Danny cried harder.
Eventually the room went silent. ‘Sorry, I’m not usually such a big sook,’ Danny sniffed, his voice thick. He then pasted a positive grin on his face. ‘Right, when do we leave?’
‘There’s no we, Danny, that’s what I came to tell you. I’m going on my own. You need to be here, in case I’m wrong. In case she comes back.’
‘I can’t stay,’ he protested. ‘I’m going around the twist.’
‘Well you need to keep yourself busy, get back to your life. Keep things together, and so you can deal with whatever happens. Prepare yourself for the worst, and anything better than that is a bonus.’
‘I feel like I should come.’
‘I’m telling you, you’re not coming.’
‘But, it should be me on the streets looking for her!’
‘No, it shouldn’t. What do you know about Kings Cross? Have you spent much time there? In the dark alleys, the back streets, the sleazy bars, the strip clubs?’
‘Well, um, no – not exactly.’
‘There you go, then. I’m sure you write about them, imagine them and create them in your scripts, but that is all just fiction. Made up. Nothing like how it really is. Those streets are my streets. I know them like the back of me hand. If she’s there, I’ll find her. Doesn’t matter how far underground she’s gone, I’ll find her.’
…
The next morning Danny hugged Bessie, sinking into her folds.
‘Thank you Bess, you’re the bess,’ he said cheekily.
‘Oh, dan it, you’re pretty dan fine yourself,’ she replied without hesitation.
‘Bess be off then.’
She paused.
‘Ha, gotcha,’ Danny laughed. ‘Ten points!’
Her eyes crinkled and a chuckle came from deep inside.
‘Yes, you got me. I’ll keep in touch, will call you as soon as I know something. One way or the other.’
The taxi pulled up, and Danny helped Bessie fold herself awkwardly into the back seat. He waved until the taxi was out of sight, then sat down in the gutter, completely lost. Now what? Ten minutes later, with a cold arse, he decided it was pointless to keep sitting in the dirty gutter. May as well take Bessie’s advice, get his shit together and get on with life.
Whether Christine returned or not wasn’t up to him. It was her choice entirely. He stood up, stretched and put one foot in front of the other. Because what else could he do but just that?
CHAPTER 33
Heebie Jeebies
Ant was losing confidence. He’d been everywhere to look for Christine but she was nowhere to be found. After a few days, he wondered if he had it all wrong. Maybe she didn’t come here after all? Maybe she went to hunker down with Bessie in her seaside house? Perhaps he should contact Bessie.
But no, Danny was in cohorts with Bessie. If he got in touch, and tried to join forces, it would mean having to come face to face with Danny. That would mean having to admit he’d been fooling around with Danny’s woman. It was a mess – no matter which direction you came from.
He was all at sea, worried that just being here, was asking for trouble. He’d deliberately stayed away so he could live a clean life, but the past always had a way of catching up with you. What if he ended up in the clink? What if one of the coppers he used to pay off had turned straight, and he ran into him in one of the trendy cafes getting his morning coffee?
Being in Kings Cross was giving him the heebie jeebies. He needed to find Christine, or get out of here, fast.
CHAPTER 34
Carl
1988
‘Why do you keep hanging around me so much?’ Ant said, irritated to turn around and find Carl on his heel. It was the morning after the scare with the crook drugs he had given to Christine, and he was feeling sorry for himself, because that fat bitch Bessie wouldn’t let him near her. Neither would Annabelle, who seemed even more furious with him then he was with himself. He had a splitting headache and hated the world as much as the world hated him. Trudging up Darlinghurst Road towards the chemist for some Aspro Clear, the last thing he needed was someone on his tail.
‘Not hanging around you, just happen to be in the same place at the same time,’ Carl sniggered, wiping his dripping nose with his dirty sleeve.
‘What do you want?’
‘Nothing. Unless you got something for me?’
‘No, I’ve got nothing for you. Unless you got something in return. Like cash.’
Carl sniffed loudly. Ant shuddered. He really didn’t like this bloke who’d turned up in The Cross. Something wasn’t right with him. He exuded an unwashed odour Ant found offensive. But it wasn’t that. It was something else. A slyness that made Ant feel uncomfortable. Carl was also sneaky. You never heard him arrive. He just arrived. You never knew he was behind you. He was just behind you.
‘Nah, no cash. I can get some though. Put me on a tab?’
‘You’re already on a tab.’
‘Why don’t you give me some of the shit that freaked out your girl? See if I can handle it.’
‘You’re fucking joking aren’t you? Want to write your own death warrant?’
‘C’mon, probably just messed with her ‘cause she’s a skinny chick. I’m made of tougher stuff than that.’
Ant walked off, ignoring him. He’d kept a small amount of the crook batch, he wasn’t sure why, but he thought it might come in handy one day. He wasn’t going to give it to Carl though.
‘Here.’ Ant shoved his hand deep into his pocket to retrieve a clear packet containing a few pills, and threw it at Carl. ‘I’m not gunna have your blood on my hands, so no way I’m giving you the crook stuff. But here’s some of my good gear. Go your hardest and get away from me.’
Carl slunk away, like a scrawny, starving alley cat. Ant watched him until he disappeared, hoping he’d never see him again.
CHAPTER 35
Coming home
Bessie let the noise of the bustling city invade her senses. She loved this place. Coming back was the hardest thing she’d ever done, but now she was here, she wondered why she’d ever left at all. Her heart quickened; there was excitement all around her.
She scanned the street. The girls were getting younger. Who was looking after them? It didn’t take her long to pick out the pimps. They were getting younger too. She spotted a dealer. Then a street kid. She moved aside for a group of wide-eyed gawking teenagers in their school uniforms. Let loose in Kings Cross on a school excursion, who would’ve thought? Now that’s an education their parents didn’t expect they were getting when they packed them off on the school bus. She chuckled.
She walked slowly, which was really the only walking pace she had, with her size twenty-two frame. Her ankles were weak from holding up all that weight, and swollen from the extra pressure she’d put on them by squeezing into a tiny Qantas plane seat.
She’d messaged Danny as soon as she was in a taxi, holding her promise to keep him in the loop. This whole experience was giving her a sense of purpose she hadn’t felt for a long time.
She had booked into a fancy motel, no point slumming it when money was no object. She’d spent a few hours recovering, then late in the afternoon, as the sun was setting, she decided she felt energetic enough to walk the block a few times. She headed to Kellett Street, for old time’s sake, and stood in front of her old terrace, wondering what mysteries lay behind its doors these days.
She was sure Christine was here. She would run into her at any moment. You never know your luck in the big city. This was one of her favourite sayings.
After a while, breathless from the exertion her body wasn’t used to, she started to feel aimless. Arriving at her old stomping ground had gone to her head, she had forgotten her plan while she took her own private trip down memory lane. What was her plan? To be truthful, she didn’t really have one. She hoped a couple of walks of the block would turn up her girl. In reality, she knew she was dreamin’.
CHAPTER 36
Shirley bird
It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the strip club in Kellett Street. He looked around for Christine’s blond hair, but everyone looked the same. A young girl in the far corner with her back to him, in a tight leather skirt hardly covering her black lace G-string, caught his eye. Her hair was piled high in a messy bun on her head, and she was wearing a tiny white singlet that left nothing to the imagination.
He ordered a beer and settled in at the end of the bar, trying to pick familiar faces in the crowd. The barman looked vaguely familiar but he couldn’t be sure. It was so long ago.
The flash of her white singlet caught his attention again, as she started to move towards him. He nearly fell off his stool.
‘Christine,’ he whispered.
Her heavily made up eyes and thick foundation were a flash from the past. She wasn’t the classy-looking woman who’d been in his bed less than a week ago, fresh faced and without clumps of plaster on her face.
She didn’t recognise him. A greasy looking guy in a suit, whose face was level with her partly exposed breasts, grabbed her arm and spoke roughly. ‘Hey, where you going?’
She tried to pull away. ‘I’m just going to the bathroom, you loser,’ she slurred.
Ant strode purposefully to her, pulling her away, just as the guy in the suit reached out to tuck a one hundred dollar bill into her cleavage.
‘Hey!’ She turned to Ant. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ It took a few moments for her addled brain to catch up with who she saw in front of her.
‘Ant?’ She looked around in a panic. ‘Where am I? What day is it?’ Her legs started to crumple and Ant scooped her up.
He murmured softly into her hair, and carried her out the door and onto the street, the guy in the grey suit running after them to retrieve the one hundred dollars he had paid for a blow job he wasn’t going to get.
‘Fuck off,’ Ant pushed him hard. He stumbled and fell onto the pavement, helplessly watching them disappear with his money.
‘This is no place for a beautiful lady like you,’ Ant muttered, as he marched towards Orwell Street, wishing now he had a nicer room to take her to. She leaned her head into his shoulder and relaxed in his strong arms.
‘I’m sorry Ant, I’m really sorry.’ She closed her eyes and drifted off. One block from his backpacker’s hostel room, he ran smack bang into Shirley with the bird taped to her shoulder.
‘Whatcha doin’ with that young girl with her skirt up around er Va Jay Jay? I know whatcha gunna do, you’re gunna stick it to her, and she don’t even know it. Look at her, whatcha do? Drug her first? Whatcha think you’re doin, drugging a girl then taking advantage of er?’
‘Get outa here Shirley.’ Ant was sweating by now and his arms were burning under Christine’s dead weight.
‘Aaahh,’ she cackled. ‘So you know old Shirley, do ya? Maybe you stuck it to old Shirley all those years ago, back when you ruled this place with your drugs, lordy lordy.’
‘So you do remember me, hey Shirley? Well, for the record, I never stuck it to you back then and I’m not going to stick it to you now.’
The lights changed and the beep beep beep of the walk signal drowned out the cackle of the crazy bird named Shirley.
CHAPTER 37
Haze
Christine was starting to come out of her drug-induced haze, Ant by her side bringing her water, fresh juice and homemade salads from a little deli he found in Potts Point.
‘Hey,’ he said softly as she rolled over to face him, where he was sitting in a chair beside the bed.
She closed her eyes and groaned. ‘What’s happening? Where am I?’
‘Kings Cross.’
‘What am I doing here? I don’t remember.’
‘What did you take?’
‘I don’t know, I don’t know.’ Christine moved away and pulled the sheet over her head. Within minutes she was asleep again. Ant’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Reluctantly, he pulled it out. He knew who it was. That pesky young detective who had her hooks into Annabelle’s disappearance. She’d been calling him and calling him, asking if she could meet up with him in Melbourne.
Little did she know he was right around the corner from her office. He could be there in less than ten minutes. He didn’t want to see her though Not yet. He had to talk to Christine first.
During the past few days he’d had a lot of thinking time, and knew if he wanted to build a future with her, she had to know what he had, and what he knew. With the fresh attention on Annabelle’s disappearance and Christine’s determination to discover the truth, he’d eventually come unstuck. Meeting her again by chance, then realising he was more in love with her than ever before; it was all on the line. It was a risk, he could lose her forever.
He looked at the message and quickly punched in a reply.
Hi Louise, will be in Kings Cross in a few days. I’ll come to you. See you then.
Her reply was immediate.
Fabulous! He rolled his eyes, she was so fucking enthusiastic, it killed him. That’s absolutely fabulous. See you soon. Just text me when you’re in town. This was followed by a smiley face. He shoved the phone back into his pocket, then out again to make a phone call.
‘Hi, I need you to Express Post me that package.’ Pause. ‘Yeah, that’s the one. I’ll message you the address. Priority Paid, whatever. Just have it to me by tomorrow.’
Exhausted from the decision he’d just made, he pulled back the covers and climbed into the bed, spooning Christine from behind closely, before drifting off into a deep, deep, sleep that shut down all the loud voices in his head.
CHAPTER 38
Going, going
The parcel had arrived at the post office as arranged. Clutching it in his sweaty hands, Ant wandered aimlessly, and ended up at a small, leafy park overlooking Rushcutter’s Bay. It was bright and sunny and in that moment, life felt clean and good. His hands shook as he opened the parcel and lay it on his lap.
This diary belongs to Annabelle, Bell and Anna.
As he flicked through the pages, they dragged him back into the complicated mind of the teenage Annabelle. The Annabelle who he knew would always be a teenager, who he knew never had the chance to grow up.
With the sun bouncing off the water and stinging his eyes as he read, he knew this moment was an illusion. Life was not clean. Life was not good.
…
He watched her sleep peacefully, finally free of the drugs that had taken over her body and mind during the past few weeks. Since the diary arrived, he’d wanted to tell her the whole truth, but knew deep down he didn’t have the strength of character. He wasn’t prepared to give up his freedom when he’d worked so hard to rebuild his life. The crimes of his past had so far never caught up with him, and he wanted to make sure they never would. He wasn’t about to dob himself in; there was no way he could survive inside.
He was so in love with Christine, but this wouldn’t be enough if he stepped over that line. He would lose his freedom, and his girl. The best he could do was hand the diary over and hope somebody else would figure it all out.
He knew she would be okay, eventually. She would wake up and see him gone, come to her senses, then return to Danny and live the happily ever after life she deserved. And if that young copper was as diligent as he thought she was, Christine would soon find some peace with Annabelle.
He gathered his things, quietly so as not to wake her, and decided against leaving a note. With one final glance at her beautiful sleeping body, he quickly walked out the door before he changed his mind.
…
Ant called her from a café. ‘It’s me.’
‘Hello, me,’ Bessie answered.
‘I’m leaving, for good.’
‘I see. That’s probably wise.’
‘She’s asleep, can you go to Orwell Street and wait outside for her?’
‘Sure. Where you headed?’
‘Dunno. But you’ll never see me again, or hear from me. I can’t give her the lif
e she deserves, she’s better off with him.’ Ant’s voice cracked.
‘I’ll look after her, she’ll be right,’ Bessie said, not sorry to see the back of Ant. Danny had found Ant’s mobile number hidden among Christine’s papers, and when Bessie called yesterday, he answered. They’d met up, briefly, and it confirmed to Bessie that Danny was the right choice. Ant had too much baggage, too many hidden secrets, and too much darkness in his heart.
‘Alrighty, then,’ Bessie said, giving Ant the wind up.
‘Alrighty, then. Goodbye Bessie.’
‘Goodbye Ant.’
…
Louise arrived at work early that day. She had a feeling again, an instinct that Ant knew something, and as a result she was going to crack this case wide open. She was bursting with adrenalin. As she sat at her desk, tidying it for the tenth time, Ant was at the post office, less than one hundred metres away. He carefully put the brown paper package into an envelope and addressed it to Louise Whadary, Kings Cross Police Station. By the time Louise figured out who had sent it, he would be long gone. And he was never, ever coming back.
…
Ant slowly trawled out of the underground carpark behind the police station with a steady rumble between his legs, wondering which direction his bike would take him. He had a vague idea he’d head west, start again. Build a new life, for the last time.
He took one last roar up Darlinghurst Road, and said his goodbyes to Kings Cross, for the last time. Several hours later, the steady white lines in the centre of the road giving him space and distance, he stopped in a little town with a newsagency cum post office. On a piece of paper he drew a map, and wrote a name at the top. Annabelle Brown. He folded it carefully then put it into a plain white envelope, addressed to Louise again, Kings Cross Police Station. He bought a single stamp, but declined their offer to post it there and then.
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