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Authors: Kathryn Ledson

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BOOK: Monkey Business
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CHAPTER TEN

I met Lucy on Bridge Road. The plan was to have breakfast and then head to Lucy's to watch movies all day. Yesterday we'd scoured our favourite shops. We went to Ikea because Lucy loves it. I hate it. Well, I don't hate it but I can't
see
anything in there. My brain can't process all the shapes and colours. I can't see the difference between a bedroom and a living room. I get lost and panic that I won't find my way out. I like Freedom Furniture, where all the blue cushions are together, all the pink ones, with clearly defined, colour-coded rooms. Jack wouldn't go to either store. He probably goes to Italy to buy his furniture.

I pushed my breakfast aside.

‘So I'm thinking about getting it all cut off,' said Lucy.

‘What?'

‘Are you listening to me? I said I'm thinking about getting my hair cut. Something radical.'

‘You tried that and hated it.'

‘I know.'

Lucy ate. I didn't.

‘There's nothing else you can do, you know,' she said between mouthfuls of omelette.

‘About what?'

She sighed. ‘Jack. JD will call when he gets the message.'

After breakfast I followed Lucy in my car to Hawthorn and we climbed the one flight to her apartment. Empty champagne bottles sat on the kitchen bench.

‘Are those bottles still there from your Tupperware party?' The memory of it made me feel sick.

‘I've worked every day and night since. I'm thinking about getting a cleaning lady.'

‘Why don't we just take the bottles downstairs now?'

‘Nah.'

I sat at her kitchen counter. ‘Has my stuff come in yet?' I said.

‘Your Tupperware? Not yet. One of your things is on back order. I'll let you know.'

‘I forgot to order stuff for Mum.'

‘Really? What did she want? I could probably add it.'

‘I can't find her list.'

‘Call and ask her now,' said Luce.

‘You call her.'

‘I'm not calling her.'

‘Maybe she'll forget,' I said. ‘You know, I don't even remember what I ordered for myself.'

‘You ordered a lot of fabulous things and I'm getting a fantastic gift from Tupperware because of it.'

I blew out a big sigh.

‘Tea or coffee?' she said, walking into the kitchen.

‘I need more coffee.'

Lucy put some cake on a plate.

‘Luce, I think something really awful has happened to Jack.'

She gazed at me. I knew she probably wanted to say something like he's not good for you anyway, but she didn't, and I was thankful for that. Lucy wasn't a huge fan of Jack – even though he's a Collingwood supporter – because she thinks he'll hurt me. And because I tend to end up in grave danger when he's around.

‘Let's sit,' she said, and we propped on her sofa with coffee, cake and chocolate.

I told Lucy again what Joe said on the phone.

‘So, what do you think's happened to him?'

I shrugged. ‘Just before he went away the first time, Jack told me there was a guy causing big trouble somewhere.'

‘But you don't know where that is.'

I shook my head. ‘All I know is that it's something to do with the Team. At least, I assume it is because JD's involved.'

‘Well, I think you should handball this to JD and forget it.' She picked up a magazine. ‘We'd better read our stars.' She scanned the page. ‘Sooo . . . This is mine. Taurus: Here's hoping your boss is understanding when an unexpected event requires your urgent attention . . . blah blah blah. Same as usual. Let's do yours. Libra: An unplanned trip to a remote place sees the blossoming of new friendships, potential danger and possibly a romance revisited . . . Nothing special. Let's watch movies.'

Well, there you go. If there's a problem, check your horoscope, and if that doesn't help, eat cake and watch a movie. Lucy loaded
Romancing the Stone
with Kathleen Turner and Michael Douglas, before he had a mid-life crisis and married someone too young.

But after
Romancing the Stone
, I felt even more miserable. I doubted very much that Jack would come back from wherever he was and drive up my street in a yacht. Especially as I'd done nothing to help save him. All kinds of horrible things were going through my mind. What if he were lying at the bottom of a hole or well somewhere, and Joe had walked past him a hundred times without seeing him? I'd find him. If I was there, I'd
sense
him. I know I would.

Lucy put on
Tomb Raider
next with Angelina as Lara Croft. At the beginning Lara beats up the scariest mother of a robot, then she beats up a bunch of bad guys in her garage and she's wearing pyjamas and riding a motorbike. There's no weapon she can't use, no car she can't drive, no skill she doesn't have, no thing she's afraid of. And she's got fabulous hair. I'm a bit jealous, actually. Angelina's a good actress. I remember reading an interview with some actress once and when she was asked how she managed to be so good at it – acting – she said, ‘I don't just act, I
become
the character.' I try that sometimes at Mum's. I try to
become
the kind of daughter she'd like to have, instead of just acting it, but it never works. Probably because I don't actually want to be a person who panders to men and goes to confession. Not that Jack is a man you could pander to anyway. Besides, with his lifestyle, he probably won't even live long enough to be pandered to. I wish I could have the chance to pander to him.

I was trying so hard not to cry that the tears couldn't help but come. And I tried not to let Lucy see, but of course that made me do stupid things to cover up like dragging my hair in front of my face and pretending to look for nits.

‘Erica, what are you doing?'

I started sobbing. My shoulders shook and I sat there hiccupping, my hair a heavy curtain over my face. ‘I'm . . . upset . . . about . . . Jack.'

Lucy muted the TV and scuttled along the sofa, pushing my hair back and putting her arm around me. ‘Don't worry, hon. He'll be all right. He's so bloody tough. And good-looking.'

‘I don't think his looks will help him where he is now, Luce.'

She shrugged. ‘Well, what can you do? You'll just have to hang in there and wait. Women have done it all throughout history. Waited for their men to come home from war.'

I took a great shuddering breath. War. The word made me shiver. Was Jack in some kind of secret war? I wiped my tears and watched Lara. She was flying into a jungle in her jeep, which was dropped from a helicopter with her behind the wheel, and as soon as it hit the ground, she hit the accelerator. Lara wasn't waiting around for anyone.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I didn't remember much of my trip to work, which must have involved the usual walk to Richmond Station, a squashed train ride one stop to Flinders Street, and the walk to the footbridge where I now stood, holding the handrail for support as my gaze ran up the flashy length of the Dega Oil building across the river. I stared at the windows at the very top. I still hadn't heard back from John Degraves. I didn't have his home phone number and had no way of getting it, except by calling Celia or Rosalind and there was no chance either would hand it over without good reason. Which I simply didn't have.

I sat at my desk. Seven forty-five a.m. Way too early for me, but at least Rosalind wasn't in yet. The thought of facing her when my life wasn't otherwise perfect was more than I could bear. I dialled JD's office. My call went to voicemail so I left a message for Celia and waited, sitting at my desk, chewing my nails, flicking through but not seeing the stuff in my inbox. I was about to upset three important people: the big boss's PA, who I was going to lie to, the big boss, who I was going to talk to about unmentionable things, and my boss, who wouldn't like me approaching JD without her permission.

I willed Celia to call me, wondering what I could say to get an immediate meeting with JD. I waited until eight-fifteen, when I couldn't stand it any longer. I left my desk, rounded the corner and walked into Rosalind. I mean, straight into her. She'd been holding a coffee, and now she was wearing it. We gaped at each other, both frozen in disbelief. Why did she have coffee? She never got her own coffee!

I found my voice. ‘Oh my God.'

Her face was turning red. ‘Is that all you can say?' she squeaked.
‘“Oh my God”?
How about, “I'm so sorry, Rosalind, for ruining your suit!”'

‘I'm sorry.' Oh, geez. How to wind back time? How to do that again, but walk in the other direction? I needed a new job. I needed a holiday.

Rosalind pushed her now-empty mug into my chest and stormed to her office, throwing over her shoulder, ‘Obviously I'll need another coffee.'

The phone on my desk rang. Celia? I headed for it, but Rosalind appeared at her office door. ‘
Now
would be nice!'

She stood there, arms crossed, glaring until I turned and headed for the kitchen.

Fresh coffee in hand, I crept into Rosalind's office (her back was turned) and placed the coffee as quietly as I could on her desk. She spun around.

‘And,' she hissed, ‘what do you plan to do about my suit?'

‘Um, of course I'll take it to the cleaners.'

‘And what do you propose I wear while it's at the cleaners? Hmm?'

I dunno. She could change into her night gear; what do vampires wear? I said nothing.

She thrust a credit card at me. ‘You'll need to get me a new one. Frederick at Hugo Boss knows what I like. The store at Crown.'

I headed for the front doors of the building. I truly meant to go straight to Hugo Boss, but when I saw the door open to the executive lift, I stepped inside, holding my breath, and pushed the button for the top floor. It whizzed me straight there.

As I walked across the foyer I could see Celia talking on the phone. She saw me and frowned.

When I reached her desk she said, ‘I left you a message.'

‘What did you say?'

‘I asked why you want to meet with JD.'

I glanced at his office door, which was closed. ‘Can I see him now?' I added quickly, ‘It's really personal, Cee. He won't mind, I'm sure, but . . . I can't say.'

‘Is it about Rosalind?'

I screwed up my nose, which could have meant anything. She hesitated, watching me, and I could feel a hot blush crawl up my neck. I'm such a bad liar – except to my mother.

Finally she rolled back her chair, went and tapped quietly on JD's door. She disappeared into his office. I waited. It was interminable. She came out and said, ‘It's your lucky day, Erica. You can go on in.'

‘Thanks, Celia. Sorry about this.' I hesitated in JD's doorway and peered in. There he was at his desk, his head bent over some papers. He had a small bald patch I'd never noticed before. The heat was working its way up my neck to my ears.

John Degraves looked up and regarded me for a few seconds before beckoning me forward, asking me to close the door. I sat opposite him at his vast desk and he looked at me over the top of his glasses. His voice was hard when he said, ‘This is something to do with your role here, I trust, Erica?' Daring me to answer differently.

I swallowed. ‘Not exactly, Mr Degraves.'

He managed to look even less happy.

I said, ‘I tried to call you —'

‘I'm aware of that.'

I stared at him. He waited. I leaned in and said in a whisper, ‘I got a call from Joe. He said Jack is missing in action.' I sat back and waited for his reaction. There was none. Just staring. Glaring, actually.

I looked away, then back at him. Eventually I felt I had no option but to leave. So I stood, ready to mutter an apology, but he said, ‘What were you hoping to achieve by coming to see me?'

I sat quickly. ‘Maybe . . . can you send someone?'

‘To Saint Sebastian? Who did you have in mind? You?'

His abruptness shocked me, as did the fact that he'd just told me where Jack was. I stammered, ‘I . . . I don't know. I just thought —'

‘What makes you think this has anything to do with me?'

‘Joe said —'

‘Well, it's none of your business,' he said, angry.

My mouth opened but nothing came out. I hung my head.

His chair squeaked as he sat back and tsked, just like my mother does when she's cross with me, and this was somehow comforting. ‘Joe had no right or authority to call you. He shouldn't even be calling me.'

I nodded, my head bowed, and wiped away a tear.

He continued, ‘It's over. I'm not happy about losing an elite operative like Jones, but there's nothing I can do.'

I looked up quickly. Elite operative? Jack is more than an elite operative. For a start, he's a human being, and my friend, and a bit more than a friend. JD must have read something in my expression because he said, more softly, ‘Jack was a good guy, Erica, but he knew what he was doing when he took this assignment.'

Was
a good guy?

JD turned back to the papers on his desk, and I took that as my dismissal. But as I walked away, I could feel his eyes on my back. Outside his office, I staggered past Celia. She called out, ‘Are you all right?', but I couldn't look at her. I ran for the lift, pushing the button over and over until it arrived. When I got back to my floor, I went straight to the ladies and stayed there for half an hour.

Now I really had to hurry. Rosalind would be expecting me back from shopping and I hadn't even left the building. I needed to pull myself together, focus. It's over, JD had said. Well, as far as I was concerned, it wasn't.

I rushed down the road to Crown and through the casino, which was already busy with gamblers at poker machines. I hurried past restaurants and shops and skidded to a halt in front of a travel agent, where I scanned the posters in the window. There was a map of Indonesia with Bali highlighted; photos of blue sky, beaches, tanned people and local colour pinned to it. But I peered past those photos at the map itself, which included the top of Australia, East Timor, and a tiny island just south of Timor: Saint Sebastian. I stared at it, as though doing so might produce answers.

Inside the shop two staff members were sitting at their desks, chatting. The man looked up at me and smiled as I entered.

‘I was thinking about a holiday in Saint Sebastian,' I said.

He stopped smiling. ‘Why would you go there?'

I shrugged. ‘I read an article about it somewhere.'

‘What about Bali?' he said, addressing his computer. ‘There are some fantastic deals right now.'

‘Okay. Well, thanks. I'll think about it.'

While Rosalind was changing into her new suit, office door closed, I googled Saint Sebastian. It was a tiny oblong-shaped speck in the Timor Sea. Tiny, but with a big history. War-ravaged from an Indonesian invasion in the seventies and troubled ever since. There was a substantial Australian military presence on Saint Sebastian for a while, and a small Australian military base remained. A couple of travel blogs popped up – backpackers diarising their trips. Because of its shape and because it's so densely green with jungle, Saint Sebastian was nicknamed ‘Emerald Island', and this seemed to give a few unsuspecting travellers the idea that it might be a nice place to go, which apparently it isn't.

I wished I knew where Jack and Joe had been staying. Or maybe they were camping in the jungle or something? Saint Sebastian seemed to be more jungle than city. Maybe it was like being in Bali. Kind of third worldy but touristy at the same time. Where was Jack right
now
? I tested the unthinkable: was he dead, as JD thought? My heart and stomach switched places. No. That wasn't possible. I kept searching the net. No current news about fighting or war or anything on the island. So, why did Jack go there? I wished I'd pushed him for more information.

For the rest of the day, Rosalind kept catching me staring off into space. During those staring moments I was mostly trying to convince myself that there was nothing to be done about Jack, that it wasn't my business, that he knew what he was doing, that he probably didn't even want me in his life. Intermittently, I'd try both Jack's and Joe's mobiles, but they were still switched off.

BOOK: Monkey Business
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ads

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