voicemails! She scrolled through the missed
calls list. Ramsay Home, Private Number, some 0800 she
didn’t recognise… and then her finger slowed as the same name appeared, over
and over: Marie. Marie. Marie. Marie. Marie. Five calls within the space of an
hour.
‘ You have… two… new… messages…’
‘First message sent today at… two twenty-six am.’
‘Raegan!’ Her friend’s voice was
loud and excited as it battled against the background traffic noise. ‘Where did
you go off to? Naughty girl, ditching me, I didn’t even get a chance to sing!
Soooo: happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear
Raegan… or, wait, shouldn’t it be that song, you know, that old one my dad
likes ?- “happy birthday sweet sixte-e-een”.’ She
finished with a tuneless flourish, giggling drunkenly. ‘Have a good one, babe.
What’s that? Oh yeah, Christian says to say Happy Birthday from him.’ Her voice
dropped to a whisper. ‘I think he likes you!’
Beep.
‘Second message sent today at…two fifty-seven am.’
‘Raegan? Raegan, where are you?’
This time the voice on the end of the phone was quiet. Breathless,
almost. Then Marie spoke again and Raegan’s heart gave a lurch as she
realised her friend was crying. ‘I don’t know where I am. Philip and Christian
said they wanted to go to the Shack, and that they knew a shortcut through the
woods. But then they started messing, pushing me about, ‘ cause I couldn’t see where I was going, like it was funny. Then they ran off. They
were l-l-laughing at me…’ Marie was crying hard now. ‘I’m in Lydgale somewhere,
but it’s so dark, and I’m nearly out of battery. Please, I can’t tell my dad
about this, he’d kill me! Please get this message! Please come and get me!
Please-‘
‘ End of message.’
Raegan hung up. It was as if she was in a daze; her fingers,
scrabbling at the keys, didn’t seem to be working fast enough. After an age she
finally pulled up Marie’s number and pressed ‘call’. Her mobile was switched
off. Her house phone just rang and rang and rang.
Her hands were shaking as she let the phone drop from her
ear. So many possibilities flitted through her mind, none of them good. What if
something had happened to Marie? What should she do? Call Marie’s father? Call
the police? Her eyes began to sting and she could feel the tears clawing at her
throat. What do I do I don’t know what to do what
do I do…
Marie’s voice, anguished, panicked, echoed in her mind:
‘Please come and get me!’ Please. Please. Please. Her mother’s voice
after the car had hit her. Please. The blood, warm and wet, sliding
through her fingers…
She groped for the floor blindly, desperate for something to
hold onto.
Her heart was hammering; her head overtaken with a sudden
dizzying lightness, as if like a balloon it could disconnect from her neck and
float up to the ceiling. Then, as if responding to the tumult of emotions, her
vision began to fluctuate. She blinked once, twice, but it continued. The
familiar room was mutating before her eyes. The sky outside the window appeared
to be changing from light to dark and back again, and the objects in the room
bent at the edges, in and out like a maniacal squeezebox. What was happening to
her? Was she hallucinating? The room continued to morph for split-seconds at a
time. She was going mad. Frightened, she pressed the heels of her hands, one
still clutching the phone, into her eyes.
The darkness was soothing. Focusing on her breathing and
nothing else, she commanded herself to exhale in and out, slowly – like her mum
had always told her to. Gradually, her heart began to slow.
In that moment it had been like her feelings and body were
linked: upset one and the other replied. Was that even possible?
With apprehension, Raegan cracked one eye open, and then the
other. The room was still. A great rush of air burst out of her lungs in relief
and she gripped the edge of the bed to
calls list. Ramsay Home, Private Number, some 0800 she
didn’t recognise… and then her finger slowed as the same name appeared, over
and over: Marie. Marie. Marie. Marie. Marie. Five calls within the space of an
hour.
‘ You have… two… new… messages…’
‘First message sent today at… two twenty-six am.’
‘Raegan!’ Her friend’s voice was
loud and excited as it battled against the background traffic noise. ‘Where did
you go off to? Naughty girl, ditching me, I didn’t even get a chance to sing!
Soooo: happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear
Raegan… or, wait, shouldn’t it be that song, you know, that old one my dad
likes ?- “happy birthday sweet sixte-e-een”.’ She
finished with a tuneless flourish, giggling drunkenly. ‘Have a good one, babe.
What’s that? Oh yeah, Christian says to say Happy Birthday from him.’ Her voice
dropped to a whisper. ‘I think he likes you!’
Beep.
‘Second message sent today at…two fifty-seven am.’
‘Raegan? Raegan, where are you?’
This time the voice on the end of the phone was quiet. Breathless,
almost. Then Marie spoke again and Raegan’s heart gave a lurch as she
realised her friend was crying. ‘I don’t know where I am. Philip and Christian
said they wanted to go to the Shack, and that they knew a shortcut through the
woods. But then they started messing, pushing me about, ‘ cause I couldn’t see where I was going, like it was funny. Then they ran off. They
were l-l-laughing at me…’ Marie was crying hard now. ‘I’m in Lydgale somewhere,
but it’s so dark, and I’m nearly out of battery. Please, I can’t tell my dad
about this, he’d kill me! Please get this message! Please come and get me!
Please-‘
‘ End of message.’
Raegan hung up. It was as if she was in a daze; her fingers,
scrabbling at the keys, didn’t seem to be working fast enough. After an age she
finally pulled up Marie’s number and pressed ‘call’. Her mobile was switched
off. Her house phone just rang and rang and rang.
Her hands were shaking as she let the phone drop from her
ear. So many possibilities flitted through her mind, none of them good. What if
something had happened to Marie? What should she do? Call Marie’s father? Call
the police? Her eyes began to sting and she could feel the tears clawing at her
throat. What do I do I don’t know what to do what
do I do…
Marie’s voice, anguished, panicked, echoed in her mind:
‘Please come and get me!’ Please. Please. Please. Her mother’s voice
after the car had hit her. Please. The blood, warm and wet, sliding
through her fingers…
She groped for the floor blindly, desperate for something to
hold onto.
Her heart was hammering; her head overtaken with a sudden
dizzying lightness, as if like a balloon it could disconnect from her neck and
float up to the ceiling. Then, as if responding to the tumult of emotions, her
vision began to fluctuate. She blinked once, twice, but it continued. The
familiar room was mutating before her eyes. The sky outside the window appeared
to be changing from light to dark and back again, and the objects in the room
bent at the edges, in and out like a maniacal squeezebox. What was happening to
her? Was she hallucinating? The room continued to morph for split-seconds at a
time. She was going mad. Frightened, she pressed the heels of her hands, one
still clutching the phone, into her eyes.
The darkness was soothing. Focusing on her breathing and
nothing else, she commanded herself to exhale in and out, slowly – like her mum
had always told her to. Gradually, her heart began to slow.
In that moment it had been like her feelings and body were
linked: upset one and the other replied. Was that even possible?
With apprehension, Raegan cracked one eye open, and then the
other. The room was still. A great rush of air burst out of her lungs in relief
and she gripped the edge of the bed to
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