Until Death. Sandy Curtis
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the door to a large cupboard. At the sight of the dark hole below the towel-filled shelves, the terror that had shot through her before increased.
Her mind told her it was only the clothes chute. The chute that the housekeeper used to toss the soiled linen down to the laundry below. The same chute she had often used as a child to escape the one-sided anger surging out from her parents' bedroom. But her gut told her it was a tunnel, a tunnel that held as much horror as that at the bottom of the staircase.
It was the memory of her mother's limp form that forced her to push her sneakers into her belt and ease herself backwards into the hole. She'd been thirteen when she'd last climbed down, and she hadn't grown much since then, but now the timber walls seemed too close, the time to reach the door at the bottom too long. Her breath came in short, panicky bursts, and her heart threatened to beat its way out of her chest.
Suddenly she slipped and fell to the sloped bottom. Her feet hit the door and pushed it open, and she scrambled out into the large wicker basket that caught the washing. At the sight of the light pouring in from the adjacent kitchen, Libby's heartbeat slowed in relief. She quickly pulled on her sneakers and tied them clumsily, then slipped the long handbag strap over her head and across her chest.
She dashed from the house, skirted the swimming pool and ran through the rows of regimented garden beds that her mother had recently had installed. At the side of the property, the branches of several large trees overhung the high brick fence, and it was to the middle tree that Libby raced.
Prayers spun in ritual habit in her mind as her fingers searched for, then found, much higher than she expected, the recesses her father had cut in the sturdy trunk so many years ago. She climbed to the first thick branch, grabbed it, swung herself up and crawled along until she reached the other side of the fence. Over the years the branch had bent under its own weight, and the drop to the ground wasn't as bad as she'd feared. But she lost her balance as her feet hit the grass and she fell heavily on one shoulder.
She pushed herself up and sprinted across the parkland separating the property from the harbour foreshore. It was only when she'd reached a thick grove of bushes that reaction finally set in. The nausea she had managed to control burst out, mingling with the tears that now streamed down her cheeks. Finally, exhausted, she staggered away, grabbed a tissue from her bag and wiped her face.
Her mind seemed to shut down, her body walking purely on instinct, trying to get away from the horror she couldn't comprehend. When a car whizzed past her, she became aware she was now walking on a street, and made a half-hearted attempt to orientate herself. The houses were set well back from the road, their tall brick fences a barricade she felt she couldn't pass. Street lights pooled white at intervals on the neatly grassed footpaths and smooth bitumen.
A car slowed down behind her, then began to draw level. Suddenly panicking, realising the men could be looking for her, she turned to run. Then the light on top of the car roof caught her eye.
CHAPTER TWO
Normally Joe wouldn't let a drunk in his taxi, it cost too much to clean after they'd thrown up, but there was something pathetic about the girl walking down the side of the road. He wound down his window and called to her.
'You want a lift? It's dangerous to walk alone at night. Even in this neighbourhood.'
She turned and looked at him. Fear widened her eyes, and from the state of her clothing, he wouldn't be surprised if she was running from a man who had tried to take more than she was willing to give. Damn, if someone had done that with his daughter ...
'Get in,' he commanded. 'It doesn't matter if you can't pay. I'll take you home.'
She jerked at his words and shook her head.
'Somewhere safe, then. Come on.'
He watched the fear on her face dissolve, then she frowned as though wondering if anywhere was 'safe'. Just when he thought she was going to refuse, she opened the back door and got in.
'Where to?' he asked, eyeing her in the rear-view mirror. She hesitated, then whispered, 'The airport.'
'The airport?' It certainly wasn't a destination he would have imagined, but she fumbled in her bag, brought out a purse and looked inside.
'I can pay,' she said, adding 'Please,' like a young child remembering her manners.
Many times during the trip Joe tried to make conversation, but the woman just sat there. Sometimes her eyes would close and her head nod but she would jerk awake, look quickly around, then settle back with obvious relief.
He dropped her at the domestic terminal, and glanced back only once, but the sight of her slight, forlorn figure stayed with him until he finished his shift in the early morning. He went home and watched his daughter sleep.
Noise. There was too much of it, reverberating off the hard floors and bouncing back from the high ceiling. People hurrying, talking, looking at her and whispering. Libby found the women's toilets and stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes seemed to sink behind her cheekbones, and her normally pale skin now had an almost translucent quality. She noted this objectively, then watched as her hands seemed to move of their own accord to flick open the brush she always carried in her bag and tidy her hair.
A flash of diamond and gold on her left hand caught her attention. Rings. Engagement and wedding rings. Puzzled, she stared at them a moment longer, wondering where they had come from, then took them off and dropped them into her bag.
At the ticket desk she held out her credit card and asked for the next plane to Brisbane. She was allocated a seat on the last flight out of Sydney, and as the city's lights dropped out of sight below her, she fell into a deep sleep.
'Miss, you have to wake up now. We've arrived in Brisbane.'
The gentle hand on her arm and the firm but friendly voice were telling Libby something, but her mind seemed to have retreated to somewhere she couldn't access.
'Bris... Brisbane?'
'Yes. We've arrived. You'll have to leave the plane now.'
She looked around, tried to get her bearings. Yes, she was in a plane, but why?
The flight attendant proffered a container of water. 'Perhaps this will help you wake up,' she said kindly. The water was cold, deliciously so, and made Libby realise how dry her mouth had been. She whispered her thanks, stood up, and walked slowly out of the plane. In a daze, she followed the exit signs, and found herself outside the terminal building. The air was hot and sultry, and she felt the first deep throb of a headache.
The yellow shape of a taxi glided into the rank, and she remembered that she was supposed to find 'somewhere safe'. Was that why she had come to Brisbane? To her grandfather? Memories of a large hand holding hers drifted back to her. A kind voice telling her to jump, that he would catch her, and strong arms holding her securely, then placing her gently on the ground. Trust, complete trust, she had given it to him and he had never betrayed it.
But so many years had passed since she had last seen him. Her mother ... Pain swept through her. Her mother was dead. And that man had said she had killed her. It couldn't be true. Libby knew she had a temper, but she'd worked hard at controlling it. And she loved her mother. They didn't agree on anything, but ...
A man bumped into her back. Startled, she looked around, realised she was next in line for the taxi, and tired people with assorted luggage were looking at her impatiently. She hurried into the taxi. As it drove away she dredged her memory for the address. The suburb, New Farm, came easily, but it wasn't until they'd almost reached the area that she remembered the street name. The house number escaped her entirely.
In the daylight she might have been able to recognise the house, but night's shadows and inadequate street lighting provided no clues to jog her memory. Perhaps if she walked ...
Fare paid, Libby watched the taxi drive away. Lights shone from only a few of the old brick houses. Large trees on the footpath cast darker splotches on the ground and fear vied with the sickening sense of despair in her stomach. Sweat trickled down her back,