He headed for the shower, and by the time he returned, Amy was not only awake but dressed in a vest top and short skirt, looking ready to go out.
‘Good morning,’ he said, smiling at her then searching his belongings for something at least half-clean that he could wear. He picked out some shorts and a vest top, and grabbed a crumpled shirt to go over it.
‘Morning,’ she smiled, planting a kiss on his lips. ‘Shall we go and find breakfast? I’m starving.’
They found a café along the main backpacker strip in Northbridge, and settled in for a morning feast. Now that they were going home in a week Alex felt freer to spend his remaining money, so he ordered the biggest breakfast on the menu and ate like a king. Amy managed to put away a similar amount, which always amazed him since she was half his size.
‘What do you want to do today?’ he asked her as they stood at the counter waiting to pay for their meals. ‘The art gallery is just up there.’ He made a hopeful gesture, but suspected he’d pushed his luck too far since he’d dragged Amy to numerous exhibitions already.
She rolled her eyes then smiled at him, and put her arms around his waist. ‘I don’t know about that. Maybe something relaxing, like the beach – or perhaps we should do something active since we’ve been stuck in a car for the past week. That French guy last night mentioned those steps at Kings Park, though that sounds quite strenuous.’ She paused, thinking. ‘Or maybe we should take one of those boats out, that sounded great fun – or the ferry and the zoo, that would be quite nice as well, though I’m never sure about zoos, but the Dutch couple said it was good, didn’t they?’
He took his change from the waitress. ‘Blimey,’ he said, stuffing it into his pocket. ‘Anything else?’
‘Probably,’ Amy laughed, not letting go of his waist, her hands locked around him. ‘What do you think?’ She rested her chin on his chest and peered up at him.
‘Maybe we should just go back to the hostel,’ he grinned, stroking the small of her back, then propelling her in front of him towards the door of the café.
‘Well, we could, but that won’t take all day!’ she replied, laughing over her shoulder.
‘Oh really?’ he said, grinning at her. ‘That’s charming.’
She shook her head and rolled her eyes at him again, and they made their way along the pavement. Alex took her hand and it felt soft in his. He listened happily as she discussed plans and possibilities, making him laugh as she flitted from one idea to another. He played along, teasing her, watching her smile, until there was the sudden loud noise of a car engine, racing towards them at speed.
35
Chloe was nervous as she dressed for the evening. The dress looked good, but she felt like an impostor in it. She tried to view herself from the outside, as others might see her, but couldn’t do it.
What was this block within her; this ever-present divide she felt between herself and everyone else, barely discernible, perhaps not obvious at all if you weren’t Chloe, yet always there, impregnable, cutting her off? Where did it stem from?
She had felt more like this since Anthony’s visit. He’d unsettled her. She ought to speak to her mother about him, but she still hoped she might quietly persuade him not to go to America. If Anthony found their father, then she might be forced to as well, and she didn’t want to. Why was she so sure of that? What did she know that she couldn’t remember?
She thought back to when she was young, scanning for early memories. Her mother had, on a number of occasions, told a story about her husband Charlie and six-year-old Chloe at dinner parties, as part of her general repartee. It was about how when Charlie had first met Margaret he’d offered to pick Chloe up from school one day, had driven there, met an old friend in the car park, chatted, then driven home again, put his feet up and cracked open a beer or two, and it wasn’t until Margaret got back with Anthony four hours later that she had questioned Charlie about Chloe’s whereabouts.
Chloe was still at school. In the playground. In the dark. Uncollected. Unnoticed by teachers, as they drove off one by one. Staying hidden in the shadows rather than bringing herself to an adult’s attention. Her mother told the story while shaking her head fondly at ‘hopeless’ Charlie, and the implication was that Chloe was rather strange for allowing herself to remain abandoned like that. But although Chloe smiled along with it, she found various parts disconcerting – not least because she couldn’t remember a bit of it. As a small child she’d sat alone in a darkening, empty yard for hours, quite possibly scared out of her wits, and yet her mind was a firm blank when she tried to recall it. But her mother swore the story was true; and Charlie had shamefacedly admitted it as well. So why had she stayed silent? Why had she been so scared of being found?
It was the same when she tried to think back on other things – in fact, much of her early life was just a haze. Was that how it was for everyone? Surely no one remembered that much of their formative years anyway. So why did Chloe feel as though she were missing something; some critical piece of the jigsaw of her life, which when put into position would form a picture she could recognise?
She took a deep breath, looked at her watch, then checked herself in the mirror. Her appearance was good; and that was all she needed for today’s big event.
She headed downstairs to wait for the taxi to arrive.
36
Time slowed right down.
To almost a pause.
To a fractured sequence of movements.
To the split second when all things would change.
Alex turned around to look for the source of the noise, and as he did so he went to grab Amy’s hand, although she was not in the path of the vehicle bearing down. It was just a reflex, to grab on, but she had turned to look as well, and he missed her, by which time the van was right next to them, screeching to a halt.
A side door was flung open, metal grating as it sped along its runners, and a chubby, unshaven man jumped out. Alex had the vague impression of another man inside the van.
He didn’t understand. He didn’t get it until it was too late. Until Amy was locked in the other man’s meaty arms as he lifted her and flung her into the van’s maw as though she were an inanimate parcel.
But when he got it, he moved, lightning fast. He rushed towards the van, towards Amy, who was screaming, her terrified eyes finding Alex’s, her look beseeching him to save her from whatever this was. He reached out at the same time as she lunged forward, and their fingertips missed one another by millimetres, and then the chubby man sent a knee into Alex’s groin so that he instinctively doubled-up, eyes watering, wanting to retch as pain shot through him, and in the time he had to recover before he could react again, the other man had leapt into the shadows of the van’s interior, from which Alex could hear Amy screaming in terror, and the vehicle sped off before they had even closed the door.
There was a pause, like a missed heartbeat, when the world seemed to be frozen in an ethereal silence.
Then people converged on Alex. Hands helped him up and over to a chair. There was shouting. Someone was dialling triple 0 and relaying what had just happened in a breathless, excited voice.
Even if they had been able to crawl under Alex’s skin right then, no one could have touched him. He was somewhere else, far beyond them, stupefied, watching Amy’s small discarded flower-patterned bag lying on the pavement, unnoticed.