Lonely Girl

by Lynne Vincent McCarthy

  ‘A funny thing happens with drugs …’ There it is. His voice. Talking to her. Just as he did in the night. ‘Strange flashes of memory and dreams, all mixed in together.’

  River shadows Ana as she drifts closer to the monitor, both of them completely focused on it now. Luke is close, like he’s holding it in his hands. It robs her of her breath.

  ‘I’ve been trying to make sense of it all. Rebecca … Carla, the two of them are in my head, but … you’re in there too. All of you mixed up together.’

  Ana holds her breath, not liking where this is going, not wanting to stop it either. She’s standing over the monitor now.

  ‘These things I’m remembering. About you. They’re not dreams, are they?’

  He knows.

  ‘What happens when I’m sedated, Ana?’

  Ana feels the pressure inside her intensifying as the space between his questions and her response grows. She looks down at River, resting a firm hand on his head.

  ‘Stay,’ she whispers.

  Forcing herself to remain calm Ana returns to the open door of the basement. She doesn’t look down there and doesn’t stop until the door is closed and the padlock secured. She rests there against the heavy wood, reminding herself to breathe, before stepping away and returning to the kitchen.

  Ana heads straight for the fridge, needing to focus on something normal, something she can control. She pulls out a container of River’s chicken and rice mix, almost dropping the lot of it as she scoops some into River’s bowl.

  River just stands there looking back at her.

  ‘Eat.’

  He doesn’t move.

  Ana looks down at the container. She dips the spoon back in and shoves some into her own mouth.

  ‘Hmm, yum, it’s good.’

  She barely chews the first mouthful before shoving in another but then rushes to the sink and spits it all up. As she hangs there over the sink, Ana feels River’s snout nudge her hand and pulls away. It only makes him more insistent. When he can’t get to her hand he head-butts her leg.

  She suddenly lashes out, knocking the container and the spoon off the bench.

  ‘Fuck off!’

  River yelps in fright and retreats under the table. Ana is immediately contrite, especially when she sees the confusion on his face.

  ‘River no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.’

  She crawls under the table and hugs him.

  ‘I didn’t mean it.’

  She pushes her face into his fur, whispering apologies, but it’s too much for him. He moves away, heading to the bedroom. Ana crawls out behind him but she doesn’t follow. Her shame won’t let her. She’s never lashed out at him before – no matter what was going on for her she’s never taken it out on River.

  Her eyes return to the monitor, which continues to emit its loaded silence.

  He remembered the last time. The desire to hold on. To trap them both in time.

  He’d bought a balaclava. He thought she’d like it and she did. She laughed out loud when he put it on but then gave herself over to it. Even more than ever before.

  It was strong in her that night. The fantasy that he could steal her away. That this time she wouldn’t have to go back.

  She loved her kids. She did. And she wanted it to be enough. That life.

  It was finding her husband crying that did it. Even though he never said a word she knew that this time she’d let it go too far. She had always been able to draw a line between the fantasy and the real. Until now.

  It had to stop. It was getting dangerous.

  It took a while for him to realise that this time she meant it. That this time really was to be their last.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Ana hurries towards the pharmacy, but no matter how fast she walks she can’t shake the sensation of something clinging tightly to her back, its claws deeply embedded. That creature that was hidden in her belly has worked its way out now and like it or not she’s going to have to be accountable for it.

  Her eyes seek out the mountain, its snow-capped peak mostly hidden by cloud. Its solid presence, usually so reliably grounding – a squat Buddha benignly watching over the tiny humans moving below – has become simply a hulk of rock and earth. It gives back nothing.

  Ana knows it’s not the mountain that’s changed. Not only can she feel it she can see it in the faces of the people she passes. They’re all looking at her. They see her.

  Or is it that she is now aware of herself as something more than breath and air as she passes through them? More like them. Viscera contained in flesh and bone. So fragile and at risk.

  So dangerous.

  She’s so consumed by that thought she’s not watching where she’s going and saves herself just in time. One more step and she would have smashed into a telegraph pole. As if she’s not wearing enough damage on her face. She looks around to check if anyone saw her and is caught by an image in the newsagency window.

  Luke gazes back at her.

  It’s not the identikit sketch. This is a snapshot. He looks annoyed but in a good-natured way, like he just didn’t want the damn photo taken. As she looks closer she sees the headline: ‘KILLER OR VICTIM?’

  The headline may be ambiguous but the photo makes him look like the guy next door. It’s not the face of a killer. It’s clear which way the Mercury are swinging. She wishes they’d make up their bloody minds.

  She heads into the shop and purchases the paper before continuing up the road towards the pharmacy. She’s tempted to stop and read it, to learn more about this ‘boy next door’ version of Luke, but she’s already later than she said she’d be.

  *

  Ana’s foot hits the sensor and she stops dead, not prepared for the unedited look of disdain on Lenny’s face. He’s in the dispensary making up a prescription and simply returns his focus to it.

  He hates me now, she thinks, just before she notices the drug cabinets behind him are all hanging open. Her first urge is to turn tail and run, until she remembers what she’ll be running back to.

  Just try to act normal.

  Ana continues into the shop. She takes a quick peek into the back, just enough to see the contents of the cabinets in disarray on the benches as she stashes her bag under the service counter. She’s so caught up in her own concerns it takes a moment for her to notice the old woman perched bird-like on the edge of the courtesy chair.

  She sits very still but some sort of nerve condition makes her head wobble. Her eyes are steady though and staring right at Ana, not shifting even when Ana manages to find a smile for her. It’s unnerving and she’s relieved when Lenny appears at her side and hands her the prescription to ring up.

  ‘I thought you’d changed your mind.’

  ‘Can’t stay long.’

  Ana keeps her eyes on the old woman, watching as she unfolds her body and begins a painful trek between chair and counter. Somehow she manages to maintain her air of frosty dignity even as she drops a plastic zip-lock bag full to bursting with small denomination coins in front of Ana, expecting her to count them on the spot.

  It’s such a minor thing but Ana is defeated by it. Lenny watches her staring down at the bag for a bit before coming to her rescue.

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Z, we can always do with the extra small change.’ He lets only the faintest hint of sarcasm show as he tucks the bag into the cash register but by the smile on the old woman’s face she not only got it but enjoyed it.

  Ana and Lenny remain there, locked in a silent vigil as they follow the old buzzard’s slow progress to the exit, both knowing she’ll reject any help offered but standing ready anyway.

  ‘What happened to your face?’

  Ana keeps her eyes firmly on the old woman’s hunched back.

  ‘Nothing. It was stupid. I wasn’t looking where I was going and walked into a telegraph pole.’

  You’ve walked into far more than a telegraph pole.

  The sensor sounds and it’s like they’ve both been released.

 
‘Ana, about the other night –’

  ‘I’m sorry, Lenny, I wasn’t myself that night. Can we just forget it ever happened?’ She busies herself tidying the counter but can feel Lenny still lurking there behind her. She wonders if he has it in him to confront her directly.

  She’s relieved when he steps away but a moment later he’s back.

  ‘I went to fill a prescription before closing last night and found this,’ he says, placing the empty barbiturate container down on the counter in front of her. It’s not exactly a direct confrontation but close enough.

  Ana sets the appropriate bemused expression on her face as she gives Lenny her full attention.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Pick it up.’

  Ana does as he asks and states the obvious.

  ‘It’s empty.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Lenny I still don’t get it, why are you showing me this?’

  ‘You tell me.’

  ‘Are you accusing me of something?’

  ‘I’m not accusing anyone yet but there’s no sign of a breakin and nothing else has been touched.’

  ‘Are you sure they’re gone? Maybe they’ve just been misplaced. I can help you do a count if you want.’

  ‘It’s an empty bottle, Ana. They’re not somewhere else.’

  Ana puts her head down, thinking fast as she avoids Lenny’s searching gaze.

  ‘You said Kristy called in sick?’

  Lenny nods.

  ‘She didn’t look sick when I ran into her at the supermarket this morning. This might not mean anything but I also saw her at Rocky’s the other night. She was behaving pretty strangely.’

  ‘You went to Kristy’s party?’

  ‘No. I didn’t know she was having a party. We just both happened to be there.’

  Lenny couldn’t have looked more surprised.

  ‘You? Just happened to be at Rocky’s?’

  Ana ignores the incredulous look.

  ‘The weird thing is she was in fancy dress, as that dead woman … Rebecca Marsden. It was fucked up.’

  ‘I’m sorry but even if you ever went out, which you don’t –’

  ‘You don’t know everything about me, Lenny.’

  ‘Really? Because I thought we were friends. I thought maybe –’

  ‘I met someone.’

  That stops him in his tracks.

  ‘At Rocky’s?’

  Be careful.

  Ana nods, like it’s perfectly normal, but Lenny is having serious trouble processing this new development.

  ‘Who is he? Do I know him?’

  ‘He’s not from around here.’

  Lenny looks away but not quickly enough to hide the hurt and anger twisting in his face.

  ‘I have to make a call.’

  His movements are stilted as he picks up the empty bottle and retreats out back. For all Ana knows he’s about to phone the police. She keeps an eye on the cashier’s phone. A red light flashes when the extension out back is picked up but it doesn’t come on.

  Running with the boyfriend line might not have been her smartest move but it seems to have worked on him for now.

  Ana pulls out her newspaper, quickly scanning it. As the headline suggests there are questions around Luke Mullen, the biggest one still being ‘where is he?’ He’s disappeared without a trace, no bank activity, no communication, and no indication that he’s left the island, at least not by any conventional means.

  They’re right about that much.

  Except the only reason he’s disappeared is because you made him disappear.

  A few days ago he was being treated like a suspect but now the media are painting him as a possible second victim of someone either not yet on the police radar or who’s been staring them in the face the whole time. His wife is also mentioned. Her worry. Her insistence that the man she married couldn’t have done anything like that.

  But isn’t that what they all say? Those poor unsuspecting wives.

  It’s all supposition, Ana knows that, but the similarity to what Luke is trying to make her believe – that there could be a very clever killer still out there – is a bit close for comfort. Could he really be the fall guy for someone else’s crime? Ana has been pushing so hard for him to be guilty but a big part of her has always wanted him to be innocent. But if he is innocent, then what would that mean for her?

  There’ll be added pressure on the police to widen their investigation now and if she’s not careful she could end up a suspect herself. There’s enough circumstantial evidence to make her look guilty. Or more guilty than she already is. Luke said it himself. For all I know, you’re the killer. No matter how you look at it, it doesn’t look good. All it would take is one stray fingerprint, a single strand of her hair left in the van.

  Ana peers into the back to check on Lenny and catches him staring at her, his face dark, a look she’s never seen before. In that moment even Lenny looks like he could kill. She has to do something to ground herself so she picks up the phone and dials her own number. She listens to her voice asking her to leave a message. It’s the first time she’s heard it since she recorded it years ago. The voice sounds so hesitant, so young. As the beep sounds she speaks just loud enough for Lenny to hear.

  ‘Hi, you there? I’m just checking in to see how River is.’ She pauses briefly. ‘I’m at work now but I’ll be home soon as I can. I was thinking I might pick up some steaks for dinner …’ She keeps the phone to her ear, as if waiting for Luke to pick up, to be somewhere – something – other than what he actually is. If he were her boyfriend at this moment he could be hurtling down the hallway, a towel hastily flung around his waist. She’ll hear a clunk and then his voice, puffed from rushing.

  She actually hears the clunk and for just a second feels him there on the other side before the tell-tale snuffles give away the fact that it’s River, having knocked the handset off at the sound of her voice.

  She feels Lenny’s presence behind her.

  ‘Maybe you’re in the shower. I guess I’ll see you soon.’

  She hangs up.

  ‘So it’s serious then?’ Lenny asks, not bothering to hide the fact that he’s been eavesdropping.

  Ana can’t look at him. She doesn’t know if she’s going to laugh or cry.

  ‘It’s pretty serious, yeah.’

  THIRTY-FIVE

  The house looks so innocent from the outside. Quaint almost, in its own rundown sort of way. A quaint prison within which Ana is as trapped as Luke. Physically she may still be able to come and go but there’s a part of her that even now remains inside, has always remained there, banging against locked windows that refuse to break. She’s been stuck there for a lot longer than Luke has. She can almost see herself framed by the living room curtains, her face a screaming mask, eyes begging for someone to release her.

  Ana has been sitting in the car since she pulled up out front almost an hour ago. She knows River would have heard her arrive and will be wondering why she hasn’t come inside but she can’t go back in. Something is coming. She can feel it closing in on her but is unsure if it’ll come from outside the walls or from within. If she could freeze time she would, just for a short while, to give herself breathing space to catch up, but she knows she can’t evade it for much longer.

  You could just grab River and go.

  She could do that. All she would have to do is throw the key to the chain into the darkest reaches of the basement and lock the door behind her. It’ll take him a while to find it and release himself. The door is already damaged from the last time he attacked it but it’ll still take him time to break through. Long enough for them both to be gone.

  But go where? There is no escape. Not really. He knows too much about her now. Even if no one comes looking for her she’ll always be looking over her shoulder.

  She’s been in this place before, frozen with indecision, knowing it’s impossible to go back but not yet ready to take the next step forward. It’s why her grandmother
was still lying in her bed two days after she passed. It wasn’t that she couldn’t let her go – her death couldn’t have been more of a relief. It was the fear of what might come next that held her rigid.

  The odour of Irena’s agonisingly slow death had already permeated everything in the house. It had become so familiar that the gravity of Ana’s actions didn’t occur to her until she saw the faces of the two ambulance men the doctor called for. Even then she was surprised there was so much drama. There were places in the world where she would be respected for what she’d done. Cultures within which it would be considered an abdication of care not to sit with the dead. To wash and clothe them, as she had done, rather than abandon them to the hands of faceless nameless people.

  It wasn’t like she had plans to keep her there forever. She’d forgotten the doctor’s scheduled visit but she would have called for help the following day. Or the next. She was working up to it.

  The coroner confirmed the doctor’s seemingly reluctant opinion. The old lady had been extremely vocal about her right to die in her own home rather than in some hospice surrounded by strangers. Neither of them found any evidence of wrongdoing or neglect but still they wouldn’t let it go. ‘The girl’ as they referred to her, seemed a bit touched. As Ana eavesdropped from the hallway she remembers wondering where all the concern for her grandmother’s wellbeing was when she was still alive.

  The police turned up soon after with someone from child protection services. If they’d bothered to check the facts they would have known she had just turned eighteen, even though she still looked like a child. It was another gift the old woman had given her, holding on until she was officially an adult. They made her see a counsellor but couldn’t make her go back, and eventually they did as she asked and left her alone. Hobart was big enough for her drama to soon be eclipsed by something else: a daylight stabbing in a mall, as it turned out. The beauty of living on the edge of a city, no matter how small, is how quickly things change.

  Of the handful of people who actually knew her, the only ones whose opinion mattered were Lenny and his dad. Mr Mantel was his usual unflappable self and Lenny lightened the whole mess considerably when he joked that the way he’d heard it, Ana had been caught in the act of burying the old lady in the forest behind the house.