The Busker: A gripping psychological thriller

by M. J. Patrick

  Because it was working.

  ‘We should start a fire,’ he said quietly. ‘What do you reckon?’

  He’d set up the tents by the edge of the creek, on a patch of soil where it was easy to pin the tent pegs. He hadn’t looked over at Sally since she’d mentioned his tattoo, the name of his ex etched on his hip.

  And now he'd appeared, in silence, to stand over her, inches away from her face.

  What was she doing here, alone with someone she didn’t know? Sally could sense the physical power he had over her, how he could strangle her, or kick her, with ease. She wouldn’t be able to fight back.

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ she replied, standing so that her eyes were no longer level with his feet. ‘I can go and collect some sticks and things. Would they help?’

  ‘That’s what we need,’ said Charlie, scratching his stubble. ‘Make sure they’re dry. They won’t catch fire if they’re wet.’

  ‘Will do.’ Sally nodded and started to walk down the side of the creek and towards the trees.

  ‘Sally,’ Charlie called out after her.

  She turned to face him. Charlie was a solitary and isolated figure, waiting for her response in the middle of the clearing. She felt pity for him. ’Yes?’

  ‘Be careful,’ he said.

  ‘I will.’

  She was happy to collect the firewood as it was an opportunity to explore the bush. But there was another reason. It was an excuse to get away from Charlie, even if it was for an hour. He needed space, and she needed space from him. Ever since his switch of temper in the car something had changed about Charlie. Her impression of him changed. He was not the person she’d assumed he was.

  She entered the bush. There was no path this time, so she followed the soil away from the creek. Any loose sticks dry and thick enough she picked up. She collected them under her arm. Within moments she couldn’t see the campsite or Charlie through the foliage.

  A beam of sunlight streamed through the bush’s canopy above her, and Sally inhaled a long breath of the wild air.

  She missed her Dad.

  Once, when she'd been a teenager, he'd taken her on a drive into the countryside. He was taking her out for the day, despite her pleading and protests. She’d been a mopey teenager then, too self-absorbed to go on a single trip with her Dad. He’d ignored her whinging, and drove to a secluded spot in the country, an hour’s drive from the city, the land of rolling hills and paddocks.

  Sally’s Dad drove into a car park at the base of one of the larger hills, and he took her up there. They walked up and up the largest hill with Sally complaining the entire way. Her legs were tired, she was tired, and she had schoolwork to do. But her Dad ignored those complaints. They reached the summit. That’s where Sally saw the ruins, the ruins of a fort on the top of the hill. Stones and moss. Ancient history.

  She could see for miles around. It was beautiful.

  She asked him why they were up there, and her Dad told her of how he used to come here a few times when he was younger. He’d sit up there to be on his own, and be with nature. They were up here to make memories, he told her. Them two together. She’d understand, one day when she was no longer a teenager.

  As she brushed away branches and leaves in the bush on the other side of the world, Sally finally understood what he’d meant. Memories. His touch, his smell, his voice.

  She missed him.

  What would he say to her now, running away into the bush with a strange man she’d only just met?

  Her stick collection was getting full. With her spare hand, she flicked away a leaf sticking to her nose. She could leave now, go back to the campsite, and ask Charlie to drive her back to the city. Go back, and see Ashley. Apologise to her. But that would be admitting it had been her fault. It’d mean finding Jim’s address, and it would mean having to see Jim again. She couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t do that.

  She had to do something. There were two choices, either stay here with Charlie or go back to Ashley.

  She stopped. The bush surrounded her. It was quiet out here, the only sounds were the trickling of water, and the murmur of birds far above. She could cry out right now, and no one would hear. It was liberating. She was alone, like her Dad in his ruins.

  Some backpackers got lost not far from here a year ago. It took rescue workers over a week to find the bodies. The potential danger of it all sent a bolt of nervous energy up her arm. This must be the furthest Sally had ever been from civilisation. The middle of nowhere.

  Sally checked the sticks in her hands. She probably had enough to keep a fire running. How many sticks did Charlie want? She couldn’t guess. This was the first proper time she’d been camping. The amount in her hands seemed enough. It was time to head back to the campsite. She bent down to pick up a stick. She was glad she was wearing boots, they’d already built up an outer layer of dirt since she’d stepped out of the car.

  Something wasn’t right with the stick she’d picked up. It started to move through her fingers. Wriggling. Slithering.

  A snake.

  With a gasp she instinctively leapt back, lifting her hand to let it go. The snake slithered through her fingers, and violently into the air, scales glistening. It flopped to the soil a foot away from her. It spun its head round to face her and began to coil its long body around itself. Its black eyes shone in the afternoon light.

  The snake was ready to lash out at her.

  Sally froze. What could she do? The snake faced her, and she couldn’t move.

  ‘Sally.’ A voice. Calming. It was Charlie. He was behind her. He’d followed her into the bush. ‘Sally,’ he repeated.

  Her body didn’t want to move. She stared at the snake. It was getting ready to strike.

  ‘Sally, walk back slowly towards me,’ Charlie instructed her, soothing.

  She struggled to speak. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m here. Take one step back.’ He seemed to be able to control her with his voice. Sally took a step back. She wasn’t controlling herself, it was Charlie. ‘Great, and another, Sally.’ She did.

  She didn’t take her eyes off the snake. It didn’t move.

  ‘Keep walking back towards me, towards the sound of my voice,’ Charlie commanded, and she did.

  His arms were around her, pulling her back. He had her. His hand reached for hers. The snake darted along the ground towards them.

  ‘Follow me,’ he said and pulled her back the way they came towards the campsite. Her hand gripped his. They ran.

  Sally didn’t dare check if the snake was behind her. She clutched the sticks against her chest as they stumbled at speed through the bush. Running. She imagined the snake sliding over rocks and roots hunting her.

  She ran into a low-hanging branch, and it hit the side of her head, a sharp pain. A leaf got caught, tangled in her face. But still, she ran, Charlie pulling her along.

  They ran until they burst through the trees. The creek. The waterfall. The campsite.

  Sally breathed in deeply, trying to calm herself. She dropped the sticks she’d collected.

  Charlie's hold tightened. ‘You didn’t get bitten, did you?’ he asked breathlessly as he hugged her. Panic.

  She quickly checked her arms and legs, even though she knew the snake hadn’t bit her. ‘No.’

  ‘You’re positive?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘You think so?’ His gaze focused on her skin on her arms and legs.

  ‘I didn’t get bitten,’ she replied.

  ‘Good,’ he said, relieved. ‘Calm down. You’re safe.’

  Her breathing returned.

  ‘Thanks for getting me out of there. I couldn’t move. It would’ve got me,’ she said. She meant it.

  ’No problem. You’re very lucky, Sally, if I wasn’t there you could’ve been dead in minutes.’

  ‘That’s dark,’ she said. ‘If I were bitten what could we have done about it?’

  ‘I would’ve hugged you and said goodbye.’

&
nbsp; ‘Shit.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Shit.’

  Charlie still had his arms wrapped around Sally. His hands rested on her back. They’d been there for too long, but Sally didn’t mind. She felt safe. This was the right Charlie, the one she knew in the city. Confident. Charming.

  He’d saved her.

  Maybe she’d insulted him with the tattoo earlier, maybe she’d been overthinking him.

  Maybe she should stay. Stay in the bush with Charlie.

  She gestured towards her collected sticks scattered all over the ground by their feet. ‘I bought back some firewood.’

  ‘At least something good came out of that,’ Charlie said.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘So. Let’s make a fire,’ he said.

  He removed his hands off her, breaking the hug. Even though she had made her decision to stay, Sally still had that feeling about him. Even though he’d saved her from the snake, the odd feeling didn’t go away. He’d followed her into the bush.

  34

  The fire spewed flames into the night sky. Red specks of ash were taken by the wind and Sally watched them drift away.

  ‘There isn’t much of a reason,’ she said, aiming the stick straight into the fire, poking the embers resting in a heap at the bottom of the flames. It was enjoyable, prodding the fire. She studied the embers as she crumbled them into ash. ‘My Dad came here when he was about my age.’ She was responding to Charlie's question about why she’d decided, of all places, to come to his country.

  ‘Here?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘Yeah.’ Her stick stirred the fire as the heat tickled her face.

  ‘So is that why you came?’

  ‘That’s why I came.’ Sally let the stick go and watched as the end of it collapsed into the campfire, joining the other embers. She leaned back, turning to her side to face Charlie. He was lying on his towel, looking at the night sky. Sally observed his face flickering in the firelight. His eyes were shut, relaxed and calm, savouring the evening. ‘I suppose that’s the reason why I did come here, but I haven’t thought about it much,’ she said.

  ‘So, you’re kind of following in his footsteps and all that?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘I don’t know if you could put it like that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It sounds cheesy,’ Sally replied.

  ‘Oh, alright,’ Charlie said, awkward. ‘Why didn’t your Dad come this time?’

  Sally again picked up what remained of the stick, and dabbed the fire with it. Its end caught fire and continued to break off into embers. The burning pieces fell on the ground around her. She threw the rest of the stick into the flames, not wanting to start another fire by accident. ‘Dad passed away just over a month ago,’ she said.

  There was a rustle behind her as Charlie sat himself up. He was now leaning on his elbow. She expected to feel his hand on her back, for him to lay it on her like he’d done a few times now, but he didn’t. That was a relief. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. His voice had a false tender tone she didn’t like.

  She wanted to cry. Talking about her Dad out loud made his death feel more real. It no longer only existed in her head.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘It’s odd, I don’t really like talking about it.’

  ‘That’s not surprising.’

  ‘I’ve found the whole social aspect of it all so draining. The well-wishers and the Funeral and all that. It was getting a bit too much. That’s probably why I decided to come here, to get away from it all.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Charlie said, not knowing how to reply.

  ‘It wasn’t my thing. Everyone expected something from me like I had to perform the role of a girl whose mum ran away and now her dad’s dead. I just missed my Dad. I still miss him. Every second,’ she said as she crossed her arms and lifted her head to the night sky. There were no clouds above, no city pollution, no signs of civilisation anywhere. The stars were free to shine unhindered. She was in a whole other hemisphere so the night sky above her was a different constellation, a different canvas of lights than back home. She wondered if her Dad had looked up himself and saw the same sky when he was here all those years ago. She imagined him on the beach. Did he look up then? Did he see what she’s seeing now?

  ‘Are you okay?’ Charlie asked with his annoying tender tone.

  ‘It’s strange how you remember someone,’ she replied. ‘Even when they’re gone, it can seem like they haven’t. You remember them so strongly.’ Charlie didn’t reply, and she didn’t want him to. She caught a glimpse of him in the firelight. He was looking up at the sky as well. ‘I miss him. I miss him so much.’

  ‘It must be painful,’ Charlie said.

  Her face was wet. Tears. ‘It’s hard.’ A voice in her head was telling her not to cry, not now.

  ‘Where’s your Mum?’

  ‘I don’t know where she is,’ Sally wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. She didn’t want Charlie to see her cry, so she tried to make it seem normal like she had an itch. ‘She left when I was a kid. Dad raised me on his own.’

  ‘It must’ve been tough for him.’

  ‘It was. I’ve only kind of realised it as I’ve become an adult.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Charlie turned over to his bag and unzipped it. He took out a blanket and, without speaking, wrapped it around Sally. He lay back on the ground. How chivalrous of him.

  Sally held the blanket and glanced around the campsite. ‘I’m on edge,’ she said.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I don’t know, it’s like I’m expecting a snake to pop out of the bush any minute,’ she said.

  Charlie laughed. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Nothing will happen.’

  ‘That’s not very reassuring,’ she said.

  ‘Hang on, I’ve got something that’ll help.’ Charlie returned to his unzipped bag. He took out a bottle of clear liquid. ‘Here. Let’s get drunk,’ he said. Sally couldn’t read the bottle’s label in the dim light, but she knew what it was immediately. She rolled her eyes.

  ‘A bottle of vodka?’ she laughed. ‘Are we teenagers?’

  ‘I guess we are tonight. Come on. We’re in the middle of nowhere so we have to get drunk.’

  ‘Okay, fine,’ Sally said. ‘Let’s try it.’

  Here she was, getting drunk again, running away from her grief. She hated herself.

  Charlie unscrewed the cap and handed the bottle to her. Sally closed her eyes and swigged it back, pursing her lips together so she only let in a small sip, but the vodka shot down her throat like a fire. With a grimace, she handed the bottle back to Charlie. It was cheap stuff.

  She coughed, the aftertaste of the alcohol sitting in her mouth like sick. ‘That is foul.’

  Charlie took a swig of the bottle himself. His expression didn’t change. ‘But it is good, isn’t it? It works,’ he said. Sally did agree with him. It was disgusting, but the giddy anticipation of getting drunk from it overrode the taste.

  ‘It’s going to make me feel terrible in the morning,’ she said.

  ‘It probably will,’ Charlie replied. ‘Have another go.’

  ‘Alright.’ Now knowing what taste to expect, she opened her lips and, this time really drank the vodka. It wasn’t as bad as her first sip, although the sharpness of it was still there. Charlie took the bottle from her.

  ‘You like it?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s still horrible the second time, but it’s bearable,’ she said.

  ‘Exactly what it should be.’

  Sally faced him. ‘You probably don’t want me to pry,’ she said. ‘But I still don’t know anything about you.’

  ‘There isn’t much to know.’

  ‘What are your family like?’ she asked.

  ‘You don’t want to know that.’

  ‘I do. I honestly feel like I know nothing about you.’

  ‘It’s not a good topic,’ Charlie said. ‘My life hasn’t been very nice.’

>   ‘I won’t tell anyone,’ Sally joked. ‘Seriously, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay.’

  ‘Fuck it,’ Charlie said. Sally guessed it was more to himself than to her. ‘I’ll tell you. My Dad left my Mum after a one night stand, and then I was born. My Mum was abusive, and so I got taken into foster care. That’s it.’

  Sally didn’t respond at first. She sat silent, waiting for the right words to come. What to say to Charlie's admission? She’d suspected something dark had happened in Charlie's life, but not that. He could be lying. She scanned his face for clues. In the past she had guys lie to her about themselves just to get her into bed with them. Charlie, right now, seemed genuine, although he was still a mystery to her and had been since she’d first met him. ‘Now it’s my turn to say I’m sorry to hear that,’ she said. ‘Thanks for telling me.’

  Charlie sighed. ‘I don’t usually share that fact about myself.’ He took another drink from the vodka bottle.

  ‘Yeah. It must be hard.’

  They sat in silence for a minute, Sally looking at the stars, Charlie looking at her.

  ‘Tell me a secret,’ Charlie said. ‘Tell me a secret no one else knows.’

  ‘I don’t have any secrets,’ Sally replied.

  ‘Sure you do. Everyone has secrets.’

  ‘Not me.’

  ‘How about your first memory? Tell me about that.’

  Sally smiled. ‘My Dad liked archery. I remember being at an archery range with him when I was a little kid. He left me on the audience benches to watch him practice. The sound of the arrows hitting the targets frightened me so much because they sounded so dangerous. But I loved being there. I loved seeing him so passionate about something.’

  ‘That’s more of a memory than a secret.’

  ‘Shut up,’ she joked.

  ‘Go on,’ Charlie said. ‘Tell me a proper secret.’

  ‘A proper secret?’

  ‘There must be something.’

  Sally paused. She put her head between her knees. ‘I think I’m no longer friends with my best friend,’ she said quietly into the ground.