Heller's Regret (5 page)

Gloria and I walked together at the head of
the group.

“How did half-rations treat you?” I asked
her.

She shot me a withering glance. “How do you
think?” She pulled the waist of her track pants out in front of her
to show me how much weight she’d lost. “I didn’t lose as much as
you though.”

“Too much exercise and not enough food will
do that to a woman.” I began to reminisce. “Remember what it was
like to have dinner, a real dinner?”

“Mmm, spaghetti. Plates and plates of
spaghetti. I’ve been dreaming about it.”

“I’m going to shovel whatever I can find down
my throat when I get home.” Hopefully it wouldn’t be my pillow.

“For how long do you think we’ll have to
walk?”

“I have no idea. However long it takes to
find a phone.”

“Are you sure these friends of yours will
come out to fetch us?”

“Yep, absolutely positive.” Heller would tear
them a new one if they didn’t.

We continued in silence, both of us too tired
to speak more. I trudged in a food-deprived state, robotically
placing one foot in front of the other, somehow staying upright.
After we’d walked about eight kilometres, some of the other women
openly began to complain – they were tired, they were hungry, they
were thirsty, even though I’d instructed everyone to bring a bottle
of water with them.

Shut up!
I screamed to myself, sick of
the moaning. They were getting on my fragile nerves. Nobody
deserved to complain more than Gloria and I, but we kept stoically
silent. The others should have taken a hint.

“What if we
never
find a place with a
phone? Are we going to walk forever?” groaned one of them. Yvonne?
Helen? I couldn’t be bothered turning around to find out which.

“Shut up, Yvonne,” snapped Gloria. “You
should be thanking Tilly for having the balls to organise this. If
you don’t like it, you’re free to turn around and go back.”

“Don’t you talk to me like that, Gloria.”

“I’ve had a gutful of listening to your
constant whining for the last two weeks. You have to be the most
self-centred person I’ve ever met.”

“Well, you’re just . . . stupid.”

“Oh, great comeback.”

“Okay, ladies,” I stepped in, tired of having
to deal with these people. All I wanted to do was dump these people
and go home. “We have to stick together.” I stopped for a moment,
noticing something ahead. I turned to the rest. “Look!”

In what I hoped was the first of many
tonight, by fortuitous chance, just when Gloria and Yvonne seemed
as if they might actually come to fisticuffs, we’d reached a
T-junction. It was the one where we’d all turned off the minor
bitumen road so long ago to reach the boot camp. The small
milestone lifted the mood a little.

“It can’t be more than twenty kilometres to
the city from here,” I said. So close to the city, surely we’d soon
find somewhere that had a public phone from which I could
reverse-charge call the Warehouse to beg for help?

Our spirits raised a little, we tramped for
another couple of kilometres on the road, not a single vehicle
passing us.

And then it appeared, like an oasis in the
desert to a thirsty person – a service station. We all giggled with
light-hearted (and in a few cases, light-headed) happiness. Sure,
it was closed, but there was a public phone sitting like the Holy
Grail directly in front of the building.

“Can anyone remember the reverse-charge
number?” I asked, my brain completely blanking on me. It wasn’t
something I’d needed since I was a teenager and lost my mobile
phone once on a shopping expedition.

Jessie recited it off the top of her head and
I blessed her for being so young, though apparently with a family
too stingy to fork out for a phone for her. I yawned hugely as I
went to ring. The others took advantage of the lull and flopped
onto the concrete, sharing water.

But when I reached the phone, I saw the small
handwritten sign attached to it:
Out of order
. I could have
cried. I could have curled up into a small ball and lay on the
concrete until someone else came up with a brilliant idea. I was
tired and hungry and homesick. I no longer wanted the
responsibility for the others.

But instead of doing that, I returned to the
exhausted women and broke the bad news. “It’s out of order.”

“
No!
” was the collective wail from the
others, accompanied by few forgivable tears.

“What are we going to do now?” asked Ariadne,
lying on her back and stretching out her cramped muscles.

I looked down the road and said in despair,
“I suppose we’ll have to keep walking until we find the next
place.” The prospect of taking another step then seemed like
climbing Mount Everest backwards with a blindfold on.

“I can’t. I just can’t,” said Jill, not
bothering to hide her tears. I felt awful for letting her, all of
them, down.

“We don’t have a choice,” said Gloria. “It’s
either that or give up now.”

I didn’t think she should have phrased it
quite like that, sure that more than a few of them were ready to
give up, including me.

She stood and helped me to my feet. “Come on,
Tilly. You have to stay strong. Think of your family.”

I also wish she hadn’t said that.
Uncontrollable tears gushed down my cheeks. “I was so sure there
would be a phone here.”

Gloria hugged me tightly and I clung to her,
desperately needing the comfort. After a while, she held my hand to
lead me away to continue our journey. I was grateful – it was nice
for someone else to take charge.

“A car!” said Jessie excitedly, pointing up
the road from where we’d come. “Maybe they might give us a
lift?”

We prepared to hail and greet them, but then
I noticed something.

“It’s them!” I said urgently. “It’s one of
the boot camp vehicles. Quick everyone, out the back. Get into the
bushes.”

We scrabbled as fast as we could, but we were
slow. They’d spotted us. We crashed through the bush and crouched
behind the vegetation, holding our breath.

“Do you think we can’t see you, you stupid
women? Get out here now. You are going to regret doing this,”
threatened the Director’s angry voice.

“Did you think we wouldn’t notice your
absence?” came Assistant One’s hateful voice. It seemed as though
there was only the two of them.

How did they find out?
I thought in
despair. I thought I’d developed the perfect plan.

“I’m so glad I sprung a surprise inspection
tonight,” gloated the Assistant. “Glad I decided to keep a real
close eye on you, Chunky. It’s paid off big time. I
can’t
wait for you all to return. You think you’re tired now? You have a
whole night of exercise in front of you.”

“We’re not going back,” I called out more
defiantly than I felt. “You’re all sadists. It’s sickening what you
do.”

“Get out here now,” demanded the Director, a
man of little patience.

“No,” I insisted from my hiding spot. “I’m
going to tell everyone about you people. I have a good friend in
the TV industry.
You’re
going to regret messing with
us.”

“You can’t say a word about us to anyone,”
said the Director.

“You can’t stop me.”

“Well,
I
won’t, but our lawyer will.
You all signed a confidential, non-disclosure agreement.”

We looked at each other in confusion. “No, we
didn’t,” I said.

“Yes, you did. When you signed the entry
document, you mustn’t have read it carefully. The non-disclosure
agreement was included in it.”

For some strange reason, I believed him. It
sounded exactly like something they’d do. Momentarily deflated, I
tried valiantly to rally. “Doesn’t matter. We’re not going
back.”

“Yes, you are. Otherwise we can sue you for
that too.” He tutted with fake sympathy. “You ladies really should
read what you sign more closely.”

I remembered signing something that presented
itself as an agreement to abide by the rules and conditions of the
camp. Though if I was honest with myself, I was so angry with Clive
that I hadn’t read anything properly. But to hide something
important like that in amongst pages of other text was surely
unconscionable in the worst possible way.

“I’m not going back and I
am
going to
expose your shoddy practices,” I said. Trent would love this
story.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy meeting our lawyer. He
eats minnows like you for breakfast.”

“Well, guess what? My boyfriend has a damn
good lawyer too. Bring it on.” I stood up and walked out of the
bush. I wasn’t going to hide like a fugitive from a couple of
shonky business people. This was a boot camp, not a reenactment of
The Great Escape
. It wasn’t like they were going to force me
into their truck or anything. I was going to flip them off, walk
away and continue the trek home.

My mistake.

The bright headlights of their truck blinded
me to the surroundings. The boot camp pair charged from the
darkness, crowding me from either side. They grabbed my elbows,
manhandling me towards the back of their truck.

“What are you doing? This is absolutely
ludicrous,” I said, struggling against them.

My bunker-mates and Gloria rushed from their
hiding place armed with sticks and rocks. They began hitting,
punching and beating the pair.

“Get off me, you crazy bitches,” shouted the
Director, copping blows from every direction.

Though weakened, we had the slight advantage
of numbers. I managed to free myself because of their distraction
and someone handed me a stick. I used it to great effect, poking
and jabbing them in every vulnerable spot I could find, taking out
my frustration. I suspect I wasn’t the only one, considering the
viciousness of the attack.

Cowed, the pair retreated to their truck and
spun off, performing a dangerous U-turn. Their tyres squealed as
they high-tailed it back to the camp.

“We did it,” Ariadne said with wonder.

“Woman power,” Gloria triumphed, fist
punching the air.

“I can’t believe they left so easily. It
seems too simple,” I said, stepping out on the road. I couldn’t see
any tail lights in the distance. The Director must have really
applied a lead-foot to the accelerator, probably the first person
in the world who wanted to hurry back that hellhole.

I returned to the women, to ensure everyone
was ready to set off again, Jessie said, “More headlights
coming.”

“Round the back again,” I demanded, gently
pushing them in that direction in case it was the pair returning
for another go at us.

I sneaked to the corner of the building,
ready to bolt if needed. The vehicle, a ute with an oversized back
tray, pulled into the service station. It didn’t show any boot camp
insignia on it.

A huge, hairy man stepped out, swearing when
he saw the station wasn’t open, though surely the unlit signage
should have warned him. He kicked one of the petrol bowsers in
fury, turning the air blue with his language. I guess he wasn’t
haven’t a good day.

Instead of getting back in and zooming off in
a temper, which I expected, he strode off to the far side of the
station courtyard. I heard a zipper being undone and soon after the
gushing sound of a man who’d been desperately holding in a pee for
ages, accompanied by a deep, low voice groaning, “Oh, yeah. Feels
so good.”

I spotted the chance for a free ride. “Round
up the others,” I hissed to Gloria, beckoning my group forward. We
huddled briefly. “Get in the back and be quiet about it. Stay as
low as you can.”

The man, who was probably in his fifties,
took an absolute age peeing, something for which I silently thanked
both him and his overfull bladder. I waited anxiously for Gloria’s
group to join mine in the back of the ute, ushering them forward.
Gloria boosted them up into the tray, some of them helping her in
turn. I was the last to join the group, just about to dash over to
the ute, when the man came back, doing up his fly.

Shit
, I thought. I didn’t want to be
the only one left behind. When he settled his butt in the driver
seat, slamming the door behind him, I sneaked over. I fervently
hoped he wasn’t one of those cautious types who checked all their
mirrors before driving.

I made it to the ute and began to climb into
the back, when he revved up the engine and screeched off, leaving
me clinging on in panic, my feet resting on the bumper bar.

“
Shit!
” I splurted again. I’d never
recommend that anyone try it, but it’s frigging difficult to hold
on to a moving vehicle. I didn’t want to fall off, especially at
the speed he was going.

The other women peered out at me in horror.
My group and Gloria held out their hands to me, but I was afraid to
loosen my death grip on the back of the ute tray to take them.
Could this night possibly get any worse?

And the answer to my purely rhetorical
question was clearly
yes
, because we all heard the man
loudly shout, “What the fuck?”

He pulled sharply over to the side of the
road, the impact of him braking hard to come to a stop throwing me
off the back. I scrabbled to my feet, rubbing my butt, as he
stalked around the ute, regarding us with incredulity.

“What the –? Get out of my ute, and I mean
now,” he yelled, dragging the nearest woman by the arm to the
ground. “Fucking weirdos.”

“Please, mister,” I implored him. “Please
just take us to the next working phone.”

“Are you out of your mind? You look like a
bunch of escapees from prison or a loony bin or something. I don’t
want you in my ute and I’m not taking you anywhere. All of you, get
out now!”

The women climbed out and stood bunched up
together their faces a mixture of embarrassment and dismay. He
shook his head.