Hindsight

by AA Bell

  Mira heard skin slap against skin.

  ‘One cop!’ Mel shouted. ‘One male friend in six years, you selfish bastard. I was too busy worrying about you — and for your information, we haven’t screwed around at all yet, let alone under this roof. We play piano, surf or watch old westerns in my room, and that’s it!’

  ‘Oh, give me a break, Ma. I’ve seen you coming out of your bedroom, half dressed — and I’ve heard him up there in your room, shuffling about while you’re giggling. You should hear how the floors creak!’

  ‘Sure, for dancing. Those old westerns are mostly musicals, and hilarious. Not that you should care anyway. I’m entitled to my own privacy, same as you — up to a point.’

  ‘What point is that, Ma? He’s a cop, and if you weren’t doing anything to feel guilty about, why bother trying to keep his visits a secret?’

  ‘Because,’ she replied shakily, ‘I know how you feel about cops, and I knew you’d put three and three together and get sex.’

  ‘But he’s …’

  ‘A friend, Ben. Pete’s a damn good friend. Always has been; for twelve years before I even met your father. So, sure we’re comfortable enough that I can have him in my room while I’m changing for work. As a gentleman he always turns his back. You have my word on that.’

  ‘Are you saying you don’t want to go further with him?’

  ‘Hell, no! I’d love nothing more. I can’t wait for things to clear up here so I can move in with him, but you should know that in the meantime, I could never mess about in this house. Can’t you feel it yourself? It’s as if your father’s still alive here — still with us!’

  ‘Oddly enough,’ Ben conceded, ‘I was thinking nearly the same thing a few minutes ago. But that doesn’t excuse the moods you’ve been in lately. Or your attitude towards Mira.’

  ‘My attitude? Ha! It’s not my fault if she can’t cut it on the outside.’ Her feet tramped towards Mira in a gust of fury. ‘Get your own breakfast,’ she said as she passed Mira on the stairs. ‘I have to change.’

  Mira hurried down for the kitchen, hearing Ben at the sink making the familiar sounds of filling a kettle through a narrow metal neck.

  ‘Don’t mind her,’ he said, now opening the fridge. ‘She’s always cranky until after she’s hit the breakers. Surfing at dawn and dusk … well, it’s more than a religion for her. It’s an addiction.’

  ‘Or maybe she doesn’t like the fit of your hat?’ Mira smiled, hoping to cheer him up. She felt for the stool at the ghostly breakfast bar and found it almost exactly in the same place it had been yesterday.

  ‘What hat?’

  ‘Hat of the diplomat. Isn’t that what you said?’ Her grin broadened, and he chuckled.

  ‘I suppose we should leave surfing for another day. You look lovely though, Mira; ready for anything.’

  ‘I don’t know about that, but this fabric feels great.’ Mira brushed her hand down her rainbow-coloured skirt.

  ‘Bikini tops it. You can wear that shirt open if it gets too hot. Show it off … Here, let me show you.’ He came close, his fingers finding her top button, making her flinch. Opening it, he moved down to the next and leaned closer, his breath drawing nearer her lips. Heat flushed her face, making her pulse race and she felt the need to lean into him, longing to kiss him, until stung again by the memory of him getting shot during their first kiss, and falling away from her.

  ‘Don’t,’ she said, raising a gentle finger between them. ‘Half open will do for now.’

  He lingered a moment longer and ran his finger down the side of her neck. ‘Mmmm … you do smell good. Is that coconut?’

  ‘It’s only sun block. Gabby recommended it.’

  ‘I’ll bet she did.’ He drew away reluctantly, and cleared his throat. ‘To breakfast then.’ He opened cupboard doors noisily and transferred porcelain bowls and cereal boxes onto the bench.

  ‘Hey, can I do that?’ Mira sprang to her feet and rounded the breakfast bar into the kitchen. ‘Wherever they are today needs to be the exact places they are from now until I leave, please, so I can find everything … I mean, if that’s okay with you and Mel?’

  ‘Sure, no probs. There’s a pen near the phone. I’ll draw around everything and mark labels, so Ma can see where everything needs to be too.’

  Upstairs, a door slammed, and Mira smiled. She couldn’t help it.

  Forty minutes later, with a full belly of toasted muesli and milk and her ‘lives’ still set to yesterday, Mira followed Ben to the garage in silence. She couldn’t stop thinking about how much trouble his mother seemed to expect from her — and Ben’s renewed pledge, to ensure that she matured into a ‘normal woman’.

  How she hated those words! Whether he meant to demean her or not, there was no doubting that he thought she was lacking in a lot of things — and not just social skills or the ability to be independent. She knew she had plenty of weaknesses to work through but he refused to give her a list, which didn’t help. She had to figure it out by herself, but she felt certain she could prove how worthy she could be of his companionship. Then she passed their surfboards, hanging on the wall as a set while hers stood in a corner, and she realised it might take a while before they both stopped treating her as an outsider. She rounded the nose of his mother’s dusty Jaguar, and startled at the sight of two ghostly men in suits who were crouched beside the rear passenger door of Mel’s car, reaching under.

  ‘Those two MPs,’ she asked as Ben walked ahead to his own car. ‘Was one of them a tall thickset guy with no neck, and the other a beak-nosed guy who was all neck, practically from ears to waist?’

  ‘That’s them, all right. The thickset guy was Emmett Patterson and the scrawny beak was Jo Pobody. Why?’

  ‘They were in here yesterday. I saw Pobody put something under your mother’s car.’

  ‘What? Where?’

  Mira pointed, and then realised Mel might have parked somewhere else last night. ‘Passenger side.’ She bent to take a closer look at the ghostly version herself. ‘Roughly centre of the rear passenger door. It’s a little black box with a blinking purple light.’

  ‘Bastards!’ Ben crouched beside her. ‘Looks like a tracking device. The light’s red, by the way, but why would they do that to her car, unless …’ He shuffled back to his Camaro. ‘They got mine too … Luckily, we can fix that. They’re magnetic.’

  ‘Can you take them off?’

  ‘Better.’ He chuckled. ‘I’m switching them. Same make and model, just different serial numbers, so we can bet they know which units are tracking each car.’

  ‘Won’t they be suspicious that your mother is driving out again so soon after working all night on the mainland?’

  ‘Excellent question. Let’s be ready for anything, shall we?’

  En route to the ferry, Ben braked to a halt outside the newsagent.

  ‘There’s Gabby’s Landcruiser,’ he said, clanking open his door. ‘I’ll just stash our little bleeper under her car for the day, and our snoops will never know we slipped off to the mainland.’

  Fredarick hurried away from his work and made a dash for the matron’s car, knowing time was slipping away from him.

  Tick. Tock, he thought. Now I’m the clock; impostor me, the spotted chameleon.

  But he only became the things he needed in order to save her. He didn’t need to hear the future to guess that she’d try to hasten the sage’s warning to Mira after breakfast instead of trusting a courier. She cared too much, and she was too much the worrier. So he morphed from Fredarick the Sage, into Freddie the Larrikin, who fixed her neon pink volks buggy with a small pebble by crushing it into the valve of her rear tyre — kerb side, to keep her safe from other traffic when it came time for her to tend to it — and rear wheel, to ensure she lost control of driving power without losing control of a front steer-tyre.

  Already deflating as he slinked away, the rear tyre hissed through its blockage, but so slowly that it barely whispered with a single echo.

  He
hurried to his favourite tree and climbed high into the leaves to wait, desperate to ensure that his mischief would not be discovered by another resident — or anyone else who might notice the problem and attempt to warn her silently.

  Future echoes soon proved to be honest witnesses, and the matron emerged moments later, just as her footsteps had warned him, and from the echoes of staff who’d be discussing it soon, he knew the rest would go to plan too. She’d be delayed by eighteen minutes amidst the cool morning shade of misty cane fields.

  She would howl at him later. He’d heard much of that already in the old cellar-dungeon, as the echoes of her sweet voice rippled closer to the soft blur of the event horizon, but for now, he listened only to the shifting whispers that he could hear from the broad bough of his tree, like a leopard listening to its prey graze and dart free.

  His angel shifted gears as she sped away from him; her instincts clearly pricked, yet unaware that all her haste would now be wasted — just as it needed to be, or else Mira would receive the warning too soon and assume that it referred only to the two MPs.

  Look behind you, so she’d see for herself that their common enemy also had eyes on her.

  Still, Freddie feared all the echoes beyond his reach. His expression darkened from Larrikin to Hunter and he remained in his tree, sheathing his claws and gnawing at bark, and praying that his mischief would cause the only delay to the matron’s delivery.

  Tock. Tick. The echoes kept their own beat for him — and him for them — since the loudest sounds now were the future beats of his own heart pounding.

  NINE

  ‘Up to your right,’ Ben said an hour later as he pulled into a resort near Currumbin Beach. ‘Chloe’s unit is that penthouse on the front corner. Top two floors, plus the rooftop patio.’

  Mira opened her eyes, still feeling a little woozy from the ferry, and saw a curved row of four-storey buildings which seemed to follow the shape of the beach around a small headland to a natural lagoon and estuary. Even from the carpark side of the apartment blocks it wasn’t hard to tell that the corner penthouse would command one of the finest views of the Pacific. ‘She must be rich?’

  ‘Her father is. He owns a small chain of grocery stores, laundromats and fuel stations. Nice guy who didn’t want his rough diamond of a daughter falling into bad crowds so when she moved out of home, he bought her an apartment here in a family resort. He supports a lot of local charities too, and is shockingly generous about it — every five years he buys a new helicopter as a donation for the surf lifesavers. Or sometimes it’s a surf boat or a set of jet skis. On the other hand, Hector employs mostly family as floor managers and district overseers. No brothers of his own any more, just a lot of cousins that he treats like brothers. I hear he can be a little tight-fisted with most of them, but never the Scrooge where Chloe’s concerned — and he’s always first to give a kid a job if they ask for it, including me. I stacked shelves at one of his corner stores for the first two years I was at uni, and he let me bunk here with Chloe and Shelley through the week to save time commuting back to Straddie.’ He sighed heavily. ‘I never could have robbed Hector — or killed his cousin, Theo. To see Hec’s face, just thinking that I had, really gutted me.’

  ‘It was Hector’s store that was robbed, and Theo was the manager?’

  ‘Yeah, inland near Tallebudgera, where I worked before I bagged my full-time traineeship at the orphanage under Maddy Sanchez — only she wasn’t a matron back then, just a section head. So the promotion to Serenity was a big step up for her.’

  Mira waved him away from that subject. ‘What about Chloe? I’ve only seen that small photo in the paper, so how else can I recognise her? Is she short or tall?’

  ‘Short, thin, fair and blonde, but this is the Gold Coast, Mira. Every four out of five women fit that description. I’ll have to take you in.’

  ‘To her apartment? Won’t it be taped off as a crime scene?’

  ‘Maybe not if she died elsewhere.’

  ‘Okay, then let’s see, shall we?’ Mira reached to open her car door, but he caught her wrist. He didn’t say anything for a long moment and the silence stretched awkwardly between them. ‘What?’ she asked. ‘Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, tomorrow starts today, but only if you don’t step on any of those red-bellied black snakes.’

  ‘You’re sweet to worry, Mira, but I’m the one who’s supposed to be the guardian here, remember?’ Still he didn’t let go of her arm. ‘I just … I guess I wanted to thank you.’

  Mira smiled. ‘Thank me after I’ve earned it.’

  She heard him shift against the leather of his seat, and sensed him leaning towards her, his face drawing nearer, despite the awkwardness inside the car. She felt his breath brush her cheek and she flushed hot, wondering if he was only reaching to open her door for her — then his lips touched the corner of her mouth and she flinched.

  ‘Wait.’ He released her wrist to catch her chin. ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you, I just … You’re so beautiful, and God help me, I can’t say it well enough with words alone.’ He turned her face to meet his — slowly, gently — until his lips found hers again. She flushed hotter, making her heart pound as he kissed her with increasing passion and purpose. She responded, giving in to him, longing and aching for more, the way it had been the first time. Then he paused and she sensed him holding back, holding her not quite as close as he could have, as if the memory of their first kiss still haunted him too.

  ‘Don’t!’ she cried, stung again by the memory. She turned aside, without the heart to push him away. ‘I told you, I can’t handle the thought of you getting hurt again. I couldn’t bear it!’

  ‘Then I won’t get hurt.’ He made it sound so simple, but she could hear in his voice that he was trying to convince himself as much as her.

  He chuckled glumly. ‘We’ll get through this, Mira. We’ll get over it together.’

  ‘Bet on it.’ She stroked his cheek gently, and he caressed hers.

  ‘Let’s go put some old demons to bed first.’ Mira pushed open her door, glad to get out into the fresh air anyway since the sensation of riding in an invisible car was still too surreal for her.

  Ben led her by the elbow along a tropical path to the fire exit door, which squeaked as they approached, allowing two sweet-smelling yet invisible women to jog out, giggling.

  ‘Hold the door, please,’ he called, then he ushered Mira through and thanked them. ‘Enjoy your run, ladies.’

  ‘Why did they let us in?’ she asked as he led her towards the stairs and elevator. ‘Haven’t they ever heard of security?’

  ‘Most units here are holiday rentals. Tenants change every day, and let’s face it, you’re not a likely suspect for a petty thief or terrorist.’

  ‘Do I really look so blind in these?’ She tapped her glasses, skipped ahead a few stairs, then down two, and up again. ‘I thought I was looking quite confident on my feet?’

  ‘Now, sure,’ he said, catching up again. ‘Out there, I was leading you by the arm, and your glasses … well, most people are naturally friendly around here on holidays, so long as you’re not threatening.’

  They climbed two flights and paused at the door to the third.

  ‘It’s not yet 7am,’ he said, letting go of her. ‘We should catch Chloe soon, coming out of her room — provided her routine hasn’t changed much in eight years. She liked to jog for an hour, and then shower in time to start work at nine, as a social therapist.’

  ‘What if she takes the elevator?’

  ‘Chloe?’ He chuckled. ‘Not likely. Everyone has their quirks, and that was always top of her list. She liked stairs almost as much as you do, but for fitness. In fact, watch this. It’s six seconds till 7am … four … three … two …’

  The ghostly door swung open and out rushed a short, slim, fair-skinned, fair-haired purple ghost, who bounded down the stairs with such a stern look on her face, her lips were pursed enough to give the appearance of whistling.

 
‘I see her!’ Mira said, bounding down after her. ‘Come on, Ben! She’s not dressed for sport, unless she jogs in bows and lace.’

  He trampled down the stairs behind her. ‘Lace and bows, that’s Chloe!’

  At the ground floor, Mira turned to take an extra flight down to the basement until Ben grabbed her arm.

  ‘Nothing down there but cars. Come on. We’ll need our own wheels to keep up with her now.’

  ‘There she is,’ Mira said as Chloe emerged from the underground car park — driving only the lower half of a car. ‘If she’s so rich, why didn’t she buy a roof for that thing?’

  Ben chuckled. ‘Chloe had a thing for convertibles.’ He spoke softly to his own car until it revved to life, then he reversed out of the car park. ‘She drove me to court in a Jaguar XKR.’

  Mira noticed an insignia that said the same thing. ‘If the plates were JAG-001, she’s still driving it — or was, at least.’

  ‘Which way?’

  ‘Nowhere yet. She’s giving way to traffic.’

  ‘No indicator?’

  ‘If there was, I would have said.’

  The ghostly traffic was thick but silent, having spent all its noisy rage, leaving only the sounds of the moment, which seemed much quieter. Mira couldn’t help wondering why anyone would drive a roofless car with the smell of exhaust so thick in the air. She said as much to Ben. ‘No wonder she ties up her hair, or else it would be a mess in seconds.’

  ‘Have you never seen a convertible before?’

  ‘Sure, last century they’d started to swap horses for engines, but only the richest looking cars had roofs back then. Sounds like it’s the other way around now?’

  ‘Ironic, yeah. The hottest cars ride with their roofs down.’

  ‘Typical! My vision starts to catch up, and the world goes backwards. Okay, go now,’ she said as Chloe accelerated. ‘She’s turning right out of the driveway.’

  Ben shifted gears, giving way to the passing sound of an invisible truck before merging into his own stream of traffic. Parallel in time.