The Shadow Behind Her Smile

by Janene Wood

  Larissa still hadn't returned when the band began their first set. Kate wasn't sure what she had expected from them, but was pleasantly surprised, particularly by Tom, who sang lead and played guitar. They sounded like a cross between the Rolling Stones and the Moody Blues, with Tom's smooth, hypnotic voice resounding clearly throughout the auditorium. He was an accomplished performer and the easy, languid way he moved about the stage, so charismatic and full of confidence, reminded her of Jim Morrison, The Doors’ sexy vocalist. Bulldog tried hard to snag his share of attention from the mostly female audience, waving his arms flamboyantly as he beat the drums into submission at the back of the stage, but all eyes were on Tom and the guys in front.

  “Come on,” said 'Rissa, reappearing after the first song. She tugged on Kate’s arm, insisting she get up and join her. “Don't be such a square! Come and dance.”

  Kate was hesitant at first but her friend was insistent and it didn’t take long before she relaxed and began enjoying herself. The vodka loosened her up, breaking down her natural reserve. She beckoned to Freddie to join them, but the other girl shook her head, refusing to leave the sanctuary of their table.

  Kate had never really danced before, not like this, with such a lack of constraint. There had been no opportunity until tonight and definitely no reason to. All her cares drifted away, making her feel freer and less encumbered than she had in months. In years. It was as good as running for getting her endorphins flowing, maybe better. And it wasn't just the booze making her feel this way. Freddie had no idea what she was missing.

  Her blood singing in her veins, one song blended with the next and she lost all track of time. When the band finally stopped, minutes or maybe hours later, and Tom announced they were taking a break, she found herself alone in the middle of the floor, dripping with sweat, panting with exertion and feeling weirdly disoriented. Her long hair was a tangled, sweaty mess and her throat was unbearably dry, but she was floating high on a cloud of alcohol and euphoria and didn’t care. It took a while before Larissa’s strident voice finally penetrated the fuzzy neurons of her brain.

  “McDermott! Over here!” Larissa beckoned her over to where she was chatting to two slightly older youths. One wore an orange tie-dyed t-shirt, stained bell-bottom jeans painted with peace symbols and smiley faces, and a pair of worn leather sandals. His hair and beard were long and unkempt and he didn't look like he had two cents to rub together. Scruffy was how Kate would have described him. And a little creepy. But Larissa was hanging off his every word, so maybe he wasn't too much of a loser.

  In stark contrast, the second youth was smartly dressed in black stovepipe jeans, white, button-down Nehru shirt, and black winklepickers. He smiled at Kate with huge black eyes and an easy familiarity she didn't understand at first. It took her a while to realise it was Brett Corby, her former crush. It was a nearly a year since she'd seen him and he wasn’t wearing school uniform, so it was no wonder she hadn’t recognised him at first. Taller and leaner, his dark hair was slightly longer than she remembered, curling enticingly around his ears.

  “Kate, this is Boyd,” said Larissa, simpering at the bearded man beside her. “And you know Brett.”

  “Hi,” said Kate briefly, unconsciously wrinkling her nose in distaste. Boyd was the first real-life hippie she had ever met. Did they all smell as bad as him?

  “Can we buy you lovely ladies a drink?” asked Boyd with exaggerated courtesy.

  “Oh, God, yes,” said Larissa eagerly. “A rum and coke, please.”

  Boyd looked expectantly at Kate and she realised he was waiting for her reply. “Er, I'll have the same, thanks.”

  “I'll give you a hand,” offered Larissa, hooking her arm through Boyd's and going with him to the bar.

  Kate could feel Brett Corby's eyes on her, but she was saved from having to say anything by a tug on her arm. She turned to find Freddie beside her, looking flushed and glassy eyed.

  “I have to go to the ladies room,” whispered Freddie.

  “Do you want me to go with you?” Kate whispered back.

  “No, I'll be all right,” said Freddie.

  Kate wasn't sure she meant it, but she walked away before the offer could be repeated. Which left her alone with Brett Corby.

  “How’s it going?” she enquired politely. A year ago, Kate would have been weak-kneed and tongue-tied under similar circumstances, but a lot had happened in that year, and if she was no longer a blushing scatter-brain when left alone with a good-looking boy, then she supposed it hadn't been all bad. “I haven't seen you around in a while.”

  “Yeah, I've been busy,” said Brett offhandedly. “Work...you know how it is.” Looking uncomfortable, he hesitated before adding, “I was sorry to hear about Sam. He was a really good guy.”

  Kate nodded, allowing the words to wash over her and drain away. “Thanks.” She was relieved he'd brought it up first thing so they could move past it. “So where do you work?”

  “At the Ford dealership in Tully. My dad owns it.”

  “Oh, I see. How's that going?” Remembering the conversation on the clubhouse roof a few months ago, Kate couldn’t help checking him out, trying to see if he was high or not. Trouble was, she didn't really know what “high” looked like. Yes, his pupils were dilated, but other than that, he seemed fine.

  “There are worse ways to make a living. I get to drive all the latest cars and I get commission on every sale I make,” he bragged.

  “That's great,” said Kate, feigning enthusiasm. He could clean toilets for all she cared.

  “What about you? Still at school?”

  She nodded. “I finish at the end of this year and start–”

  Larissa and Boyd returned, laughing loudly and cutting off Kate's reply. “Here you go, sweetheart,” said Boyd, handing Kate her drink. He leered drunkenly at her as she thanked him and she shivered in revulsion. Larissa whispered something in his ear which made him smile, thankfully drawing his attention away.

  Turning back to Brett, Kate remarked, “I suppose you're in town to see Bulldog’s band play.”

  Brett took a sip of beer and nodded. “Yeah, my brother Ben dragged me along. He and Bulldog have been mates since we were kids.”

  Looking up, Kate noticed Tom standing on the edge of the stage, scanning the crowd. Their eyes met and he waved, leaping off the stage and heading toward her.

  “Didn’t they used to play footy with your brother Simon?” asked Brett, unaware of her wandering attention.

  “Probably,” shrugged Kate. “I haven’t seen Simon play since I was ten. I’m not a big footy fan.”

  “So, er, what did you think of the band?” Brett seemed strangely eager to keep the conversation going.

  “I thought they were good. Much better than I expected. You?”

  “Not bad, I suppose,” admitted Brett halfheartedly. “For a pub band. The singer’s a bit up himself.”

  Tom arrived at Kate's side just in time to hear Brett’s comment. Kate gave him a conspiratorial grin but Tom was preoccupied and just frowned back. Ignoring Brett, he asked, “Have you seen Freddie?”

  “Yeah, she’s just gone to the loo. I offered to go with her, but she said she was fine on her own.”

  “Right. Good.” Tom relaxed visibly. “So who's this, then?” he asked, turning his attention to Brett. There was a protective undertone to the question that gave Kate a warm feeling in the pit of her belly. The unexpectedness of it surprised her.

  “This is Brett Corby. He used to go to my school. Brett, this is Bulldog's cousin, Tom. You know, the singer from the band,” she added playfully. The warm feeling in her belly was migrating upwards, pinking her cheeks. Turning back to Tom, she said, “We were just saying how great you guys were. How long have you been playing together?”

  “A couple of years, on and off.” Tom was busy checking Brett out and not caring who knew it, while Brett acted as if Tom was beneath his notice. The testosterone in the air was palpable. “Since Bulldog moved to town we've g
otten a lot more serious…you know, rehearsing more, adding to our play list…even writing some of our own material. This is our first real gig. First paid gig, I should say.”

  “The first of many, I'm sure,” said Kate with a shy smile.

  Tom's eyes darted to the door and back again, looking for Freddie.

  Placing a reassuring hand on his arm, Kate murmured, “There’s probably a queue; I wouldn’t worry.”

  “I shouldn't have let her come,” admitted Tom ruefully, “but she begged me. Especially when she heard you and 'Rissa were allowed to come.”

  “I'll go and check on her, if you like,” offered Kate, guiltily refraining from correcting the misconception that she had been allowed to come.

  “Would you mind?” He looked so utterly grateful her heart did a quick back flip.

  “I'll be back in a tick. You boys talk amongst yourselves,” she said, knowing it was probably the last she would see of Brett Corby. She considered this as she headed out of the auditorium and decided she didn't care.

  Just as Kate expected, there was a queue waiting to use the ladies’ toilets, though it probably wasn't as long as it had been earlier. Freddie was washing her hands when Kate entered the bathroom, and they walked back to the auditorium together. Tom was waiting just outside and was relieved to see his sister safe and sound.

  “I've got to get back for the next set. Do me a favour, and stay together from now on, okay?” said Tom in his best older-brother voice.

  The girls agreed they would and dutifully followed him back inside. The same people were standing around drinking and talking as before; even Brett Corby hadn't migrated far and was talking to his brother Ben and a few others.

  Tom halted abruptly and turned back to face the two girls. “Where is Larissa?” he asked with unconcealed irritation.

  “She was here a few minutes ago,” Kate replied.

  Tom muttered something uncomplimentary about women being more trouble than they were worth. They looked around the room, taking in all four corners, but it was soon apparent she wasn't there. There was no sign of Boyd, the creepy hippie, either.

  “She has to be here,” said Kate. “Wouldn’t you have noticed if she left the auditorium?”

  “Well, she's not and I didn’t,” retorted Tom tartly.

  “Maybe Brett saw where she went. I’ll go and ask him, shall I?”

  “No,” said Tom brusquely, “I'll ask him. Stay here.”

  A minute later, Tom was back, shaking his head. “Come on, maybe she’s gone out the back.”

  The rest of the band was sitting around in the back loading bay throwing down beers and chatting up a couple of girls with long hair and short skirts. Bulldog admitted seeing Larissa go past a few minutes before, in the company of a man fitting Boyd's description.

  “Did she say where were they going?” asked Tom.

  “I asked, but she said it was none of my fucking business. She was off her face, man,” he told Tom. “I've never seen her so wasted.”

  “Why didn't you stop her?” demanded Tom angrily. “You're her brother!”

  “Because I didn't want to get smacked in the face, that's why!” retorted Bulldog defensively.

  Tom lunged at Bulldog, his fists raised. “I'll smack you in the face, you bloody great–”

  “This isn't helping,” said Kate, dragging Tom away before he could lay hands on Bulldog. Freddie took his other arm and together they escorted him outside onto the street.

  After the stifling atmosphere in the auditorium, the air was wonderfully fresh and cool. Parked cars lined the kerb on both sides of the road, but there was no movement on the street itself. A few patrons had brought their drinks outside and were standing around in small groups, enjoying the less crowded conditions, smoking, joking and chatting amongst themselves. Larissa was nowhere to be seen.

  As she scanned the street for her friend, Kate wondered what they were supposed to do if they didn’t find her. Just wait around and hope she came back on her own? Start questioning people? Call the cops?

  “Now what?” whispered Freddie, echoing her thoughts. The poor girl was close to tears.

  “We ask around and see if anyone saw her,” replied Tom determinedly, heading toward a small group who looked sober enough to remember what they had seen in the last few minutes.

  Kate was staring into the distance when she heard the sound of a car door slamming. Looking up the street, she noticed a man in an orange shirt step off the kerb and walk unhurriedly around the back of a white sedan. The street wasn't particularly well lit, but it was a clear night and she recognised him easily.

  “That's him! That's Boyd!”

  Acting reflexively, she was half way across the road before Tom or Freddie realised what she was doing. “Hey! Boyd!” she yelled, waving to attract his attention. He was getting into the car and would be gone in a few seconds if she didn't hurry. “Wait! I need to talk to you!”

  Boyd looked up at the sound of her voice but didn't stop, climbing briskly into the driver's seat and slamming the door. A second later, the engine turned over. Kate was running now, certain 'Rissa must in the car with him.

  “Stop!” she yelled. Her legs were pumping madly. She was no sprinter, but her growing fear was a strong wind at her back. Tom yelled her name, but she ignored him. The car pulled away from the kerb when she was still ten feet away. Boyd put his foot down and took off up the street with a squeal of tyres. He turned at the next corner and was quickly gone from sight. Kate thought she saw a limp figure slumped beside him on the passenger side, but couldn't be sure; it was dark and she was still a fair distance away. It might be wishful thinking.

  Tom finally caught up to her and grabbed her arm. “Did you see her? Was she in the car?”

  Breathing heavily, Kate replied, “I think so, but I couldn't swear to it. We know they left together, so she must have been, right?”

  “We have to call the police,” said Tom, his eyes ablaze, as he escorted her back down the street to the hotel. “A woman I spoke to said the same thing as Bulldog, that ‘Rissa was staggering pretty badly.”

  “She'd had a few drinks,” admitted Kate, “but not enough to make her act like that.”

  “He must have slipped her a Micky, the bastard,” he snarled, most un-Tom-like.

  “Come on,” said Kate, breaking into a jog and pulling him after her. “We need to hurry.”

  They all crowded into the hotel manager's office to call the police. The nauseous feeling in Kate’s stomach was getting worse as she listened to Tom's account of Larissa's disappearance. No...abduction. Tom was still on the phone, but Kate couldn't stand there any longer with her stomach churning. She ran to the ladies’ toilets, making it into the stall just in time to throw up. She was still retching when she heard Freddie's timid voice behind her. “Are you all right, Kate?”

  Choking back a sob, Kate replied in a hoarse voice, “Yeah, I'm okay.” She spat repeatedly into the toilet to get the horrible taste out of her mouth, then wiped her face with a wad of toilet paper.

  “Are you sure? You don't sound all right.”

  “Just give me a minute, okay? Go back and stay with Tom; he needs you. I'll be fine.”

  “Okay,” agreed Freddie doubtfully. “Don’t be long, okay?”

  “No, not long,” whispered Kate.

  Once she was sure Freddie had gone, Kate closed the door and flushed the toilet. She sat down on the lid, holding her head in her hands. It felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. Wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands, she said softly but fervently, “Dear God! How could you let this happen? After everything that's gone on already! We both know Larissa’s no saint, but she doesn't deserve what that creep is going to do to her!”

  Her nose was running, so she grabbed another wad of toilet paper and blew into it. “I know I’m a disappointment and I keep making bad decisions, but Tom and Freddie are both so good and kind. Why would you do this to them?”

  She paused, her voice changing from an
gry to pleading. “Please bring her back. Please keep her safe. If you're the loving, faithful God you say you are then please don't let anything bad happen to her. If you keep her safe, I'll do anything you want. I'll stop drinking, I promise. I'll become a…a missionary...or a nun! Whatever you want; I'm yours! But if she gets hurt, I'll know you don't give a damn about her or me or about any one of us. If she gets hurt, I'll know everything is a lie and that I've been a fool for believing in your love.”

  Kate meant what she said, every single word. “That's all I've got to say. It's up to you now.”

  It took a few minutes to get herself under sufficient control to leave the sanctuary of the cubicle, but she was calm now, more at peace than she had been in months. Larissa's fate was in God's hands now.

  Freddie and Tom were waiting for her in the passageway. They didn't say anything, though Freddie grabbed her hand as Tom led the way outside to wait for the police. Kate could hear sirens in the distance, coming rapidly closer. A minute later, two police cars came squealing to a halt in front of the hotel, blocking half the street, their red and blue lights flashing in the warm October night. Two uniformed officers exited one of the vehicles; two detectives climbed out of the other. Tom and Freddie rushed eagerly to meet them.

  Kate stayed in the background, lingering in the shadows, reluctant to become part of the escalating circus, although she knew the police would want to talk to her at some point. A steady trickle of people was spilling out of the hotel and onto the street. Brett and Ben Corby were amongst them, curious to see why the cops were there. It occurred to her that Brett Corby knew Boyd much better than she did, and was therefore likely to give a far better description than she ever could. Edging away from the crowd, she walked up the street, heading for the empty bench at a nearby bus stop, far enough away to guarantee a degree of solitude, though not too far away.

  It was good to sit down at long last. Her long hair hung limp and sweaty down her back, so she gathered it into a ponytail and twisted it up on top of her head, securing it into a messy but serviceable bun. She immediately felt five degrees cooler. If only she could ease her mind as readily as she had eased her physical discomfort.