by Anna Willett
When she reached the dresser, she noticed an empty space between the paracetamol and anti-inflammatory tablets. The painkillers were gone. Belle gave her head a slight shake and looked around the bedroom. Could Lea have picked them up and put them somewhere else by mistake? But that didn’t make sense because the last time she had her pills was in the morning and she’d taken them herself before they went out on the deck.
Belle reached up and put her finger on the empty space where the pills belonged. She was certain she had counted two tablets into her palm then put the bottle back in its spot. Confused, she tried to work her way through the morning’s sequence of events, looking for some logical explanation. But her mind kept coming back to the papery feeling in her mouth and the deepness of her nap on the sofa.
Her stomach turned, a heavy rolling like an empty wine bottle in the surf, undulating with sickening slowness. Something was out of whack. There’s a man bound and gagged on my sitting room floor, of course something’s out of whack. But there was more to it than Arthur. And as much as she didn’t want to admit it, things had been strange since Lea arrived. And now her pills were missing and she felt like she’d been drugged.
It was time to call the police. If they were cut off from help by a bushfire, Belle wanted to hear it from the operator herself. She popped two paracetamol out of the blister pack and tossed them in her mouth, then swallowed them with another sip from the water bottle.
Her phone should have been on the nightstand. At least that’s where she thought Lea would have left it. But the mobile was nowhere in sight. Had the caregiver taken her phone as well as her tablets? Belle raised her hand and gnawed at the ragged edge of her thumbnail. What possible reason could Lea have for taking her things? Could the girl be an addict? Belle tasted blood on her tongue and pulled her thumb out of her mouth.
It made sense, sort of. Lea was strange, almost deadpan most of the time. Could the girl be on something? An image of Lea smashing the can into Arthur’s head flashed in Belle’s mind. Remembering the thunk as the tin collided with flesh made Belle shudder. The carer had morphed from calm to violent in a heartbeat. Was it a stretch then that the girl was taking something – drugs, pills, maybe even crack?
Belle needed help. If Lea had her phone, she’d find another way. She wheeled through to the dining room, intending to go to her office, but movement caught her eye. She spun back towards the sitting room and spotted Lea crouched over Arthur. The man’s legs were ratcheting up and down like he was trying to push himself out of the girl’s reach.
“Lea.” At the sound of Belle’s voice, the girl’s head whipped around, her dark ponytail flying. “What are you doing?” There was accusation in Belle’s voice, but she didn’t care.
Lea half turned and held up a bottle of water. “I’m giving him a drink.” She turned back to Arthur whose legs were still in motion. “What did you think I was doing?”
Belle pushed forward. Rolling across the room, she came to a stop near Arthur’s feet. Lea’s body obscured the man’s head. “Where were you? I was calling you.”
Lea rocked back on her heels and stood looking down on Belle. “I was out back.” She tucked the water bottle under her arm. “I needed some air. Is that all right with you?” The petulance in the girl’s voice took Belle by surprise.
Belle bit back an angry retort. “I was only asking because I was worried.” It was partly true. She had been concerned that by some form of magic Arthur had freed himself, hurt the caregiver, and then miraculously re-tied himself.
“Well...” Lea stepped around the wheelchair and flopped down on the sofa. “You can stop worrying, I’m fine. Just needed a minute to myself.” She leaned forward, dumped the water bottle on the coffee table, letting it roll on its side, then massaged her right knee.
Belle had the urge to pick the bottle up and set it on its base. Instead, she watched the girl’s fingers kneading her leg and couldn’t help wonder if she was in pain. Maybe that’s why she took my pills. She felt a jab of sympathy, all too aware of how excruciating leg trauma could be. But that still didn’t make it okay.
“Where’s my phone?” Belle tried to keep the urgency out of her voice, but with each passing minute she was becoming more uneasy.
Lea didn’t look up. “I don’t know. In your bedroom, I suppose.” When she spoke, her eyebrows drew down in a sharp V.
Belle snatched a glance at Arthur. His face was wet as though Lea had spilt water over him. The gag was still in his mouth, but he’d stopped trying to speak.
“No.” Belle spoke slowly, careful to keep her voice calm. “It’s not in there. Where did you put it?”
“Jesus, Belle.” Lea’s head jerked up. Her eyes were wide and glassy like over-polished blue marbles. “I don’t know where you leave your stuff.”
Belle recoiled from the anger in the girl’s voice, noticing she’d dropped the Mrs Hammer and was now calling her Belle.
Chapter Eleven
A jarring bleep dragged Guy from a deep dream-filled sleep. Next to him, a shape moved. He sat up and snatched up his phone, his body and mind going from blurry to heart-pounding in the second it took to reach the mobile. The display told him it was 10:14. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he saw Andy’s number and his pulse evened out a fraction.
“Guy.” Andy’s voice was husky like he’d been talking for hours. “Did I wake you?” Before Guy could respond, Andy was talking again. “Abraham’s out of the woods, but the doctor wants him resting for at least two weeks, so we're sending everyone home.”
Sitting naked in the darkened hotel room, Guy felt his body slacken. It was over before it had ever really started. When this sort of thing happened, studios sometimes shelved projects for years.
“We’ll let you know when things get back on track. Don’t worry about your airfare. The studio’s picking up the bill.” He could hear Andy talking, but his words were little more than white noise, adding to the ringing in Guy’s head.
There was silence on the line and Guy realised it was his turn to speak. “Um.” His mind was spinning as he tried to think of something to say. “Which hospital is Abraham in? I’ll send flowers or something. Maybe I should visit before I leave.”
“Hmm.” Now it was Andy’s turn to struggle with a response. Guy could almost see the man squirming. “He’s not allowed visitors right now, but I’ll pass on your regards.”
“Okay.” The girl in Guy’s bed rolled over. He felt her fingers running up his spine. “Thanks for everything you’re doing for me, mate. I really appreciate–”
“Sorry, Guy. I’ve got to go. My other phone’s ringing.” The call clicked off and the room was silent.
“Shit.” Guy dropped his head into his hands and laced his fingers through his now dark hair.
“Everything okay?” Her voice was soft in the darkness. Sandy or Stacey, Guy wasn’t sure.
“Yeah. No worries.” He spoke without turning around and heard the girl let out a sleepy sigh, then the rustle of sheets as she nestled back into the bed.
He should have told her to go. Hell, he shouldn’t have picked her up in the first place, but the idea of being alone was harder to deal with than the endless procession of one-night stands. He was hurting Belle, even if she didn’t know about the girls. What he kept doing – the randomness of sleeping with strangers – was gnawing away at their marriage.
He stood and poured himself a drink. No mini bar stuff this time. He’d bought a bottle on the way back to the hotel. He was drinking too much; the signs were clear in his bloodshot eyes. But knowing you’re doing something harmful doesn’t mean you know how to stop doing it. He, better than anyone, knew doing the wrong thing was an easy choice.
He picked up his glass and crossed the room. He slipped into the bathroom and turned on the light. Like earlier in the day, his reflection startled him. For a moment he couldn’t look away. He’d sacrificed everything to get where he was and now it was all fucked up and he didn’t know how to put things back together.
He turned away from the mirror and sat on the edge of the tub. The bathroom smelled like puke. Probably Stacey or Sandy. He couldn’t remember if her name started with an ‘S’ or a ‘K’. She’d hit the vodka pretty hard when they got back to the room. Guy took a gulp from the glass and grimaced. He’d tried to tell himself it was Katrina’s fault, but things were out of control long before he met her.
He was selfish. A selfish prick. He knew that but he’d never actually hurt anyone before. He could live with not being the noblest man in the world, but when he considered what he had done, the pain he’d caused... He shook his head trying to rid his mind of the memory. But no matter how much he drank or lost himself in nameless girls, the guilt clung to him like a stench that couldn’t be washed away in a sea of booze and sex.
* * *
Belle glanced at Arthur and noticed his eyes were closed and a thick string of drool hung from the corner of his mouth. It would be dark soon. The thought of spending the night with her neighbour trussed up on the sitting room floor made her scalp prickle with anxiety, not to mention Lea’s unpredictable behaviour.
“Can you call my phone?” Belle waited, watching the girl raise her head from where it lolled back on the top of the sofa.
When Lea answered, her voice was sharp – impatient. “What?”
Belle licked her lips. Lea couldn’t be more than twenty-five, but in less than twenty-four hours she’d managed to take over the house and, to Belle’s shame, intimidate her. “If you ring my phone, we’ll be able to track it down.” There was a pleading in Belle’s voice that made her want to squirm in her chair. When did I become so pathetic?
“My phone’s upstairs. I’ll do it later.” Lea lowered her head. “I need a nap.”
Belle wheeled herself closer to the sofa, not sure she’d heard the girl correctly. “You can’t be serious?” Belle waved her hand in Arthur’s direction. “We can’t just leave him there. He’s got a head injury. What if–”
Lea lunged with a suddenness that made Belle wince. “What do you want me to do, Belle?” The last word came out dripping with scorn. “Do you want me to drive through a bushfire?” Before Belle could answer, Lea was on her feet and around the sofa. “Do you want me to untie him and give him his knife back?” As she spoke she nudged Arthur with the tip of her shoe. “Because I can do that if you want?”
“No. No. That’s not what I meant. I just want my phone.” Belle knew by continuing to ask she was making things worse, but they were in her house. Lea was supposed to be helping her. The girl worked for her, so didn’t she have the right to ask for her phone? “I need to speak to my husband. He’ll be worried.”
Lea clamped her hands to the side of her head. “Stop pestering me.” She punctuated the last word by drawing her leg back and landing a kick to Arthur’s side.
The man let out a muffled cry and raised his head. Belle’s mouth dropped open with a jaw-popping creak. For a moment both women were silent. The air in the sitting room seemed too thin, making it difficult for Belle to fill her lungs. Something had shifted. She could see it in the way Lea’s blue eyes regarded her. There was a dropping away of control. The caregiver’s features seemed to shift into a new countenance, one that was hard and watchful.
When Belle was able to get her mouth working, she chose her next words with care. “I’m sorry.” Lea’s head tilted to the left like an attentive bird. “I shouldn’t have nagged you.”
Lea nodded, her chin moving up and down slowly, almost mechanically. She glanced down at Arthur and seemed surprised to find him still lying at her feet. Without speaking she walked around the sofa and sat down. The situation with Lea had gone from unsettling to downright terrifying in the blink of an eye. Even if both of her legs were working, Belle would have been afraid; but half blind and unable to stand on her own two feet, she experienced a feeling of helplessness – a sick dread she hadn’t known since childhood.
Maybe it was the sudden violence or perhaps watching someone helpless being victimised that stirred a memory buried so deep that when it surfaced, Belle’s mind seemed to fold on itself. She remembered being in a big department store and letting go of her mother’s hand. She wasn’t supposed to touch things because her mum said she’d break something. But it was nearly Christmas and the aisles were decorated with red baubles and tin soldiers. To Belle the shop seemed like a wonderland and smelled like marshmallows, and she was wearing red sneakers with gold ribbons instead of laces. She liked the way the crinkly soles squeaked when she walked. She wanted so badly to hold the chocolate brown teddy with the big red bow, the one under the Christmas tree with all the lights.
Her mum was talking to a lady in a white top and black pants. She reminded Belle of the dentist and her childish mind wondered if the dentist worked in the department store as well as the clinic where she checked children’s teeth. But the thought was fleeting, swallowed up by images of scratch and sniff stickers, and Barbie toothbrushes, and before she knew it, Belle was standing in front of the teddy.
As her slightly sticky fingers reached out to touch its chocolate-coloured fur, a hand fell on her shoulder. “All on your own?” The man spoke in a happy voice and she wondered if he was a friend of her dad’s.
Belle let her thumb creep up to her lips and shook her head. The man moved in front of her with his hand still on her shoulder, his big body blocking her view of the teddy.
“You like that teddy?” He smiled and she noticed one of his teeth was brown. Not like the pretty chocolate of the bear, but a nasty brown that reminded her of poop. It occurred to her that the dentist might want to look at the man’s tooth. He reached around and grabbed the bear. “Because it’s Christmas, I’m going to buy you this bear.”
Belle’s eyes moved between the man’s mouth and the bear. She wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers, but a stranger wouldn’t be so friendly. A stranger wouldn’t want to buy her a teddy.
He reached into his pocket. “Oh, no.” He set the bear down and Belle felt tears stinging her eyes. Was he just teasing her about buying the bear? “I left my wallet in the car.” His hand slid down her arm. His fingers grabbed her hand.
Belle turned, trying to see her mum, but there were so many people, and the Christmas music was blaring from all corners of the store. The man’s hand squeezed hers; his skin felt raspy and hard.
“I can’t go outside without asking my mummy.” She was trying to make the man understand, but he just nodded and pulled her towards the doors.
One of her ribbon laces came loose and her feet tangled. As the doors whooshed open, Belle tripped and her knee grazed the rough carpet, the stuff with the lines that people were supposed to wipe their shoes on. She started to cry and looked around for her mother, but the man jerked her to her feet and through the sliding doors.
“Stop crying.” His voice wasn’t friendly anymore. He sounded really cross with her.
She tried to snatch her hand away, but his grip was too strong and when she turned back the shop doors had closed. Her tummy rolled over and for the first time in her short life, Belle experienced real terror. Not the afraid-of-the-dark sort of fear, but something that came from deep in her chest and made her throat close up until she couldn’t get her breath. As the sliding doors grew smaller and distant, it was like everything safe and normal had disappeared with them. The parking lot was another world – a world of nightmares.
Belle pushed her glasses up and wiped her eye. “I need some air.” The words came out as a series of gasps.
Without waiting for Lea to respond, Belle turned the chair and headed for the kitchen. Her mind was still skidding back and forth between memories she only half knew she possessed and the sound Arthur made when Lea kicked him in the ribs. With each revolution of the wheels she expected the carer’s hand to fall on her shoulder, just like… Belle drove the thought away by counting the flicks of her wrists as she pushed the wheels.
Still breathless and with the after-burn of the memory fluttering behind her e
yes, Belle stopped. She was at the back door, tears blurring her vision. Whatever she’d remembered, no matter how painful it was, her pressing problem was in the here and now. She had to slow down and focus on getting help. Whatever suppressed memories Lea had awoken didn’t matter. But it does matter. If it’s real, it matters a great deal.
Belle glanced over her shoulder and was relieved to see the caregiver hadn’t followed her. She could go out the back door, but then what? Use the ramp and go where? The lawn would be damp. Even if she made it around the side of the house, what then? Push herself all the way down the gravel driveway and onto the road? She doubted she’d make it more than ten metres on the loose stones.
Her hand touched the knob and hung there, fingers lingering on the door. There had to be a better way. She just needed to get her head around it. Lea had her phone and for some reason refused to return it. Belle had no idea why the girl was behaving so erratically. Maybe when Arthur tried to force his way in it had pushed the carer over the edge. But whether or not Arthur was still a risk, Belle couldn’t stand by and watch the girl hurt him. And how long would it be before Lea turned on her?
Belle let go of the knob and looked around the kitchen, noticing the breakfast dishes were still on the table. The toasted sandwich maker was open on the counter, a thick layer of burnt cheese clung to the black metal plates. She hadn’t noticed this morning but now realised the caregiver had left last night’s dishes on the counter. It was a small thing, but a sign that something had been wrong before Arthur showed up.
Still grappling with what to do next, Belle realised she’d been in the kitchen too long. If Lea was listening, she’d be waiting for the back door to open. Belle grabbed the knob and opened the door. She counted to ten guessing that’s how long it would take to negotiate her way out the back door. Satisfied she’d waited long enough she closed the door with enough force to rattle the frame.
Now what? Now, Belle decided, she needed to contact someone. The police or Guy or anyone who could send help. But without her phone she was cut off from the outside world. There was no landline in the house, only… Belle’s heart skipped a beat. The answer was so obvious she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it sooner. The modem! She could use the laptop in the study to contact someone.