by Jaye Ford
‘Oh God, the colour scheme has been such a drama this year,’ Corrine started.
And Jodie listened, mmm’d and oh-lovely’d until she couldn’t stand not knowing the time any longer. ‘Pass the phone,’ she said when Corrine paused for breath. She checked the glowing blue numbers – twenty-three minutes they’d been waiting – and as Corrine talked on, she took the torch to the edge of the road, looked right to the crest, left to the bend. ‘I’m going to try again,’ Jodie said.
She jogged across the road and nestled into the bush. She didn’t bother leaving a message for the cabbie. He wasn’t going to get there any faster if she told him he was a useless, time-wasting jerk.
She phoned Louise then the tow truck driver. Still no answer. Then it didn’t matter.
Light flared in the sky beyond the crest of the hill before the car roared into sight like two blinding eyes. Jodie stepped out of the bush, had her arms in the air to flag it down when she saw Corrine on the opposite side lit up by the headlights. She’d stepped forward but had already seen it wasn’t stopping, stood there with one hand on her hip, one leg jutted out – body language for pissed off.
As it passed, a man shouted out the window in a loud rush of sound that was carried away by the speed of the car. Jodie had no idea what he yelled – it could have been Praise the Lord – but she stiffened with apprehension, flicked off the torch, watched the car all the way to the bend, hoping it didn’t turn around. Not feeling a whole lot safer when it didn’t.
She sprinted back across the road as its red tail-lights disappeared. The dark closed in. She flicked the switch on the torch but got nothing. Tried again, gave it a bash with the heel of her hand. Nothing.
‘Christ,’ Corrine said.
Jodie tossed the torch in the direction of the luggage, heard the soft thud as it landed, edged closer to Corrine. ‘Still no answer.’
‘What the hell are they doing?’
‘Must be the reception.’ They’re fine, Jodie.
Corrine started up a rhythmic rocking, knocking one foot against the other. ‘I’ve been trying to think of something hot,’ she said. ‘But it’s not working. All I get is Brad Pitt and I just can’t imagine anything hot with all those kids of his hanging around.’
Jodie smiled, tried to relax. The cab would come. It would be here any second. ‘It’s been so long since I had anything hot, I’m not sure I can conjure up an image that would warm me up, kids or no kids.’
‘I’m with you there. I haven’t had a man to cuddle up to since Roland died. Well, except for that one close call.’
Jodie looked at Corrine, saw Corrine’s puff-of-steam hair turn in her direction.
‘Rob the Sales Rep,’ they said together and burst out laughing.
Corrine’s tale of her disastrous widow-tries-the-dating-game had kept all four of them in stitches for months. Rob the Sales Rep was a friend of a friend of a friend. He’d asked her out; she’d thought it was time. He was younger; she figured, what the hell. She had her hair and nails done, bought a new dress, wore four-inch heels and he’d taken her for pizza.
‘Classy pizza,’ Jodie said, glad to have something to take her mind off the darkness.
‘Pizza restaurant with a drive-through,’ Corrine returned and their laughter cranked up.
The low points of Corrine’s big night out had become the punchlines to a running joke that was less about Rob and more about their anxiety over the singles scene. Out here in the cold, poor clueless Rob was the perfect stress-reliever and they cackled through the shorthand version of the tale.
‘You’re turning forty?’
‘Your condoms or mine, babe.’
‘On a first date?’
‘Hey, you’re forty. You haven’t got time to wait.’
Then it wasn’t Rob they were laughing at but each other. Gasping with an increasing hilarity that shook out Jodie’s nerves and eased the apprehension.
As the laughter finally wound down, Corrine slung an arm around Jodie’s neck, laid her head on Jodie’s shoulder and let out one last, long hooting laugh.
The hairs on Jodie’s neck stood up. Sweat broke out along her hairline. A thought stirred in the back of her head.
No, a memory.
It wasn’t just the last, long laugh. It was Corrine’s sudden closeness. Her breath on Jodie’s neck. The dark, the cold. The pressing silence of a large, open space.
Then the memory hit like a thump between her shoulderblades.
Images blasted through her head. Crazy, mixed-up images, as though the memory was a reel of film that had been chopped up and stuck back together in random order.
Pink platform sandal.
Man’s face. Long hair, stud earring, chipped front tooth.
Breath misting on a laugh.
Feet running on gravel.
Rough hands on her face.
Blood on her hands. On her clothes.
So much blood. So much …
3
Jodie held her hands up in front of her face, close enough to see pale palms, ringless fingers. No. There was no blood now. She shook her head, heard her lungs suck in air, let it out, suck it in again. As fear surged through her body, a part of her brain recognised the flashback for what it was, even calculated how long it had been since she’d had one. Four years, at least.
It’s not happening, Jodie. They’re memories. Old memories. But it was so hard to hear herself over the terror.
‘Oh, Jesus. This is a bad place to be.’ She grabbed Corrine by the sleeve. ‘Come on. We’re not safe here. We’ve got to go.’
Corrine pulled free, still laughing. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Anywhere. Away from here. Come on.’ Jodie grabbed her arm, tried to tow her along the gravel.
‘No.’ Corrine snatched out of her grip. ‘What do you mean, go? There’s nowhere to go. And what about the bags?’
Oh shit, the bags. She’d forgotten the bags.
‘Okay, we’ll take them with us.’ Jodie picked up the closest one, hauled its strap over her shoulder, hefted a thermal bag full of food over her other shoulder. Fear was making her strong, Superwoman, she could carry ten of them. She grabbed two more, pushed another one at Corrine. ‘Here, take this. Come on.’
Corrine stepped away. ‘No. I’m not going anywhere. Over there is as dark as over here. There’s no reason why I should stumble around in my new ankle boots just to go stand in another dark spot.’
Jodie’s heart thumped in her chest. The tips of her fingers tingled as though the adrenaline racing around inside was about to burst through the skin. They’re just memories. Very old memories. Pre-kids. Pre-uni. A lifetime ago. Get a grip. Take a breath.
She pulled in a lungful of air, snapped out the handle of a wheelie bag and leaned on it. Okay, she was freaked out. Infused with pulse-racing fear. But this was still a bad place to wait – and she wanted to get the hell out of there.
She tried to make her voice even, reasoned. ‘The first rule of self-defence is not to be there. And right here, we’re sitting ducks. I should have seen it earlier. Look.’ She pointed to the right where the crest of the hill met the dark sky then left to the right-angled bend where the lines in the road disappeared. ‘Between the hill and the corner, we’re totally obscured. There’s bush right up to both sides of the road and it’s so dark we can barely see each other.’
‘But …’
‘Don’t you see? We have to stand on the edge of the road for the taxi to see us but we can’t tell if it’s a taxi until it’s already on us. Some freak could take that as an invitation for a cheap thrill and run us down, or worse, drag us into a car. And unless another vehicle drives through here at that same moment – which is pretty damn unlikely since we’ve only seen two cars in half an hour – no one will know we’re here. We could be dying in the dirt and the cabbie would drive right past us. We have to find a better place to wait.’
‘Calm down, Jodie. You’ve been teaching too many of those self-defence classes,’
Corrine said, still not moving.
Jodie pursed her lips at Corrine’s tone. Her self-defence course wasn’t offered for a fun alternative on sport days. She was trying to save lives. Teaching what she wished she’d known eighteen years ago. ‘I’d be pretty stupid not to take my own advice, don’t you think?’
Corrine shook her head. ‘Okay, look, I know this isn’t the pick of places to wait for a cab but surely it’s better than wandering around in the dark.’
No, it wasn’t. It was dark and creepy and all wrong here. ‘Doing something is better than nothing. Moving is better than standing still. I want to start walking towards Bald Hill and I’m not leaving you behind.’ She would never do that again. ‘So come on.’ Too late, she recognised the irritating playground tone of her voice, took a breath, tried to lighten the mood. ‘Besides, walking will warm us up and we might get better reception when we get over the hill. And if you don’t come, I’ll knock you out and drag you by your new boots, and you know I can do that. Please, Corrine.’
Corrine sighed. ‘Okay, okay, if that’s what you want, but if I ruin my boots, you can pay for a new pair.’
Jodie passed her a bag. ‘Thank you and you better walk carefully because I can’t afford a new pair of your boots.’
She helped Corrine load up with as many bags as she would carry and took the rest herself. The high tide of fear began to recede once they were moving. Her eyes adjusted a little more as they followed the white roadside markers. She could make out the long ribbon of road, the line of bush on the other side, the charcoal cover of sky. Her heart slowed and the howling in her head eased a little. She still had the Superwoman strength but dragging two wheelie bags along the gravel with the thermal bag on one shoulder and a pillow under the other made for slow going.
‘Do you have to go so fast?’ Corrine called from behind.
Jodie tried to ignore the urge to grab Corrine’s hand and run for safety, and forced herself to cut the pace.
‘Let’s cross the road and try the phone again,’ Jodie said and veered onto the bitumen. She dragged her wheelie bags over the lip, felt them fall into line behind her on the smooth surface. ‘We should walk on the road after I’ve phoned Louise. It’s a lot easier,’ she called over her shoulder as she manoeuvred the cases onto the dirt on the other side.
Behind her, she heard Corrine’s boots clomp onto the road, followed by the bump of her suitcase and a hum of wheels as she crossed the tarmac. Then came a sudden scatter of gravel and Corrine cried out.
Jodie turned, took a moment to decipher the shadows in front of her. Corrine was sprawled on the dirt, the wheelie case up-ended and a smaller bag flung across her. Jodie dropped her baggage and skidded to her side.
‘I turned my ankle.’ Corrine’s voice was tight with pain.
Jodie placed a hand gently under the back of Corrine’s boot to support the ankle, took the bag from her shoulder and helped her sit. ‘How bad is it?’
‘It hurts like hell.’
‘Can you move your toes?’
She took a second to answer. ‘Yes. Did I break it?’
‘If you can move your toes, you’ve probably just sprained it.’
‘I mean my boot. Did I break the heel?’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Yes. They’re Italian. They cost a fortune.’
Jodie felt under the boot, found a dangling spiked heel. ‘Yes, you broke the heel.’
She looked up at the crest of the hill that now loomed above them, then down the road to the bend and felt the fear rev up again. This was a worse place to be. Too close to the crest, too close to the edge of the tar. The bush was nearer to the road on this side and it seemed darker somehow. They wouldn’t need a freak looking for a cheap thrill to knock them down. Anyone coming over the hill too fast could plough right into them. ‘Do you think you can walk?’
‘Jesus, Jodie. I’ve just sprained my ankle. Can you give me a second?’
Jodie shut her eyes. Corrine was angry but it didn’t change their situation. They needed to move. She gently rubbed Corrine’s ankle. ‘I’m sorry. I know it’s hurting but it isn’t safe here. We should at least move off the road a bit further.’
Corrine pushed Jodie’s hand away. ‘We should have stayed where we were.’
Jodie shot to her feet. ‘No, you should’ve been more careful. Why the hell did you wear bloody spike heels for a weekend in the country, anyway? What were you expecting? A nightclub?’ Her heart pounded and her stomach tightened like it was waiting for a blow.
She turned sharply, took half-a-dozen steps along the gravel. What are you doing, Jodie? Corrine was just being Corrine. Her narcissistic streak was usually good for a bit of a laugh. Right now, though, Jodie wanted to wring her neck. Calm down, for God’s sake. Losing your cool will not help.
She walked back to Corrine. She was sitting on the edge of the bitumen, her hurt ankle propped on her opposite knee. Her chin jutted out indignantly. She didn’t look up, didn’t speak. Shit, she’s really mad, Jodie thought. She stood on the edge of the road and stared at the double yellow lines disappearing over the hill.
Jodie hadn’t felt scared like this in a long time. She’d worked through all that crap. What the hell had happened? The near miss and almost killing her best friends started it. A thing like that would throw anyone off balance. Then there was the hurry to get the keys for the B & B and getting left with Corrine when she was the least likely to be practical in a bad situation. Now Jodie had made it worse by freaking out and dragging her around in her ankle-breaker boots.
Okay, Jodie, think it through. Make some better decisions.
She turned a slow circle. Corrine was still sitting on the edge of the road, still saying nothing. That situation needed mending for a start. Corrine had no idea what was going on in Jodie’s head. She didn’t need to know – it was Jodie’s own private freak-out and she didn’t want to dump it on a friend.
The crest of the hill was a dark line in the night sky, a short upward slope. And Hannah’s phone was in her pocket. She took it out and held it up in the air. Not even one bar. Jodie ran a hand through her hair, felt the dampness in it from the cold night air. Okay, doing something always felt better than doing nothing. She squatted beside Corrine.
‘I’m sorry I made you walk around in the dark. And I’m sorry I yelled at you. I just don’t like it here.’ Corrine looked up at her. ‘And your shoes aren’t stupid. I’d buy a pair myself if I thought I could walk in them.’ She tried to inject a smile into her voice. ‘How’s your ankle?’
‘It feels like I jammed it in a car door. I don’t think I can walk.’
‘Then I think we should try to move you and the bags away from the road. And then I’m going to the top of the hill to see if I can get better reception up there. Are you okay with that?’
Corrine shrugged. ‘If it’ll stop you prattling on about it.’
Jodie took a second, decided not to comment. She helped Corrine away from the road, made several trips to move all the bags then flipped open the phone to watch for reception as she began the jog up the hill. The fear was like a straitjacket now, making her stiff as she ran. Making her breath jerk in and out, refusing to let it settle into its usual running rhythm – but running felt a damn sight better than standing and waiting. Like she had some control. She stopped at the top.
‘Hallelujah. Three bars,’ she yelled to Corrine and counted five rings before Louise answered.
‘Hey, guys. About time you got here.’ She was somewhere noisy, sounding happy.
‘We’re not. We’re still waiting for the taxi,’ Jodie told her.
‘What?’ It wasn’t a shock-horror exclamation but a please-repeat.
‘I said …’
‘Hang on, I can’t hear you.’
Jodie squeezed her eyes shut. She’d wanted Louise to cry, ‘Don’t panic, a chopper will be there to rescue you within the minute,’ not, ‘Hang about while I turn the volume down.’
‘We’re in the p
ub and there’s a bourbon and Coke here with your name on it,’ Louise said.
‘Well, we’re still waiting for the fucking cab,’ Jodie snapped, then wished she hadn’t. She knew it wasn’t Lou’s fault but cheery was beyond her emotional range right now.
‘Oh my God. I thought you were at the service station.’
Jodie heard Hannah in the background and Louise repeated the ‘fucking cab’ bit.
‘Hang on. Hannah’s asking someone about the taxi.’
Jodie heard muffled voices. Then some kind of shocked exchange between Hannah and Louise.
Lou came back on. ‘The taxi left ages ago. Someone at the pub’s been trying to call him. He’s not answering his phone. No one knows where he is.’
Jodie tried to rein in the panic that was brewing in the back of her head. ‘Get someone out here, Lou. Now.’
4
Matt flicked the wipers for a swipe at the mist that was almost a light rain. Bad night for Jodie Cramer and her friend to be sitting by the side of a road. He eased his foot harder on the accelerator, glad he’d brought his car instead of the tow truck this time – it would get him there a lot faster.
He shouldn’t have left them. He knew it at the time but their concern about getting the key had made him ignore his instincts.
That was the problem. He didn’t trust his instincts anymore. And the problem with that was that he’d always acted on gut feeling. The police psychologist called it an emergency reflex but what would she know about being in a tight corner? He glanced at his reflection in the dark passenger window. If he couldn’t rely on his gut, he couldn’t do his job anymore. Just a loss of confidence, the psychologist had said. She wouldn’t have a damn clue, Matt thought. She’d never even fired a gun.