Free-Falling Read online

  His fingers closed around the phone in his pocket and he pulled it out, pressed the speed dial for his mum’s work, then held it to his ear and waited for her to answer. It rang a couple of times and there was a click as she picked up and answered in her official work voice.

  ‘Good afternoon, Evelyn McGavin speaking.’

  ‘Hey, Mum?’ He seemed to need to take quite a deep breath just to get those two words out.

  Meanwhile, one of the suits in the shop had knelt down next to him and was taking off his jacket, pressing it against Andy’s stomach. Dude, you’re going to get blood all over that.

  ‘Yes, dear?’ his mum said abruptly into the phone.

  Andy had almost forgotten he’d phoned her. Oh, yeah, that’s right, I wanted my mum, didn’t I?

  ‘Can you please come here? I kind of need you. Yeah, I think I need you, need you now.’ He practically sang the words into the phone, then had to take another big breath. Why was it getting so hard to breathe?

  ‘Where are you?’ She sounded a little panicky.

  Chill, Mum, it’s cool, I just need you is all. ‘Ummmm. I’m here. And there’s something I have to tell you. Mum, it’s so important. You should just come here. Yeah, I need you, need you, need you now.’ Wait! What exactly was it he had to tell her? He knew there was something, but he couldn’t seem to quite put his finger on it.

  The people around him continued to fuss. Someone tried to gently pry the phone away from his fingers but he tightened his grip. He heard someone yell out, ‘Should we move him?’ Oh, no, I’m quite comfortable here, but thanks all the same. There was more yelling, it was really quite disruptive. Can’t you all see I’m on the phone?

  ‘Andrew, tell me where you are? Focus! Tell me exactly where you are?’

  ‘I’m here, Mum! Need you, need you now. Need you, need you, need you now,’ he sang tunelessly. Then he realised he could hear beeping. His mum was gone. He pulled the mobile away from his ear and saw that he had accidentally pressed the ‘end call’ button with his thumb. Oops. Sorry about that, Mum.

  A second later, the phone vibrated in his hand. He tried to answer it, but somehow pressed the ‘end call’ button again. Hmm, why aren’t my fingers working properly? He realised then that there was something clutched in his other hand. He pulled his hand up to his face to see what it was. His eyes were a little blurry. He managed to focus and saw that it was the pregnancy test he’d been looking at buying. He must have held on to it right through this whole thing. Belinda! She doesn’t even know she’s pregnant! Andy had a strange feeling that he wasn’t going to get to tell her. His mouth didn’t seem to be working anymore; it felt like it was full of marbles.

  The young mum was leaning over him. She had a long, glossy, blonde ponytail that was swinging over her shoulder and a fringe that was stuck to her forehead with sweat. Her cheeks were flushed bright red and there was a streak of blood mixed with mascara smeared across her left eyebrow from a nasty looking gash. She was yelling into his face, but he couldn’t really hear what she was saying, he could only see her lips moving. I can’t lip-read, he told her. You’ll have to speak up. Then he realised he hadn’t actually told her that, he’d just thought it.

  He looked closer at the girl’s teary eyes and saw something in them. Fear? No. Panic? No. Pain? Nope. It wasn’t that.

  Death.

  It was death that he could see in her eyes. Oh, no, she’s going to die? But she’s so pretty and lovely. Such a nice young girl. No, that wasn’t right though.

  Oh. It wasn’t her death he could see. It was a reflection. A reflection of him. Of his death.

  Right.

  So this is it? Final curtain call for old Ando. Sorry folks, no encore here.

  Another voice entered his subconscious. A calm, sensible voice. In fact, it was sort of a prissy, annoying voice.

  ‘Yes, Andy. This really is it.’

  Oh, yeah? And who the fuck are you to tell me that this is it?

  He could sense the emotions rising up in his chest. Fear, distress and an overwhelming feeling of sadness. ‘I’m sorry, Andy, but you haven’t got long. This is it. These are your last moments. It’s time to say goodbye.’ The voice became clearer, stronger, and he realised it was his own voice he could hear, steadily talking him through it all, guiding him to the end.

  I’m not going to make it. I really am about to die.

  He had to make his voice work, he had to say goodbye to Belle. He had to tell her he loved her. He had to tell her it was okay, that he knew she was pregnant, but she was going to be just fine. That she would be able to do this on her own.

  He lifted the phone up to his face to dial her number, but it was obvious he wasn’t going to be able to speak to her. Something warm and thick was trickling out of his mouth and down the side of his cheek. There was no way he could speak.

  Text. I’ll have to send her a text.

  Right, how was he going to put all that he needed to say into one text? And what if he were wrong? What if she wasn’t even pregnant? What if his last words to her were a mistake? All he knew for sure was that her period was late.

  He opened up the ‘compose message’ screen. He selected her number then went to write the message. Suddenly, he had a moment of absolute clarity. He knew this really was it. The end. He only had seconds, there was no time to explain it all – he barely had time to type just two words.

  Then the world went dark.

  He thought he might have seen his mum appearing above him, smiling down at him, tears in her eyes. But maybe that was just his imagination.

  And then the world slipped away from him, out of his grasp, and there was a new voice. A warm, hearty voice, accompanied by deep, right-down-in-the-belly laughter. It was a laugh of pure pleasure. It made him feel as though someone was so happy to see him that all they could do was chuckle with joy.

  He saw the sparkle of the sun on the water and heard the whirl of a fishing rod being wound in. He felt a strong, familiar hand clap him on the shoulder.

  ‘Hello, son.’

  Part Three

  The Last Day

  Chapter 14

  Belinda

  ‘Andrew is dead.’ Stacey hissed the words irritably into Belinda’s ear.

  Belinda attempted to twist herself around to look at her notoriously blunt friend, but had difficultly turning from her position on the floor, legs stretched out in front of her, her lower back supported by a boomerang pillow. She felt like a turtle stuck on its back, arms and legs flailing uselessly.

  They were at Belinda’s antenatal class and Stacey had offered to step in as a replacement for Andy. Actually, she’d sort of just assumed that she would be accompanying Belinda to her classes. The class instructor currently had them simulating labour positions, while their partners were supposed to be offering support and comfort, massaging their backs and whispering words of encouragement. Stacey definitely needed to work on her support techniques.

  ‘Thanks, Stace, I was aware of that actually,’ Belinda whispered back. ‘Any reason why you felt the need to bring it up right at this particular moment?’ She tried to keep her voice from rising hysterically. It was extremely hard not to lose it around Stacey at times, and the frenzied squealing of a woman who was about twice the size of all the other pregnant mums was highly likely to break the relaxed mood the instructor was attempting to create.

  ‘I can tell that you’re getting annoyed with the way I’m massaging you, and I just thought I’d remind you why you’re stuck with me so that you could get on and deal with it.’ Stacey spoke matter-of-factly, before adding huffily, ‘And I can’t help it if I have bony hands; that’s just the way they are.’

  Christ, this is going to be a long night.

  When the class was over, forty-five minutes later, Stacey was adamant that she w
ould follow Belinda home to see that she got there safely. After a frustrating drive that involved Stacey gluing her navy-blue hatchback to Belinda’s rear bumper, they arrived back at Belinda’s apartment where Stacey proceeded to follow her all the way inside.

  ‘Stace, I still have at least three weeks to go, possibly more – six if I go to full-term. I’m hardly about to spontaneously erupt into labour any second, so you really don’t need to shadow me everywhere.’

  ‘It’s not labour I’m necessarily worried about. Although now that you mention it, I do want to talk to you about that. I’ve been working on a roster that I want to get all of our friends to follow so that you’re never left alone once labour is imminent.’

  ‘Fuck me,’ Belinda whispered under her breath.

  ‘What was that?’ Stacey asked sharply.

  ‘Nothing, didn’t say a word. We’ll come back to this roster in a minute. What do you mean when you say labour isn’t what you’re worried about? What is it that you are worried about?’

  ‘Your mental health.’

  ‘Oh God, please enlighten me. You may as well stay for a bloody cup of tea now.’

  Stacey sat herself down on the wrap-around as Belinda boiled the kettle and placed tea bags in mugs.

  ‘Just so you know, I’m not helping you make those cups of tea on purpose. It’s important that you learn to be self-sufficient, despite your condition. You’re going to be doing things for yourself a lot in the future, and under much harder circumstances.’

  ‘Stace, how do you think I’ve been getting by on my own for the past seven months?’

  ‘It’s a mystery, believe me.’

  Belinda marvelled at how her friend could sound like a middle-aged mum at times. Once the tea was poured and they were both sitting comfortably on the couch, Stacey launched into a prepared speech.

  ‘You’ve obviously been suffering from some sort of posttraumatic stress ever since Andrew died, which was then compounded by finding out about the twin pregnancy. This has resulted in hallucinations to the point where you’ve been living in a delusional fantasy world in which Andrew is haunting you, leaving you gifts and doing special favours for you. I have tried time and time again to snap you out of it by giving you perfectly reasonable explanations, but we’ve reached the point where drastic measures have become necessary. You’re going to have two babies soon and you need to be sane, preferably legally so. So, as your friend, I have made you an appointment with a highly sought-after psychiatrist for this Friday.’

  With friends like you . . . Belinda couldn’t help but laugh. ‘You can’t fricken help yourself, can you?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Stace, haven’t you noticed that I haven’t brought up the whole “Andy haunting me” thing in weeks?’

  Stacey frowned, thinking it over. ‘Are you quite sure?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure. When I got back from my trip to the farm a few months back, I started trying to ignore the signs, but it became quite easy to do that after James came to visit me and it turned out it had been him all along. He sent me the flowers. He’s been trying to help me out. The day he came to see me, he started carrying my shopping up from my car for me – before he’d even said hello.’

  ‘So . . . you’re over it?’ Stacey asked doubtfully.

  ‘Yes. I am completely and utterly over it. Andy is not and never was haunting me. His bloody twin brother was.’

  Stacey was visibly disappointed. ‘Why don’t I already know all this?’ she asked.

  Belinda squirmed uncomfortably. She hadn’t brought it up because she didn’t want to face what had almost happened with James. And she most certainly didn’t want Stacey to know about it.

  ‘I don’t know, maybe you’ve been so caught up in researching my “post-traumatic stress” that you stopped paying attention to what was actually going on with me.’ She tried to sound light-hearted and airy.

  ‘Or I have enough going on in my own life to keep me busy. It’s not all about you, you know, Belinda,’ Stacey said haughtily.

  Belinda felt a little guilty now, for more than one reason. She pushed that moment with James carefully to the back of her mind and tried to focus on her friend instead. She had forgotten that her friends’ lives would all be continuing on regardless of the monumental events happening in hers.

  ‘Sorry, you’re absolutely right. How about we talk about you for a change? Update me! Tell me what’s been happening!’

  ‘Hang on. You’re telling me it was all James? Everything that you thought was Andrew haunting you?’

  ‘Umm, I thought we were talking about you here. Yes. All James. Everything. Moving on . . .’

  ‘No, no, just let me think about this for a sec. What about the time the bus came back for you? How did he explain that?’

  ‘He didn’t. I didn’t ask him to go through and explain every last detail. I don’t know, I guess maybe he was on the bus and he asked the driver to stop for me?’

  ‘I don’t buy it. Why would he be catching the bus on that line? Plus, you would have recognised him when you hopped on. And what about the car battery that was left in your parking spot? How did he know you had a flat battery?’

  ‘Why are you trying to poke holes in this? You’re supposed to be happy that there’s an explanation for it all.’

  ‘Yes, but not if it’s not the right explanation. I think you should call him and quiz him about this. Find out how he’s pulled it off.’

  ‘Uh, no, I really don’t think that’s necessary.’ Belinda tried to hide how awkward she felt. Stacey was definitely the last person with whom she wanted to discuss her confusing feelings for James.

  Luckily Stacey was too engrossed in this new mystery to pick up on Belinda’s slightly panicked tone. She pushed on. ‘The group’s getting together for a muck-around soccer game Saturday week. James will be there. You should come and watch and we’ll both confront him about it then.’

  ‘What do you mean they’re playing soccer? Since when? Why don’t I know about this?’

  ‘I didn’t think you’d mind. After Andrew died, a few of the guys wanted to keep up his tradition of playing informal soccer games once a month. They wanted to invite you, but I informed them you were in no state to be playing soccer and there was no need to involve you.’

  Belinda was stunned. ‘You’ve all been getting together, catching up once a month and reminiscing about my dead fiancé, and you didn’t think there was a need to include me?’ She had that same sick feeling she used to get back in primary school when she’d find out her friends had planned a game of elastics at ‘little lunch’ without her. It used to happen frequently. She was quite good at elastics, so the girls in her grade were constantly seeking a new corner of the playground to hide from her so someone else might have a chance at winning. That hurt, left-out feeling could be excruciatingly painful.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d mind.’ Stacey remained oblivious to the fact that she had offended her friend. ‘Anyway, it’s given me a good chance to try and get everyone onboard with my roster without you there to complicate things. What I’m planning is that from week thirty-five of your pregnancy onwards – that’s next week – you’ll never be left alone. It’s likely with a twin pregnancy that you’ll go into labour at around week thirty-seven, and it could easily be even sooner, so it’s important that there is someone there at all times to help you through the early stages of labour, call the hospital, and drive you in, etc. I’ll admit, the others have been a bit hesitant about it so far, but I’m confident I’ll talk them round. I’m thinking Coombes is going to be good for the nights because he’s done shift work before, and Jules will be good for middle of the week, daytime. As for weekends—’

  ‘Get out!’ Belinda cut Stacey off mid-rant.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. We still have lots more to talk about.’

/>   ‘Stacey, I am dead serious. I cannot take having you plan every minuscule bit of my Goddamn fucking life for one minute more. So I am asking you to please leave. NOW.’

  ‘Belinda, I don’t appreciate your tone.’

  Belinda thought back to all the times she had gone to phone up Andy’s mates and then hesitated, wondering why they had stopped trying to contact her, why they didn’t want to spend time with her. Then she envisioned her best friend seeing them all on a regular basis, the whole gang, together without her. It stung. She lost control.

  ‘GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE RIGHT NOW!’ she screamed, hurling cushions at Stacey, causing her to drop her mug of tea onto the floor, the hot liquid spreading across the rug and seeping into the carpet.

  ‘This is just insane. I’m going to leave because you need to calm down, and I hope you do so for your babies’ sakes,’ Stacey said, her sanctimonious tone infuriating Belinda even further. ‘I guess we won’t be cancelling your appointment with the psychiatrist after all,’ she added as she headed out the door. Belinda slammed it behind her.

  It took her a full half an hour to calm herself down again.

  The following day at work, Belinda found it difficult to concentrate. Her fight with Stacey kept running through her mind, plus it didn’t help that today was her last shift at the pool. She was doing her best to take mental notes on each of her students so she could give the replacement teacher a good rundown of where they were up to in their lessons, but she kept getting her Lachlans mixed up with her Joshuas, and her Ellas mixed up with her Avas. At least she had been at this long enough that the lesson program came easily to her and, luckily, the students she was teaching today were at Squid level or above, so there were no non-swimmers that she might accidentally let drown while she was busy drafting a conversation with Stacey in her head.

  Halfway through her shift, however, the cuteness of her favourite class won out and she finally managed to immerse herself in the pleasure of helping eager five-year-olds attempt butterfly for the first time. If you could call wriggling across the bottom of the pool like a worm ‘butterfly’ . . .