Good Intentions

by Marg McAlister

  Georgie nodded. “That’s what Shirley’s afraid of. That, or worse…that he’ll do something to her to ensure that she never tells the police. And by the way, that was a condition of her confiding in me—that I don’t go to the police with all this. She’s scared of him, but she’s even more afraid of prison.”

  “But she was under duress,” Scott pointed out. “Surely that will count for something.”

  “When she paid him off he made more threats. If she ever went to the police, he said he’d implicate her daughter, Emma. She’s worried that this will destroy their lives, too.”

  The mention of Emma had Louise taking out her mobile phone. “Emma! I’d forgotten, Shirley gave me her phone number. Do you think we should call her?”

  Georgie thought about it for a second. They’d never followed through on Louise’s plan to contact Shirley’s daughter, but she wasn’t sure how it could help. Emma was in no position to do anything about her stepbrother.

  “I can’t see that there’s any point in worrying her,” she said slowly. “Let’s just stick close to Shirley until we can work out what to do. Maybe, once this bushfire emergency is over, we can urge her to talk to a lawyer, see what her legal position is.”

  “And keep a sharp eye out for a black Toyota HiLux,” Tony said. He sent Louise an interrogative look. “That’s what Shirley told you he drives, right? A black Ute with a canopy?” At Georgie’s nod, he went on, “I’ll put the word out to all my mates in the RFS, and at the pub. You don’t have a registration number, I suppose?”

  Louise sent an enquiring look at Georgie, and when she shook her head, said: “Right. We’ll get Bluey on to that one. We’ll have it soon enough. Name of Jason Cooper, Melbourne, black HiLux…I’ll send him a text right now.”

  She did so while they watched, and then put the phone down with a clunk. “Right. Let’s go out and mingle, make sure everyone’s OK, that they all have enough food. Craig is OK with people using the outdoor toilet up near the house, so we’ll let them know.”

  “I’ll take a notepad and pen,” Georgie said. “Take down names and contact numbers of relatives…just in case.”

  That brought the bushfire threat back to the forefront of everyone’s mind, and every one of them glanced at the smoke on the horizon as they went outside.

  Georgie wasn’t sure what was making her most on edge: the thought of flames racing through the bushland toward her, or the certainty that Jason Cooper was drawing closer.

  24

  Happy Hour

  Chook yanked together the tattered, faded curtains that had come with the van so nobody could see inside, and cursed when one of them tore. Sunlight had rotted the fabric; it was impossible even to tell the original color.

  Then he spent a few minutes crawling around and rearranging the sagging cardboard boxes that contained his worldly goods to clear more of a space in the center, and spread around his clothes to form a mattress.

  He’d thought to toss in a pillow and a blanket when he’d left Melbourne, but the clothes he’d brought didn’t provide much padding between him and the hard metal floor of the van. He should have picked up a couple of cushions or something at Kmart in Coffs Harbour.

  Well, he’d had other things on his mind then. At least he’d thought to buy some food back in Canungra. Muesli bars, some bread, cans of baked beans. He’d added 12-pack of bottled water and a couple of six-packs of beer.

  That would keep him going until he could take possession of the motorhome. And knowing Shirley, she’d have more food in there.

  Outside, up near the end of the row, he could hear conversations going on and people laughing. Peering through the torn curtain, he saw that the bloke who owned the property had erected some sort of fabric gazebo thing to provide shade. A dozen or so people had taken their camp chairs up there, and were sharing drinks and food.

  Then his heart just about jumped out of his chest. His stepmother was heading his way. He held the curtain together as she got closer, so she wouldn’t see him watching.

  What the hell?

  Then came the sound of knuckles rapping on the sliding door.

  “Hello-o! Anyone home?”

  Chook rolled his eyes and didn’t make a sound. What did she think, that the occupant had somehow vanished? Been sucked up by aliens? Jeez.

  There was another knock, this time more timid. “Sorry to disturb you. I wanted to let you know, we’re having a communal dinner later if you wanted to join us. Just bring what you can.” There was a silence, and then she said with forced gaiety, “Up to you!”

  Then he heard footsteps moving away, and when he peeked out again, she was walking back to the group under the gazebo. She stopped for a moment at a small caravan hitched up to a four-wheel drive that had seen better days, chatting to another woman about her age, and he saw her look back and point in his direction.

  They both looked at his van, and then Shirley shrugged, and they walked off together.

  That had been close.

  Georgie hadn’t enjoyed a get-together so much in ages. As the afternoon wore on, coffee and snacks morphed into Happy Hour drinks and a meal and the gathering grew louder. There was plenty of laughter as they all shared stories as well as food and drink.

  There were some people who’d kept their distance. The two couples who were traveling together were socializing back in their own caravans, and the backpacker had ignored Shirley’s knocks at the door of his van. Probably having an afternoon nap, Shirley had reported.

  Inevitably, people were curious about Scott’s work in the States, and how he’d met Georgie. One couple that had hired an RV to do a road trip across the USA knew of the Johnny B. Goode RV Empire, and that led to stories about Georgie and the crystal ball. She laughingly deflected requests to tell some fortunes, and managed to get people talking about their own travels again.

  “That was close,” she murmured to Scott once Dave had launched into another tall story. “Didn’t really want to get out the crystal ball here.”

  “You’ll probably have to give in and do a few readings tomorrow, though,” he said in an undertone. “I have a feeling Jane wants to ask you something. She’s kind of adopted you after you helped her reverse her rig.”

  “And Shirley,” Georgie pointed out, watching them chatting with their heads together. “Two women traveling solo. I think they were happy to find each other. It’ll do Shirley good to see there are others like her.”

  Her gaze moved again to the ever-present smoke haze, still visible in the darkening sky. “I saw you talking to your uncle earlier. What’s the news with the fire?”

  “Now that the wind has dropped, they think they’ve got it contained. It’s not over yet, though. They forecast is for winds to strengthen again, maybe around midnight. Then, who knows? All it takes is a spark.”

  “So we’re not out of danger yet.”

  “I don’t think we’re in any danger,” Scott said. “Not where we are. But the town could be, if the fire turns again.”

  Georgie angled her wrist so she could see her watch, the face just visible now that night had almost fallen. “I’m just about talked out. I think I’ll go back to the caravan and read for a while.”

  “Want to come up to the house? Mum’s expecting to hear from Bluey about that registration plate for Jason’s HiLux.”

  Georgie hesitated, and then shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. You can fill me in later. He’s not likely to find his way here tonight. If he’s around, he’ll probably be staying in a hotel or motel, unless he has a tent. From what Shirley was saying, though, he doesn’t sound the type to enjoy camping.”

  Scott gave a short laugh, and she could tell he was thinking about the way Jason had extorted money from his stepmother. “If he wants to find Shirley, I imagine he’d do whatever it takes to track her down. But anyway…” He squeezed her hand as he stood up. “I’ll go on up to the house, and see you in a while.”

  She nodded. “I’ll have a word to Shirley before I tu
rn in; make sure she knows we’ve got her back.”

  Shirley, her eyes alight with laughter at some story of Jane’s, looked up as Georgie approached.

  “Jane’s been telling me of some places she went with her husband,” she said. “We’re thinking of revisiting some of them, meeting up there.”

  “That sounds good.” Georgie included both of them in her smile. “I’m going in to listen to the news, read my book. Just a quiet night.” She gestured in the direction of the fire. “Reports seem to indicate that it’s contained for the moment. But if either of you are worried—about anything—come and find me. Or yell for help.” She laughed as though she was joking, but she knew Shirley would get the message. “Scott and I will come running.”

  “I’ll be in Jane’s caravan for a while,” Shirley said. “She’s going to show me some photos while we look at maps.”

  “And to have a wine or two,” Jane said mischievously, with a sidelong look at Shirley. They both laughed.

  “Hmm,” Georgie said. “Looks like Louise had better be prepared to lose her caretaker sooner rather than later, eh?”

  “Well, actually, I thought I might stay there for a month or two with Shirley,” Jane said. “Get to know the locals, see the area…then maybe move on to explore?” She added hastily, “I’d pay, of course. I’m not thinking that Louise would need two caretakers.”

  Georgie’s grin widened. It seemed that two ships that might have passed in the night had been brought together by fate—and Shirley just might be setting off to explore with a friend.

  Amazing how things worked out.

  “Partners in crime,” she said humorously, and then could have bitten her tongue, because of course that reminded Shirley of why she was running, and her eyes immediately lost their sparkle.

  Nice one, Georgie. “Have fun planning,” she said. “See you in the morning. Let’s hope the emergency has passed by then.”

  And, she thought, let’s hope that we can think of a way to handle Jason “Chook” Cooper.

  25

  Darkness Comes

  Chook sat in the dirt with his back against the fence, slapping at ants, and stared moodily at the looming black shadows of the caravans and motorhomes lined up to his left. He was partially hidden by his vehicle, and it wasn’t likely that anyone would be paying him a visit after ten at night.

  They’d all packed up and returned to their various RVs at around nine, but it had taken a while for the fragments of conversation floating his way in the night air to cease. For a while he could hear the sound of a television in the caravan with a satellite dish on the roof, and then that stopped too.

  At ten-thirty he’d eased open the sliding door and slipped out of his van, cramped from trying to get comfortable on his makeshift mattress. More than once he’d thought darkly of the comfortable bed in Shirley’s motorhome. She had two beds, for Pete’s sake, counting the one she used for storage above the driver’s seat.

  He was tired of sleeping in the back of a clapped-out van, tired of being short of cash, and really tired of hanging around in this backwoods community waiting to make his move.

  When he thought about it, the opportunity he was being offered now was as good as any. He wasn’t keen on the idea of following Shirley around for weeks waiting for a chance. Right now it was dark, there were a lot of strangers around, and he could leave the unregistered car behind and just take off with her in the motorhome. Force her to transfer the money to his name, dump her somewhere, and then head for the outback and hide out for a while.

  None of these people knew her, not really. They all just traveled around all the time, meeting new people every day.

  They might wonder why she’d left in the middle of the night, but nobody would follow up on it. People did strange things.

  Then he thought: fingerprints.

  Fingerprints all over the damn van.

  And with his record, it would take the cops maybe ten seconds to get a hit on his prints.

  He flicked a few more ants off his legs, thinking. He couldn’t leave the car and he didn’t have enough time to wipe it down.

  What did you do with a car when you wanted to get rid of it?

  You hid it, drove it into a lake or set fire to it.

  Looked like it would have to be option three.

  Right, then.

  He considered his plan, running through the action in his mind.

  He’d set fire to his van. People would come spilling out of their RV’s, all disoriented and scared. Of course! They’d be thinking, bushfire!

  Then what would they do? They’d probably run to get fire extinguishers; all of these caravans had them. The bloke in the caravan next to his would be scrambling to his rig out of harm’s way.

  As would others close to him in the line-up, wanting get their rigs away from the immediate danger; visions of exploding gas tanks in their minds.

  Which would give him the perfect opportunity to get in Shirley’s motorhome and drive it away from the fire like the others, only he’d douse the lights and keep going, out of the gate at the top of the paddock, under cover of darkness.

  He could keep the lights off, drive slowly until he was well away. He tried to remember the road he’d followed from the gate down near the main road. It had been flat, well-graded. No surprises.

  Yes. It could work.

  It would work.

  He’d give them all another hour to get to sleep and spend the time getting anything he really wanted out of his van—which wasn’t much. He could buy whatever he needed with Shirley’s money.

  Get rid of her, go and start a new life.

  Pushing himself up off the fence, he went to sort through his meager belongings and to get things ready.

  He’d torched cars before, after he and his mates had stolen them for joyrides and then burnt the evidence.

  Too easy.

  In her motorhome, Shirley finally flicked off the light. She lay in her bed thinking that for the first time for months, she could see a real life ahead of her. There’d been a glimmer of it, when she’d had the girls’ day out with Georgie and Louise, but now that she’d met Jane…

  They’d clicked instantly. Jane, like her, had recently lost her husband, but she wasn’t going to stay at home. She and Doug had loved their life on the road.

  She’d said to Shirley. “After he died, I thought, what am I going to do? Sit at home and watch TV, think about what life used to be like? Doug would want me to keep traveling. So I bought a smaller caravan, and I’m hopeless at reversing it, but Georgie says I can learn.”

  Shirley had looked at her and thought, If she can do it, I can do it.

  From there the conversation had moved on to places they could visit together.

  She had a new friend, and—for the first time in a long, long time—hope.

  If she could just stop worrying about Chook.

  What would happen if she did go and see a lawyer, as Louise had suggested? What if she came clean about the emotional blackmail, told them that at the time she didn’t care about anything but seeing Norm free from pain?

  She would think about it. Definitely think about it. The only thing was, Chook wasn’t rational. He was just as likely to keep pursuing her for the sake of vengeance.

  I’ll sleep on it, she thought, and let her eyelids drift closed.

  In their caravan close by, Scott and Georgie were also talking about Chook.

  “So he doesn’t have the HiLux any more? That’s bad.” Georgie frowned into the darkness. “We don’t know what he’s driving.”

  “No. Bluey couldn’t find anything registered to him. Given his form, he said he’s just as likely to be driving a stolen car.”

  “Well, we know what he looks like. You and Louise have both seen him in the crystal ball, and Shirley lived with him for years. We’ll just have to make sure she’s never alone.”

  “That’s not going to be so easy after next week,” Scott pointed out, “when we move on to Yamba. Mum and Dad can
’t be with her all day long.”

  “True, but she and Jane have really hit it off, did you notice? Jane’s staying at your parents’ campground for a while, and then I think they plan to travel together, see some of Australia.” Georgie yawned. “Louise and I are going to keep pushing her to see a lawyer. Trouble is, she hasn’t got much in the way of cash reserves.”

  “We’ll think of something.” Scott’s voice, as always, was calm and sure. “You’ve never walked away from someone who needs help yet, and I don’t think this will be any different. Something will break.”

  On that note, they too went to sleep.

  26

  Disaster

  At first, Shirley was dimly aware of some commotion outside, and then shouts woke her all the way. She opened her eyes, and the flickering dance of flames through the window made her bolt upright in terror.

  Bushfire!

  She scrambled out of bed and rushed to the door, throwing it open.

  And then something heavy slammed into her and she went flying backwards, before the door banged closed again. Her head hit the edge of the table, and for a moment everything went black.

  Her head spun. What was happening? Outside she was dimly aware of shouts, and engines starting, and flames.

  Then rough hands seized her and rolled her over, and her hands were wrenched together behind her back. Shirley cried out, and that earned her a slap around the ears before duct tape was plastered over her mouth.

  Chook. She knew before he spoke a word.

  “Think I wouldn’t find you?” he snarled. “You can never get away from me. You owe me.”

  He dragged her down to the end of the motorhome and stuffed her in the small bathroom. The motorhome’s door opened and closed again, and she heard the thump of a bag or box hitting the floor.