Aaron unlocks the doors with a beep, and we all climb in. I strap myself in without making eye contact with Leah. I need to be alone. This is a new feeling for me. It used to be I could spend days straight with Leah without a problem, but now I feel the need to just go into my room and shut the door and think or not think or whatever. But to do it on my own.
I hear a ticking noise from the front of the car and then Aaron says ‘Hmmm.’
More ticking.
‘What’s the matter?’ I say.
‘Hopefully nothing too much,’ Aaron says. ‘But the car isn’t starting. Zeke have you got mobile coverage at all?’
We all pull our phones out. I don’t even have a smidgen of a bar.
‘Bloody hell Dad,’ Leah says. ‘I’m dying for a shower and something to eat.’
‘Weird. It’s like the battery’s flat but I don’t know how it would be. There were no lights left on. The doors were all shut. I don’t know what would have drained the power like that.’
‘Do you want me to take a look?’ Zeke says. ‘My Dad’s a mechanic. I’m not as good as he is but I know a bit.’
‘Zeke, that would be great. Maybe it will be an easy fix.’
‘Yeah, hopefully,’ Zeke says, though he doesn’t sound particularly hopeful.
‘Can we just stay in the car, Dad?’ Leah says. ‘We don’t all need to get out, do we?’
‘No worries, you just relax, I’m sure we’ll have this sorted in no time,’ Aaron says then the doors slam shut behind him and Zeke.
‘Bloody awesome,’ Leah says. ‘This is all we need. Stuck in the middle of bloody nowhere.’
‘Sorry,’ I say, like it’s my fault. Leah usually hates it when I apologise, but this time she doesn’t even say anything. Maybe she does think it’s my fault. And then I realise – we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere. I’m channelling the memories of a dead girl. I’ve just touched the images made by her brother who’s been locked up for her murder. Who apparently painted on the cave wall in blood. And now the car won’t start.
‘It’s like one of those stupid bloody movies we used to watch,’ Leah says, as though mirroring my thoughts. ‘Out in the bush. Car won’t start. Who’ll be the first one taken do you reckon?’
I feel my heart racing faster. She’s joking, but I’m scared. I can’t say anything. She keeps going: ‘We all have to stay together, that’s the main thing. In the car is probably okay, except, you know, if someone’s actually already hiding in the boot waiting to climb through and get us. They’ll trigger the central locking and Dad’s probably left the keys in the car so he won’t be able to get in and they’ll hear muffled yells and bangs as we try to get their attention and by the time they smash the window open there’ll be blood everywhere…’
Then Leah looks at me and looks suddenly guilty. ‘Shit, sorry Abbie. I was only joking you know.’
‘It’s okay,’ I say, but my head is ringing and the blood is pounding in my veins. I resist the urge to turn and check the boot.
‘I’m sure it’s just an electrical problem or something. This car looks fancy but it’s temperamental as. Zeke will fix it, right?’
‘Zeke will fix it,’ I say. But the fear doesn’t subside. ‘I think the paintings in the cave were Damien’s,’ I say, without really thinking about it. It’s just the thought that’s in my head.
‘Who’s Damien?’
‘Damien O’Reilley. Becky’s brother.’
Leah turns to me. ‘Wait a minute. Is that why we came here today? So you could see the bloody crazy shit that Rebecca O’Reilley’s psycho brother painted on a cave wall? It is, isn’t it?’
I feel myself flushing and try to say something but the words don’t come out right.
Leah groans. ‘Geez Abbie, seriously? Your Mum’s right. You are obsessed.’
And she opens the door and climbs out of the car.
I ball my hands up into fists. I want to scream, to cry, to hit something. I want to break something, to hurt somebody, to hurt myself. But I don’t.
The front door opens and Aaron sticks his head in.
‘Well, Abbie, there’s good news and there’s bad news….’
Chapter forty-four
‘Can’t be too much further,’ Zeke says.
We’ve been trudging back up the dirt track for twenty minutes already. I check my phone again.
‘Are you sure you can get reception out here? I don’t have anything.’
‘I got a message from my mum on the way here and it wasn’t that far before the turn off into the reserve.’
We keep trudging.
I think about what Leah said – that the only reason we’d gone to the caves was so I could see Damien’s paintings – and I think about how pissed off she looked when she said it. And part of me feels sorry, but only a part.
I’ve traipsed halfway across Sydney before just to look for a pair of shoes that she wanted to buy or to find a cute barista she was keen on. This is much more important. And plus, it was something to do together and we’d got fresh air and Aaron and Zeke were coming anyway. She was just being Leah, not wanting to get dirty, not wanting to be outside. Not wanting to do anything that wasn’t on her terms.
I sigh.
‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Zeke says.
‘Did you seriously just say that Zeke?’
He shrugs. ‘I always liked the sound of it. I thought I should actually try and keep a penny on me just in case somebody wanted to claim it. Twenty cents for your thoughts doesn’t sound anywhere near as poetic.’
‘Twenty cents would be totally undervaluing my thoughts.’
‘Ah. They’re more the two-dollar variety?’
‘Ten, at least,’ I say.
‘In that case, you’re out of my league,’ Zeke says. ‘I’ve only got three dollars fifty in silver on me.’
‘I was just thinking about Leah,’ I say.
‘Stop. Don’t tell me anymore. I can’t afford it,’ he says. I ignore him.
‘Like, she’s my best friend Zeke. And I didn’t think anything could change that. Ever. And now it’s only been a couple of months and everything feels different.’
He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes. He reminds me of my mum like that. He can be really talkative, but he knows how to shut up sometimes too and just listen.
‘I’ve missed her so much but now that I’ve seen her I feel like… I just don’t know how we fit together anymore…’
‘How do you think she feels?’
I think about it for a bit. About how grumpy she’s been and the looks she’s given me.
‘Like I’ve moved on with my life and left her behind. But what was I meant to do? I couldn’t just sit around being lonely and miserable for a whole year, could I? And then I met you…’
Zeke reaches out and takes my hand and I can’t say anything more. We walk along like that for a few minutes. It’s probably only a few minutes but it feels more like an hour because my brain is registering and analysing every movement, every micro-contact, each cell of my skin that is adjacent to a cell of his skin. It’s like I’m concentrating so hard on the place where our hands are meeting that time stretches like elastic.
‘Abbie,’ Zeke says, and I feel him slow and then stop. I stop too. My heart is racing. I swallow. And then he pulls me to him and places his hands either side of my face, leans in and kisses me deeply. There’s something about this kiss – out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but trees and dirt and grass… I stop breathing. If the contact of his hand in mine made time elastic, this turns time into empty space, the moment is a deep dark well that we can fall into and never come out of.
Then he lets me go and looks at me.
I smile, not yet able to speak. Then I place my hands around his waist, pull him closer, and kiss him again, and the kiss sends shuddering heat through my body and fills my brain with fuzz until one of us shifts and our teeth clatter together for a second and we pull apart, laughing.
�
��We do have to keep going,’ he says. ‘It might take a while for someone to come out and it could take a little while to get the car going. We don’t want to be stuck out here in the dark.’
‘Do you have to be so practical?’ I say as he takes my hand and squeezes it, then pulls me along with him. ‘Can we kiss and walk at the same time?’
‘We can try,’ he says and leans across and kisses me again. Our limbs get tangled and I almost fall over.
A part of me is sorry when we finally see a bar on Zeke’s phone. He calls his dad and arranges for one of the guys from the garage to drive out and get us started, then I borrow Zeke’s phone to call Mum and let her know what’s happening.
I’m feeling light-headed as I type Mum’s number into Zeke’s phone. I’m dizzy and distracted from the kisses, and from the way Zeke stands behind me with his arms around me and his head resting on my shoulder. That changes the instant I hear her voice. Something’s wrong.
‘Is everything okay?’
‘Where are you?’ she says.
‘We’ve been a bit delayed. Car problems. Someone’s coming to get us started but we might still be an hour or two. What’s happened?’
There’s a moment silence.
‘Zelda’s not well. Stacey’s taken her to the vet. I would have gone too but I didn’t want the house to be empty when you came back.’
‘Zelda? What’s wrong with her?’ I feel a hollow opening up inside me.
‘We think… we think she’s been poisoned.’
‘Poisoned? How?’
‘We don’t know. Maybe she got out and ate something that she shouldn’t have? I’m not sure. I’m waiting for Stacey to call once the vet’s had a chance to look at her.’
‘Did you let her out today? It’s not a snake bite, is it?’
We’d been keeping Zelda mostly inside since Andy spotted a big brown snake down near the dam a week or so ago when he was clearing weeds down there. Mum didn’t want to take any chances with Zelda pestering it and getting herself bitten.
‘I haven’t let her out of my sight. She’s been in the laundry most of the day.’
‘Is she going to be okay Mum?’ I feel myself starting to shake.
‘The vet will take good care of her, Abbie. Try not to panic. I’ll see you when you get home.’
I hang up and hand the phone back to Zeke.
‘What’s going on?’ Zeke is looking at me, frowning.
‘Zelda’s sick. I have to get home,’ I say.
Chapter forty-five
Please don’t let her die. Please let her be okay. Please just let her be okay.
I say it over and over again in my head. I say it while we’re waiting what feels like hours for the repair truck to arrive. I say it while the mechanic hums and hahs and taps and tightens. I keep saying it when we eventually get the car started and drive back to Derrington as the light fades and the colours leach out of the evening. We drop Zeke in town and I promise to let him know how Zelda is. Then we head out of town and turn onto the dirt road that leads home. The whole world seems to be shades of black and white and grey.
Nobody talks much. Leah is sulking, like the entire day has been an affront. I try to get my head clear.
We see the house. Security lights are flooding the yard and there’s no car there, which I assume means Stacey is still with the vet. Anxiety fizzes in my bloodstream.
‘I really hope she’s okay Abs,’ Leah says in a low voice as we pull into the driveway. ‘I’ve been feeling awful since you told me. I feel like it’s my fault. If you’d been home with her, this wouldn’t have happened.’
Leah’s words shock me back to the present. I’d completely misinterpreted her behaviour. While I’d thought she was sulking, she was actually feeling worried and guilty. I wonder if I even know her anymore?
‘Hey, I don’t watch Zelda every minute of every day. It could just as easily have happened when I was home,’ I squeeze her hand.
‘Alright ladies, here we are. Home sweet home,’ Aaron says, parking to one side of the driveway leaving lots of room for another car to pull in.
‘Fingers crossed,’ I breathe.
‘And toes and eyes,’ Leah says and attempts to cross her eyes at me.
‘Please, no, I get a headache just looking at you do that,’ Aaron says.
‘But what if it helps?’ Leah says. ‘I have to do it. Everything that can be crossed must be crossed,’ and she crosses her arms across her chest like she’s wearing a straightjacket and for a second I start to laugh as the Leah I know comes back to me. Then the front door of the house opens and I see Mum coming out and the laughter collapses like the bottom out of an overloaded box.
‘Is that her good news face or her bad news face? It’s so bloody hard to tell with your mum,’ Leah says.
‘I don’t know. She’s had too much practise at bad news,’ I say. ‘Goes with the job.’
I open the car door. I see Mum take a breath and I’m sure she’s about to tell me the worst.
‘Well, we won’t be planning any overseas trips any time soon. And Christmas and birthdays are cancelled for the next year at least. The vet bills are going to bankrupt us, but I’m happy to report that the dog is alive and doing well.’
I exhale and hear Leah do a little whoop behind me, then Mum steps forward and wraps her arms around me.
‘When will she be home?’ I say.
‘They want to keep her in a couple more days,’ Mum says. ‘A week tops. Just to keep an eye on things. The vet seems very optimistic but did mention he was concerned that there may have been some damage to her kidneys. But she’s a strong girl, our Zelda, and very brave. I’m sure she’ll be back soon.’
And that’s when the reality sinks in. I might have to spend a whole week without Zelda. Without that feeling of safety I get from knowing that she’s taking up half the laundry, listening and smelling and watching out for any intruders.
Mum looks at me from arms’ length. ‘I was only joking about cancelling Christmas. There might just be a ten-dollar present limit or something.’
‘No, it’s great, I don’t care about that, I just… I’ll miss having Zelda around, that’s all.’
‘I know sweetheart,’ Mum squeezes me harder for a second. ‘But she’ll be back in no time and at least she’s still with us, right?’
I nod.
‘Shall I put the kettle on? I’ve got a vegie lasagne in the oven. It might have dried out a bit but it should still be edible. And you have to tell me about the caves.’
Aaron smiles. ‘Thanks Anna. Lasagne sounds heavenly.’
As we head back into the house, I notice Mum flick the outside light off at the wall.
‘Aren’t you meant to leave that on?’ I say.
‘Oh, the sensor seems to be playing up,’ Mum says. ‘It’s probably my fault, I must have bumped it or something. I’ll get Andy to take a look at it next time he’s here, it’s probably an easy fix.’
I look out the window at the darkness outside that seems so deep, deeper even than the black of the caves we’d been in that day. I pull the curtain across and check that the door is locked.
I wake in the middle of the night, heart racing, ears pounding from the noise of my dream. This dream wasn’t the usual one. It fades as quickly as water soaking into sand so by the time I’m properly awake I only catch the edges of it, a vague outline. I was in the cave, standing there, looking up, looking around, and the images painted on the walls were glowing. They grew and moved and reached, tangling and writhing like a living thing around me.
I can’t turn the lamp on without risking waking Leah, who’s asleep on the floor next to me, so I open the blind a little and look out into the blackness. Without even thinking I find myself scanning for movement. The house is silent and through the cracked window I can hear the buzzing call of insects, the steady song of frogs, the occasional cry of a night bird. I hear Leah stir on her mattress so I drop the blind again. I don’t want to wake her. Used to be we’d sta
y over at each other’s houses all the time, at least once or twice most weeks. Now it feels claustrophobic having her here. I can hear her breathing, I can sense her presence. I force myself to lie still and be quiet when all I want to do is move.
I have the sense of something closing in around me. The darkness. The distance. The people who are here and the people who are not. Dave is dead. I tell it to myself a few times, trying to keep the words clear and simple, trying to convince myself of the truth of it. It seems so ridiculous, I don’t know how to believe it. Dave is dead. Dave was here and now he’s not. I try to imagine him – his body, cold, without movement, thought or intention. I just don’t understand. I cannot comprehend…. Dave is dead, I tell myself again. He will not have another pimple. He will not insult another human being or make another terrible joke that nobody but he will laugh at. His low expectations for life have been met and exceeded. Maybe things would have gotten better for him. Maybe he would have grown up and done something worthwhile but as it stands, he didn’t and it’s done. Dave is dead.
And I find myself wondering why he helped me that day, when he couldn’t stand being anywhere near me. He could have just as easily said no. And yet he took off from school, knocked on doors with me, spent a whole afternoon helping me find Becky’s best friend. Why?
Chapter forty-six
I wake to the sound of voices. The sun is pouring in around the edges of the blind. I’ve slept in. I can make out Mum and Aaron talking and the music of Leah’s laugh. I stretch and let myself lay still a little longer. The day before seems like a nightmare. Today is bright and new. Zelda is okay. Leah is here, just down the hallway.
And then I think of Zeke and a glow spreads through me so my thoughts seem to soften and fade in the face of whatever chemical rush it is that he induces in me. I can’t wait to see him again. Whatever else I do today will seem irrelevant if it doesn’t involve kissing Zeke. Then I realise there’s only a couple of hours until Leah has to leave. She and Aaron are driving back to Sydney today. I feel disappointed and relieved both at once.
Mirror Me Page 19