The Vanishing Moment Read online

  In the afternoon she gets two visitors. The first one is Mr Jackson. He looks around the lounge room.

  ‘Nice, but it’s freezing in here. I’ll drop over an electric heater later.’

  He takes something soft and fluffy out of the pocket of his jacket and hands it to her. She strokes it gently. It’s Rose’s pink bunny ears that she used to wear all the time, even to bed. But she wasn’t wearing it the morning Arrow had discovered her and the others.

  ‘Where did you find it?’ Arrow’s voice breaks.

  ‘Hidden in a cupboard. She didn’t even let my little girl have the comfort of it in her last moments.’ The sorrow in his eyes is unbearable. ‘I thought you might like to have it.’

  When Mr Jackson has gone, Arrow curls up on the sofa, the bunny ears soft against her cheek.

  Hello, Rose. Hello, Daisy. Hello, Fergus.

  She summons their faces, dredging up a long-ago afternoon in her garden. Fergus had organised running races, urging his sisters to get fit, to run as fast as they could. Daisy was obliging, her skinny little legs whipping along. Arrow let her win a couple of times. But Rose was soon puffed out. She plonked herself on the grass and wouldn’t budge.

  ‘You must, Rose. You must.’ Fergus was flushed and distraught.

  ‘Oh, leave her alone,’ Arrow said. ‘She’s good at lots of other things.’

  ‘Singing,’ said Rose. ‘Dancing.’ She twirled a plump foot in the air, contemplating it with satisfaction.

  ‘If a monster chases you,’ said Fergus, ‘you’ll need to run very, very fast.’

  ‘There are no monsters,’ Arrow said. ‘Stop frightening her.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Fergus said despairingly.

  And she hadn’t. Not that running would have saved Rose, or would have saved any of them. They never even had the chance to get out of the starting-block.

  Arrow hears a dog barking and looks out the window. Bob is standing on the pavement, staring at the house. With him is Frankie, of course.

  She’d wanted some company earlier, but now she feels like being alone. Reluctantly, she opens the front door and calls, ‘Hello, do you want to come in?’

  Bob shakes his head, but Frankie bounds up to Arrow, pauses for a pat, then scoots into the house. Swearing, Bob follows him as far as the front steps.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he hisses to Arrow.

  ‘I live here,’ she replies coolly. ‘Come in.’

  He shifts from foot to foot, muttering, ‘I can’t go inside. I just can’t.’

  He looks so agitated that Arrow says, ‘Go round to the back garden. I’ll make some coffee.’

  ‘All right.’

  Arrow watches him edge around the side of the house. She puts on the kettle and finds a biscuit for Frankie. He wolfs it down, then sits on his haunches, looking hopeful. ‘ Greedy old thing,’ Arrow says. He looks at her reprovingly.

  ‘Well, just one more.’

  She carries the mugs out to the garden, Frankie at her heels.

  ‘He likes you,’ Bob says.

  ‘He likes my biscuits.’

  ‘He’s very friendly. Surprising, when you think how badly he was treated.’

  Arrow strokes Frankie’s head where his ear should be. ‘What happened?’

  ‘The driver of a ute swerved to avoid a reversing truck. A dog hurtled from the back of the ute and bounced, literally bounced along the tarmac, tearing off chunks of flesh. The driver kept going.’

  ‘That’s horrible! How could someone do that?’

  ‘I bundled the dog in my jacket and carried him to the vet. Apparently these accidents are common. They’re known as Road Bits.’

  Arrow feels sick.

  ‘The dog had internal injuries, lost an ear and an eye. When he was better, I brought him home.’

  Frankie knows they’re talking about him. He nuzzles Arrow’s hand. She can’t believe he’s so gentle after someone has treated him so carelessly.

  ‘Why are you staying here?’ Bob asks. ‘Do you know what happened in this house?’

  ‘Of course. The children were my best friends. I found their bodies.’

  Bob’s right knee is jiggling. Sweat trickles down his forehead. He wipes off the sweat. ‘Let me tell you a story.’

  His hands are clenched, his voice hoarse.

  ‘Once, there was a boy whose stepdad beat the shit out of him. He ran away to the city, met up with some crazy guys, came back to the south coast and camped with them by the river. One of his mates killed a park ranger. Although the boy wasn’t actually involved in the killing, he was still sent to gaol.’

  Arrow has a bad feeling about this story. ‘Was this boy called Bob?’

  He nods. ‘When I got out of gaol, I had no family who wanted to know me, no friends, nowhere to stay. I rented a caravan until my money ran out. One day I saw a family going away on holiday, these people, the Jacksons. Bags were strapped on top of the car so I knew they’d be gone for a while.’

  Sweat is pouring off him now. ‘I waited until dark and forced open a window. I was starving. I ate straight from the fridge – strawberry yoghurt, hunk of cheese, a floury apple. I was stretched out on the sofa when I heard a voice. The voice said, “I can Interchange, Bob. Shall I?” Who knows what it meant, but I had nothing to lose so I said yes. And here I am.’

  Arrow gasps. ‘Interchange? You heard the voice? I heard it, too, when I found the children!’ How wonderful, after all these years, to find out that someone else had had the same experience. ‘But what do you mean by “here I am”?’

  ‘Here in this world. In a world where I didn’t commit a crime, where I don’t have a vicious stepfather, where I hold down a job at Mr Jackson’s garage, live in the flat above, perform at the club, and visit my mother once a week.’

  His eyes are glittering. The man’s mad, thinks Arrow. She edges away, wondering if she should scream or try to run for it.

  He grips her arm. ‘Listen.’

  At school she’d studied a poem called ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’ about an old seaman who stops a man on his way to a wedding ceremony and makes him listen to a bizarre story. Right now she feels like that wedding guest, held fast by a skinny hand…

  ‘Hello? Arrow?’ It’s Mr Jackson, thank goodness, banging on the front door.

  Arrow prises Bob’s fingers off her arm. She leaps up. ‘Coming,’ she calls. She glances back. Bob is slumped, his head in his hands.

  Mr Jackson has brought the heater. He plugs it in, switches it on and soon three radiator bars glow red. Arrow stands in front of it, enjoying the warmth on her legs.

  ‘Thanks,’ she says. ‘Would you like a coffee? Bob’s here, in the back garden.’

  She wants him to stay. Perhaps Bob will then leave with him? She doesn’t know how to get rid of him otherwise.

  But Mr Jackson is already hurrying out of the door. ‘Must rush. I’ve promised Miko I’ll take her and the baby to the park.’

  Arrow breathes deeply. Steadies herself. She’s not afraid of Bob. Not really. She doesn’t think he’ll hurt her. But he’s obviously unstable – how should she handle that?

  Listen. Humour him. Don’t laugh. Don’t argue.

  His eyes are closed. They spring open the moment she sits down. He starts talking fast as if there’d been no interruption.

  ‘There are parallel universes in which many Arrows, many Marikas, many Bobs, many everyone, all exist at the same time. Depending on the decisions they make, or the things that happen to them, their lives take different paths.

  ‘I swapped places with another Bob, poor sod, by accepting Interchange. I got his okay life, and he got my terrible life.’

  This is like something out of Doctor Who. Arrow wants to laugh, but she must not. She thinks of the man she saw on the train, the man talking into his cigarette lighter. He managed to hold on to his dignity only because no one jeered.

  Her voice serious, she asks, ‘Who’s doing the Interchange? And why?’

&nb
sp; He shakes his head. ‘I don’t know.’

  Arrow presses on. ‘How come no one knows about this?’

  ‘Because they don’t remember! I think they’re not supposed to remember. But I remember everything. I remember being born. I remember every word ever said to me, every word I’ve ever spoken, every deed, every incident. Do you know how terrible it is not to be able to forget anything?’

  He doubles up, as if he’s in agony.

  Arrow is scared for him. ‘But why did you and I hear the voice?’

  ‘Because we were here in this house. Just as there are hot spots for things like volcanic activity, I think this is a hot spot for Interchange. A sort of access point. It may well be only one of hundreds, perhaps thousands.’

  He looks up at Arrow with despair, and she thinks of the first time she saw him when he was touching rubbish bins and poles, checking that everything was stable, everything was where it should be.

  ‘Right.’ She hopes her voice sounds neutral.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not homicidal. I just hoped you might understand.’

  He sounds so painfully lonely that Arrow wishes she could say something reassuring. But it’s all too outrageous to believe, isn’t it?

  ‘Have you ever had a feeling of déjà vu?’ he asks.

  ‘Of course. Hasn’t everyone?’

  ‘No one really knows what causes it. Oh, there are lots of scientific and psychological explanations. I think sometimes it’s because a person has experienced something in their other life, before they were swapped, and it leaks through. Know what I mean?’

  Arrow shrugs. ‘Sort of.’

  Bob gets up. ‘If people are offered Interchange, they can live a different life. But it’s risky, remember that… Let’s go, Frankie. Home time.’

  The dog licks Arrow’s hand, its eye stern. Yes, she wants to admit, I’ve let your master down. But multiple universes – it’s all just fiction!

  She watches the two of them make their way down the street. Bob is still touching things – the trunk of a tree, a paling fence, a letterbox.

  She’s not convinced by anything he’d said, but she feels shaken. She, herself, heard a voice. And that voice offered Interchange. How can she explain that away? And what might have happened if she’d said yes to the voice all those years ago?

  She wishes she knew her dad’s friend, Tom Joy, well enough to phone him up. Surely a philosopher would have something useful to say about the ethics of Interchange.

  She wants to call her dad. She wants to hear his calm, reasonable voice. It was stupid of her not to have bought another mobile. Now she’ll have to buy a phone card and hope to find a telephone box that isn’t vandalised.

  As it’s Sunday afternoon, the shopping centre is deserted. Nothing’s open except the video store and the chicken-and-chips shop. Luckily, it doubles as a convenience store, so Arrow buys a bag of hot, salty chips and a phone card.

  Two phone boxes are out of order, the third is working.

  Her dad answers. ‘Arrow! How are you? We’ve been waiting to hear from you again. You know how your mother worries.’

  ‘Sorry, I’ve been busy. I need to talk to you…about a friend who’s a bit troubled.’

  As she tells him about Bob’s theory of multiple universes, she starts feeling silly.

  ‘He’s not crazy. Just very confused,’ she says.

  ‘Well, it’s an intriguing idea, but how would you know that the “other life” is less problematic than the one you already have? It could be worse, and you’d have to live with the consequences.’

  ‘So you think it’s better to struggle on than take the chance?’

  ‘I do. Besides, I’d feel uneasy about “stealing” someone else’s life.’

  Arrow knows what he means. She also thinks that if she had a chance of a life in which Fergus was alive, she’d probably take it.

  ‘It’s very difficult to change people’s belief systems,’ her father adds. ‘All you can do is be this Bob’s friend. He sounds like he needs one.’

  Arrow sighs. ‘Thanks, Dad. I’d better say hello to Mum.’

  Her father is silent for a moment. ‘She’s not here. She’s driving Mr Watts to his son’s house.’

  ‘Why? Is he ill?’

  ‘It’s his little dog, Lucy.’

  ‘Yes?’ Arrow’s not sure she wants to hear this. Mr Watts loves Lucy as if she were his child.

  ‘Lucy’s dead, I’m afraid. I’m sorry, I know you were very fond of her.’

  ‘What happened? Tell me!’

  Her father coughs. ‘Someone broke her neck. Left her on the doorstep for Mr Watts to find.’

  Arrow’s stomach churns. She tastes hot chips and cooking fat.

  ‘Apparently, under her body was a postcard from you. Isn’t that odd?’

  ‘I’ve got to go. I’m running out of money.’ She puts down the phone. Blinded by tears, she blunders out of the phone box, remembering what her father had once said about the desire for payback. ‘Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.’

  That night Arrow goes to bed early. In spite of the bar heater, it’s warmer in bed than out. She’s swallowed a tablet, locked the doors and hidden the key in a top cupboard. If she does sleepwalk, she hopes her subconscious won’t remember where to look.

  She can’t stop thinking about poor Mr Watts and Lucy and the muggers that killed the little dog. They weren’t fooled by the story of Killer. They guessed it was a ploy to get them to go away; a ploy by Mr Watts’ devious next-door neighbour, Arrow. And they’d come across the postcard to prove it.

  What had she written? Give the phantom dog Killer a pat from me!

  Stupid of her. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

  Payback. A broken neck for a broken nose.

  How will poor Mr Watts survive without his beloved little Lucy?

  She presses her hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming with rage and pity. But she can’t stop great gulping sobs from wracking her body over and over. Her throat hurts, her ribs hurt. She hasn’t wept like this since the children were murdered. Exhausted, she curls up in a ball, aching for Mr Watts and Lucy and her dead friends.

  And now she’s dreaming. Although her cheeks are wet, it’s a peaceful dream of her and the Jackson family. They’re at the beach – the beach at Black Rock, Fergus’s favourite. Even Mrs Jackson is there, unpacking the picnic hamper, handing out sandwiches and soft drinks. Her face is soft, her arms tender as she wraps Rose in a big, striped towel. For once, the wind’s not blowing. A little Silky Terrier skitters along the rocks, barking at the waves. Everything is bathed in a soft golden light—

  A bottle smashes against the bedroom wall. Loud laughter. Tapping at her windows.

  ‘Ghostie? Ghostie, are you there? Whooooooooo!’

  She sits up, her heart thumping. Someone bangs on the front door, yelling, ‘We’re coming to get you!’ More laughter, giggles. It’s just kids, silly drunk kids.

  Perhaps she should wrap herself up in a white sheet and rush out and scare them?

  Too cold. She snuggles back under the covers, ignoring the cat calls, trying to recapture the dream.

  But it’s gone.

  27. MARIKA

  Marika feels dispirited. Her maquette of Niobe is disappointing, lacking potential power and emotion.

  So when Arrow wanders over and asks her to dinner, she doesn’t want to go.

  ‘Please come. Mr Jackson brought over a heater. We’ll be warm. I’m going to make roast chicken and vegetables.’

  Marika is about to refuse again when Arrow says, ‘I had some drunken visitors last night. Broken bottles everywhere.’

  ‘That’s awful! Are you in danger, do you think?’

  ‘Nope. Just stupid kids mucking about.’

  ‘Of course, I’ll come. I’d bring a baseball bat if I had one.’

  Arrow laughs a bit nervously. ‘If they come back, I’m going to make them think the house really is haunted.’

  Arrow turn
s out not to be a great cook, and the old oven smokes out the house. Eyes stinging, they open the doors and windows until they’re able to breathe without coughing.

  When they’ve finished eating and are sitting huddled next to the small radiator, Marika tells Arrow about her art course, her dad, Steve and her mother. ‘They really love each other. It must be wonderful to feel like that about someone.’

  Arrow talks about all sorts of things – finishing school and not knowing what to do, Mr Watts and what happened to Lucy, her fussy, over-protective mother.

  Marika feels some sympathy for Arrow’s mother. If she could rewrite the past, she’d be holding on to Jasper’s hand until he was a hulking sixteen-year-old.

  Her face hidden by her hair, Arrow says diffidently, ‘I’m glad you felt you could tell me about your brother. I’m so sorry.’

  Marika nods. ‘Do you know what Bob said to me when I first met him? That I should be grateful for the life I have!’ She gives a bitter laugh. ‘Of course, he doesn’t know about Jasper.’

  ‘I think he meant that things might be worse in another life,’ Arrow says quietly.

  ‘If only there was another life.’

  Arrow hesitates, then tells Marika about the voice she heard when she was a child that had offered Interchange.

  ‘How strange! Could it have been the mother?’

  ‘No. Mrs Jackson’s voice was hoarse and rough. This voice was faint, faraway. It seemed to be in my head, if that makes sense. It wasn’t kind, but it wasn’t unkind. It was – oh, I don’t know.’

  ‘Did you tell your parents?’

  ‘Yep. The police were interested, but, in the end, everyone said I’d imagined it. But I didn’t.’

  ‘Perhaps someone was playing a joke? A very sick joke.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘I wonder what the voice meant by “Interchange”?’ Marika says.

  ‘I’ve looked it up in the dictionary so many times. Interchange is a train or bus junction. It also means to give and receive things, to change places, to exchange.’

  ‘Weird.’ Marika gives a little laugh. ‘At the main station in Sydney there are Interchange Only signs – you can swap platforms, but you can’t exit.’