by Jaye Ford
This morning, there were a lot of people out and about. Workers and mums with prams and older shoppers and uni students. Liv watched for bruised faces and kept her taped hand close to her body.
As she passed a drycleaners, the sight of herself in the window made her cringe. It’d taken years to polish off the rough edges of her childhood, now the bruises, the borrowed clothes and the blonde hair loose about her face made her look like the grown-up version of the tomboy she’d packed away years ago.
Her sunglasses were too small to cover much more than the pirate eye patch; the rest of it was right out there for everyone to see. Some people took surreptitious glances, others stared openly. What were they thinking? Car accident? Domestic abuse, like Daniel Beck had assumed? Is that what Detective Quest thought? That she’d let herself get beaten up by her husband?
Waiting at the pedestrian lights, she eyed the building opposite where she and Kelly rented space. It had been a large store and workshop in its first life and was now sectioned into eight small offices, still with the original two display windows on the street front and the Art Deco masonry on the apartment above. The renovators had rendered the brickwork and painted it pearly grey, setting it apart from Lenny’s Cafe and the row of shops to its right and making the narrow lane on its left look less shabby. Kelly was so excited when she found it that she’d called Liv from the footpath out the front.
‘You’ve got to come see it today. It’s perfect. In our price range with two small rooms inside. They’re cubbyholes more than offices really, but we’ll have one each and there’s space for a receptionist. Oh, and get this. There’s parking at the back, that four-storey council car park is right at the back door.’
Yeah, well, handy parking wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
Liv pushed open the darkened glass of the front door, cast her eyes down the straight line of carpeted hallway. Four doors either side, identical offices, unrelated businesses. The security exit at the other end that she’d left through last night was closed.
The second doorway on the right opened and a grey, coifed head popped out. ‘Oh, Livia, I was so worried about you.’ Mariella must have been listening for Liv’s arrival from inside the wigmaker’s. She came towards her with arms outstretched and Liv winced at the thought of the double-cheek, European-style kiss the older woman always planted on her.
‘No, no, I no hurt you.’ Mariella cupped Liv’s ears and tipped her face down so the tiny woman could look up at her. She shook her head in horror. ‘Teagan tell me what happen. Our poor Livia.’
‘I’m fine.’ Liv gently prised Mariella’s fingers from her face, not giving her a chance get any closer to the bruising.
‘Ray say he saw you go in the ambulance. He talk to the police last night, show them where you work,’ Mariella told her. ‘He tell me this morning what happen. I couldn’t believe it. Not our Livia.’
‘Really, I’m fine,’ Liv tried again. She remembered the group of people standing by the ramp as she was loaded into the ambulance. Maybe there’d been others standing around somewhere. She was too shaken up to pay much attention.
‘I tell Gino I no go back out to that car park.’ Mariella swung an arm in the direction of Prescott and Weeks further down the hall. ‘You girls no go back there, either. It’s not safe.’
Liv imagined Mariella lying on the cold, hard concrete. ‘No, the police said we shouldn’t use the car park for a while.’
‘I heard about it on the news this morning.’ Scott, the mortgage broker from the front office on the left, had stuck his head into the hallway. He was tall and lean and without thinking about it, Liv checked his face for bruising. ‘Lenny said it was you. The news mentioned a council car park.’ He pointed to the security exit, raised his eyebrows. ‘Our car park?’
‘Yes,’ Liv said.
‘Bloody hell.’ He came all the way into the corridor, smoothing his tie down with his hand. ‘What happened?’
Liv glanced back at Mariella, saw more faces gathered in the corridor. Ally from the orthodontist’s, Mandy from the travel agency, Chad the dietician and Ray the maintenance guy. Her eyes moved automatically to the faces of the two men. Chad was short and stocky, all the wrong shape, but Ray was several centimetres taller than Liv. Neither had bruising. Why would they? They were nice people. All the neighbours were. And seven of them were crammed into the narrow space now, like an impromptu occupants’ meeting, looking to her for a report.
But she’d had enough of talking about it.
‘Sorry, I’ve got to go. Ray can probably fill you in on the details.’ He was standing in the centre of the hall, greying sandy hair neat as usual, hands on the tool belt he always wore. ‘Mariella said you spoke to the police. Thanks for that. Anyway, I’ve just talked to a detective and she said we should all avoid the car park for a while. I know it’s a pain finding parking but the man who attacked me is still out there. We all need to be careful.’ She shuffled sideways through the bodies, pushed the third door on the left into Prescott and Weeks.
The phone was ringing at reception. The desk behind it was empty. ‘Teagan, phone!’ As the teenager ran from the kitchenette/storeroom, Liv said, ‘Hold my calls. I need a few minutes.’ She glanced towards Kelly’s office on the left side of the back wall. The door was shut but she could see someone with her so she headed for her own office, was almost there when a pencil flew past her and hit the wall. She spun around.
Teagan covered the mouthpiece of her headset. ‘Sheridan . . .’ she whispered at Liv then removed her hand, spoke louder. ‘Yes, I’ve . . . Yes, yes, I’ve . . .’
Liv smiled. Sheridan talked so fast, it was sometimes hard to get a word in. She pointed at herself, raised her eyebrows at Tee, wondered how long Sheridan had been trying to call.
Teagan held up a finger, telling Liv to wait as she spoke into the phone. ‘Yes, well . . .’
‘Put it through,’ Liv said.
‘But . . .’
‘It’s fine. I’ll take it.’
Tee pulled a face, a mixture of frustration and annoyance. She was a good kid and handling the job well for a beginner, but she was seventeen and anyone older than, like, twenty was, like, an idiot. Even if they were your boss.
‘Put it through, Teagan,’ Liv said firmly. A second later, the phone on her desk was buzzing. She dropped her handbag and picked it up. ‘Hey.’
‘What have you been saying to the police about me?’
7
Liv gripped the receiver hard, fighting an urge to slam it back in its cradle. ‘Yes, thanks, Thomas, I’m feeling a little better this morning.’
‘Jesus, Livia. What do you expect when I’ve got the police ringing my office, wanting to talk about my ex-wife’s mugging?’
Last night he was her husband, this morning she was his ex-wife. The divorce papers couldn’t arrive fast enough, as far as she was concerned. ‘I wasn’t mugged.’
‘It has nothing to do with me.’
‘Then tell that to the police.’
‘I shouldn’t have to tell them anything. I know you’ve been to see them this morning. Teagan told me where you were. It doesn’t take a whole lot to figure out that if they just called me, you must have given them my name. What the hell are you playing at?’
She wanted to yell in her own defence but knew he wouldn’t listen, tried to sound reasonable instead, maybe a little patronising. ‘They already had your name.’
‘It’s one thing to be angry but spite is so incredibly counterproductive, Livia.’
She sucked in a breath. ‘I’m going to hang up now, Thomas.’ She forced herself not to throw the phone, to lower it slowly, purposefully as the tinny sound of his voice continued to call her. When the receiver was safely in its cradle, she picked up a biro and hurled it against a wall.
‘Good shot. Have another go.’
&nbs
p; She turned, saw Sheridan in the doorway of her office, suited and perfumed and looking every bit her TV reporter self. Kelly stood beside her, an apologetic look on her face. Sheridan selected a heavy, silver ballpoint from a mug. ‘Here, take an eye out.’
At any other time, Liv would’ve embraced the sentiment but right now, all she could manage was to clench her teeth. ‘Fuck him.’
‘Not in this life,’ Sheridan said.
That made a smile start on her lips. Sheridan and Thomas had never hit it off. She’d kept a lid on it until he left and now took every opportunity to stick it to him. It was great. Sheridan was great. She was the sharp edge to the three-way friendship in the room. She’d joined the share house when Kelly moved into Jason’s room and in the current circumstances Liv was more than pleased for a dose of her cutting humour.
‘You look like shit,’ Sheridan said.
The smile grew a little more. ‘Well, thanks. I thought I was looking pretty hot.’
‘Wouldn’t want you living in denial.’ She put an arm around Liv’s shoulders. ‘How’re you doing?’
‘It’s been interesting so far.’
‘Tee explained about the mix-up with the phone call,’ said Kelly. ‘I told him half an hour ago I’d left a message on your desk.’
Liv glanced at the pile of message slips held down with the lovely pink shell Cameron had found for her at the beach over summer. She looked back at Sheridan. ‘Was it you who spoke to Detective Quest?’
She nodded. ‘Our police reporter said it was someone who worked in this building so I gave the cops a call. When she wouldn’t say either way, I called here.’
‘You want to do a story, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ There was no sweet-talking in it, just a direct admission: It’s my job and I’m being honest with you.
Liv had heard Sheridan’s stories from the newsroom and understood but pulled a face. ‘I’ve got an eggplant growing out of my cheek.’
She looked a little apologetic then. ‘Well, yes you do, but your assault is the police story of the day, so we’ve got to cover it. And I thought it’d be easier for you if you knew the person asking the questions.’
‘Do you have to talk to me? The detective says there’s a chance the bastard could come back.’
‘For you?’
‘For anyone. He might try again.’
‘That’s as good a reason as any to talk, don’t you think?’ Sheridan said. ‘Women should be warned if there’s some guy out there prowling car parks. What happened to you might make someone else think twice about walking to their car alone. And what you did with your keys and the screaming, people should know that worked. It might save someone else.’
Liv eyed her injured hand. She couldn’t stop him but maybe she could stop someone else being hurt. Another version of fighting back. ‘Can you make an appeal for witnesses to come forward?’
Sheridan gave her arm a quick rub. ‘Absolutely. Anything you want.’
Sheridan started the interview in the corridor outside Prescott and Weeks and as word spread that a news crew was on the premises, an audience grew. Most of the neighbours and a few people from the street gathered in the narrow space to watch, whispering about the attack in huddled groups between takes. Liv felt like a bad actor in a C-grade movie of her disastrous life.
‘They probably won’t follow us up to the car park,’ Sheridan said quietly.
‘How do you do this every day?’ Liv asked.
‘Gotta have a few more show-off genes than you.’
On the way out, Liv glanced at the end office on the right. Risk Control was Daniel’s office, the lettering on the door that she couldn’t remember last night said he was a specialist in workplace safety and security. She’d hoped to see him, to thank him properly now that she could actually form words but his reception area was empty and dark. Maybe she could buy him something. What do you get someone who drags you off the pavement and escorts you to safety? A bottle of Scotch? A gold pen? An IOU?
Sheridan was right about the onlookers. Only Kelly followed.
‘Do you want me to come and hold your idiot cards?’ she asked.
‘I don’t think I need any prompting. I feel like a complete idiot already.’ Liv hitched the tiny microphone pinned to her shirt. ‘And I’ve held up the office enough today.’
Liv and Sheridan followed the cameraman up the pedestrian ramp, the sound of their shoes absorbed by noise from the street. They moved to the side as two men in suits came down the incline. One was tall. Liv checked his face. No bruise.
‘How’s your dad?’ Sheridan asked.
Yesterday morning, he’d been weak and sleepy with the drugs but he’d still held her hand with an iron grip. ‘He’s hanging in there. He doesn’t know how to give in.’ She’d have to visit him this afternoon so he didn’t see her face on TV before she’d had a chance to talk to him. She’d have to tell Cameron, too.
‘Is it okay if I mention your dad in the story?’
Liv glanced at her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Just that Tony Wallace is your father. People still talk about him, you know. It’s pretty funny, when you think about it. Some arsehole lays into a woman in a car park and it turns out to be the daughter of a champion boxer.’
‘Hope the bastard takes a lesson from that.’
They stepped off at the third floor and Liv let her gaze wander across the garage. Lots of light, plenty of cars, a few people on foot. No bruised faces. They worked their way to Liv’s car, still parked where it had been last night. She saw a dent on the top edge of the boot, wondered what had hit it. As the cameraman set up, she eyed the support column two parking spaces away, a remnant of blue and white police tape still tied around it. Had the man in black hidden there, watching her all the way? Maybe he hadn’t hidden at all. Maybe he’d leaned against it with his arms folded knowing he didn’t need to conceal himself in the blackness.
‘Why don’t you talk me through it?’ Sheridan suggested.
Liv paced it out, pointing, swinging an arm like a punch, Sheridan moving out of her way as she demonstrated the violent dance around the car.
‘How did it make you feel?’
‘I don’t know. It all happened so fast.’
‘Were you scared?’
She remembered the gasp of breath as he grabbed her, the surge of energy that followed. And the automatic response when she could have been running – balanced, hands raised, fists loose, even though she hadn’t thrown a punch in years. Her dad would be proud.
‘No, I wasn’t scared. Not when I was punching him. Later, when I realised what was happening, I was terrified. That’s when I started screaming, putting everything into making as much noise as I could. I knew making a lot of noise was my only chance. I hit back and I screamed. That’s what saved me.’ Listen up, viewers, she thought.
Liv felt great as she walked into the office. The best she’d felt in a long time, despite the face and knuckle. Some bastard had tried to hurt her and she was getting her own back. Teagan was talking into her headset so Liv sent her a thumbs up as she passed. Kelly’s door was shut but she could see her through the glass, chair turned towards the computer, one hand holding the phone, the other on the mouse.
The temp agency had started as a throwaway line when they were both at home with toddlers. Liv had joked they had enough friends who wanted a bit of casual work to start a business.
‘Remember that day in Commerce when we told old Smelly Smythe we weren’t just talking, we were making plans to go into business?’ Kelly had reminded her.
‘We should do it,’ Liv said.
She’d majored in Human Resources at uni and worked in recruitment before she had Cameron – and she couldn’t get the concept out of her mind. Once she’d nutted out the basics, Kelly didn’t take a lot of convincing. S
he’d studied Psychology but six months of clinical work had sworn her off it for life, and she’d moved into staff training and personnel. Finding and managing casual employment for the staff on their books was an easy sideways step.
The two of them had spent nine months fleshing out the details, Liv doing the figures, writing business plans and contract proposals, Kelly working on the logo and website, doing market research and searching for premises. Two years later, they were paying themselves a full wage.
As Liv crossed the front office now, she cast an appreciative eye over reception, the kitchenette/storeroom behind it, Liv’s and Kelly’s doors side by side on the back wall, Liv’s own small, organised space. It wasn’t flash but it was theirs and she was proud of it. The only place she felt at home these days.
The adrenaline high lasted about five minutes, long enough to rev up her computer, check her emails and discover a gazillion new messages. Her face started to ache as she skimmed the sender and subject lines – clients, temps, two from mothers of Cameron’s classmates. Are you okay?, What happened?, Chin up! Bad news travelled fast.
She tried replying to a few but typing with one hand was ridiculously slow. One was from Tessa, a hilarious redhead and one of the first temps on their books. At least she might get a laugh.
Bet you’re ruing the day you broke that mirror over a black cat!! I heard about what happened. You poor, poor sod. And after everything else . . .
Liv shut it down, ticked off. It wasn’t bad luck. It was life. Shitty sometimes, totally fucked up at others. A bass drum started up behind her blackened lid. She kept her good eye on the photo of Cameron on her desk as she closed the other one and pressed a thumb to the bruising, trying to ease the pressure.
‘You should go home.’ Kelly’s voice came from the doorway.
She should get some work done. ‘We’ve got that meeting with Neil Brummer in half an hour.’ Neil had been their accountant from the start. Two weeks ago, they’d asked him to go over their operating costs.