Beyond Fear (3 page)

Jodie flicked the torch on, walked the five paces to the edge of the road, looked right to the crest of the hill then left to the bend.

‘What are you doing?’ Corrine asked.

‘I don’t know. Just looking.’

‘The view’s the same from here, you know.’

Jodie swung the torch around, lit up the bags and Corrine and the bush at her back. ‘Yeah, I know. But walking and looking feels better than standing still.’ She left the light on as she made her way around the luggage, flicked it off, folded her arms tight across her chest. Beside her, Corrine’s boots shuffled about on the roadside gravel. She could smell Corrine’s perfume. Something far off made a birdlike sound. The light from the phone appeared at waist-height, briefly lit Corrine’s manicured hand, then disappeared again.

The sound of an engine began like a whisper in the silent night, grew to a rumble then the bush beyond the bend glowed.

‘Thank God,’ Corrine said.

Headlights speared the darkness and a moment later a car careered around the bend. It was going the wrong way to be coming from Bald Hill but maybe the cab hadn’t started there. Corrine slung her handbag over a shoulder, picked up a suitcase and stood like she was waiting for the bus. Jodie walked towards the road, moving the torch from side to side in a wide arc, letting the cabbie know he’d found them.

The car was almost on her before she realised it wasn’t the cab. No telltale taxi light on top, no attempt to slow down. She squinted in the glare of the headlights, glanced a shadowy, lone driver at the wheel as it rushed past, then watched until its red tail-lights disappeared over the hill.

‘Shit,’ Corrine said. Something hit the gravel. Jodie guessed it was the bag, hoped Corrine hadn’t slumped to the ground in a sulk.

Jodie stepped onto the smooth surface of the road and stood in the centre, torch still pointed at the corner. ‘Shit.’ After the blaze of light, the dark seemed even more oppressive. She didn’t like it. Or the way it made her heart hammer inside her chest. ‘What time is it?’

The blue light appeared. ‘Seven-forty.’

‘I’m going to call.’ Jodie walked back, took Hannah’s phone, crossed the road and had a shoulder pressed into the bush on the other side before one reception bar lit up. She dialled the number the tow truck driver had given her and watched the torchlight dim a little as she listened to the ringtone switch to the cabbie’s message bank. She left a polite message – we’re here, we’re waiting, be great to see you soon. She phoned Louise then the truck driver. No answer on both counts.

By the time she reached Corrine, the torch beam looked like it’d been connected to a dimmer and turned to low. She flicked it off, sucking in a breath at the sudden blackness. ‘Bloody hell, I can’t see a thing.’

Corrine was silent for a moment. ‘I can make out the top of the trees against the sky.’

Jodie lifted her eyes, saw shadows materialise as her vision adjusted to the dark – the ragged edge of treetops silhouetted against a starless dome of sky, the looming, solid mass of a gum tree, the white roadside markers. She sensed again the darkness at her back, wanted to turn around, check they were alone. Don’t be paranoid, Jodie. You’re past that. She pushed her hands into her pockets. ‘I can see the white lines on the road, too.’

‘I can see you. Your face but not your hair.’

‘Your hair looks like a puff of steam.’

‘Thanks for that.’

‘Any time.’

‘Christ, it’s cold.’

Corrine shuffled her feet again. Jodie repositioned her weight from one frozen foot to the other, blew on her hands, hitched at the collar of her jacket. It was so quiet, she could hear her pulse thud softly inside her head. Icy tentacles of wind played across her face, rustled the bush behind her – a gentle, shushing sound that was amplified in the eerie, dark silence and made her feel suddenly, irrationally alone.

‘Adam said you went all the way back to school for his model plane today,’ Jodie said loudly, a little too cheerily. She notched it down a tad. ‘He’s so forgetful. Hope it wasn’t too much of a rush to get packed.’

‘No problem. My bags were already waiting by the door. Besides, he looked like his little heart would break if I didn’t.’

Jodie smiled, relieved to hear Corrine’s voice. ‘He really wanted his dad to see it,’ she said, wishing she could tell Corrine how thankful she was.

Corrine had banned her from saying thank you two and a half years ago. That was a week after Jodie had gone back to full-time work, still angry and reeling from James’s decision to give up on their rocky marriage. She’d been stuck in traffic then late to pick up Adam and Isabelle from after-school care. The kids were upset, Jodie felt sick with guilt and it’d cost her a fortune in late fees. Then Corrine dropped by to see how the new job was going. She was the most unlikely candidate for childminding – the woman was so perfectly groomed and styled, it was hard to believe she had children of her own – but it was Corrine’s idea. Jodie had to stay behind to teach a senior sport class on Wednesdays and Fridays, and Corrine was at the primary school anyway, to collect Zoe, her youngest. So after that, Corrine picked up all three kids two days a week, took them home, fed them afternoon tea and let them play until Jodie arrived. No need for thankyous, Corrine had said. She enjoyed their laughing and shouting and running around. Her late husband Roland had loved a raucous house.

More often than not, Corrine had a chilled bottle of champagne waiting for Jodie’s arrival on Fridays. Hannah or Lou might drop by and all the kids would be shooed down to Corrine’s huge rumpus room or out to the pool. Sometimes, after Hannah or Lou had gone home to their husbands, Jodie and Corrine would order takeaway or make something easy like cheese on toast, sit around the table with their four children and conjure up some of that relaxed, end-of-the-week family time they both missed about being married.

‘Just don’t let James think I did it for
him
,’ Corrine said and Jodie knew she’d have that piqued tilt to her chin now. Corrine had never forgiven James for walking away from his family – not when he’d seen how hers was torn apart by Roland’s heart attack only months earlier. If ever Jodie needed company for a bit of liberating ex-husband ranting, Corrine was her girl.

‘Won’t even mention it,’ Jodie promised then heard the scuffle of Corrine’s feet, saw her bend over the luggage.

‘What happened to the champagne?’ Corrine asked.

‘Champagne? Are you kidding? It’s too cold.’

‘Honey, it’s never too cold for champagne. I saw it with the bags. Here it . . . what . . . oh, bugger. It got knocked over.’ More scuffling. ‘Oh. Oh, fuck it all.’ Gravel skittered across the ground. ‘I’ve been squatting in a big puddle of champagne. It’s soaked the hem of my coat. Christ!’ Jodie heard the muted sounds of Corrine slapping at her coat, the scrunch of gravel as she flailed about. ‘Where the hell is that cab? Give me the phone. I’m going to call.’

Jodie handed her the phone and the torch. She heard a couple of sighs then Corrine said, ‘How do you work this thing? Oh, got it.’ The torch came to life and Jodie screwed up her eyes as the beam shone straight into her face. ‘Let’s see what this cab driver’s got to say for himself,’ Corrine said.

The cabbie would get an earful. Jodie grinned to herself as Corrine lit a path around the bags but as she stalked across the road, the smile on Jodie’s face dropped away. The torch beam had wiped out her night vision and the further away Corrine got, the blacker everything became. The jagged edge of sky was gone, so was the looming tree. She thought about running over to her – they could huddle together in the light, make defamatory comments about the cabbie while they waited for him to answer – but she couldn’t see her own feet, thought she’d probably do an ankle tripping over the luggage. She pulled her coat tighter, tried to keep her eyes on Corrine, felt her chest tighten, her heart beat faster. Where was the damn cab? And what the hell happened to five minutes away? They’d been waiting fifteen already, freezing their butts . . .

A snap. In the brush.

Jodie spun around, blinked blindly at the darkness. Something familiar and unpleasant fluttered in the pit of her belly. Her hands turned to fists inside her pockets. She stood perfectly still, ears straining in the silence, listening. For footsteps, breathing, whispering. It was like a sensory deprivation tank out here – no sound, no sight. Then behind her, Corrine swore.

Jodie jumped so hard it sent little stones scattering. Adrenaline buzzed in her head, tingled across her shoulders. She turned, saw Corrine in her halo of phone light, punching buttons on the mobile. Get a grip, Jodie. There is no one out here. No one could be. It’s just you and Corrine. The fashion queen and her tracksuit-and-runners friend. Shake it off, Jodie. Take a damn breath.

‘Any luck?’ She called it loudly, filling the darkness with the sound of her own voice.

‘I left a message for the cabbie and Lou’s phone rang out,’ Corrine said as her heels clacked back across the road. ‘What the hell are they doing? They should be waiting for us to call.’

Jodie felt a flicker of concern. ‘Maybe it’s the reception out here. I could only get one bar. Maybe the calls aren’t even getting through to them. They’re fine. I’m sure they are. I’m sure it’s just a reception problem.’

Corrine skirted the luggage, came to a stop beside Jodie and switched the torch off at the end of a long sigh.

‘Leave it on,’ Jodie said.

‘My hand’s cold.’

‘I’ll hold it.’

The torch came back on. Jodie took it from Corrine, ran the light over the bags at their feet, then in a wider circle around the luggage, across the gravel, the skid marks in the stones, the bent-over white post. She turned around and shone the glow into the bush behind them. See, Jodie, just bush. The light was little more than a dim disc now. The batteries wouldn’t last much longer. She should turn it off. She didn’t.

‘So what’s the latest on the school dinner?’ Jodie said it like the ins and outs of the fundraising committee were prime conversation. She didn’t have the time or the skills to organise a classy dinner and Corrine’s enthusiasm for table decorations and menu options had, to this point, encouraged her to steer clear of the topic but right now, she’d be happy to hear all of it. Anything to keep them talking, to fill the silence, to take the edge off the darkness.

‘Oh God, the colour scheme has been such a drama this year,’ Corrine started.

And Jodie listened, mmm’d and oh-lovely’d until she couldn’t stand not knowing the time any longer. ‘Pass the phone,’ she said when Corrine paused for breath. She checked the glowing blue numbers – twenty-three minutes they’d been waiting – and as Corrine talked on, she took the torch to the edge of the road, looked right to the crest, left to the bend. ‘I’m going to try again,’ Jodie said.

She jogged across the road and nestled into the bush. She didn’t bother leaving a message for the cabbie. He wasn’t going to get there any faster if she told him he was a useless, time-wasting jerk.

She phoned Louise then the tow truck driver. Still no answer. Then it didn’t matter.

Light flared in the sky beyond the crest of the hill before the car roared into sight like two blinding eyes. Jodie stepped out of the bush, had her arms in the air to flag it down when she saw Corrine on the opposite side lit up by the headlights. She’d stepped forward but had already seen it wasn’t stopping, stood there with one hand on her hip, one leg jutted out – body language for pissed off.

As it passed, a man shouted out the window in a loud rush of sound that was carried away by the speed of the car. Jodie had no idea what he yelled – it could have been
Praise the Lord
– but she stiffened with apprehension, flicked off the torch, watched the car all the way to the bend, hoping it didn’t turn around. Not feeling a whole lot safer when it didn’t.

She sprinted back across the road as its red tail-lights disappeared. The dark closed in. She flicked the switch on the torch but got nothing. Tried again, gave it a bash with the heel of her hand. Nothing.

‘Christ,’ Corrine said.

Jodie tossed the torch in the direction of the luggage, heard the soft thud as it landed, edged closer to Corrine. ‘Still no answer.’

‘What the hell are they doing?’

‘Must be the reception.’
They’re fine, Jodie.

Corrine started up a rhythmic rocking, knocking one foot against the other. ‘I’ve been trying to think of something hot,’ she said. ‘But it’s not working. All I get is Brad Pitt and I just can’t imagine anything hot with all those kids of his hanging around.’

Jodie smiled, tried to relax. The cab would come. It would be here any second. ‘It’s been so long since I had anything hot, I’m not sure I can conjure up an image that would warm me up, kids or no kids.’

‘I’m with you there. I haven’t had a man to cuddle up to since Roland died. Well, except for that one close call.’

Jodie looked at Corrine, saw Corrine’s puff-of-steam hair turn in her direction.

‘Rob the Sales Rep,’ they said together and burst out laughing.

Corrine’s tale of her disastrous widow-tries-the-dating-game had kept all four of them in stitches for months. Rob the Sales Rep was a friend of a friend of a friend. He’d asked her out; she’d thought it was time. He was younger; she figured, what the hell. She had her hair and nails done, bought a new dress, wore four-inch heels and he’d taken her for pizza.