by Jaye Ford
‘Nah, don’t need a camping ground to pitch a tent around here.’ It was the guy on the right again, inching forward as he leaned his weight on one leg. Jodie heard the gravel shift, realised he’d reached the parking pad.
Jesus, they were boxing her and Hannah in. Jodie touched the cold metal pole she’d felt earlier, closed her fingers around it.
‘Hey, look, Hannah. I found the tyre iron,’ she said loudly, holding it up high so the dim light from the verandah could catch it.
Hannah turned her head towards her briefly.
The one on the right nodded with his chin. ‘What do you girls need a tyre iron for?’
To beat the crap out of you if you come too close. ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Jodie tried to keep her voice steady as she swapped it to her right hand. She gripped it low and firm, like a tennis racquet. ‘Maybe a bit of indoor hockey. After twenty-five years running around a pitch, I reckon I could do as much damage with this as your average hockey stick.’ God, she hoped they got that message.
Hannah turned her head towards Jodie again. Jodie wished she’d look back at the two men. They both needed to be on guard, needed to be ready to move. Jodie’s mind spun through the options. If she moved to her right, around the car, the two guys could go for Hannah. If she moved to her left, towards Hannah, she’d be tripped up in the luggage stacked at their feet and they’d both get grabbed. The car was behind them – not a rock but definitely a hard place and difficult to get under or over in a hurry. Okay, if you couldn’t talk your way out of it or run away from it, the only thing left was to fight. Fast and hard, like she taught her students. It was what an attacker least expected.
‘Jodie.’
It took a moment for Hannah’s voice to register. Not the fact that she’d spoken but the way she’d said it. Her tone was low and quiet, like she was sending Jodie a message. But Jodie didn’t get it. It wasn’t ‘Jodie, be careful’, or ‘Jodie, watch out’, or ‘This is getting serious, Jodie’. It had a question mark at the end. Like, ‘What do we do now?’ No, that wasn’t the question. Jodie replayed Hannah’s voice in her head. It didn’t make sense. It sounded like, ‘What the hell are you doing, Jodie?’ She let her eyes leave the men for a second. Hannah’s face was in darkness but she was looking Jodie’s way. And she was shaking her head.
‘It’s cool, Jodie,’ she said softly then turned back to the two men. ‘We’ve got to get inside before we freeze our buns off. Enjoy your camping.’ She bent over, began picking bags up off the ground.
Jodie studied the two visitors. They were watching her. Hands still in pockets, feet still planted. Ignoring Hannah picking up the bags, just watching her. Waiting maybe or assessing. Jodie straightened, squared her shoulders, raised the tyre iron a little, shook it about a bit, like she was testing its weight. Two men against two women, one with an iron bar that she knew how to use – assess that.
Hannah nudged her along the car. Jodie took a few stiff steps, kept her eyes on the two men while they kept their eyes on her.
‘Don’t forget the icebag,’ Hannah said and pushed it at her empty hand.
Jodie gripped its handle, thought about how best to swing it if she needed to. She took another sideways step, cleared the back of the car, heard Hannah drop the boot hood and waited until she’d slipped in behind her before she started moving towards the barn.
The two men watched her all the way to the verandah. She paused at the bottom of the steps, the iron bar still clutched at her side. The man on the right nodded to the other one. They turned and walked in the direction he’d pointed to earlier. Jodie climbed the stairs and waited until she could no longer see their shadows in the dark then went inside, shut the door and turned the deadlock.
Jodie leaned against the front door and closed her eyes. She was out of breath, the thin cotton singlet under her winter clothes was damp from sweat and her spine shook like a tuning fork.
‘What are you doing?’ Louise asked.
Jodie opened her eyes, saw Louise at the kitchen island with a big spoon in her hand. Hannah was standing amongst the bags they’d deposited at the hallway door. Corrine was half reclined on the lounge in front of the burning fire. And they were all looking at her. No, they were staring, frowning, perplexed.
‘Is that a tyre iron?’ Louise asked.
Jodie looked down at her hands. She was still gripping the tyre iron in one hand, the icebag in the other. She wasn’t sure she was ready to let either of them go yet. ‘Yeah.’
Corrine shifted, getting a better view over the lounge. ‘What are you doing with a tyre iron?’
‘Scaring the shit out of a couple of campers.’ Hannah cut in from across the room. She let the last of the luggage fall from her shoulder, tossed it onto the pile already on the floor then walked wordlessly to the door, took the icebag out of Jodie’s hand and delivered it to Corrine. ‘Don’t take too long with the champagne. She scared the shit out of me, too.’
Corrine and Louise turned in stereo to Jodie, clearly not sure what to make of the moment.
Jodie ignored them. She was still focused on Hannah. ‘I scared the shit out of you? What about the two men who appeared out of nowhere, like they were taking a nice stroll in the middle of a cold, dark night?’
‘What men?’ Louise asked.
Hannah stood in front of the fire, crossed her arms over her chest. ‘There were two guys walking around out there. They offered to help us in with the bags.’
‘Offered to help us?’ Jodie heard the pitch of her voice climb. ‘Like your average porter leaps out of the bushes in the middle of the night.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Jodie,’ Hannah snapped. ‘It’s not the middle of the night and they’re camping just over the hill. You carried on like they’d been hiding out up here waiting for some handy, unaccompanied women they could rape and pillage.’ She looked at the other two. ‘She told them our husbands would be here any minute. God, I hope not, ’cause mine would be bringing the kids with him.’
Jodie felt her mouth drop open. She couldn’t believe it. Those two men may not have been hiding out up here waiting for women, but rape and pillage had definitely been an option.
‘Where did you get the tyre iron?’ Louise had moved around the kitchen bench and was standing in the centre of the room.
All three of them were looking at her again. She still had her back to the door, still stood on feet slightly apart, ready for action. It seemed out of place now. Self-consciously, she lowered the bar and relaxed her grip.
‘It was in the boot. I got it out just in case we needed a weapon.’
‘She threatened them with it,’ said Hannah.
‘No, I didn’t. I just made it clear I’d use it if I had to.’
‘Yeah, right. “I’ve played hockey for twenty-five years. I know how to use this thing.” If that’s not a threat, I’d hate to see what is.’
Corrine and Louise turned surprised faces to Jodie.
‘I didn’t say it like that. And besides, they were threatening us.’
Hannah made a scoffing sound. ‘They came over to see where the lights were coming from. They looked about as threatening as a couple of campers hunting for firewood.’
What was she talking about? They could barely see them in the dark and menace had just about pulsated off them.
‘Two big men appearing without warning in the dark wanting to help two women, who, for all they knew, were alone up here. That’s a threat. And frankly, I don’t care if I did scare the shit out of them, or you, Hannah, it’s better than at least one of the alternatives.’ She shuddered involuntarily, a quick, rolling tremor. ‘Believe me, it’s a whole lot better.’
9
Jodie stared into the silence that followed her declaration. Hannah looked down. Corrine fingered the icebag on her lap. Louise cocked her head to one side and watched her across the room.
By the fire, Hannah unfolded her arms, tucked her hair behind her ears, tried to look conciliatory. ‘Okay, it’s been a strange night
and we’re all hungry and tired.’ She sent Jodie a small, charitable smile. ‘And after everything you’ve dealt with tonight, you’re probably suffering from a bit of shock. I’d overreact too if I’d been through what you had. Why don’t you come and sit down.’
Been through what you had. It was her ex-husband James all over again. Anger burned up from Jodie’s belly like indigestion. Hannah was wrong. And Jodie was damn glad she hadn’t told her about the flashback. She was not being paranoid. ‘You’re not listening and you need to for your own safety. Damn it, Hannah, the girls I teach at school could have analysed that situation better than you. I didn’t overreact. Every instinct told me it was a threatening situation and if you’d paid attention, you’d be thanking me for averting what was pretty obvious danger instead of telling me I’m going over the top.’
Hannah looked away and sighed. A great big she’s-unbelievable kind of sigh.
Jodie gripped the tyre iron hard. This situation was unbelievable. She needed to leave the room before she said something she regretted. Before the adrenaline that had been pooling inside her for the last couple of hours exploded in a nasty, weekend-wrecking argument. She stalked past the pile of bags, turned into the dark hallway, took the door on the right and shut it behind her.
It was the second bedroom. Two big single beds, thick white comforters, timber floors, timber walls, large window overlooking the front verandah. No way. She stepped across the room and pulled heavy white curtains across the glass. Chest heaving, jaw clamped tight, she looked around the room again. Built-in wardrobe, aged set of drawers, bedside tables, soothing photos of misty countryside. Damn the soothing. She was mad. Hannah was wrong. She was not freaked out. She’d followed her instincts. She …
Jodie noticed the mirror above the set of drawers. Actually, what she noticed was her reflection in the mirror – arms out at her sides, eyes wild, still holding the tyre iron. Not holding, brandishing it like a weapon.
Okay, maybe she was a little freaked out.
Maybe more than a little.
She flung the metal bar onto the closest bed, put a hand to her mouth and sucked in a long breath. Then another. She’d been scared tonight. All night. She could still feel it. A rock in the pit of her gut, an ache in the ridges on her belly. She moved her hand down, rubbed it across her stomach, sensed rather than felt the markings under the layers of clothing. Tears welled in her eyes but she batted them away. Come on, Jodie. You don’t cry. Not over something like this. What the hell is wrong with you?
The whole night was what was wrong. It was a litany of scary moments. Each one on its own would have been unsettling but they’d come one after the other without a breather in between. And now Corrine had a sprained ankle, she’d yelled at Hannah, caused a scene and pretty much fucked up Day One of their weekend away.
She sat on the end of the other bed. God, she was exhausted. A post-adrenaline slump. It had been flooding her system since that car ran them off the road. She must be drained of the stuff by now. She put her elbows on her knees, looked over at the tyre iron and the black mark it had made on the white comforter. She frowned at it. Thought about what had happened at the boot of the car – the two men appearing, the over-friendly conversation, the way they’d moved slowly closer, watched Jodie while Hannah picked up the bags. She shook her head. Where had she overreacted?
There was a knock at the door.
‘Can I come in?’ Louise asked, opening the door and coming in anyway. She sat on the bed next to Jodie. ‘You okay?’
Jodie shrugged. ‘Aside from ruining the night for all and sundry, including the nice guy from the service station, yeah, I’m fine.’
‘Corrine and Hannah will live. They’ve almost polished off a bottle of champagne already, so they’re feeling pretty happy now. They need some dinner before they pass out so if you’ve finished beating yourself up in here, come out and join us.’
Jodie smiled at her. ‘Yeah, I’m finished.’
Louise opened the door, then turned. ‘And just to refresh your memory, that guy from the service station wasn’t just nice. He was exceptionally nice.’ She walked backwards into the hallway, grinning.
‘Very nice, maybe,’ Jodie said. ‘Not exceptional.’
Louise, still grinning, reached the kitchen island, picked up two glasses of champagne, handed one to Jodie and clinked the other against it. Then she pulled her by the sweater sleeve over to the fire. ‘Okay, girls.’ She looked pointedly at each of them. ‘Cheers.’ She held up her glass. ‘Here’s to the weekend.’
Jodie eyed Corrine on the lounge, stocking-clad feet resting on a cushion, and Hannah on the next lounge, feet in footy socks crossed at the ankles and propped on the coffee table. Both raised their glasses with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
This dour mood was her fault, Jodie thought. So fix it. Massage it back into shape before the weekend becomes a total disaster.
‘Okay, it’s official. I’m responsible for the worst start ever to our weekends away.’ She held her hands up. ‘But I’ve given my trusty tyre iron a good talking-to and it’s having some time-out in the bedroom. So do you think we could start over, have a take three of Fringe Dwellers Weekend Away, Episode Eight? Pretend Corrine sprained her ankle before I picked her up, that she didn’t even bring her gorgeous, expensive Italian boots, and that Hannah doesn’t really think I’m a raving lunatic.’ She looked back and forth between them.
‘We-ell,’ Corrine said. She took a sip of champagne then pointed at Jodie with her glass. ‘You know, I think I remember tripping over Bailey’s soccer ball this afternoon. I was lucky I didn’t break my ankle.’
Hannah was shaking her head. ‘I don’t know, Jode. It’ll be pretty hard pretending you’re not a raving lunatic.’ She raised an eyebrow.
Louise let out a huff. ‘Oh, don’t kid yourself, Jodie, you can’t claim the worst start. That indisputable honour belongs to Hannah. Remember when she locked her keys in the car?’
Hannah frowned. ‘No.’
‘Yes,’ Lou said. ‘It was our third year. We went to the Hunter Valley and did some wine-tasting on the way then we couldn’t get back into the car. We were close enough to home that Pete could have driven out with a spare key but he was on a conference in Sweden.’ She cocked her head. ‘Or maybe it was Switzerland. Whatever, Roland climbed through a window in your house, got the key and brought it out to us.’
Hannah put a hand to her cheek. ‘Oh God, I remember now. And it was Sweden.’
‘We asked Roland to stay for dinner,’ Corrine said. ‘But he didn’t want to intrude on our time away. Gorgeous man.’
Jodie smiled – at the happy memory of Corrine’s husband and at Lou’s ability to lighten a mood. ‘How do you remember all that stuff, Lou?’ She asked and not for the first time. Louise was like a walking, talking memory bank. Hopeless with phone numbers but could recall reams of useless information at will – which was great when you were on her team for Trivial Pursuit but a real pain if you were discussing politics. ‘You’ve got way too much stored in your head.’
‘It’s a gift, I tell you, a gift.’ Louise raised her glass again. ‘Cheers, ladies.’
And Jodie knew then that the mood was on its way up. Not quite at cooking temperature yet but definitely out of the freezer.
After a feast on Louise’s fabulous curry then dessert with buckets of cream followed closely by an indecent amount of cheese and chocolate, all ingested with a steady supply of wine, they were indeed cooking. On a rolling boil, actually.
All four were sitting on the floor, having toppled there one by one during numerous fits of laughter. The hilarity had blown off Jodie’s fear, helped by the fact they were locked safely inside the barn. Corrine even seemed to have forgotten the pain in her ankle as she cackled at Louise’s story of chewing on near-putrid goat meat in the Afghan desert, where she’d been a foreign correspondent some time between the first and second Iraq wars.
Jodie hadn’t known her then. They’d met a few years
later at playgroup before their children were old enough to go to school – after Louise had had two sets of twins fifteen months apart, realised she couldn’t have it all and retired from her hot-shot reporter career. Jodie suspected the jaw-dropping stories Louise occasionally popped out were only partly entertainment. The other part was to remind herself she hadn’t always been knee-deep in nappies and school lunches.
They’d met Corrine and Hannah at playgroup, too. Actually, it was Lou who’d met them, found them really, hanging back from the craft table – Corrine trying to keep the paint and glue off her designer clothes, Hannah too impatient to deal with a three-year-old sprinkling glitter on an Easter Bunny cut-out. Corrine and Hannah already knew each other, were playgroup veterans with older kids at school. Lou introduced them to the new girl, Jodie, hauled the three of them back to her house for coffee, let the kids run wild and for some reason only known to Lou, decided they were all going to hit it off. She was right, of course, despite their differences – careers, money, marital status, age (Corrine quietly cracked the big four-oh last year, Lou celebrated with a boozy barbecue three months ago, Hannah would make the milestone next year while Jodie was the baby at thirty-five). And eight years later, the friendships – both collectively and individually – were all the more precious to Jodie for the fact that she’d thought she’d never have close friends like that again.
‘By the way, Jodie,’ Louise said, tossing a scorched almond at her. ‘I think that guy from the service station is perfect for you.’
Jodie rolled her eyes as she laughed. Louise was drunk. Not passing-out drunk, just very funny drunk. They all were. Still no excuse for matchmaking. ‘Let’s not do this again.’
‘No, really, he’s hot. If I wasn’t married and prematurely aged by the ravages of twinology, I’d consider some serious flirting.’
‘Oh, yeah, totally,’ Hannah said and caught a chocolate-coated peanut in her mouth. ‘Not a patch on my Pete, mind you, but totally hot in a non-Pete, non-medical, non-I-only-fall-for-doctors kind of way.’