Shadows (8 page)

Piercing beeps wake me.

I slap the alarm, sending it skittering out of reach on the bedside table, and drift back to sleep. Back to the dark, murky dream I was in: shadows flickering across a distant pinprick of light. The stench of mouldy leaves and blood. Life draining out of me.

The alarm goes off again.

I drag myself down the hall to the bathroom, my body leaden. Water dribbles out of the showerhead. The shampoo bottle offers barely enough to make a lather, and I hurl the empty container over the shower screen. It clatters on the tiles and comes to rest against the door. My towel is damp. My hair won’t sit down, no matter how vicious I am with the blow dryer and brush. My stomach
won’t stop churning. At least the nightclub dream hasn’t come back. Yet.

I stare at the mirror, which is black in one corner from age, and chipped in a couple of places. I’ve always known who I am. My reflection is the same: hair, skin, eyes, lips, all familiar. So who is this person I’m staring at if it’s not me?

Jason is making a cup of tea in the kitchen.

‘You fucking live here now?

Maggie looks up from buttering toast. ‘Gaby—’

I hold up my hand. ‘Let’s not.’

I leave the house, my stomach still empty.

Outside, the sky is clear and the ocean flat. The glare on the water is blinding. I walk down the hill, my sandals slapping on the bitumen and bag banging against my hip.

Every step jolts.

I’m not who I think I am.

How am I supposed to deal with that?

At the juice bar on the esplanade I grab breakfast. There’s a band flyer on the table. I tear off a corner. Then another.

I half-expect Rafa to pull up a chair, but there’s no sign of him.
He’s
the one I should be unloading on. He brought this circus to town. I was happily living in oblivion until he turned up. And because of him, I can’t shake the one thought that threatens to suffocate me.

Jude might be alive.

The table is littered with confetti and I’ve run out of things to tear up. Time for work.

The day passes slowly. I avoid the Green Bean, stack books, check my email.

There’s only one message: from the editor of Dark Thoughts. It comes in late in the afternoon.

Gaby, are you sure you want to pull the pin? Your story is on fire! 105 hits in the last 12 hours. Seriously dude. Let me keep it up a bit longer. You could win this thing.

It’s too late.

I doubt those hits were from regular bloggers. That’s around a hundred people who now know I’m in Pan Beach. Some of them could be here already. How am I supposed to recognise them? The old lady with stooped shoulders and tissue-paper skin? Unlikely. The pack of teenagers in tiny skirts and platform shoes? Doubtful. The guy in his twenties wearing designer sunglasses, holding a stack of books? Maybe.

I don’t bother replying to the email. What’s the point of taking the story down now? Let them come. The sooner they realise I’ve got nothing they want, the sooner they’ll leave me alone. I go upstairs to clean the gallery.

Gaz, the other junior, is meant to help, but as usual, he’s out on the deck with his hands in his pockets. He might have a penchant for piercings, army fatigues, black hair
and pale skin, but he doesn’t mind checking out the talent. He’s slouched against the French doors, staring down at a group of blondes in bikinis. No one’s up here looking at Jacques’ hair and fingernail birdcage, but that’s not the point; the empty cups scattered around the gallery aren’t going to pick themselves up.

‘You planning on doing anything useful today?’ I ask.

He turns his head, managing to make even that look lazy. ‘I got you a coffee, didn’t I?’

‘Well, shit, Gaz, you’d better knock off early then. Don’t want you to strain yourself.’

‘You’ve been a bitch all day. That time of the month?’

I have the urge to walk over there and slam the side of my hand into his windpipe so he can’t talk. Then I want to punch him in the gut until all the air rushes out of him. And then I want to grab a fistful of that greasy black hair and ram his face through the plate glass window—

I blink. I’ve never imagined doing that to someone before.

‘You’re off your game, Gaby,’ Gaz says. ‘Maybe all that tofu at the Green Bean has started to rot your brain.’

My annoyance fades and, with it, the violent urges.

‘Gaz, I
know your
brain is even smaller than your dick, so every now and then you get a charity shot. That was your freebie today. Don’t push your luck because there won’t be another one.’

He gives a happy nod. ‘Thank you. For a while there I thought the love was gone.’

I don’t mind Gaz—when I’m not having an existential crisis. He’s a bit weird, but who am I to talk?

‘Just help me tidy up,’ I say.

He strolls over to the cupboard and grabs the broom, and I straighten the promotional flyers strewn across the information table.

‘Is that Foo Fighters?’

‘What?’

‘What you’re humming. Is that “All My Life”?’

‘I wasn’t humming.’

‘Yeah, you were. You’ve been doing it a bit lately. Didn’t pick you as a Fooey fan.’

‘I’m not a fan. My brother was, though. I don’t even know that song—’

But even as I speak, I can hear it running through my head. We were fighting over music before the crash. Was that what was playing when we left the road?

‘I love “Monkey Wrench”,’ Gaz says, and bursts into song, completely out of tune. I silently mouth the words along with him, amazed I know them. It’s like discovering I can speak a foreign language. And like everything else, I have no idea what it means.

We go downstairs to close up. Maggie is waiting for me at the service desk.

‘Hi.’ She’s smiling, all cautious optimism.

‘Hey.’

‘You heading home now?’

‘Guess so.’

She waits while I grab my bag. ‘You know it’s Tommo’s last night in town tonight?’

Tommo is one of her high school buddies who treks south to uni every semester. Maggie should be going with them: she’s meant to be going to some elite fashion design school. When I first met her it was all she talked about after a few drinks and she was lit up for days when she was accepted a few months back. But she deferred it, decided to stay in town another year—she never brings it up.

‘A few of us are heading to the falls for a send-off. Do you want to come? Should be fun.’ She’s talking quickly, constantly repositioning the strap of her handbag on her shoulder. ‘We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.’

We’re out on the street. The air is fresh and salty.

‘Pretend like everything is normal? Like I’m normal?’

‘You
are
normal, Gaby.’

I’m not, but I appreciate her saying it.

The sun is still warm, but huge thunderheads are building out over the sea.

‘Do I hum the Foo Fighters a lot?’ I ask as we head for home.

‘Is that what it is? I can never pick it.’ She gives me a curious look. ‘You didn’t know you did that?’

I shake my head.

‘It’s only when you’re really lost in thought.’

‘It’s weird. I didn’t realise I even knew their songs.’

‘Maybe you used to like them. You know, before.’

Of all the things to linger, you’d think music would be low on the list.

Conversation stops as it always does when we reach the steepest part of the hill. Tall coconut palms dot the footpath, punctuating red-roofed Queenslanders on one side and the sprawling park on the other. A pot-bellied man in a blue singlet and stubbies mows his lawn. Grass clippings carry on the breeze and stick to my sunbaked arms. We keep climbing until we round the bend. There’s no car outside the bungalow.

‘Where’s Jason?’ I ask, between breaths.

Maggie looks at me. ‘He got the message.’

Oh. Right.

‘Is he going to the falls?’

‘I asked him, yes, but he won’t come unless you want him to.’

‘It’s a free country, Maggie. He can go where he likes.’

She opens the gate and steps through. ‘Really? That’s not the impression I got this morning.’

We reach the front door and I pause. ‘Look, I like my
privacy—I’m only just getting used to sharing stuff with you. I’m not quite ready for a group hug.’

Her face softens. ‘It’s just…he already knows so much, and he wants to help you figure out what’s going on.’

‘Why?’

She smiles, coy. ‘Maybe he’s just a good guy.’

‘Maybe he just wants to get in your pants.’ I bump her with my elbow and she laughs.

‘I can live with that.’ She opens the front door but doesn’t go through. ‘Come with us tonight. Jason won’t bring up anything you don’t want to talk about, I promise. It’ll be fun. Have a night off worrying.’

I don’t know if that’s even possible. But her smile is full of hope, and there are worse things to do than have a cold beer at the falls on a warm afternoon.

I’m willing to give it a try.

By the time we arrive, the party is well under way. Tommo’s built a campfire and set up the keg next to his mudsplattered four-wheel drive. Reggae blasts from the car, almost drowning out the sound of the falls.

Tommo is a short, wiry guy and he’s so pumped about his last night in Pan Beach he hugs everyone as they arrive.

‘Looking good, Gaby.’ He lays a wet kiss on my cheek before slapping my backside. He skips away before I can take a swipe at him. ‘Come on, it’s my last night in town!’

‘It’ll be your last night on earth if you do that again,’ I say, but he knows he’s got away with it and comes back to scoop Maggie into a big hug. ‘Gorgeous!’

She laughs and hugs him back as he swings her around. It’s hard to believe this guy’s in his third year of medicine.

Tommo sets Maggie down and manages to stand still while she introduces Jason. Tommo drags him into a backslapping man-hug, gives him props for his taste in women and then goes off to get us beers. True to Maggie’s promise, Jason hasn’t uttered a word about fallen angels, dead brothers or fake memories.

I accept a huge plastic cup of beer and move closer to the falls, away from the music. Cool mist kisses my skin. The sun is still in the sky somewhere above us, but here in the rainforest, the light is turning a hazy purple. There are no walking tracks up here; the forest is too thick. Dragonflies buzz around me, and a few lyrebirds call to each other on the other side of the river. There’s a low rumble of thunder in the distance, but the storm is still a while away.

About a dozen of Tommo’s closest mates have turned up for his send-off. I recognise most of them: Pan Beach’s best and brightest. The girls are all in short skirts and tight tops, showing off their toned bodies. Maggie still stands out, in tiny denim shorts and the silk halter top she tie-dyed in our laundry. I’m wearing the skinny jeans she made me spend almost a week’s wages on last month. They look good, but they’re not easy to sit down in, so once I get comfy on a blanket, I stay put, listening to the chatter and letting the beer drain the tension from my body.

Simon arrives as the light fades. Everyone except
Tommo left their car at the gravel car park out of sight around the bend, but Simon rides his motorbike into the clearing. The gathering gives him a cheer when he pulls up, engine rumbling. He kicks down the stand and takes off his helmet, scanning the group. He doesn’t always show off his tatts, but tonight the ink is clearly visible. One of his upper arms has a tiger and the other a koi fish. He’s got a huge dragon on his back—apparently. I’m yet to see it. Simon registers me, salutes Maggie and heads for the keg.

My thoughts stray to Rafa. Where is he right now? What if he’s so pissed off he’s left town? What if I never see him again? I take a sip of beer, not sure if it’s relief or anxiety flooding my chest.

The music gets louder, alternating between heavy metal and dance tracks, depending on who gets to Tommo’s car first. Almost everyone is dancing around the fire now, including the man of the hour, who’s cheerfully grinding against his girlfriend. She throws her head back and laughs, her fingers laced around his neck.

I’ve reached comfortably numb. Maggie and Jason are next to me, distracted.

‘Refill?’ Simon is standing over me.

‘Shouldn’t you get the night off?’

He shrugs. ‘A barman’s work is never done.’

I hold out my hand. ‘It’s okay, I need to wake up my backside. Give me a hand?’

‘To wake up your backside?’

‘To help me up.’

The fire is behind him, so I can’t see his face as he helps me to my feet.

Maggie breaks away from Jason to smile, bright and encouraging. I follow Simon to the keg, where he fills our cups.

‘Your brother’s mate still in town?’ he asks as we move away from the others.

I shrug. ‘I’m not his keeper.’

Simon clears his throat. ‘I just thought…’

I can see his face now. Its strong lines. His hair is mussed from his helmet, and it looks cute. He turns to me, the firelight catching the contours of his arms. Above us, the darkening sky rumbles again, closer now.

‘I don’t want to talk about him.’

‘Oh, so you’re not…?’

‘No.’

He glances at me, and then studies the fire, waiting for something—probably an explanation for my behaviour in the bar.

‘So he’s all yours if you want him,’ I say.

He bites back laughter.

‘And there was a time I thought you were sweet…’ He smiles.

I go to bump him with my shoulder, but I end up
leaning against him. His arm comes around my waist and I hold him to steady myself. He smells citrus-fresh. No trace of sandalwood.

I have to stop thinking about Rafa. But that kiss, and how he held me when I fell to pieces, I can’t get it out of my head. I need to.

I tilt my head back. Simon is watching me closely. He’s not leaving town with Tommo because his university is only an hour away, which means he’s home most weekends. Maybe what I need is—

Simon kisses me. His lips are cold from the beer, and his touch is gentle, uncertain. He draws back a fraction, checking he hasn’t misread the situation. If it was Rafa, he’d have me pinned against Tommo’s car by now, hands in my hair…I give Simon the hint of a smile. Our lips meet again.

‘Come with me,’ he whispers, and keeps his arm around me as we walk out of the firelight to the forest edge.

‘Tommo says you’re trouble,’ he says. His lips brush my collarbone.

I close my eyes. ‘You have no idea.’

He strokes my cheek with his thumb, so close his breath warms my skin.

‘You’re so beautiful, Gaby.’

I kiss him before he can go on. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to think.

This time I find Simon’s tongue, and the connection lights a fire in him. He pushes me back against a tree and leans into me, his breath coming quickly. My body reacts to his touch, even though I’m vaguely aware it’s not him I’m responding to, but the memory of another set of lips and hands. I don’t care; this is my entire world right here. His hand drops to my breast and he runs the back of his fingers lightly over my t-shirt, lifting his face from mine to watch my reaction. Then he’s kissing my neck and the ecstasy of it almost buckles my knees. I forget whose lips they are for a moment.

He slides his hands under my shirt and brings his leg between mine. My hands are on his back, pulling him to me. He can do what he wants; just let me stay lost in this sensation.

And then he’s wrenched out of my arms.

I hear a grunt as he hits the ground. ‘What the fuck—’ He jumps to his feet.

Rafa moves in front of me.

‘Back off, arsehole,’ Simon says. ‘She’s with me.’

Simon runs at him, and Rafa collects him with two palms to the chest. He hits the ground again. Harder this time.

Rafa turns on me and I can feel the anger rolling off him. ‘What the hell are you doing out here?’

‘Enjoying myself.’ My heart is still racing.

‘You enjoy getting felt up by the barman?’

‘What’s it got to do with you?’

Rafa checks to see if Simon is getting up again, but for the moment he’s not moving. The music from Tommo’s car is loud. No one has noticed the scuffle.

‘Do you have any idea what’s at stake?’

‘Yeah,’ I say and wish I’d had less to drink, because that glow I was enjoying so much a moment ago is putting me at a severe disadvantage now. ‘But there’s nothing I can do, so I’m pretending I’m normal.’

‘You’re
not
normal,’ he says. ‘And being out here is reckless. Jude would kick your arse for this, and I’m tempted to give you a lesson myself.’

I step forward. ‘Do it! I don’t care anymore. About any of it.’

‘What about Jude?’

‘You mean the brother I don’t
know?
Even if he’s still out there somewhere, he’s not
my
Jude, so what’s the point?’ My fingernails bite into my palms. I didn’t want to share that.

‘For fuck’s sake, Gabe, you’re acting like a child!’

‘And you’re acting like someone who cares about me.’

Rafa checks on Simon again. He’s gone. Can’t blame him really. I’m not worth the hassle.

Rafa moves in closer, blocking out the fire. ‘Get your shit together; it’s not safe here. And do up your pants.’

I’m about to tell him to grow up when I check my jeans
and find them undone. He’s good with his hands, Simon, I’ll give him that.

Rafa gives me no privacy while I get myself sorted. ‘So, what, you like the barman?’ His tone is prickly.

‘Simon’s a good guy.’

Rafa leans in. ‘Does he kiss like me?’

I ignore the heat that flares at his nearness. ‘No. Like I said, he’s a
good
guy.’

‘So good he got your pants undone without you noticing. You really know how to get that testosterone firing.’

‘Would you just leave it—’

‘Gaby!’

I stop. It’s Maggie. Something’s wrong.

‘GABY!’

I push past Rafa. Everyone is watching something on the other side of Tommo’s car. I’m running now, searching for Maggie. Jason is staggering to his feet, a hand pressed to the back of his head. I clear the car, and that’s when I see it: Taya leading Maggie into the trees, her arm around her. Maggie is straining to look back over her shoulder, not putting up a fight. Taya must have a weapon.

‘Hey!’ I rush towards them, trying to give Rafa time to do something. But Taya is deep in the forest now, out of sight of the others. She sees me and smiles. And then she disappears, taking Maggie with her.