Beyond Fear

by Jaye Ford

  ‘I forgot your coat. Sorry.’ She took it off, held it out at arm’s length.

  He gave her his best impression of a good guy. ‘No problem.’ He closed the door when she got back in and bent to the window as she wound it down. ‘You girls try to stay out of any more trouble this weekend, okay?’

  Corrine leaned forward and spoke over Jodie’s shoulder. ‘Make sure you drop by for a drink if you’re in the Old Barn’s neighbourhood this weekend. So we can say thanks.’

  Matt stood up, looked down at Jodie, thought of the kickarse way she’d handled Kane Anderson and the cool roll of her laugh and how it might be interesting to listen to it over a couple of drinks. ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

  7

  Jodie held onto the steering wheel with clenched fists. Getting a grip, literally. Or trying to. She knew if she let go, her hands would be shaking from the adrenaline that was still pumping through her.

  ‘Are you sure you want to drive?’ Louise asked. She was in the front passenger seat again.

  ‘I can do it if you’re not up to it,’ Hannah said from the back.

  ‘I’m fine, really.’ She needed to drive, needed to feel in control of something. And after everything she’d fielded tonight, she wasn’t going to be comfortable with anyone but herself at the wheel. ‘Besides, I’ve only had one drink, which is better than the rest of you.’

  ‘Okay then. Let’s roll on take two of Fringe Dwellers Weekend Away, Episode Eight,’ Lou said and snapped her hands together like a movie clapboard. Jodie could see her grin in the light from the pub. Her derring-do grin, the one that had talked them all into their first weekend away eight years ago, that had goaded them into leaving the kids with their husbands to remind themselves they were people as well as mothers. It was Lou who’d come up with the Fringe Dwellers title for the way they’d all hung back from the kiddie craft table at playgroup. At the time, Jodie had just been relieved to find some other mothers who’d missed out on the scissors-and-glue gene. Eight years and countless coffees and babysitting and family dramas later, these three women were Jodie’s best friends.

  ‘Lights, camera, action, Jode,’ Hannah called from the back seat.

  Jodie pushed the gearstick into first, over-revved the loan car’s old engine and shuddered into forward motion.

  ‘Just get us there in one piece, will you?’ Corrine said.

  Jodie checked the rear-view mirror and winced at the expression on Corrine’s face. She’d seemed fine in the pub but maybe Jodie wasn’t the only one trying to hide how she really felt at the way the night had gone.

  As she steered the loan car away from the kerb, she saw Matt Wiseman raise a hand in farewell. Jodie lifted a hand in return and watched him out of her window as she moved past. He was one interesting guy. Lean and fit looking with an athletic way of moving that made his limp seem more like a recent injury than permanent. He had some sort of jaded thing happening, as though he’d seen it all before but, what the hell, he was there so he may as well help out anyway. And there was something else about him, something that made Jodie take another look at him. There it was. He was standing on the kerb, hands in his pockets, and in one brief, fluid turn of his head, he checked up and down the road. He was alert. Relaxed and alert at the same time, if that was possible. And Jodie liked it.

  Which made her feel all the more guilty about the way she’d behaved. He’d gone well beyond the call of duty coming out to rescue them that second time – and she’d reacted like he was a prisoner on day release. By then, though, she’d spent an eternity putting up with Corrine complaining about her ankle and listening to a bloodcurdling scream being dragged out of her memory. He could have been Nelson Mandela and she would have treated him like a serial killer. And at the pub, after that guy had bailed her up, she’d been rattled and angry and probably rude. He most likely thought she was a total jerk. She shook her head, wished she could shake off the lingering anxiety as easily.

  They turned off the main road out of town onto a narrower country byway. It was potholed and winding and Jodie had to slow to under the speed limit to negotiate it in the dark.

  ‘Fifteen more kilometres down here, turn right at the Old Barn sign then two more k’s on dirt and we’re there,’ Hannah said, reading from the page of directions she’d picked up with the key.

  ‘On this road in this old rattler, we should be there by morning.’ Louise grinned at no one in particular. ‘So what’s for breakfast?’

  ‘I’m glad someone thinks it’s funny,’ Corrine said.

  Louise laughed. ‘Oh dear, did someone forget to pack her sense of adventure?’

  ‘I packed it but it broke with the heel of my Italian boots,’ Corrine snapped. ‘Just in case you’ve forgotten, I have a sprained ankle. The sooner we get there, the better.’

  Jodie flicked a look at her in the rear-view mirror again, reminded herself to feel some sympathy. Jodie had had a bunch of sprained ankles over the years. Sports injuries, mostly. Annoying more than anything because they kept her off the field. But Corrine wasn’t the running-around sort. No doubt she did something delicate like ballet when she was young and was probably a little distressed at the sight of swelling and a bruise.

  Twenty minutes later, they spotted a sign to the Old Barn nestled into the front yard of a weathered timber cottage. Jodie bumped onto a dirt track and slowed the pace even further on the rough surface. Bush crowded in on either side and she crunched the gears back to second as they began a steady climb up what she assumed was ‘The Hill’ part of the ‘Old Barn’. As they crested a shoulder, the bush cleared and the silhouette of a tall barn appeared to teeter on the top of the hill.

  A knot of worry nestled between Jodie’s shoulderblades. It was more isolated than she’d expected. ‘The view should be fantastic from up there,’ she said, attempting to find a silver lining.

  ‘It’ll be better than the Hilton if it’s got a kitchen and a fire,’ Louise said.

  ‘Who’s doing dinner tonight?’ Jodie asked. Every year they organised a food roster. They figured if they all prepared one meal, they each got to put their feet up for three others over the weekend – and as mothers of a total of eleven kids, that was pure luxury. Jodie looked cautiously in the rear-view mirror and hoped Corrine wasn’t on duty for Friday night.

  ‘Me,’ said Louise. ‘Coconut chicken curry and rice followed by my sticky date pudding and cheese and chocolate.’

  Jodie groaned. ‘That sounds like cholesterol heaven. I just realised how hungry I am. I move that we help Corrine inside, Louise start dinner and Hannah and I carry in the bags.’

  ‘I second that,’ Hannah said.

  Corrine let out a sigh, as though being injured was exhausting. ‘Well, if someone can find my icebag and someone else can look for glasses, I’ll have the next bottle of champagne ready and waiting when you’re finished.’

  As they approached, Jodie could see the road was really one long driveway leading straight up the hill to the barn. If it wasn’t for the undulation of the land, she figured they could turn around and see right down to the house at the turn-off. The headlights bounced across the front of the barn as they approached and she squinted to make out some detail. The dark timber gave away little more than its boxy shape. High external walls were topped with a squat A-frame roof, making it look too tall for its width. A door set in the middle of the facade was bordered with two windows on either side and a low, covered verandah ran across the front and around both sides. It probably met out of sight at the back.

  ‘It looks like something a five-year-old would draw,’ Jodie said.

  ‘It looks like a barn,’ Corrine said.

  ‘It looks great,’ Lou said.

  Jodie stopped on a gravel parking pad in front of the building, aiming the headlights at the door so they wouldn’t have to fumble with the lock in the dark. It was cold outside and damp underfoot and she reached back into the car for her coat before climbing the half-dozen steps to the door ahead of Hannah and Lou
ise. A row of shrubs along the front had kept the verandah from view but once up the stairs, they saw a cosy arrangement of wicker chairs and a small table.

  ‘You booked, so you get the first look,’ Hannah said, handing her the key on a ring.

  She unlocked the door and pushed it hesitantly. This place had better be as good as it looked on the website or Corrine would never let her forget it. She fumbled for the light and flipped a switch.

  ‘Wow.’ She stepped aside for the others to go in and sent a thumbs up to Corrine in the car.

  They entered a huge, open space, probably the whole left half of the barn. The ceiling was so high the light fixtures had been hung a metre or so under the crossbeams, which were supported by two massive old tree trunks that stood like sentinels on either side of the room. Three generous sofas were arranged in a cosy U around a fireplace that dominated the far end of the room. Heavy white curtains ran the full length of the back wall, covering what Jodie assumed were windows that overlooked the valley beyond the hill they were on. A large and rustic dining table was placed to take in the view at meal times. Opposite the front door, tucked into an alcove in the rear, right-hand corner of the room, a gourmet kitchen glowed in the sheen of its marble tops.

  Jodie opened a door near the kitchen, flicked a few light switches and saw it led to a hallway that ran through the centre of the building to the rooms in the other half of the B & B. At the end was a huge bedroom that, like the main room, spanned the width of the barn. She guessed the doors on either side of the corridor led to a second, smaller bedroom and a bathroom.

  Hannah ran her hand along the smooth, black surface of the kitchen’s island bench. ‘Nice, Jodie.’

  As Louise removed the fireplace screen and began stuffing newspaper in the hearth, Jodie said to Hannah, ‘Let’s get the bags.’

  ‘Let’s get the big one with the sprained ankle first.’

  Louise looked up at Hannah from the fireplace, eyebrows raised in surprise. She turned to Jodie and grinned. Jodie put a hand to her mouth and the three of them burst into laughter.

  The sound bounced around the room, breaking the strain of the last few hours. Such a pity Corrine wasn’t there to appreciate the moment. Not the ‘big bag’ line – she might not get the joke – but the laughing with abandon. That’s what they went away for. And right now, Jodie needed it.

  A couple of minutes later and still chuckling quietly, Jodie pulled open Corrine’s door.

  ‘What’s so funny?’

  Jodie glanced at Hannah over the car and suppressed a smile. ‘Just Hannah drooling over the kitchen. Come on, you’ll love it in there.’

  They walked either side of her, an arm each around Corrine’s waist, waited patiently while she hopped up the steps on one foot and led her through the door. She stood for a moment by the closest tree trunk and moved her gaze across the room. ‘Mmm, not bad,’ she said. ‘Is the fire on yet? It’s freezing in here.’

  Jeez. Jodie pursed her lips, helped Hannah to lower her onto the lounge closest to the fire then stepped back to the door before Corrine could ask her to rearrange the cushions.

  ‘Big bag,’ Hannah murmured as they walked outside again.

  ‘We could put her in the boot if she takes up too much room on the lounge,’ Jodie said and laughed with Hannah all the way down the steps. She pulled open the driver’s door and turned the headlights off. She didn’t want to call Matt Wiseman in the morning to tell him she’d flattened the battery. He seemed like a nice guy but that might be pushing it a bit. The internal light went off as she shut the door. A lamp under the roof of the verandah was on but the beam didn’t make it past the steps and the darkness seemed to swell around them.

  ‘How much champagne do you think it’ll take for Corrine to pass out?’ Hannah asked.

  ‘We couldn’t fit that much in the car,’ Jodie said.

  Their cackles sounded like shots in the night air and white puffs of vapour from their mouths floated in the darkness. The hair on the back of Jodie’s neck stood up. She looked about uneasily.

  ‘Come on, let’s get this done,’ she said.

  The gravel crunched under their feet and the low-voltage light in the boot flickered as they unloaded as many bags as they could carry. They heaved them up the steps and deposited them at the door to the hallway. The fire was doing its job and the large open space was noticeably warmer. On the lounge, Corrine had taken off her broken boot and was massaging her ankle by the glow of a log burning and crackling in the hearth. The marble benchtops in the kitchen shone under halogen bulbs and the stove was framed by the bright light in the range hood that was whirring over a steaming pot Louise was stirring.

  Maybe they didn’t need the rest of the bags tonight, Jodie thought. She could survive without her suitcase – sleep in her undies, swish a bit of toothpaste around. One night of poor dental health wasn’t going to make her teeth fall out. Then she could shut the front door, lock out the darkness and the trepidation hanging on her shoulders, have a few glasses of wine and forget everything that had happened tonight.

  ‘Did you find my icebag?’ Corrine asked, stretching out on the lounge.

  Jodie and Hannah checked through the bags they’d carried in. No icebag.

  ‘The old bag needs her icebag,’ Hannah mumbled from the corner of her mouth.

  Jodie was smiling as she stepped out the front door again. Hannah was still riffling through her bag looking for gloves, so she pulled her coat against the cold and stood warily at the top of the steps. The darkness seemed darker after being inside. She lifted a hand to the front of her coat, spread her fingers and pressed the palm against her stomach. It was only a short walk to the car but she waited for Hannah to join her before descending the stairs into the blackness beyond the verandah.

  They had unloaded only half the remaining gear when the light in the boot flickered out.

  ‘Jesus,’ Jodie gasped. The darkness closed in on them and her heart sounded a drumbeat in her ears. She swallowed hard, bent back into the boot and began grabbing whatever she could feel. She passed each item to Hannah, heard her drop them on the gravel.

  ‘I think that’s it,’ Jodie said.

  ‘No, the icebag must still be in there,’ Hannah said.

  Jodie tried to swallow the urge to leave the damn icebag right where it was. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark now and she could see the dim light from the verandah around the edges of the open hood of the boot, its rectangle of blackness looming over them like a tsunami.

  ‘There was a bag tucked into the front corner before the light went out,’ Hannah said.

  Jodie took a breath and bent back into the boot. The spare tyre cover was missing and she ran her hands over the wheel to feel her way, dirt gritty under her palms. There were tools wrapped in a towel and something long and cold, maybe a tyre iron, and some greasy rags. And the icebag. Jodie pulled it out by its corner, was about to hand it to Hannah when a noise behind her made her stop. It was a crack, like hands clapped together or a stick breaking. Beside her, Hannah sucked in a breath.

  ‘Hey, girls. Nice night for it.’

  Jodie went cold. The voice was male and its friendliness – out here, at night, on the top of a deserted hill – sounded like a threat.

  8

  Jodie spun around, saw two figures. Both men, for sure, but in the blackness she couldn’t make out any detail. The faces were lighter but their mouths and eyes were just shadow. They were a couple of body lengths away, side by side. Same height, same stocky build, thick buttoned-up jackets, beanies – like the same person in double vision.

  The one on the right spoke. ‘Need a hand?’ She saw the silhouette of his head nod towards the gear at their feet.

  Jodie felt a rush of blood. She didn’t want them anywhere near her. Or Hannah. Or the barn.

  She raised her voice, tried to sound firm. ‘No, thanks. Just trying to get the luggage sorted out before our husbands get here.’ The message was simple – you guys are about to be ou
tnumbered.

  Hannah’s shadow looked at her then turned back to the two men.

  ‘You just staying the night?’ the one on the right asked.

  Where the hell had they come from? They didn’t have torches. Maybe there were more of them. Jodie looked quickly left and right. Couldn’t see anything but deep, dark night. ‘No, we’re all here for the whole weekend.’ There’s a big group so don’t bother coming back.

  The man on the left pushed his hands into his pockets, hunched his shoulders inside his thick jacket, took a step closer.

  Jodie edged away and felt the car bumper against her thighs. Don’t panic, Jodie. Keep your wits about you. She took a breath. Okay, don’t answer any more questions. It felt wrong, like it was giving too much away.

  ‘Where did you come from?’ Her voice sounded small and frightened. She cleared her throat, raised the volume. ‘What are you doing here?’

  The one on the right spoke again. ‘We’re camping over the ridge.’ He pointed in the direction of the long drive but up and over the other side of the hill. ‘Came to see where the lights were coming from.’ When she looked back, he’d stepped forward, level with the other guy.

  His hands were in his pockets now, they looked like they were just having a casual chat. But there was nothing relaxed about the way they were standing. Their bodies were squared, torsos erect, feet apart, ready to move if they wanted to. And they were way too close. Not quite within the two arm’s lengths Jodie taught in her self-defence class – two arm’s lengths was too far away for grabbing, enough distance for a heads-up if an attacker moved – but here, in the dark, it was too close for comfort.

  The bumper on the back of her thighs told her she couldn’t do anything about the distance between them but she could improve the odds. She sat on the edge of the boot like she needed to take a load off and let her left hand drop into it. ‘Is there a camping ground over the hill?’ she asked as she slid her hand over the dirty base.