by Jaye Ford
Matt’s hand went instinctively to his knee. She had him there. If she was half as fit as she looked, there was no way he’d catch her. ‘But can you run to the top of the hill faster than I can drive it? Fast enough to warn your friends that the lunatic in the car was on the doorstep?’
He raised an eyebrow with a look he hoped was kind of cute then saw it was the wrong move. Her casual attitude disappeared and she was suddenly tense. The hand had dropped from her hip and her fingers were tight on the rock. He waited for her to say something, not sure where he’d gone wrong.
‘No, you’re right,’ she said. ‘Anyway, Corrine’s invitation to drop round was for later in the day. Now isn’t a good time.’
He was pretty sure that meant piss off and don’t bother coming back. ‘Actually, I’m not here on a social call. I came to tell you your car will be ready this afternoon. If you bring the loan car back around three, we can do a swap.’
‘You drove all the way out here to tell me that?’ Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
What was with her? ‘As a matter of fact, yes. I couldn’t get through to your mobile and I thought you’d want your car as soon as possible.’
‘Oh.’ She gave her head a bit of a shake. ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ She took a couple of steps towards the car, trying to do casual again but not quite getting there. ‘I forgot about the phones. Thanks, that was nice of you. I didn’t expect it to be ready so soon.’
‘It’s not as bad as it looked, apparently. Dad’s doing a patch-up job, a little panelbeating here and there. It won’t be an oil painting but it should get you home without the police pulling you over with a defect notice.’
‘Well, that’s good to know. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t claim that on insurance,’ she laughed.
She was just a couple of steps from the car now, smiling, like maybe she was trying to make up for the weird glitch in the conversation. He smiled back, enjoying the sight of her. The athletic body and those big, dark, way-too-intense eyes. School would have been a whole lot more interesting if he’d had a PE teacher like that. Well, don’t just let her run away. ‘So how’s the Old Barn? I see it hasn’t fallen down.’
She glanced up the hill and back again. ‘Nice.’
‘It looks like they’ve done a good job. What’s it like inside?’
Her smile was still there but it seemed a little forced now. ‘Comfortable.’ Her eyes flicked around the car, the clearing. ‘Well, gotta go. Breakfast is waiting. Thanks again.’
So soon? ‘Can I give you a lift up the hill? It’s pretty steep.’
She took a step away from the car. ‘No.’ She said it firmly. ‘It’ll be a good work-out.’
Oh Christ, she thinks you’re a dickhead trying to hit on her. Well, you are, aren’t you? Give it up. You’re embarrassing yourself. ‘Sure. See you this afternoon, then.’ He pushed his sunglasses down onto his nose, hit reverse, backed into the bush on the other side of the narrow track and waved briefly as he drove off.
Face it, Matt. Your instincts are shot to hell.
13
Jodie smelled bacon and fresh coffee as she ran up the steps to the verandah. She took a second to pull herself together. She was puffing from the world record time she’d just run up the hill and felt edgy and spooked. Bursting through the door and announcing that Matt Wiseman, the nice guy who’d rescued them last night, was more than likely a stalker would not be the best method of describing what had just happened. Corrine and Hannah wouldn’t exchange glances, they’d politely tell her to bugger off and let them enjoy the weekend.
But she had to tell them. Forewarned was forearmed.
Corrine looked up from the island bench as Jodie walked through the front door. ‘Breakfast is on!’ she called. She’d changed out of her satin nightdress, gone from stylishly sleepy to stylishly casual in white trousers and pretty blouse and had secured her hair in a spectacular swirl on top of her head. The big, rustic dining table was just as chic. She must have brought the white tablecloth with her and picked the spray of flowers from the bush outside.
Louise sat up from one of the sofas, tossed a paperback on the coffee table in front of the refreshed fire, stretched noisily in her PJs and said, ‘Were you running all that time?’
Jodie thought about Matt. She wanted to just blurt it out, point by point, how it all fitted together. But she was red faced and sweating, still breathing hard. Not a good look when you want to convince sceptics of a possible new threat. Better to wait until she’d had something to eat and pulled her thoughts in line, do it calmly, logically. ‘Pretty much,’ she said, kicking off her running shoes, turning the lock on the front door. ‘I thought you might have started without me.’
‘Absolutely not,’ Corrine said as she limped around the bench into the kitchen. ‘One for all and all for one and all that, right?’ She smiled, held out a bottle of champagne. ‘Have you got enough energy left to open the bubbly?’
‘I think I can manage.’
‘You’re meant to be putting your feet up, you know. Running around the countryside is not putting your feet up.’
‘I enjoy it.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Louise said, pulling out a seat at the table. ‘No one enjoys running. Runners just say that to make the rest of us feel guilty.’
‘It’s not good to do it after a lot of alcohol,’ Hannah said as she came into the room, showered, dressed sensibly in jeans and a thick sweater, and her short bob neatly blow-dried. ‘You should drink plenty of water this morning so you don’t get dehydrated.’
‘Yes, Doctor,’ Jodie said.
Hannah put a hand on Jodie’s bare arm, gave it a little rub. ‘You should put something warm on, too, before you start cooling down.’
‘Already onto it.’ Jodie kept the smile on her face until she’d turned away, then rolled her eyes as she headed down the hall for a fresh shirt. She’d been running most of her life, she knew how to do it without drying up or catching pneumonia.
Breakfast started with fresh fruit and kiddie talk. Louise said, ‘Let’s do one round of parent news before we ban domestic conversation for the day.’ So they talked about the twins’ reading success, the pros and cons of Hannah’s oldest staying at home alone while she was on afternoon shift, Corrine’s shock when her newly teenaged son dropped the f-bomb, and Jodie’s daughter Isabelle being selected for regional athletics.
There was no bragging, no trying to outdo each other with my-kid’s-better-than-yours stories. The conversation was honest and open, a safe place to air worries and mistakes and joys. It’s what came after eight years of sharing sleepless nights and terrible twos, tears over first days at school, learning difficulties, braces and brewing puberty. As usual, there was plenty of laughter amid the advice and Jodie was relieved the morning’s sharp words seemed to be forgotten.
When Corrine brought eggs Benedict to the table, Lou clinked a spoon against her coffee cup.
‘I hereby declare the family discussion over. Time to move on, ladies, or we’ll talk about the kids all day. Now, any preferences on how we entertain ourselves today?’
‘I don’t want to do a single thing that requires me to be on time,’ Hannah said.
‘I saw a nice homewares shop in town last night,’ Corrine said.
‘I’m reading,’ Lou said.
They looked at Jodie. She hadn’t thought past bolting the barn doors. She shrugged, tried to look unconcerned about it.
‘What’s it like outside? Worth a walk?’ Lou asked.
It was an opening, a chance to ease into telling them about Matt Wiseman on the driveway. ‘It’s cold.’ Between mouthfuls of egg, she told them about the mist hanging low in the valley, the kangaroos she’d seen in the paddocks along the road, the phone reception and how they’d have to go to the bottom of the hill to call home tonight. Then she told them about Matt. How he’d apparently been somewhere close enough to drop by and tell her the car would be ready later. And how his deep-throated engine sounded just like the one duri
ng the night, how he’d trapped her on the rock platform with his car and how he’d tried to prod her for information about the barn.
There was silence when she finished. A long, uncomfortable moment of nonplussed, vaguely amused silence. Then a burst of laughter. Corrine mostly, as though Jodie had cracked a joke and it had taken her a couple of seconds to get it. Hannah’s laugh was a little harder, a little over it. Louise smiled uncomfortably.
Jodie bristled. ‘It’s not funny.’
‘Oh, come on,’ Corrine laughed. ‘The man was just trying to flirt with you. You’re so paranoid, you can’t tell the difference between a come-on and an attempted abduction. It’s no wonder you haven’t had a date since James left.’
Heat rushed to Jodie’s cheeks and she looked down at the toast left on her plate. Is that what Corrine thought? Is that what they all thought? Isn’t that what she’d thought herself at times?
‘Jeez, Corrine,’ Louise said then smiled back at Jodie. ‘Besides, she doesn’t want to date a revhead. They’re so not in touch with their feminine side.’
Corrine lifted a piqued chin at the rebuke. Beside her, across the table from Jodie and Louise, like the captain of the other team, Hannah raised a single eyebrow, as if to acknowledge Corrine had a point.
Jodie felt a flash of anger. ‘So, Corrine, do you think if you drank another bottle of champagne, you could say what you really thought?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ said Corrine.
Jodie took a breath, about to snap back, but bit down on the words at her lips. Getting personal wasn’t going to make them pay attention. ‘Nothing. I didn’t mean anything. The point is there were two men snooping around last night and at least two people shining torches around the back verandah and a car driving around the barn at three in the morning. It’s weird at best, pretty damn suspicious at worst.’
Hannah opened her mouth to say something but Jodie held up her hand. ‘Let me finish. I’ve been thinking it through and the one explanation that makes any sense is that the snoops came back with torches for some reason, got interrupted doing whatever they were doing and returned during the night. That means if Matt Wiseman was driving the car, he may also have been outside with a torch, which means he may be as suspicious as the two snoops.’
No one said a word. Hannah looked off into the kitchen shaking her head, Corrine used a fork to poke at a crust of toast on her plate and Louise sat back in her chair and watched Jodie with an expression she couldn’t read.
Jodie crossed her arms on the table. ‘Look, I’m just saying we shouldn’t trust anyone we see out here. I mean, we’re probably perfectly safe but if anyone shows up, we shouldn’t necessarily take the situation at face value, you know?’
‘There is another explanation,’ Hannah said, looking pointedly at her. ‘That the two guys were actually campers and they took an evening stroll with a couple of torches before bed. Or they were safe and sound in their sleeping bags by the time you saw what you believed to be torches but which may, in fact, have been anything. Or nothing. And that the mysterious car driving around the barn was actually thunder and that Matt Wiseman is, in fact, a nice guy who came all the way out here to let you know your car was ready. Yes, I know, your version is way more exciting and dramatic but I prefer mine.’
Why was Hannah being so damn contentious about it? ‘So we’re back to “I didn’t see it so it doesn’t exist”?’ Jodie said.
‘It’s better than leaping to wild conclusions at every bloody bump in the night.’
‘Give me some credit, Hannah.’
‘Actually, what I want to do is enjoy the time we’ve got left here without any more of your Nightmare on Elm Street scenarios.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Corrine said.
‘Come on, guys. Can we move on?’ Louise said.
Jodie pressed her lips together. She felt annoyed and patronised and, worst of all, unsure. Hannah’s version of events had set off a sickening pulse in her head. It made sense, too. There might be campers around here, she hadn’t actually seen people with torches, and yes, she had had a lot to drink last night. The car … well, had she actually seen and heard it? She felt like she’d held Angela’s bloody hands this morning, too, and her screams sounded like they’d come from the next room. Maybe the car was as real as the flashback and the nightmare.
Jodie held her arms tightly across her chest, unsure what to do next now the conversation had come to a screeching halt. She turned her eyes to the big windows that stretched along the back of the barn. The curtains were open and the view was lush and green, not dark and threatening like it had been last night. She thought about it again – the men, the lights, the car, Matt Wiseman. It didn’t feel right. Something was telling her it was too weird, too coincidental. She taught her self-defence students to follow their instincts. If they thought there was a threat, there probably was.
The stubborn, scarred, control freak in her wanted to stand up and yell at them. Make them listen, argue the point until they saw sense. Tell them they needed to be careful, that danger could come from anywhere, that being prepared could keep them alive.
But the faces around the table mirrored how she felt herself – frustrated and fed up and cross. And she thought, what if her instincts were wrong? What if the flashback had screwed her perspective? Worried for their safety or not, did she really want to ruin the weekend arguing a point she couldn’t prove? A point that might turn around and bite her on the butt later?
She stood up, gathered together her dishes, said, ‘Great breakfast, Corrine. Sorry my table conversation didn’t do it justice.’
No one said anything as she stacked her tableware in the dishwasher. The plates clanged like cymbals in the tense silence and her footsteps as she walked down the hall sounded, ironically, like thunder. She shut herself in the bathroom, stood under a hot shower and gave a little humourless laugh at how she’d thought this year’s weekend away was going to be such a blast.
In the bedroom, she stood in her underwear in front of the closed curtains, rubbed her wet hair with a towel and went over it again. And again. She tossed the towel on her bed, edged the curtain to one side and looked out. It was sunnier now. Peaceful, inviting. The winter light was warming the timber verandah, the scrappy native grass beyond it looked lush and clean after last night’s storm and a couple of wallabies were grazing lazily near the edge of the bush.
She should be soaking up the tranquil, country ambience. That’s what she was here for, wasn’t it? To chill out, not freak out. Not fight with her friends. She rolled her shoulders, one way then the other. Shake it off, Jodie. Get dressed and get on with it. Like you always do. She turned around as Louise walked through the door.
‘Hannah and Corrine are talking about driving into town. Feel like going?’ Louise dropped onto Jodie’s bed, tucked up her legs and leaned on an elbow beside the open suitcase.
Jodie stopped halfway across the room, conscious she was wearing only a bra and knickers and that the scars on her stomach were both unattractive and unmissable. She wasn’t ashamed of them – they reminded her she’d survived – but the random, jagged slashes told a story of violence and brutality that right now, she didn’t want to talk about. Not while she was edgy and unsure. Not while she could still feel Angela’s bloody hand in hers. She thought about turning away but with Louise settled on her bed, how long could she talk to her with her back turned? Stepping closer would only bring the scars into focus so she stayed where she was and folded her arms across her waist, knowing it would take more than that to cover the damage. ‘I think I’ll pass. I’ve got to take the car back this afternoon so I’ll wait till then.’
Jodie watched as a frown grew on Louise’s face. Sitting on the bed, her eyes were at the same level as Jodie’s stomach but it still took a couple of seconds for the view to make sense. When it did, Louise sucked in a breath.
‘Jesus, Jodie, what the hell happened to you?’ She looked up at Jodie’s face then back down at her stomach, ey
es moving from the top of her knickers to the opposite hip where the scar over the bone was wide and puckered.
Too late to hide it now, Jodie thought, and stepped to the bed, grabbed a shirt from the top of her suitcase and angled away from Louise as she pulled it on. ‘It’s just from some surgery I had when I was a kid.’
Louise said nothing as Jodie turned back to her bag for the rest of her clothes, just watched her with a crease between her brows and her mouth open like she was deciding what to say next.
‘It looks a lot worse than it was,’ Jodie said as she pulled on a pair of jeans.
‘Sure,’ Lou finally said and nodded noncommittally. She suddenly swung herself upright and pushed off the bed, as if to move right along. ‘You know, I could do with a couple of Corrine-and-Hannah-free hours, too. I think I’ll hang out here with you.’
Jodie shot her a grateful glance, realising the journalist inside Louise was probably dying to know more. ‘And I thought it was just me having a problem.’
Louise shrugged as she stepped to her own bed, pulling out toiletries for her turn in the shower. ‘I love them both but Hannah can be hard work when she decides she’s right. And Corrine’s champagne supply is giving me a headache.’
‘To quote the lady herself – hear, hear.’
Louise kept her head down as she lifted clothes from her suitcase. ‘But maybe we should cut her some slack. It would’ve been Roland’s fiftieth birthday next weekend. I think that’s what the champagne guzzling is about. Her way of trying not to be sad.’
‘God, I’d forgotten his birthday was so close to our weekends,’ Jodie said. She knew what those anniversaries were like, felt bad for the crack over breakfast, forgave her for what she’d said about never having a date.
‘Mind you,’ Lou added, still busy with her clothes, ‘the way she’s been drinking the stuff like water is a bit of a worry.’