Six (3 page)

‘Ohhhhh,’ said Poppy. She pulled her sunglasses down to the end of her nose and peered over the rims. ‘This is gorgeous. How can you stand living here?’

Virginia shrugged and pointed to a couple of banana lounges set out under two large calico umbrellas.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ she asked. ‘What would you like? Water? Soft drink? Is it too early for cocktails?’

She stood with pursed lips as if considering our options. I wondered if she was joking about the cocktails.

Poppy’s eyes lit up.

‘Do you have any soda?’ I asked, as I nudged my friend in the ribs.

WE HAD A NICE day at Virginia’s. I was surprised, because Virginia away from her friends was different to the Virginia we knew at school. She didn’t seem to understand how amazing her life was, just took it for granted, no showing off. When I asked her why she hadn’t gone to Tinburn, Silver Valley’s only private school, she just shrugged.

‘I did go there until Year 9, but didn’t like it much. It’s a girls school. I like boys,’ she said. ‘My parents said I could go to Silver Valley High as long as my grades didn’t suffer.’

‘Imagine going to Silver Valley High by choice,’ said Poppy.

‘It also suited my dad that I go to Silver Valley High.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

‘It suited his political agenda,’ she said. Then she waved her hand as if she couldn’t be bothered with that conversation anymore.

Mr Sloan was a candidate for the opposition in the state election being held that next month. His face was on billboards from one end of town to the other and every second piece of junk mail in our letterbox was from his office. I had a few questions for Mr Sloan regarding his views on the environment and hoped he’d be home before I left.

Poppy demanded a tour of the house and Virginia didn’t seem to care, though I could have died of embarrassment. I nearly had to drag Poppy out of Virginia’s walk-in robe that was as big as our bathroom at home — ‘She doesn’t mind, really,’ Poppy had hissed — and tried not to search for signs of Finn, who had been such a large part of Virginia’s life for the last eighteen months.

The inside of the Virginia’s walk-in robe was plastered with at least a hundred photos. Virginia’s besties, Loz and Tamara, featured prominently. Finn was there too, of course, and I found myself searching for him among the faces.

‘Carl would go nuts if I tried that,’ said Poppy pointing to the photos. ‘He won’t even let me use Blu-Tack on the walls.’ Carl was Poppy’s stepfather, a favourite topic of conversation for her.

Virginia shrugged and I felt her watching me.

‘So where’s Loz and Tamara today?’ I asked, panicked that she had guessed what I was up to.

Virginia shrugged again. ‘I don’t know.’

She shut the robe door and led us back out to the pool area.

Virginia did most of the talking that afternoon. I was happy to sit around the pool and let the day wash over me, the sound of the trickling water a backdrop to the heat. Virginia was continually checking her phone and multitasked by talking to us and sending replies on her mobile at the same time. It was way too hot to eat much, so we just picked at the fruit platter that sat in an ice esky. There was something decadent about the sound of the ice as it clinked against the edge of my glass. No more summer school. I refused to think about Year 12. Refused to think about Finn, who had probably sat where I was sitting right now…

Virginia asked Poppy if she could read her aura.

‘It’s not showing itself to me,’ said Poppy. ‘But I could try and read your future.’

Virginia shoved out one hand and Poppy laughed. ‘I usually just need a piece of clothing…but this will do,’ she said.

I closed my eyes and let the sound wash over me. I’d heard Poppy’s readings before and they were all pretty predictable. Poppy talked about fame and bright lights and money.

‘What about love?’ demanded Virginia.

My ears pricked up and I listened intently as Poppy described someone tall and handsome, an athlete, someone who sounded very much like Finn.

‘There’s something else,’ she muttered. ‘I can’t quite read it… no. No that’s it. That’s all I can see,’ she said abruptly.

It finally got so hot that we had to go inside to the air conditioning. We watched a movie, in the theatre room of course, then Mum rang my mobile to see if Virginia was coming for dinner. While I was on the phone, Mrs Sloan came in and fussed around, wondering if we’d had a good day and asking if Poppy and I were staying for dinner.

‘Actually, we’re going to Sarah’s for dinner,’ said Virginia rudely.

She seemed annoyed with her mother, though Mrs Sloan seemed so nice. Maybe it was the fussing that Virginia hated.

‘Well, I’ll just have a quick shower to freshen up, then I’ll give you girls a lift,’ said Mrs Sloan.

‘Don’t bother,’ said Virginia. ‘We’re leaving now. I’ll ring when I need a lift home.’

We grabbed our bags and Virginia hustled us outside, although I wasn’t sure what the urgency was. By now it was late afternoon. The atmosphere was so heavy that I could nearly see each separate water droplet suspended in the air, just waiting for the sweet release of a drop in temperature.

‘Sorry about that,’ said Virginia. ‘I just…she just…’

As far as I could see, Mrs Sloan had been perfectly okay, but I did understand about mothers. Somehow they could push your buttons without anyone else noticing, so I just gave Virginia an understanding smile.

‘Let’s walk,’ said Virginia. ‘We can take a shortcut through Batesford Park.’

Later on I would try to follow the trail of events that led us to the car accident and always I ended up here, at this moment. I wasn’t sure who was to blame for the decision to cut through Batesford Park. Poppy agreed to it. But I could have said no.

In the end, blame was a waste of energy; a sickening bunjee-jump of emotions that always left me dangling with nowhere to go.

We cut through Batesford Park that day.

We went into The Woods.

And we became part of a secret that would end in disaster.

Within an

unfrequented wood

where babes

did quake for fear!

THE TREK FROM Virginia’s house to Batesford Park felt like it might go on forever. I offered to ring my mother for a lift, but Virginia insisted that she needed the exercise, so we stuck close to the edge of the footpath, keeping to the shade of overhanging trees and once, for a few minutes, in a bus stop shelter that was missing one of its glass sides. Virginia stuck an earbud in one ear for her music, keeping the other ear free for conversation, and strode out in front of us in a power walk. Every now and then she’d remove her mobile from her bag, type a message, then stow it back in her bag.

‘I think I might die,’ moaned Poppy, who was prone to being dramatic.

‘I can’t die yet,’ said Virginia as she executed a perfect arabesque, then continued walking. ‘I have too much to do.’

‘How can you have so much energy?’ complained Poppy.

‘Keep walking,’ I said to Poppy, at times pushing, sometimes pulling her, towards our destination.

‘At least it will be cool in Batesford Park,’ she mumbled.

My feet were getting hotter by the minute, and my thongs sometimes stuck to the path and tripped me up. I struggled to keep the idea of the cool pool back at Virginia’s house, but Poppy’s moaning made it hard to concentrate on anything except being uncomfortable. At one point she started complaining about a stomach ache and stopped to lean over her toes as if inspecting the path for cracks.

Virginia stopped walking and came back to us.

‘Is she okay?’

‘Poppy, did you have enough to eat today?’ I asked. Sometimes it was like talking to a child. ‘Maybe you just need some food. Do you want some water?’

Virginia offered a drink bottle, but Poppy pushed it away.

‘It’s the heat,’ she said.

‘Look, we’re nearly there. Batesford Park is just around the corner,’ I lied, because in fact it was still two blocks away.

We started walking again, and when I turned back to make sure Poppy was following, I caught a glimpse of someone who fell out of sight as we rounded a corner.

‘Was that Tom Cooper?’ I asked. ‘I swear that was Tom Cooper behind us.’

‘Doubt it,’ said Poppy. ‘Cooper doesn’t live around here.’

Virginia jogged back and peered around the corner.

‘No one there now,’ she said. Then her phone beeped and she ran ahead of us, texting and jogging at the same time. Just watching her made me feel exhausted.

When we reached Batesford Park we headed for the nearest tree and sank down onto the grass.

‘Grass,’ panted Poppy. ‘Beautiful grass.’

I lay down on the grass and felt squeezed between the lowering sky and the revolving earth as the humidity climbed up another notch.

‘Shouldn’t it be getting cooler?’ asked Poppy. ‘It’s nearly dinner time.’

Virginia was sitting up, leaning over her legs as she stretched out her back. ‘How much further, Sarah?’ she asked.

‘Another twenty minutes,’ I said, draining the last of my drink bottle.

‘It’s probably half that time if we cut through The Woods,’ said Poppy. ‘It can take us right out onto Chandler Road.’

‘Another twenty minutes,’ I repeated, hauling Poppy to her feet.

‘Chandler Road?’ repeated Virginia. ‘I know how to get there through The Woods. There’s a track I use sometimes.’

I opened my mouth to say something but couldn’t find the words. When I was with Poppy or my other friends I was always ready to offer an opinion, state the obvious, be in charge. I guess Virginia had me a little awe-struck. I didn’t know how to argue against going through The Woods without sounding like a complete wimp or, worse still, like a little kid.

It wasn’t until later that I bothered to wonder how Virginia knew a shortcut to Chandler Road.

If you lived in Silver Valley you would know why that shortcut through The Woods was off limits. Batesford Park sits smack bang in the middle of the Silver Valley Sporting Grounds. Half of the park consists of playing fields and a man-made lake, which is really just a stagnant pond usually filled with rubbish. The other half of the park is crowded with old pine trees that can’t be cut down because Archibald Woods, some famous explorer from years ago, planted them on his way to getting lost somewhere. It’s dark among the trees, and even during the day the light hardly ever hits the ground. It’s marked on maps as Silver Valley Forest but in the olden days the locals used to call it Make Out Woods, a play on poor Archibald’s name. Nowadays it was just known as The Woods.

Bad things happened in The Woods. It was a well-known fact that The Woods was the place for business that wasn’t conducted on Main Street and a rendezvous for secret lovers. And it was a much-discussed fact, when I was a little kid, that The Woods had its very own ghosts.

My parents had never told me to stay away from The Woods. It was a given. Like, don’t stand in the middle of a busy highway or don’t lie down on a railway track.

Virginia had moved off while Poppy and I were still lolling about on the grass, and we had to jog a little to catch up with her. By the time we reached The Woods I was so hot that the sweet relief of tree shade was enough to make me forget my uneasiness.

Almost.

‘Come on,’ urged Virginia, her white clothes a beacon through the dense early twilight of the close-set trees. She seemed to be following a worn track that wove in and out of the trees like a ribbon.

‘I don’t feel well,’ murmured Poppy, but she moved forward, so I didn’t have a choice but to tag along.

As we followed Virginia’s lead, my imagination ran riot. The ground was a carpet of pine needles, twigs and, sometimes, human litter that snapped, crackled and punched the air with sound. A slight wind had begun to stir above us, and though it was still warm, it felt cool against the sweat on my body. Whisperings and murmurs surrounded us as we walked deeper into The Woods. Common sense told me it was the wind stirring through the trees. My imagination had other explanations and now I was dragging my feet.

So intent was I on keeping my panic in check that I bumped into Poppy when she stopped in front of me. Up ahead I saw a ghost, then realised it was just Virginia’s white clothes standing out against the darkness of the tree trunks.