’t I? And it was just a one-off situation; you can’t blame me for wanting to know what the arguing was about in my place of work.’

  ‘Once a journo…’ he muttered, not needing to add the next part of the sentence as it echoed in her mind…always a journo.

  Chrissie clamped her mouth shut, then it burst open. ‘You think all journos are evil people out to make celebrities’ lives hell?’

  ‘In my experience, about eighty percent are, yes. They take photos without asking, they write things we never even said,’ he struck off each statement on his fingers as though counting, ‘and they mix up all the facts and take them out of context!’

  ‘Well I’m sorry you’ve had such a hard time. What a tough life you’ve had, if media hype is all you’ve got to worry about.’ She shook her head.

  ‘You don’t know what it’s like. How would you cope with having your every move documented, photographed, written about for the public to read? Especially when they don’t even get it right.’

  ‘I’d stop worrying about what’s going on outside my life and start focusing on what’s going on inside my life,’ Chrissie said. ‘You let them get to you, Drew. Life’s too short to care what people say about you.’ Chrissie turned away, tired and fed up with fighting, then turned back. ‘And just so you know — not that you’ll necessarily believe me — but when I was a journalist, I was one of the twenty percent who had decency and integrity and did things right,’ Chrissie blurted, turning on her heel and marching out of the V.I.P. quarters, and quite possibly, out of his life.