Times of Trouble

by Victoria Rollison

  ‘I can only imagine she meant to write more at a later time, but couldn’t. Or someone else could see what she was writing, and she didn’t want them to know where she was. There has to be some reason.’

  Trust mum to give Sophie the benefit of the doubt. So like a mother to look past her child’s faults. My fear for Sophie was suddenly replaced by an extraordinary irritation only a sibling can feel. What the hell was she doing? We hadn't heard from her for seven years. And suddenly this cryptic email showed up out of the blue, asking for help, but not providing us the means to give it. It was completely useless. Why contact us by email anyway? She knew where we lived. It was her home too once. We still had the same phone number we always had for god’s sake!

  Mum seemed to be lost in thought, but there was more to tell. About the money, for one thing. She took a deep breath and went on talking.

  ‘I decided right away I couldn’t just ignore the email. But I felt so lost, I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell you about it because you would have been so worried, and you were already very upset about, well you know, things.’ She paused, while we both contemplated the understatement of the century. I hadn’t left my cave (bedroom) for a month around the time it was sent. No wonder I failed to notice mum getting stressed about an email from Sophie.

  ‘Anyway,’ she went on,’ I did some research. I found a private investigator who was willing to help me find her. You must understand Ellen, I couldn’t just do nothing. You do understand don’t you?’

  Of course I understood, but I was still trying to come to terms with what it must have been like for mum for the past few months. I didn’t know what to say.

  ‘The private investigator, Liam Kingsley, has done a wonderful job. He really is very good. Whatever trouble she is in, I know she is still alive Ellen. He is sure of that. She doesn’t seem to stay in the same place for very long. But she’s definitely still alive. I really feel he is getting closer to finding her.’

  Relief rushed through my veins. I didn't want to admit there was a possibility Sophie was dead. She wouldn't send an email like that unless something was drastically wrong, and the email account disappearing was not a good sign.

  ‘Is she still in London?’ I asked.

  The last time we saw Sophie, she was 20 years old and getting on a flight to Heathrow. Mum didn’t want her to go, and I remembered them arguing about it. Sophie never forgave mum for ‘letting dad leave’. I could see she wasn’t to blame, and I recognised how hard she worked to look after us after he left. But Sophie had to take her rage out on someone and mum copped all her anger. She told us she was going to be a famous actress, and dad would be sorry when he found out his daughter was a star. Then he would return to us. That was her plan. To lure him back.

  I remembered I thought Sophie was the most beautiful person ever. And she used to be my friend, before all the yelling and crying. She had huge green eyes, and long black eyelashes. Her hair was such a dark brown she told people it was black, just like dad’s. I remember she used to spend hours and hours in her room dressing up, putting on mum’s old clothes and swanning around in high heeled shoes. She always had The Beatles blaring from her stereo. Sometimes she would let me come in, if I promised to help her put makeup on.

  But everything changed between us after dad left. We never spent any time together, because I was scared of her. When I was practising the piano, she would turn her stereo up even louder to drown me out. And she would tell me I was just a frumpy nerd, with a piano as my only friend. She wasn’t far wrong.

  She promised to call when she got to London, but she never did. Mum and I had one postcard from her, a couple of months after she left. It was a photo of London Bridge, and it read: ‘Hi Mum and Ellen, I’ve got an audition for a play in the West End. Told you I was going to be a star! I’ll send all my loving to you xx’.

  I remembered mum saying at the time: ‘Pity she doesn’t write home everyday’.

  I didn’t understand then how sad mum was that she never heard from Sophie. I always assumed Sophie had become some sort of West End stage star, not big enough that we ever heard of her, but well known and loved, so she didn’t need a family anymore. We were all the way back in Adelaide, and she was living a real life in London.

  As time went by, I asked about her less and less, because I could tell mum didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to admit her eldest daughter had left us, just like dad. Eventually we never spoke of Sophie at all. Sometimes I wondered where she was, and what she was doing. But most of the time this day dreaming was jealousy and resentment. She was off living her exciting London life, and she never even wondered what was going on with us. I guess I tried to make up for it by being really good at the piano.

  But now she was back in our lives. I felt a mixture of worry and anger. Especially because I suddenly understood where all the money had gone. It was spent trying to find her! And that spending meant we almost lost our house, the one she was so desperate to leave as soon as she could. And now I’d gone and sold my piano; as she put it, my only friend.

  Mum was so lost in her own thoughts she wasn’t listening to me anymore. Maybe she was remembering Sophie, like I was.

  ‘Mum, hello, is she still in London?’

  Mum shook her head. She looked scared to speak, as she could see the anger rising in me.

  ‘No, she was in London for a long time. Liam managed to work out that she flew to Sydney recently.’

  Unbelievable. She had come back to Australia, and was only a two hour plane trip from home, yet she didn’t feel it necessary to get in contact with us? What had we done to deserve this?

  ‘So you’re telling me you’ve paid this private investigator $80,000 to find Sophie, and he hasn’t managed to do that yet?’

  I felt very hostile. Sophie was still missing, and this Liam person had $80,000, which is a shit load of money to be given for three months’ work, even with expenses. Who the hell was this person?

  ‘I can see you are hurt, Ellen. You are hurt I didn’t tell you about this when it happened, and you have always felt hurt that Sophie disappeared from our lives. But there are lots of things you don’t know, and Liam is doing a good job.’ Who was she trying to convince? ‘When we get home I’ll show you all the correspondence I’ve had with him since I gave him the job. Then you’ll know as much as I do. He keeps me regularly updated via email.’

  ‘Mum, I want to meet with this guy. Or at the very least speak to him. I think it’s time I got a lot more involved in this...situation.’

  The look on mum’s face gave away her amazement that I was offering to help. It reminded me how weak she must have thought I was; what a hopeless invalid she had for a daughter. But this was no time to feel sorry for myself. If ever there was a time in my life to get it together, it was now.

  We had hardly gone far by this time, but after what I had discovered, I just wanted to turn around and go back to the car. Mum powered forward though, determined to finish the walk. Thankfully she didn’t try to ease my anxiety with chat about the weather, nor did she mention Sophie again. I knew I shouldn’t blame mum for her part in all this. Sophie was her daughter too, just as much as I was. And mum made plenty of sacrifices for me.

  When we got home, she went to the computer, and opened an email account I had never seen before. I thought of her sitting there as she often did in the evenings, waiting for me to turn the TV on, or play the piano, and checking for any news of Sophie. I always thought she was playing computer solitaire. She must have been terrified when she thought something had happened to Sophie. No wonder she just handed over whatever money she could get.

  Mum left me to it with the emails, just as she had done with the loan statements. I felt like she was starting to relax a bit; maybe she was relieved she didn’t have to keep lying to me. And with the mortgage sorted for the time being, she could concentrate on this not so secret search for my sister.

  Before I read the emails, I had a couple of other things t
o do. I checked how Picasso’s auction was going. It finished in an hour, and the bids were up to $5,800. Hopefully there would be a bidding war right at the end, and we could get over $6,000.

  Next I called all of my eight students. I forced myself to do it straight away, or I’d put it off forever. The parents of the children didn’t seem too fussed when I said I wouldn’t start the term for another month. And the two adults were also, slightly worryingly, quite happy to put off their lessons. I felt guilt and relief as I hung up from my final call, acknowledging I was quite glad to take a longer break from my very new career. This was also not a good sign. But I had other things to worry about now, and with this chore over, I was ready to find out exactly what this clever little Liam had discovered.

  Chapter 4

  Someone had betrayed them. Sydney was now as dangerous as London. It was three months since Danny was killed. Three months, a flight to Sydney, and 12 hotel rooms. Then, two days ago, Sophie glimpsed a man who kept a short distance behind her as she shopped for groceries. He looked like a tall, skinny, scabby faced teenager, with outdated sun glasses, and an oversized suit. His hunched stride and huge feet made him look like a weasel or a rat, maybe a mixture of the two. He wasn’t doing a great job of staying hidden; at one point she slowed down so much that he overtook her, and then stopped to tie his shoelace to let her pass again. She was into a shop and out the back door before he even had time to stand up. She had almost laughed to herself that they sent such an amateur to watch her movements. But what did she know? Maybe he was armed, and over-confident. She was glad to have lost him, in case his orders weren’t just to watch. Maybe he was the one who killed Danny. Her stomach wrenched at the thought.

  So now it was time to run further away. Katie would go first; no point exposing both of them at once. Last night was the first they had spent together in Sydney for weeks. They had chosen a hostel close to Central station, from where they would make their escape. Katie had been scared, but resolute, when she left moments ago. Charlie was strapped to her front, gently clawing at her chest, enjoying the rhythm of her steps.

  But as Sophie watched her friend cross busy George St from the hostel window, she could see almost immediately, with a lurch of fear, that Katie and her son were being followed. It was the sunglasses she spotted again today. And the hurried walk, standing out in the crowd of wandering shoppers. As Sophie picked up her phone to warn Katie, she could see that in a few seconds she would be out of view. Even from this distance, the bulge in the front of the baby sling was noticeable. Anyone else might expect it to be a bottle or an extra nappy. But rolled into this pouch was $2,000 in cash, the key to Katie's new life, and a mobile phone with a new number that only Sophie knew. She saw Katie's hand reach into the front of Charlie's sling as her phone started to vibrate. She answered it after two rings.

  'What is it Sophie?' She sounded as panicked as Sophie felt. A phone call hadn't been part of their plan, so Katie could tell something wasn't right.

  'Don't look around, but the ratty sunglasses guy is following you.' Sophie left the window as she spoke, and headed out of the hostel.

  'Shit! How the hell did he find us this time?'

  'Just keep going, Katie. I'll be right behind you.'

  'Are you sure I just shouldn't turn back? We can get a room somewhere else and maybe... maybe he'll lose us, and I can get to the station tomorrow.'

  'No. You're on your way now. He can't know where you’re going. Just walk a bit faster and don't look back.'

  'Where are you Sophie? I'm shitting myself.'

  'Just keep moving. You're not far away now. You don't want to be late. The train only leaves twice a day.'

  Sophie started jogging to catch up with the man. As she spotted him weaving around a group of slow moving tourists, she realised he wasn't alone. There was another man with him, who looked more confident, and stronger. He kept pointing ahead of them, making sure they could both still see their prey. They seemed to be purposely keeping a short distance between themselves and Katie. But they weren't backing off.

  'I can see the tunnel. As soon as I get down there, I'm going to run. I'll call you back from the station. Don't follow me Sophie. I don't want them to find you too.'

  Katie rang off, and Sophie felt a rush of relief. Katie was going to make it onto the train, and they'd never find her. Sophie had discovered, on a map in the hostel, the pedestrian tunnel under George St that led straight into the station. The men wouldn't know about it, hopefully. Katie would literally disappear under Railway Square, and would be far away before they worked out where she had gone. She was proud they had plotted Katie's escape so easily. Their old lives kept them immune from the stresses of waiting in line for a bus that didn’t arrive, or having to spend money getting from one place to another; Danny had always ensured they were driven everywhere. Now they had to fend for themselves.

  Sophie knew it was probably best to hide now herself; to run to the flat she had rented outside of the city. But she couldn't bring herself to stop following. She wanted Katie and Charlie to get on that train, and it felt wrong to walk away before she knew they were safe. As she came to a busy cross road, a row of traffic blocked her way, and she lost site of the two men. She was only 50 meters from the tunnel herself now, and no longer felt invisible. As she darted towards the entrance and down the escalator, the mobile phone she was still clutching started to ring.

  'Are you on the train?'

  'No, I've got my ticket, but the train isn't ready to board yet. I'm on the platform. Is there any sign of them?'

  'No, I lost them. I'm in the tunnel. You're going to be OK, Katie. Give Charlie a hug for me. I'll see you in a few weeks. Text me when you‘re on your way.’

  'Ok. Thanks Sophie. You look after your...'

  Katie stopped talking mid word, and the sudden silence made Sophie's heart stop.

  'What is it?' she asked.

  'They're on the platform. Shit. They've seen me. I'm going to leave Charlie...'

  Sophie could hear Katie's panicked breathing into the phone; she must have been running. She started sprinting herself along the tiled tunnel, towards the train station. As she reached the entrance, her eyes scanned the timetable, desperately searching for Katie's platform. Platform four. She bolted in the direction of platform four, and when she got there, all she could see was a small group of people sitting on a bench, waiting for the train’s doors to open. Where was Katie? Where were the men?

  A flash of movement caught her eye at the end of the platform. Katie was dashing out of the public toilet. She no longer had Charlie strapped to her front, and the look of terror on her face made Sophie freeze. The two men barrelled through the door after her, chasing at full speed. As they both caught up to her, they each grabbed one of her arms, and she started thrashing her legs around like a crazed animal. Within an instant, her feet were off the ground, and with a synchronized toss, both men let go and she was sailing through the air. The men kept moving and Sophie lost site of Katie for a second, her eyes searching for a crumpled body on the platform. But then a loud wind cracked and rumbled, and a train swept through the station on the opposite side of the platform from Katie's stationery train. Sophie's hand snapped to her mouth as she heard the blare of the train’s horn, mixed with the screams of two women. Katie was under that train.

  Sophie shook as she ducked down behind the gate to the platform, hiding from the two men as they hurried away. People were running from everywhere towards the sounds of the screaming. Sophie felt her insides were melting, as she dragged herself up to stand and watch the scene. Katie was under that train. Sophie wanted to scream and cry, but this instinct was smothered by an overriding fear of someone spotting her. She hurried down the platform, careful not to look towards the fussing and yelling where Katie lay. She didn't want to see what the train had done to her friend. She just needed to find Charlie. He must be in the toilet.

  She slammed open the door, and could instantly hear him whimpering, the sound echoin
g around the empty tiled space. He was in the last cubicle. Katie must have somehow managed to lock him in there, and climb out herself. Sophie used the toilet in the cubicle next door as a step so she could drag herself over the partition. His sling was clipped around the cistern, keeping him safely sitting on the toilet lid. His little arms reached out as she picked him up, and clipped him to her front. Then she mustered as much calm as she could, and strode out of the toilet, along the platform and out onto the street. She promised herself Charlie would never hear what happened to his mummy. She didn't want him haunted by a memory she knew she'd never be able to forget. It was all her fault. How could she ever forgive herself?

  Chapter 5

  I wanted to read the emails from the private investigator in private, so I printed them all, including the responses from mum. As I got comfortable on my bed with the pile, I wondered who this Liam Kingsley was. Where did mum find him, and what was his experience? How old was he? And how much did he charge? He had already taken way too much money, given the lack of results so far.

  The first email was an enquiry from mum, sent on the 20th October. She gave him a brief outline of the help she needed, and asked if either he knew of someone in London who he could recommend, or if he would be interested in the case himself. Liam’s response was a bit over the top, and it was obvious he was desperate for the job. He couldn’t have been rushed off his feet with other cases, as he emailed back almost immediately, offering to take the case himself, at $300 a day plus expenses. He signed the email Liam Kingsley LLB. If he had a law degree, then why wasn’t he a lawyer? He sounded like such a suck up, I disliked him immediately.

  I did a quick calculation on my mobile phone, and, assuming his daily rate stayed at $300, the $80,000 spent so far could have accounted for about nine months of work. He took on the case exactly three months ago. So how had mum spent so much money? Was he making up fluff about looking for Sophie, when he was actually conning mum? The numbers just didn’t add up. And worse, this was only his second case since he’d given up law. Terrific. Inexperienced and expensive.