Hostage (11 page)

December 1998

Tully would never forget the last time she’d seen Craig. She and her mum had moved out of Mick’s farm, a couple of towns away from Craig. Sandy had said later that they should have moved further away, but she’d felt safe with Craig in jail.

Tully was sad to leave behind Mick and the farm and the
Guinness Book of World Records
and the yabby dam and her special climbing tree. They’d left in October. By December, Sandy had a new job at the local supermarket. Tully and her mother spent days making paper chains and Christmas decorations to make their run-down rental look festive. They talked about going to Melbourne to catch up with Bamps and Nan during the holidays.

It was cold the night he came. Dark clouds had scudded across the night sky and the moon’s light faded in and out as the clouds slid past it. Later Tully had found footprints outside the lounge window and she’d erased them with her foot before her mother found them. He’d probably been watching them through the window. Watching her sit on the floor, playing with her Kris Kringle present. Watching Sandy as she pottered about, safe in her assumption that Craig couldn’t get to them.

Craig had found the spare key under the mat where her mother had left it. The first Tully had been aware of him was when the front door creaked and Craig stepped into the living room.

Tully had looked up from her game and her eyes had widened.

‘Hello, Craig,’ she’d said. ‘Where have you been?’

Tully hadn’t known about Craig being in jail. She’d found that out much later.

‘What did you say, Tully?’ Sandy entered the room with two mugs of hot chocolate that fell to the floor as she caught sight of Craig. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘Well, Sandy, that’s a nice hello. Merry Christmas to you, too.’ The man walked over to the fire mantle and picked up a photo to study it closer. ‘You might wanna clean that up,’ he said, pointing to the chocolate stain spreading out over the carpet.

‘Tully, come here,’ said the woman.

Tully moved to her feet, but Craig restrained her with one hand wrapped around her shoulder.

‘I have a present for you,’ he whispered into her ear.

Tully tried to shrug free but the man held on tighter.

‘You smell like beer,’ she complained.

‘Well, I’ve just been to a wake, so I think you can forgive me. Just this once.’ He grinned up at Sandy, a lopsided grin that blurred around the edges. ‘Dad’s dead, Sandy. I thought you might have made it to the funeral, after all he did for you.’

‘Oh. Oh ... I’m sorry to hear that. We both loved Mick, didn’t we, Pumpkin?’ Sandy motioned for Tully to join her, but Craig held fast.

‘So I came to tell you that. And to give Tully her present. You always liked presents, didn’t you, Tully? There’s one in the car just for you.’

‘Let her go, Craig. Please.’

‘Now when’s it been a crime to give my favourite girl a present?’

‘You’re not supposed to be here,’ said the woman. ‘I’ll ring the police—’

The man hugged the girl tighter. ‘Sandy. You’re so ... dramatic. I just wanted to drop in and give our girl a Christmas present—’

‘She’s not your girl,’ said the woman quietly.

‘But that didn’t stop you using my money to raise her this last year,’ said the man. ‘Isn’t that right, sweetheart?’

‘You’re hurting me,’ said Tully.

‘Let her go, Craig,’ said the woman.

‘Sure, Sandy. Sure I’ll let her go. But not before I get what I came for. Don’t you have a little Christmas present for me? Maybe we can unwrap it somewhere else?’

Sandy’s laughter hit the walls and bounced back into the silent room. It was short and sharp and even as it escaped from her she clapped her hand against her mouth to stop it.

Craig nodded. ‘So that’s how it is,’ he said. Then he moved towards the front door, dragging Tully with him.

‘Mummyyyy!’

‘No!’ Sandy followed them and Craig pulled a knife from his pocket and waved it over Tully’s head.

‘You stupid bitch,’ he growled. ‘Always have to do things the hard way. Now I’m going to give Tully her Christmas present. Meet us in an hour at Stawell cemetery. Give you a chance to think about your Christmas present to me. It had better be the right one. And don’t bother ringing the cops or bringing friends to help you.’ He’d stroked Tully’s hair with his free hand. ‘That would just be a stupid thing to do.’

Tully had struggled as Craig lifted her into his car. Then she’d cowered on the seat as he kangaroo-hopped the car out of the driveway and onto the main road. When they got to the cemetery he’d given her his present—her favourite
Guinness Book of World Records
from Mick’s office. Much later she’d torn out her favourite page of the man with the incredibly long nails and kept it in her memory tin. She didn’t keep the page to remind herself of Craig. Instead she kept it to remember her mother’s advice.

‘People let you down.’

That night at the cemetery, Tully hugged the book to her chest and watched as Craig wept for his father.

Wept as they both waited for Sandy to come.

The book was only the second present that Craig had ever given her. The first had been the fifty cent piece he’d given her when they’d first met, but she had thrown that away.

She did have a fifty cent piece in her tin, but she’d earned that. Some boy in a park had given it to her when she was four. She was there by herself because her mother had a headache and wanted Tully out of the house for half an hour. The boy and his friends offered Tully fifty cents if she would show them her underpants. They showed her the coin, which was shiny and looked like new. She thought about his offer, trying to remember what underpants she had on. She thought about what she could buy at the milk bar with fifty cents. Then she pulled down her shorts to reveal her underpants with the pink ponies and the boys hooted and hollered and pointed until she pulled her shorts up again and they handed over the money.

She didn’t have time to go to the shop because she was due back home, so she just skipped straight home to find her mother leaning on the sink in the kitchen.

‘What’s that?’ her mother had asked, pointing to Tully’s clenched hand.

So Tully showed her.

‘Where did you get that from?’ Sandy asked.

Tully told her. She thought her mother would be pleased with her for being so clever. Clever that she’d only had to show some boys her underpants to get a whole fifty cent coin. Before she’d even finished the story, though, Tully found herself on the floor near the kitchen table. One moment she’d been standing up holding out the coin for her mother to see and the next she was looking at the fluff gathered around the rubber stoppers on the chair legs. Sandy yelled and cried and pushed things onto the kitchen floor. Finally, Tully crawled right under the table where it felt safe like a cave.

Later, Sandy told Tully to throw the fifty cents away. Tully said that she had. But she kept it. And knowing that she’d kept it made Tully feel both brave and scared at the same time.

Christmas Eve

Griffin wanted to go straight home after they left the cemetery at Stawell but Tully begged him to take one more detour. It wasn’t on their way home—in fact it overshot home by at least an hour—but Tully was adamant she needed to be there.

‘I am in a load of trouble, Tully,’ Griffin said, shaking his head as he fastened his seatbelt. ‘Enough’s enough.’

‘So a few more hours is not going to make any difference,’ Tully argued.

‘Don’t you get it? It’s not all about you. I’ve got to get back. I’ve got to explain, with or without you—’

‘I’ll explain everything, to everyone,’ said Tully. ‘It’s just ... I need to find my mum and I think I’ve worked out where she is. And tomorrow’s Christmas. And...’

Tully let her fringe drop a curtain over her face as large teardrops fell into her lap.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Hey.’ He touched her gently on the shoulder and patted her awkwardly.

Tully continued leaning forward even more, her head in her hands. She heard Griffin release his seatbelt and shift in his seat. He continued with the patting, this time on her back, and then she heard it. A small droning noise, muffled against the top of her head. It rose and fell as the patting continued. Tully frowned and mumbled something against Griffin’s shirt.

The droning stopped.

‘What did you say?’ asked Griffin.

‘I said, what are you doing?’ mumbled Tully.

She sat back in her seat abruptly, clipping Griffin’s jaw on the way up.

‘Ouch,’ he said.

‘Sorry, but what where you doing?’ Tully demanded.

‘Nothing,’ said Griffin.

‘Were you ... were you singing?’ asked Tully.

‘Did you wipe your nose on my shirt?’ said Griffin ignoring her question.

‘I did not wipe my nose on your shirt,’ said Tully. ‘What were you doing? Singing? Chanting? Droning?’

‘I was singing,’ said Griffin. ‘It’s what I used to do with Josh when he was a baby. He used to cry a lot at night and I’d pat him and sing to him.’

‘Your brother?’ said Tully. ‘You were treating me like your little brother?’

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ said Griffin. ‘I don’t think of you as my brother.’

‘Well, good.’

‘Why good?’ he said.

‘Well ... because ... well do I look like a boy?’ Tully sat back in her seat and wiped the tears from her face.

‘Is this a trick question?’ said Griffin.

Tully’s arm swung out in a wide arc in an effort to hit him and Griffin caught her before it impacted.

‘Hey, careful,’ he said, still holding onto her.

‘You’re such a pig,’ she said. ‘What were you singing? Before.’

‘You probably don’t know it.’

‘Try me,’ said Tully.

‘Bad to the Bone,’ he said finally letting go of her arm.

‘Bad to the Bone?’ Tully leaned back, her cheeks flushed.

‘You have a better song?’ He leaned back in his seat, secured his seatbelt again, and started the engine. ‘I’ve gotta go back now, Tully.’

‘Fine.’ Tully looked out the window as the car pulled away from the cemetery.

‘You understand, don’t you?’

Tully peeled a sliver of nail from her thumb and didn’t bother to answer.

‘Tully?’

‘You’re as bad as the rest,’ she muttered.

Griffin turned off the engine.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’

Tully shook her head.

‘What is it, Tully?’

‘Nothing.’

‘The silent treatment? Do you use this on all your boyfriends—’

‘You’re not my boyfriend!’

‘No. No I’m not,’ he said.

Then he drove carefully back to the main highway.

Christmas Eve

Tully woke to the sound of Griffin cursing.

‘Where are we?’ she said, still half-asleep.

Outside the landscape was rolling hills with only a few houses dotted here and there. The sun was low on the horizon behind them.

‘Not sure. Just been following the signs back to Melbourne,’ Griffin said, changing down gears. ‘Okay,’ he murmured to the truck driver. ‘Pull over. Come on. Come on.’

A shiny B-double truck slowed down in front of them as it strained up the steep incline. It finally pulled over to the slow lane and Griffin pushed the car faster to pass it. As the car crested the hill, the truck flashed its lights at him and Griffin shook his head.

They pulled away again from the truck and Griffin only relaxed when he lost sight of it in his rear-view mirror.

‘Who’s waiting at home for you, Tully?’ Griffin asked.

Tully gave up on her silent treatment and talked about Bamps and life with Aunt Laney who was such a nag and about the next door neighbour who waxed. She finally stopped when she noticed Griffin had fallen silent.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘He’s back,’ said Griffin softly.

‘What?’

‘That truck.’

Tully looked behind through the rear-view window.

‘Are you sure? Maybe it’s a different truck.’

‘Same truck,’ said Griffin. ‘Same rego.’

‘What’s he doing?’

The truck was weaving from side to side across the road. Griffin kicked down a gear and the car surged forward. The B-double loomed closer behind them, its lights flashing.

‘Is there any chance you know the driver?’ asked Tully.

Griffin shook his head.

‘So what’s his problem?’

‘I cut in front of him sixty kays back. Didn’t want to sit behind him up the hills. I think I pissed him off.’

‘Can’t you go any faster?’ asked Tully.

Griffin pulled away from the truck and up the next hill.

‘What about you, Griffin?’

‘Me?’

‘Who’s waiting at home for
you?
’ asked Tully.

Griffin shrugged. ‘My little brother.’

‘And your mum?’

‘She ... we don’t get on. She says I mess up everything I touch. I look a lot like my dad. Maybe that pisses her off.’

‘No.’

Griffin shrugged again.

‘Why don’t you live with your dad?’

‘He’s moved on. He doesn’t want me hanging around.’

‘That’s not fair.’

Griffin groaned.

The truck had caught up with them once more. It made no move to pass the car, even after Griffin waved it on. Instead it sat as close as possible to the car’s bumper bar.

‘Can you pull over?’ said Tully.

‘No room,’ said Griffin. ‘Not here. Maybe further down.’

He urged the car faster up a long winding incline and the truck fell back, only to catch up on the downward slope. This time the truck turned its indicator on, and Griffin slowed the car down to give it time to pass.

Tully could feel the shuddering strength of the B-double as it drew level with them then passed.

‘Jesus,’ said Griffin as he swerved instinctively away.

The road’s shoulder was a narrow strip of gravel that fell away into a deep ditch. The car cleared the ditch and landed in the scrub alongside as the truck pushed past them.

Tully swore and bounced out of the car, yelling and finally grabbing a handful of gravel and throwing it at the receding truck. Back at the car, she bent down to inspect the bumper which was pushed up on one side like a half-grin.

When she sat back in the car, Griffin was still holding tightly onto the wheel, his face damp with perspiration.

‘He’s gone,’ said Tully. She touched Griffin lightly on the shoulder. ‘That guy was a lunatic.’

Tully reached around on the floor until she found a drink bottle, then handed it to Griffin who took it automatically.

‘We should let the cops know. I mean, a maniac like that on the roads could kill someone ... hey, did you hear what I said? Go to the cops? That’s a good one.’

Griffin raised the drink bottle to his lips but his hands were shaking and he spilled half of it down his T-shirt.

‘How’s the car?’ he asked finally.

‘Not bad,’ said Tully. ‘Hardly a scratch.’

‘I screwed up. It’s Mum’s car. She’s going to kill me—’

‘Hey it wasn’t your fault.’

‘One chance. That’s all I had. She’ll never let me drive it again.’

‘But that’s not fair—’

Griffin laughed—a harsh grating noise. ‘Life isn’t fair, Tully. That’s the thing. Life just dumps a load of shit on you and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

They sat in silence for a while, then Tully leaned across and drew Griffin into a kiss that stilled the tremors in his body. As she pulled away, Griffin said, ‘What was that for?’

‘I think you’re wrong,’ she said with a smile.