Scowling, Zoe kicked the empty soft-drink can. It bounced and clattered on the footpath, startling a scavenging pigeon. The bird launched itself upward to rest on the rusted gutter of an abandoned shop. In the building’s vacant window, Zoe glimpsed herself—a thin, forlorn teenager in a shabby, navy-blue uniform.
The knot in Zoe’s stomach tightened. For years, dawdling home from school and chatting with her best friends, Amy and Natalia, had been the highlight of her day. Their conversations had morphed from games and what they did on the weekend, to gossip about teachers, fashion, music, and boys as they’d grown up. Talking was good. By the time she and Amy said goodbye to Natalia, then parted company two blocks later, problems had been sorted and secrets shared. Zoe would increase her pace and look forward to being greeted by the fragrant hints of what dinner might contain—and her mother’s company.
Those days were gone. This year, she’d focused on her studies, choir practise on Tuesdays, tennis on Wednesdays, and an after-school maths class on Thursdays. Anything to delay the return home.
It was Friday, and with a boring weekend ahead of her, Zoe’s mind wandered to the world she had created where she worked in a hospital and helped countless patients. They thanked her for her aid, gave her flowers, and spread the word about her amazing healing skills.
Her thoughts of an anticipated and successful career faded to the memory of her sixteenth birthday the previous week. Forgotten by her mother—the one person she’d believed would never forget such an important occasion—Zoe dwelt on the nicely wrapped book and box of chocolates Mrs Worth from across the hall had gently placed in her hands as she had fumbled for her door key. Not to mention the sparkly top her friends had given her before hustling her onto a bus and off to a surprise outing at a pretty café overlooking Brisbane River. The cosy celebration had included a milkshake and luscious chocolate cake—complete with sixteen sparkling candles–and floods of grateful tears.
Zoe approached the shabby building concealing her and her mother’s apartment. Set at the perimeter of inner-city Brisbane, where a conglomeration of high-rise apartments was rapidly overtaking the historic pre-war cottages, the converted factory had loomed, ugly. But for Zoe, it was home—for now.
***
Zoe climbed the stairs, her pulse racing. Perhaps today would be different. Perhaps a lasagne would be baking in the oven, or a cooked chicken and salad would be waiting for her in the fridge?
Hope rose as she slid her key into the lock. Music drifted through the door and … could that be her mother singing?
It is!
Catherine Ferguson sprang toward her daughter, arms outstretched.
Blinking rapidly, Zoe sank into her mother’s embrace, leaned on her shoulder, and hugged her. Then Zoe stepped back, holding Catherine by the forearms, and stared into her eyes.
Zoe’s heart plummeted. The centre of her mum’s wide, blue irises were nothing but tiny, black pinpricks. Emitting a silent sigh, Zoe glanced around the room. It was clean and tidy. The polished timber floorboards gleamed. Plumped cushions stood to attention on the couch and the kitchen bench bore none of the usual empty wine bottles, glasses, and food scraps.
‘Are you feeling better, Mum?’
‘Darling! I’m wonderful. Adrian popped in this morning, and after he left, I gave the place a spring clean.’
Zoe groaned. They were back to square one.
She pushed past her mother and flung her schoolbag onto the floor in the corner of her bedroom. The lump in her stomach grew heavier.
‘I thought we’d order pizza and watch a movie tonight. Just you and me—like old times,’ Catherine called from the living room.
Zoe cleared her throat. ‘Sure, Mum. I need to change my library books before they close.’
After stripping off her uniform, she threw on jeans and a T-shirt and shouldered her bag. ‘I’ll be back around five. We can order the pizza then, okay?’
Catherine didn’t look up as she scrolled through her phone. ‘Bye, darling. See you later.’
Zoe ran down the stairs, swinging savagely on the banister as she went. Her initial surge of hope wavered, as though held by a spider’s thread, waiting to be swiped into oblivion. As she hurried along the road, she pressed curled knuckles against her mouth. She wanted to scream, yell, and cry like a toddler as vivid memories of the overheard conversation resurged. But what good would that do? Who could she tell? The police? If she did say something, would the big man or Adrian come after her? Fear gripped her as she approached the tiny park where, only a week earlier, she had been walking the same route and seen Adrian in a heated conversation with a much larger man. Not wanting to be recognised by Adrian, she had quickly stepped behind the hedge surrounding two sides of the park, out of sight, but not out of hearing.
‘She’s threatening to go to the cops. What should I do?’ Adrian had mumbled.
‘This will solve the problem,’ the gravelly voice had answered.
Zoe had pressed closer into the hedge, peering through the leaves as the bigger man held up a clip-seal bag of white powder. Were they talking about her mother?
‘I’m not going to do that.’ Adrian’s voice had trembled, his volume louder.
The man with the gravelly voice had spun Adrian around and held a knife to his neck.
‘You are forgetting who is in charge here. You’ll do as you’re told. If you don’t, no one will find your body.’
Adrian’s terrified response had resounded in Zoe’s ears as she had stealthily retreated to a side road and taken the longer route to the library, her jelly-like legs struggling to carry her.
Now, as she marched, Zoe pushed her fears to the back of her mind and forced her thoughts on her imaginary world—the one filled with purpose and appreciation. The one she was determined to achieve, even if it took every waking moment to accomplish.
***
Late spring in Brisbane was Zoe’s favourite time of year. The vibrant mauve flowers of the jacaranda trees lined the streets and gardens, their petals brightening the drab bitumen and detracting from the buzz and chaos of the city. She stepped out of the library as a light shower of rain fell, its gentle moisture generating steam from the pavement. Zoe groped in her library bag for the folding umbrella. Getting wet didn’t worry her but protecting books was an entirely different matter.
Tilting her face upward, she breathed in the warm, fresh air, revelling in the smell of rain. The shower passed and she strode out, closing the umbrella and glancing at the sky. She didn’t wear a watch—hers had broken long ago, and she hadn’t liked to ask her mother for money to buy a new one. The library clock had shown four-thirty when she was checking out her books, so she’d estimated she’d get home right on five o’clock. A watery sun hovered low in the west. She gave a small nod and increased her pace. She would be back at the predicted time.
Furrows formed between her eyes as she turned the corner into her street. Zoe flicked her long, dark hair from her face and stopped abruptly. Parked against the kerb fifty metres ahead was an ambulance, a police car, and a throng of spectators. Blue and red lights flashed, reflecting in the puddles.
For a second, her legs refused to work. Then she ran, terror growing inside her with every step.
Her life was about to change forever.
