Loop (3 page)

Julie shakes her head. The girl continues almost without a pause.

‘No. I didn't think so. Look, if you want to get technical, seeing how it's after midnight I guess we should call it ‘today's news'. But you have to admit, ‘tomorrow's news' has a better ring to it. In the industry, it's what we call “a hook”.'

‘And it hasn't actually happened yet?'

‘Did you have a hard day or something? I already told you, it depends on your perspective.'

‘So, you
can
see the future!'

‘What, me personally? Let's just say that time is a little more complicated than you might think.'

‘But it's impossible. You can't —'

‘Half the things in the world are impossible, if you try to analyse them. Look, Jules, you're caught in the middle of a communications revolution. Just think of it as another exciting new development. We're like a pay-TV channel, giving a special service to a limited audience. In your case, very limited.' There is an ironic edge to her voice.

Then she looks down at her notes, cutting off any further discussion.

‘In Moscow today, the Russian premier moved to consolidate …'

And Julie sits back in her chair.

Christine's story

We came back from the mountains late on Sunday night. Actually, it was nearer two in the morning. Jim's car boiled on the M4, and we didn't have any spare water. It took two hours before we could get any help.

Anyway, I was expecting Julie to be asleep, the way I usually found her, her head back in the chair in front of the box. But this time she was awake. And excited.

She watched through the window as Jim's car pulled away, then turned to me.

‘You have to buy a Lotto ticket first thing in the morning.'

‘Lotto?' It had been a rotten night, and my state of consciousness was just one step above zombie.

‘Yes, Lotto. You've got to buy one. I know what the winning numbers are going to be.'

Now my daughter was Nostradamus. This was shaping up as the perfect end to a perfect evening.

‘How?' Julie looked really intense. It didn't sound like a joke, and that worried me. ‘How do you know?'

‘I can't tell you. You wouldn't understand. I just know.' She must have realised how ridiculous it sounded, because she added, ‘Just trust me on this.'

I didn't, of course. Trust her, I mean. But I bought the ticket anyway and put in the numbers she told me. Not to win, you understand. I think I just wanted to prove to her that she was dreaming, that she had an hallucination brought on by insufficient sleep and too much late-night TV.

I certainly never expected to win the whole damned thing …

Poor Mum.

Julie watches her face as the numbers drop. They are no surprise to her, of course. In fact, it is all something of an anticlimax. A bit disappointing, really.

And she has already spent her share, in her mind, at least. Even though one small portion of that mind harbours doubt, the fear that something could still go wrong.

But nothing does. They are rich. Home free.

A light of hope flickers in her mother's eyes. After a full minute those eyes meet her own.

‘How?' The question is whispered, little more than a movement of the lips.

‘If I told you, you wouldn't believe me.'

Isn't that the truth! I still don't quite believe it myself.

For the hundredth time, Julie checks the numbers on the ticket. Two million dollars.

No worries …

‘Nice house!' Heidi speaks without preliminaries as soon as her image fades into existence on the huge LCD screen.

‘Thanks. We like it.'

The imitation leather is gone. Julie sinks back into the designer cushions on a single chair whose price-tag would have bought all the furniture in the old house. Twice over.

The huge room is warm. She picks up the remote from the table beside her, aims it at the control panel of the air-conditioner and turns the thermostat down.

Yeah. We like it …

‘I was a bit worried you wouldn't come through on the new TV. I kept the old one, just in case.'

‘With our technology, we could come through on your grandmother's hearing-aid, if we wanted to.'

‘You'd have a job. My grandmother's dead.' Julie smiles slightly at her own joke.

‘I know.' Heidi speaks quietly and her voice holds a strange tone. ‘I've talked to her.'

But Julie doesn't hear. She is speaking herself.

‘Do you have any share-market reports? I was thinking I might make a few … investments.'

‘Haven't you got enough?' There is something like anger in the girl's reply. ‘For six months now you've been tuning in. Did you ever, even once, think of using what you know to help someone? You know, warn them of tomorrow's disaster or something? Or is it all just the money?'

‘Look, I thought about it, sure. But what good would it do? You said yourself it's a matter of perspective. If you show it to me, it happened. Or it will happen. I can't stop it. What's the point of warning anyone?'

‘How do you know you can't? Did you ever try?'

‘Well, no. But it's logical.' For a moment Julie is silent, then, ‘Besides, if I do warn them and it gets out that I can see the future, they might take the Lotto money back. And my share-market profits. You know the rules about ‘insider trading'. And I wouldn't get any peace, with all the cranks wanting to know their future.

‘It's not
my
fault that I know. Actually, it's yours. And if I can make a profit out of it, where's the problem? What they don't know won't harm me.' Again, she smiles at her own joke.

Heidi's face is serious.

‘Careful, Jules. You know what they say: “There's no such thing as a free lunch”.'

‘What the hell does that mean?'

‘Whatever you want it to, I guess. When
I
was … Just be careful.' Suddenly she looks over her shoulder, as if she has said too much, but when she looks back it is business as usual. ‘Come on, let's get on with the crap.'

It's a no-news night. You can tell straightaway.

If they've got the report on a beauty contest as the third item in, there can't be much happening in the world.

She watches them crowning the winner, a South American girl with dark Latin beauty, a blinding smile …

And perfect skin.

Almost unconsciously, Julie reaches up to touch the birthmark on her left cheek. ‘A beauty-spot', her mother has always called it, but without much conviction. It looks more like a stray currant left over from last year's Christmas pudding.

Now that they have the money, plastic surgery is an option. She already has an appointment with the orthodontist to straighten her teeth. They aren't too bad, just a bit crowded, but they are beginning to grow crooked, crossing over each other, especially on the bottom.

The girl on the screen has perfectly even teeth …

And then her dad comes back.

It is a Friday night. Her mother has managed to get tickets to
Sixteen
at the Seymour Centre. She's been dying to see it.

Jim picked her up in his old Ford, and though Julie told her to take the new BMW she refused. You just can't work them out.

They've been gone maybe ten minutes when there is a knock on the door. Peering at the security monitor in the kitchen, she sees him standing there staring into the lens of the CCTV camera.

He hasn't changed, even after five years. At least, he still looks the same.

She runs to the door, barely making contact with the ground, so nervous that she has to fumble, rubber-fingered, with the deadlock. Then it is open and she is hugging him.

He seems smaller, somehow. But five years is a long time. She's grown.

Closing the door, Julie leads him inside. He is looking around with his mouth open, which is understandable. It is a truly impressive house.

The entrance foyer soars the full two storeys up to a cathedral ceiling and the decor is ultra-modern, with some amazing pictures on the walls, mostly art-photographs. They came with the house, but they are exactly what she would have chosen anyway.

It is obvious that he is impressed. But there is something, a spark of … she is unsure exactly what … burning behind his eyes. It makes her uneasy.

Suddenly, for no reason, she recalls her mother and the way she used to look some mornings: the uneasiness on her face as she tried to avoid him in the tiny kitchen, trying not to catch his eye.

Julie can never remember recalling that before.

Then he is facing her.

‘I want you to come and live with me.' These are the words she has dreamed of hearing since she was ten years old. Why don't they affect her the way she always imagined they would?

He senses her hesitation. He reaches out and takes hold of her shoulders with both hands. His grip is strong. She begins to stammer.

‘Just like that? Isn't it a bit sudden?'

His grip tightens. ‘I couldn't afford to look after you before, but now' – he looks around – ‘that won't be a problem.'

And she knows why he has come back.

It's not for me …

She realises that she has known from the moment she let him in. Something turns over in her stomach, and all she can think of is her mother.

Putting up with all my crap …

‘I couldn't. Not just at the moment.' The words are forming themselves without any assistance from her brain. ‘But if there's anything you want, anything you need …'

He wrenches his hands from her shoulders and swings away from her. Then he turns back, his face just inches from her own. He has been drinking. She can smell it.

‘D'you think I'm here for a handout? Is
that
what you think? She's turned you against me. I knew she would. The —'

‘She
hasn't done anything.
She
never mentions you.' Julie steps backwards, but he grabs her arm.

‘You're coming with me.'

‘No!' She pulls free, but her foot catches the edge of the rug, and she crashes to the floor.

He kneels over her, hand raised ready to strike, while she stares up at it, unable to move, to defend herself. Then, with an effort of will, he controls the sudden rage. He pulls her to her feet and says, too quietly, ‘You're coming with me.'

Julie has no strength to pull away, but still she whispers her resistance.

‘I can't … I don't want to.'

Before he can reply, the key turns in the front deadlock and Jim opens the door.

‘Julie! Would you believe it? After all that, your mum left the tickets on the …' He trails off as he enters the room and sees them. ‘What are
you
doing here?' He manages to make the ‘you' sound like an insult.

‘Well, if it isn't “the boyfriend”.' This man is a stranger. The father whose memory she cherished for all those years doesn't exist. This stranger gestures around him. ‘You certainly fell on
your
feet. How long before you move into the palace?'

Jim is incredibly calm.

‘I think you'd better leave. Now.'

‘I think you'd better make me!' Suddenly Julie finds herself stumbling towards the settee, as her father shoves her roughly aside and aims a punch at Jim's head.

She has never thought of Jim as a fighter, and standing there in his best suit, dressed for the theatre, he hardly looks the part. So Julie is unprepared for what follows.

With his left arm he brushes away her father's punch, then three times in quick succession he drives his right fist into the exposed stomach. She hears the wind whistle out of her father's lungs, and he doubles over, gasping for breath.

‘Now, I think it's time for you to go. Don't you?' Unresisting, the man who was once her father follows him out.

Julie sits down on the settee. Her mind is racing.

Nothing is the way it seems. Nothing is that simple.

Suddenly her mother is there beside her, fussing, apologising. Jim stands leaning on the doorpost, looking a little embarrassed. She catches his eye.

‘Thank you.' She doesn't say any more. There is no need. He just smiles and winks at her.

‘I think he's going to ask her to marry him.' Julie takes a swallow from the can she is holding. Heidi just stares.

‘And how do you feel about it?'

‘Strange, I guess. But a hell of a lot better than I would have a couple of months ago.'

A frown ghosts across the young newsreader's face, a look of regret.

‘Maybe it's not too late.' She whispers the words, almost to herself, then shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts. ‘But I guess it has been for ages.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Oh, nothing. Forget it. I shouldn't have said anything. I always get too close to the vic … viewers. I told them I wasn't cut out for this job. But then who is? This first item should interest you.'

Adjusting her papers, she reads: ‘Police tonight are probing the mysterious disappearance of fifteen-year-old Julie Harrington of Ellery Park, west of Sydney. Julie failed to arrive at school this morning, and her mother raised the alarm when she returned home to find no sign of her daughter. A search is being made of nearby bushland, and police are anxious to contact Julie's father …'

Heidi's voice drones on, but Julie hears nothing more. She is staring at her own picture, one of her school photographs, as it smiles back at her from the TV screen.

In a panic she runs from the room. The blonde girl stops reading, raises her gaze and follows her progress out through the double doors which lead into the passage.