by Sara Foster
Mark looked up and smiled, trying to quell the surge of pleasure in his chest at seeing her.
‘If you’ve got time?’ he asked.
‘Of course, what would you like?’
She was back with sandwiches fifteen minutes later, and came and sat opposite him without being invited, opening her own paper bag and pulling out a roll. Mark normally didn’t like unagreed-to interruptions, but he couldn’t be annoyed at her when she smiled at him like that.
‘How are you getting on?’ she asked between bites, nodding towards his desk.
Mark blew out his breath and looked briefly at the ceiling then back at Chloe. ‘There’s a lot to do.’
‘Sorry,’ she said, wrapping the paper bag around the roll and making to get up, ‘I should let you get on.’
‘No, no,’ Mark found himself saying, even though two minutes ago he’d thought exactly that. ‘Ten minutes doesn’t matter.’ He unwrapped his own sandwich, and said, ‘How’s your brother then?’ before taking a bite.
‘Okay, I think,’ Chloe answered, ‘though he’s about to cause a few ructions in the family. He wants to push Mum into giving him information about our father.’
Mark swallowed his mouthful, then said, ‘Really? And what do you think?’
‘I still think it’s best left alone, but there’s no reasoning with him – besides, who am I to stop him if it’s important to him?’
‘You might get dragged into it, though.’
‘I might well,’ she agreed, looking resigned.
They ate silently for a few moments, then Chloe said, ‘Actually, I was wondering… if you think it’s too soon just say, but my family always have a party of some kind the weekend before Christmas, and I thought maybe you might like to come… if you haven’t got any other plans.’
Mark beamed. ‘That would be great.’
‘Okay.’ Chloe smiled. ‘It’s a long drive, though, so we might have to stay a couple of nights for it to be worth it…’
‘Fine by me,’ Mark agreed. ‘However, before that we need to think about tomorrow night. Shall I pick you up?’
‘No, don’t do that,’ Chloe demurred, knowing her place was far out of his way. ‘I’ll meet you there.’ She finished the last mouthful of sandwich and scrunched the paper bag into a ball. ‘I found a dress. I hope you’ll like it.’
Mark smiled. ‘I’m sure I will.’
They grinned at one another for a moment, and Mark avoided dwelling on the sensation in his stomach as it began to churn once more.
34
Despite being the height of summer it was raining as they drove into Perth, the city’s skyline forming an elegant iridescent backdrop to the wide Swan River. They found parkland on the southern bank of the river and got out of their vehicle to stretch their legs, revelling in the freshness of the rain, and laughing as water trickled into their eyes and ran off their noses.
Although the weather wasn’t ideal, they couldn’t resist driving a little further to the beach – neither of them had dipped their toes into the Indian Ocean before, and they were both keen to. It didn’t take long to find Cottesloe, and they parked and ran down to the water in their shorts and T-shirts. By the time they reached the surf they were both laughing like maniacs. Alex’s fringe was pipetting drops of water into his eyes, while Amy’s long dark hair was plastered messily against her skull. Amy enthusiastically pushed Alex as though she were going to propel him right into the sea. Her face was flushed and her nose was smattered with freckles. She looked beautiful, Alex thought as he watched her. She had no hope of beating him, though, and in one swift movement he had caught her up into his arms and run into the water until it was past his knees, and she was half-pretending to scream as he did a count to three, bobbing her up and down as though getting ready to release her. ‘No, Alex!’ she cried, squeaking, laughing, looking down at the foamy sea. On the last lift he brought her up higher, and instead of letting her go, he leaned forward and went in for a long kiss. She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck as she responded.
He waded back out of the sea, with Amy light in his arms, and couldn’t imagine feeling any happier than at that moment.
‘Life is just about perfect right now,’ she said, grinning.
‘Bloody perfect,’ he agreed, in his best Australian accent, pronouncing bloody as bladdy, making Amy’s smile widen.
Back at the car they dried off as best they could with their beach towels. Alex wished they could stay and relax in the cafés along the beachfront road, but they still had some practical matters to attend to. The car needed to be returned to the hire company by mid-afternoon, so they worked their way through the traffic, with Amy directing and a fair few wrong turns in the city one-way system, before they reached the depot.
By the time they had made their way to the hostel and checked in to a familiar-looking featureless room with chipped-paint walls and drab bedding, the day had turned dusky. They made themselves some dinner and chatted to fellow travellers, before falling into bed full of advice about places they should see, both aware that yet another precious day had slipped away, and longing to pack as much as possible into the short time they had left.
The next morning Alex was awake before Amy, and for a while he watched her sleeping face, the embodiment of peaceful contentment. He wondered what life would be like when they went home. Even though they were young, he loved her and could not imagine a day without her. Maybe he ought to propose, he thought, feeling an inordinate urge to wake her up and ask her right that minute. Perhaps he should find somewhere irresistibly romantic, go back to the beach where they had been yesterday and just do it. He smiled at himself for taking things so seriously. There would be plenty of time for all that later. He didn’t know why he had this sudden desire to rush things.
He headed for the shower, and by the time he returned, Amy was not only awake but dressed in a vest top and short skirt, looking ready to go out.
‘Good morning,’ he said, smiling at her then searching his belongings for something at least half-clean that he could wear. He picked out some shorts and a vest top, and grabbed a crumpled shirt to go over it.
‘Morning,’ she smiled, planting a kiss on his lips. ‘Shall we go and find breakfast? I’m starving.’
They found a café along the main backpacker strip in Northbridge, and settled in for a morning feast. Now that they were going home in a week Alex felt freer to spend his remaining money, so he ordered the biggest breakfast on the menu and ate like a king. Amy managed to put away a similar amount, which always amazed him since she was half his size.
‘What do you want to do today?’ he asked her as they stood at the counter waiting to pay for their meals. ‘The art gallery is just up there.’ He made a hopeful gesture, but suspected he’d pushed his luck too far since he’d dragged Amy to numerous exhibitions already.
She rolled her eyes then smiled at him, and put her arms around his waist. ‘I don’t know about that. Maybe something relaxing, like the beach – or perhaps we should do something active since we’ve been stuck in a car for the past week. That French guy last night mentioned those steps at Kings Park, though that sounds quite strenuous.’ She paused, thinking. ‘Or maybe we should take one of those boats out, that sounded great fun – or the ferry and the zoo, that would be quite nice as well, though I’m never sure about zoos, but the Dutch couple said it was good, didn’t they?’
He took his change from the waitress. ‘Blimey,’ he said, stuffing it into his pocket. ‘Anything else?’
‘Probably,’ Amy laughed, not letting go of his waist, her hands locked around him. ‘What do you think?’ She rested her chin on his chest and peered up at him.
‘Maybe we should just go back to the hostel,’ he grinned, stroking the small of her back, then propelling her in front of him towards the door of the café.
‘Well, we could, but that won’t take all day!’ she replied, laughing over her shoulder.
‘Oh really?’ he said, grinning at her. �
��That’s charming.’
She shook her head and rolled her eyes at him again, and they made their way along the pavement. Alex took her hand and it felt soft in his. He listened happily as she discussed plans and possibilities, making him laugh as she flitted from one idea to another. He played along, teasing her, watching her smile, until there was the sudden loud noise of a car engine, racing towards them at speed.
35
Chloe was nervous as she dressed for the evening. The dress looked good, but she felt like an impostor in it. She tried to view herself from the outside, as others might see her, but couldn’t do it.
What was this block within her; this ever-present divide she felt between herself and everyone else, barely discernible, perhaps not obvious at all if you weren’t Chloe, yet always there, impregnable, cutting her off? Where did it stem from?
She had felt more like this since Anthony’s visit. He’d unsettled her. She ought to speak to her mother about him, but she still hoped she might quietly persuade him not to go to America. If Anthony found their father, then she might be forced to as well, and she didn’t want to. Why was she so sure of that? What did she know that she couldn’t remember?
She thought back to when she was young, scanning for early memories. Her mother had, on a number of occasions, told a story about her husband Charlie and six-year-old Chloe at dinner parties, as part of her general repartee. It was about how when Charlie had first met Margaret he’d offered to pick Chloe up from school one day, had driven there, met an old friend in the car park, chatted, then driven home again, put his feet up and cracked open a beer or two, and it wasn’t until Margaret got back with Anthony four hours later that she had questioned Charlie about Chloe’s whereabouts.
Chloe was still at school. In the playground. In the dark. Uncollected. Unnoticed by teachers, as they drove off one by one. Staying hidden in the shadows rather than bringing herself to an adult’s attention. Her mother told the story while shaking her head fondly at ‘hopeless’ Charlie, and the implication was that Chloe was rather strange for allowing herself to remain abandoned like that. But although Chloe smiled along with it, she found various parts disconcerting – not least because she couldn’t remember a bit of it. As a small child she’d sat alone in a darkening, empty yard for hours, quite possibly scared out of her wits, and yet her mind was a firm blank when she tried to recall it. But her mother swore the story was true; and Charlie had shamefacedly admitted it as well. So why had she stayed silent? Why had she been so scared of being found?
It was the same when she tried to think back on other things – in fact, much of her early life was just a haze. Was that how it was for everyone? Surely no one remembered that much of their formative years anyway. So why did Chloe feel as though she were missing something; some critical piece of the jigsaw of her life, which when put into position would form a picture she could recognise?
She took a deep breath, looked at her watch, then checked herself in the mirror. Her appearance was good; and that was all she needed for today’s big event.
She headed downstairs to wait for the taxi to arrive.
36
Time slowed right down.
To almost a pause.
To a fractured sequence of movements.
To the split second when all things would change.
Alex turned around to look for the source of the noise, and as he did so he went to grab Amy’s hand, although she was not in the path of the vehicle bearing down. It was just a reflex, to grab on, but she had turned to look as well, and he missed her, by which time the van was right next to them, screeching to a halt.
A side door was flung open, metal grating as it sped along its runners, and a chubby, unshaven man jumped out. Alex had the vague impression of another man inside the van.
He didn’t understand. He didn’t get it until it was too late. Until Amy was locked in the other man’s meaty arms as he lifted her and flung her into the van’s maw as though she were an inanimate parcel.
But when he got it, he moved, lightning fast. He rushed towards the van, towards Amy, who was screaming, her terrified eyes finding Alex’s, her look beseeching him to save her from whatever this was. He reached out at the same time as she lunged forward, and their fingertips missed one another by millimetres, and then the chubby man sent a knee into Alex’s groin so that he instinctively doubled-up, eyes watering, wanting to retch as pain shot through him, and in the time he had to recover before he could react again, the other man had leapt into the shadows of the van’s interior, from which Alex could hear Amy screaming in terror, and the vehicle sped off before they had even closed the door.
There was a pause, like a missed heartbeat, when the world seemed to be frozen in an ethereal silence.
Then people converged on Alex. Hands helped him up and over to a chair. There was shouting. Someone was dialling triple 0 and relaying what had just happened in a breathless, excited voice.
Even if they had been able to crawl under Alex’s skin right then, no one could have touched him. He was somewhere else, far beyond them, stupefied, watching Amy’s small discarded flower-patterned bag lying on the pavement, unnoticed.
Then the urge to move came over him as fast as a reflex. He shrugged off his comforters and ran along the road in the direction the van had gone only seconds before, roaring. A man tried to hang on to him, but Alex swatted him off easily. It took two of them to bring him down, and he fought all the way, crying out in his impotent fury.
A woman came up, her face white with shock, and knelt down to talk to him. All his energy seemed to have been consumed by that one pointless charge. ‘The police will be here any second,’ she said. ‘They will get her back, I’m sure they will.’ But she looked stricken and her expression belied her words.
She put Amy’s small bag into his hands, and he gripped it tightly. ‘Just hang on,’ she urged him as he stared at her uncomprehendingly. ‘Hang on.’
37
Amy’s leg throbbed from the pain. It was all she was aware of for a while after she stopped screaming. Her shoulder hurt too, she realised, as she tried to move her arm to steady herself. She cried out when she leaned on it to stop herself rocking violently.
She could hear frantic voices issuing directions, but they were muted as though there were a wall between them and where she lay. She registered breathing close to her before she felt his presence, but once she had she couldn’t escape it. A bulky form next to her, crouching, leaning into her as if it were looking at her, but not touching.
Her eyes travelled upwards across the slats of light that streamed in from badly covered windows until she reached a face. It was chubby and creased, rising above a thickness of tattooed shoulders. When she stared at it she saw glassy, drug-disorientated eyes looking back at her.
She began to scream again and he fell on her, immediately covering her mouth with a meaty hand. She tried to bite down but he gave no sign of feeling it, and she quickly opened her mouth to gasp in pain as they rolled around on the metal surface of the floor, her shoulder jarring into the unforgiving surface.
There was a sudden noise and light poured in above her as some kind of divide was pulled back. She tried to look up, but could only make out a hand with dirt-blackened nails resting on the seat-back.
‘What yer doin back thir?’ said another reedier voice. ‘Ey, Dregs, wait for us.’
A deeper voice near her face grunted back, ‘Just hurry up.’ His breath reeked of spicy meat. ‘Where we goin’?’ he shouted towards his buddy.
‘The falls,’ the man answered, then the window slammed shut again and the darkness was back.
Amy tried to blank out their words, but she couldn’t. Each time the monster holding her removed his hand from her mouth she screamed as loud and hard as she could.
Suddenly the man moved and she was freer still to roll and scream. She felt a surge of triumph at this victory, but it was short-lived. Hands tried to grab her wrists and she flailed madly, her nails finding flesh, u
ntil a stinging slap across her face knocked her breathless for a second. While she was still stunned, her wrists were held tightly together above her head, and heavy knees pressed painfully into her thighs. Her mouth was pulled open by probing fingers and a cloth stuffed in. She could smell petrol fumes emanating from it and it tasted vile. Thick black tape was wound roughly around her head, catching and pulling her hair. She kept on screaming, but the noise now stuck in the back of her throat and became an unearthly guttural moan. After a while she couldn’t bear the sound she was making any longer and fell silent, concentrating on the effort of breathing enough oxygen through her nose.
She tried to think clearly, but waves of panic washed over the coherent strands of thought, breaking them down into fractured phrases – ‘away’, ‘hurt’, ‘die’. She thought of all the things she still wanted to do with her life, then of Alex – it was beyond surreal that only seconds ago he had been there smiling at her – and her mum and dad. Great tears found their way through her closed eyelids and rolled down her face. Her breath came more jerkily and she tried to breathe through her mouth, but gagged on the cloth again and for a moment she thought she was going to vomit and choke, until her body took over and forced the breath back through her nose.
Finally, the motion stopped and a whole new realm of panic swept through her as the back doors were wrenched open.
She was pulled out roughly by the legs from the blackness of the van’s interior, and her head hit a platform as she fell a few feet onto dry spiky grass below. She moaned as she landed hard on her wounded leg.
Two men stood over her, their eyes dilated and vacant, their movements twitchy like demented dogs. The fat one she had seen in the back and another man she recognised as the man who’d opened the window. It was this man who spoke.
‘I’ll go first,’ he said.