Free-Falling (11 page)

Bazza stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight as her chest heaved, her shoulders shuddered and she cried the snotty, gasping tears of a child. For just a moment, he became Carl, hugging her close the way he always did.

Carl had been a hugger. All his life he was known for giving out great big bear hugs whenever they were needed and even when they weren't. Evelyn was most certainly not a hugger. For years Carl would arrive home from work and automatically pull her into a firm embrace before scooping up his boys for a hug of their own. Night after night, Evelyn would tentatively hug him back, awkwardly patting his back – feeling like a fraud. The day that she found out her father had passed away, dying suddenly of a stroke at just sixty-nine years of age, Carl had come home early from work and immediately given her one of his warm, smothering hugs. She prepared to respond in her usual self-conscious
way. But, without even realising it, she found herself melting into his arms and squeezing him back so tightly that she just about cracked one of his ribs.

From then on, Evelyn became a hugger. She became the first to greet Carl at the door with an enthusiastic cuddle. She hugged the boys each night before bed – long, lingering cuddles, breathing in their ‘boy smells' of dirt and red cordial (regardless of how well they assured her they had scrubbed themselves in the bath or brushed their teeth that night). She hugged her sister when they met for coffee and ignored Violet's dubious looks each time she did so. She was a hugger for a good five years – until a few weeks after Carl died. At first when he passed away, she did her best to continue with this new tradition. She tried to adopt Carl's personality, his carefree, relaxed way of dealing with the boys. She even went easy on the two of them when she found them fighting at his funeral. She reasoned with them like they were adults, gave them the benefit of the doubt and then cuddled Andrew like always (but shook James's hand, knowing that he wouldn't go for a hug in public).

But she couldn't keep it up. A few weeks of being denied her regular evening bear hug and, well, she just forgot how to keep doing it herself. She went back to her normal way of disciplining her children: stern words and a smack on the bottom with the wooden spoon if required. She stopped the nighttime cuddles in favour of a quick, perfunctory kiss on the forehead before tucking them in tight. The first time she met Violet for a coffee after Carl's funeral, Violet had leant in ready for the hug she had come to expect. When Evelyn had pulled back, turning the hug into barely a pat on the shoulder, the look on Violet's face showed disappointment, but not surprise. Even her sister had known the hugging would run its course.

Standing outside the SkyChallenge warehouse, Evelyn became a hugger yet again. Or at least for the moment she did.

Then Bazza ruined it by whispering in her ear, ‘McGavin, you're lucky you're not a few years younger, otherwise you'd probably be slapping me in the face and I'd be explaining to the guys why the boss just canned me for pinching a customer on the butt!'

Evelyn's sobs turned into a laugh as she pushed him away and started searching through her bag for a tissue.

‘Right. You're coming for a drink with us,' he announced, grabbing her by the elbow and leading her back towards the warehouse. ‘Let me just gather the troops and we're outta here.'

On the way over to a nearby Irish tavern, she thought about what Bazza had said to her. He claimed to know her personality so well and yet it seemed he saw her as a completely different person to the one she saw in the mirror each morning. It felt as though he somehow knew the old her. The person she once was, before Carl died and she had had to shut herself down and close herself off. Was she changing? Was the thrill of the jump loosening her up? Or was he just seeing something in her that others couldn't. She was getting the feeling that that boy had definitely found his calling in the field of psychology.

Evelyn, Bazza and about eight or nine staff members from SkyChallenge spent the rest of the night at a corner table in the tavern. She made an admirable attempt at keeping up with the young kids and their amazing ability to put away drink after drink, and she finally told Bazza the full story of why she had decided to come skydiving. She explained that she had just recently lost her son (although omitted the details of how it had happened, not prepared to describe fully that day to anyone else just yet) and that she was now being driven crazy by James – not knowing how to connect with him or help him deal with the loss
of his brother when she was too damn busy dealing with the loss of her son.

Bazza and his workmates offered slurred, drunken opinions. ‘It sounds like he's just really hurting,' said one of the young girls, earnestly. ‘Does he have a girlfriend?' There was a hint of hope in her voice as she twirled her fingers around her fat, blonde curls.

‘Trust me. You do not want me as a mother-in-law,' said Evelyn, thinking briefly of Belinda, picturing her puffy, blotchy face at Andrew's funeral.

‘I didn't say I wanted to marry him,' the girl responded huffily.

It was well into the early hours of the morning when Evelyn was rescued from a rowdy rendition of Monty Python's ‘Always Look on the Bright Side of Life' by her mobile phone ringing. She didn't register that it was very late for someone to be calling her until she answered and heard Violet's urgent tone.

‘Ev, where are you? We need you – it's James.'

Oh, no, oh no, not again.

For a moment she was straight back at her office in the city, sitting at her desk, getting that call from Andrew.

‘Hey, Mum?'

‘Yes, dear?' Her response had been abrupt and impatient. She hadn't noticed at first how small and fragile he sounded.

‘Can you please come here? I kind of need you. Yeah, I think I need you, need you now.' She slowly realised that he didn't seem quite right. At first she thought he might have been drunk. The strange sing-song lilt to his voice.

‘Where are you?' she'd asked, starting to sit up a little straighter in her chair.

‘Ummmm. I'm here. And there's something I have to tell you. Mum, it's so important. You should just come here. Yeah, I need you, need you, need you now.'

And then she heard the voices in the background. Crying and panicked shouts. ‘Should we move him?' ‘No, don't touch him!' ‘Has someone phoned for the ambulance?'

‘Andrew, tell me where you are? Focus! Tell me exactly where you are?'

‘I'm here, Mum! Need you, need you. . .' The phone cut off halfway through his strange singing.

She'd tried ringing him back, but it rang once and then cut out again. She'd immediately dialled his work number instead, foot tapping anxiously as she waited for it to pick up. Andrew's voicemail cut in. ‘Hi, you've reached Andy McGavin. I'm not available right now but please leave me a detailed message after the beep. Alternatively, press the star key to be transferred to reception.' She'd jabbed the star key.

A bubbly receptionist picked up. ‘Good afternoon and welcome to GameTech, this is Sarah!'

‘Transfer me to Michael Coombes, NOW.'

‘Putting you through.' The bubbles disappeared to be replaced by a short, curt voice – clearly she was offended by Evelyn's bluntness.

The phone rang, once, twice, three times.
Pick up, pick up, pick up.

‘Mike Coombes speaking.'

Thank God.

‘Michael. It's Mrs McGavin. Where is Andrew? Quickly, has he left for the day?' Her voice was rushed and garbled.

‘Yeah, sorry, Mrs Mac – he's already gone.'

‘Yes, but where? Where was he going after work today? He phoned me. There's something wrong, something's happened. I need to know where he is.'

‘He said something about going down to the Ezymart convenience store on Pitt Street to grab a couple of things for tonight before Belle came to pick him up. He might still be there.'

She'd hung up without saying goodbye and charged out of her office. Andrew's work was only a block or two from hers. She knew the Ezymart store Michael was talking about. She ran all the way there. When she arrived, there was already a crowd outside the shop. Police cars and an ambulance parked haphazardly around the entrance. She saw Michael and Belinda standing amongst the crowd. Michael must have run down here too after she'd phoned him. She saw the worried look on Belinda's face and felt a rush of affection for her.
I really do think she must love him as much as I do.
She had patted Belinda on the shoulder and reassured her that everything would be fine. Then she had pushed past the eager spectators and into the shop. A policewoman put up her hands in protest.

‘You can't come through here, ma'am.' She could have only been about twenty years old. No match for Evelyn. If her son said he needed her then she would be there for him. She had ignored the policewoman and sidestepped around her, moving towards the gathering on the far side of the store. There were ambulance officers kneeling on the floor next to a still figure. There was blood.

She was too late.

She was there to see her son take his last breath. She watched his hand loosen its grip on his phone. She saw his legs shudder. And then he was gone. His face was dead white and the look in
his eyes was of such profound fear that she couldn't bear it. She just had to turn away.

The ambulance officers did their best to bring him back, but there was nothing they could do. The young policewoman took her by the shoulders and led her outside. She squashed the scene she had just witnessed deep down inside. Including what she had seen on the floor next to her dying son.

Back in the sweaty Irish tavern, Evelyn felt her breath catch in her throat.
This can't be happening again.

She got up from the table and moved away from the noise. ‘What is it? What's happened to James?' she snapped, her voice short and urgent.

‘He's okay, he's fine . . . it's just that . . . he's been locked up for the night at Hunters Hill police station. Used his “one phone call” to wake me up. Guess he was too afraid to call you. I didn't even realise that whole “one phone call” thing was real – thought that was just from the movies. Anyway, thought you ought to know about it, even though he'll probably never forgive me for calling, but I'm more afraid of you than I am of him. I'm on my way there now. Are you coming?'

Evelyn felt relief flood her system. James was all right. ‘Is that all?' she exclaimed.

‘Ev, have you been drinking? What do you mean “is that all”?'

‘Since you ask, I have had a few – but that's beside the point. I'll meet you there. Bye!'

She hung up and walked back to the table. The kids from SkyChallenge were going to love this new twist to the story.

Chapter 9

Belinda

Belinda wound down the window, turned up the music and relaxed a little in her seat, enjoying the feel of the wind through her hair. She generally loved highway driving: once she was in fifth gear and sitting on 110 kilometres, she preferred to chill in the left lane and let the monotony of it allow her just to think about things.

The trouble was, the only thing she could think about was Andy. The last time she'd driven out to her parents' farm, it had been for their engagement party and Andy had been sitting next to her, right there in the passenger seat, eating a pack of magic dust – the stuff that pops in your mouth – and leaning over to her, opening his mouth wide so that it would crackle noisily in her ear. She'd kept batting him away and laughing as she tried to concentrate on not veering off the road.

She glanced over at the empty seat and tried to picture him exactly as he was on that drive.
What would he be doing on this trip?
she wondered. Maybe patting her stomach and chatting to their unborn babies. Maybe offering her a packet of chips, or
maybe he'd be driving and she'd be having a nap – that seemed to be becoming more and more of a necessity recently. She was up to her twentieth week of the pregnancy: halfway.

There would be no need to make any happy announcement to her parents when she arrived. They were going to
see
her news the moment she stepped out of the car. God, how was she going to make it through Christmas on the farm without any champagne.

She shook her head clear and went back to visualising Andy. Would he have his feet stretched out in front of him, or up on the dash, maybe with his shoes off? Would he be singing along to the radio, telling her some story from work, or would he be reassuring her about how her parents would react to her being pregnant?

The harder she imagined it, the easier it became to pretend he really was sitting there. In fact, if she concentrated on the road ahead and kept the passenger seat blurry in her peripheral vision, then she could almost see the shape of his body, the tilt of his head, the blond hairs on his tanned arms, golden in the sunlight.

What would he say to her? Maybe something like, ‘Don't stress about it, Belle. Your parents know we love each other. We're engaged! What difference does it make if we have kids now instead of later? The wedding is just a date. That's all it is.'

‘But it's different like this,' she whispered to him. ‘You see, you're not really here. So
we're
not going up to the farm to tell Mum and Dad together, as a team.
I'm
going to tell them on my own. I'm going to tell them that I'm about to become a single mum. Andy, I'm going to tell them that I'm pregnant to a dead guy.'

‘Hey, Bella-Ballerina, stop being so melodramatic. I'm still here, right next to you.' The voice was so loud and clear inside
her head that she almost thought she heard it rather than imagined it.

‘Okay then, smarty-pants, do you realise that we're having
twins
?
Two
babies, Andy, and are you going to be able to change their nappies for me? Are you going to be able to pick them up when they're crying or help me feed them or bathe them or anything at all? No! That's right, you can't help with any of that because you're not really here, are you?' Her voice had grown from a whisper to a high-pitched shriek, and once she'd let it all out she swung her head to the side to look dead-on at the passenger seat.

He wasn't there. Of course he wasn't there. There was no more of Andy's calm voice in her head. She just felt silly and ridiculous and lost.

No, actually, I really
am
lost.

‘Oh, shit, I missed my exit,' she said out loud, this time to no one in particular. Simultaneously, as her stomach started fluttering with tiny little movements from her babies, a whimpering started up from the back seat. The puppy that had been sleeping peacefully in its pet carrier had woken and wanted attention. And so it seemed had the babies. She'd first felt them move probably about a week and a half ago. It had been the strangest sensation and since then the movements had become more frequent and more obvious.

‘All right, let's all just settle down until I figure out where the hell we are,' she announced to both the puppy and her uterus.

She peered at the sign for the next exit, didn't recognise any of the town names, but decided to take it regardless and find her way back from there. How much further up the highway had she travelled?

‘This is your fault, you know?' She spoke aloud, addressing Andy again – but this time not as though he were sitting next
to her. She was imagining him floating around them, maybe above the car, caught in the slipstream, flying along. ‘If I hadn't been doing all that stupid reminiscing about you, I would have been concentrating on where I was going. And you know why I can't stop thinking about you, don't you?' Obviously there was no point waiting for an answer, but she couldn't help automatically pausing for one. When none came, she continued on. ‘It's because you won't leave me alone, will you? It's just rude, you know – haunting a person who doesn't believe in ghosts. It flips around my whole way of thinking, messes everything up. If it had just been the two bunches of flowers, maybe I could have let it go. But you wanted to make it clear that it was you, didn't you?'

Belinda thought back to that day, about a week after she'd received the bouquets. She was walking up the hill towards the bus stop, wondering how she could have been so crazy as to have entertained the possibility that her dead fiancé had somehow delivered roses and lilies to her. Her car had a flat battery that she hadn't got around to getting fixed yet, so she needed to catch the 9.15 am bus to make it into uni in time for her last exam. As she neared the top of the T-intersection where the bus stop was, she realised the bus was already pulling up. She started jogging, but was nervous about running too fast after her fall at the gym. She was almost at the top of the hill when the bus started off again. There was no way to catch it now, and this was the time of the morning when the buses started to thin out. There wouldn't be another one for an hour, and it was looking like she might not make it in time for her exam.

She turned around and started to head back towards her apartment, trying not to panic. Seconds later, she heard a horn beeping, loudly and insistently. She looked behind her and saw
the bus reversing down Castle Hill Road. The driver's arm was waving out the window at her.

‘What the hell?'

She resumed her jog up to the top of the hill, crossed the road and jumped on to the bus. The driver huffed a little crossly as he said, ‘Where to, love?'

‘Sydney Uni, thanks.' She handed over her money and glanced around to see what the other passengers were making of this. Mostly she saw a sea of irritated-looking faces. They clearly hadn't liked being held up for a girl who was possibly pregnant, but at this stage might have been plain fat. A slow, fat girl who was running late for the bus and really didn't deserve to have it return just for her.

The driver handed her a ticket and her change. ‘Umm, thanks for, uh, coming back for me,' she said and her voice faltered slightly at the look on his face.

He gave yet another huge huff. ‘Don't thank me, love, thank
him
.' And he jerked his head slightly upwards and off to the side. ‘Someone's sure lookin' out for ya.' Then he shook his head and closed the doors. She sat herself down on one of the warm, sticky vinyl seats in a state of shock.

Andy stopped the bus for me?

What else could he have meant? He'd nodded his head towards the roof of the bus. He either meant Andy or God, and seeing as she'd never been all that religious, she couldn't think of any reason for God to stop the bus for her – let alone have it reverse down a major road, potentially causing traffic chaos. She spent the whole ride glancing nervously up every now and then, as though expecting Andy to come swooping down through the semi-open roof vent.

Once again, she could have talked herself out of it or, at least, she could have let Stacey talk her out of it. After all, what kind
of ghost communicates directly with bus drivers but doesn't have the decency to come right out and just talk to their fiancée? But then it happened again.

Another week went past and she'd finally got around to phoning the NRMA to come and look at her car battery. She took the mechanic down to the undercover car park to show him the problem. He checked it out and delivered the diagnosis. ‘Yep, battery's shot. I could juice it for you, but you'll probably only get one trip out of it before it goes again. Best to just put a new one in.'

‘Fair enough. How much?'

‘NRMA batteries are one hundred and ten dollars and come with a five-year guaran—' He stopped as something caught his eye, then took a few steps around the side of the car. ‘Or I could just put this one in for you?'

Belinda looked down to see a brand new battery sitting on the ground.

‘I have no idea where that came from,' she said.

The guy shrugged, he didn't appear all that interested in the mystery of it all. ‘Look, I'm not really supposed to install non-NRMA products, but I guess I could make an exception for you.' He seemed extremely bored by it all.

Back inside the apartment, she sat on the couch, almost hyperventilating as she tried to figure out what was going on. Her parking spot was in a locked undercover car park. She'd never seen that battery before in her life. Where the hell had it come from?

‘Andy?' she asked, looking around the room. ‘Are you here? Did you do that?'

When she'd told Stacey about this one, her reply had been, ‘If he could buy a new battery and leave it in your garage for you, why couldn't he actually install it too?'

‘Since when was Andy
ever
mechanical, Stacey?' Belinda had retorted crossly.

Now, driving through a small country town and remembering everything that had happened so far, Belinda felt a chill up her spine. As far as she was concerned, it really did all add up to Andy haunting her. She definitely didn't buy Stacey's explanation that the NRMA guy had planted the battery there when she wasn't looking because he thought she was cute, or that the bus driver had come back for her for the same reason.

‘Excuse me, but what kind of signals do you think I'm sending out to these blokes?' she'd asked her friend, offended.

As she tried to find a way back to the highway so she could finally get herself heading in the right direction, she saw a table set up in front of one of the small fibro houses that lined the town's main road. Two little girls stood at the table and a homemade sign hung from the huge jacaranda tree above them. She could just make out the words ‘Come on down to Issy and Annie's Nick Nack Shop!' painted on the festively tinsel-decorated sign. The girls waved excitedly as she drove past. They obviously wouldn't be getting much business in such a quiet little town.

It brought back an instant memory of Belinda and her sister Becky setting up shop at the end of the long driveway of their farm when she was about eight years old. The only customers they ever got were her grandma, her Uncle Scott, and Ted and Sandi from the farm next door. How could she not stop and give these poor kids a sale? She pulled over, made a U-turn and drove slowly back.

The two girls were just about squealing with delight to have a real customer stopping for them. She left a window open for the puppy and crossed the road to take a look at what they had on offer.

‘Hello and welcome to our store,' said one of the girls smoothly. ‘My name is Issy and this is my associate, Annie. Please feel free to browse and let us know if there is anything at all we can do to help you.' Issy waved her arms around the display as though she were one of those models on a game show, presenting the prizes. Annie giggled into her fist and Issy nudged her crossly.

Belinda did her best not to laugh – clearly Issy was taking her small business very seriously. The foldout table had been spread with a green-and-white checked tablecloth. On top were an odd collection of bits and pieces: hair clips, scrunchies, necklaces and pretty coloured stones, along with a can opener next to a tin of pineapple rings and a little package of cotton buds bundled up in a hair elastic. These were the types of things that Belinda and Becky used to have for sale at their own store – basically anything they could find when they raided the house.

‘All right, how much for the butterfly necklace and the tin of pineapple?' Belinda asked, pointing to the items.

‘Make me an offer,' Issy said, her face dead serious.

At the same time, Annie cried out, ‘Eighty cents!' Issy shushed Annie and squared her shoulders, looking up at Belinda for a response.

Belinda smiled. ‘All right, let's say fifty cents.'

‘Ha, you're dreaming. I won't sell them for a cent under eight bucks.'

‘Issy!' Annie looked shocked, clearly worried about losing their only sale.

‘I'll give you a buck fifty.'

‘Five and I'll throw in the can opener.'

‘Two dollars and I'll just use the can opener and give it back.'

‘Three-fifty and you can have the matching clip-on earrings for the necklace.'

Belinda managed to keep the laughter out of her voice as she reached across and shook Issy's hand. ‘Deal!'

She paid the girls the three dollars and fifty cents, enjoying the joyful expression on Annie's face at getting quite a bit more than the eighty cents she'd been prepared to sell for. Issy was looking quietly satisfied with her bargaining skills. Belinda waited while they opened her tin of pineapple and packed her necklace and earrings into a little brown-paper bag. Once they were all done, she reached into her wallet, pulled out a twenty-dollar note and placed it on the table. The girls' eyes widened.