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Authors: Diana Hockley
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away a couple of hours. Aunt Eloise was supposed to be asleep, but when I got back here, she left a note’– her voice rose with excitement–’ saying she’s gone to see Ally’s father!’
Stunned, I hit the speaker phone button but before I could comment, she rattled on. ‘Yeah, I know. Shocked me too. He must be in Brisbane somewhere. Probably has been all along.’
‘Fucking hell,’ I snapped, enraged on Ally’s behalf. ‘Ally’s father’s supposed to be dead. What’s going on?’
‘I’m stuffed if I know,’ Pam replied, ‘but Ally always thought there could be more to the story. Aunt Eloise would never budge. You can tell who Ally takes after, can’t you?’
‘But perhaps he didn’t want her? Maybe Ally’s mother’s been protecting her from him?’ chimed in my youngest sister, Lara. ‘Domestic violence.’ She nodded knowingly. As a teacher, she understands how that affects families.
I thought about that for a moment. ‘It doesn’t matter, she should have told the truth. Even if he didn’t want her, at least she’d know,’ interjected Pam, having heard the suggestion.
‘Well, Mrs Carpenter’ll be sorry now, won’t she?’ I commented dryly.
‘Shall I come over?’ asked Pam.
‘Of course,’ I replied.
‘And bring some pizzas, it’s nearly lunchtime,’ chorused the girls.
‘Okay, but I’ll be about an hour. Tell me what you want.’
A short discussion took place, followed by some trawling in purses. I contributed the contents of my wallet, and then slunk into the music room. I needed time to think Friday night through again.
My mind immediately flew back to the woman carrying Ally’s handbag. Ally wouldn’t have let just anyone carry her bag. Did the presence of the woman mean they wouldn’t hurt her? Fuck no, it didn’t mean jack-shit. An icy lump settled deep in my gut. For the hundredth time, I castigated myself for my idiotic behaviour Friday night. Ally, I’m so sorry.
The police had questioned Michael, Pam and Jess about Friday evening. I was interviewed again, an hour before the concert was due to start, while a team of detectives questioned the other members of the orchestra.
Management, trying to hide her disappearance from the public, at least until after the concert, announced the star of the concert had been taken sick. So far they’ve been lucky. Either the media hadn’t picked up the truth, or the police have requested a clamp down on their editors. But it was only a matter of time before her disappearance became public. Orchestra admin cautioned us not to speak to anyone, in case he–or she–is a journalist. They were pissing in the wind if they thought they could keep it under wraps for long.
Jacqueline Mabardi, the opera singer and a good friend of Ally’s who was called in to perform at the last minute, wanted to know how she was. At first I was non-committal, but when she said she would phone Ally at home to see if there was any way she could help, I told her the truth.
The concert was a strain. There’d been only one opportunity to rehearse with the stand-in pianist. We were all exhausted by the time the evening programme ended and everyone melted away to their homes as fast as they could when it was over. But my thoughts wouldn’t let go of the scene I’d viewed at police headquarters. Jess’s apparent inability to remember who it was she nodded to at Traynors just before Ally’s disappearance, didn’t set right with me. She never forgets anything. If I find anyone who has anything to do with Ally’s disappearance I’ll fucking kill them.
I couldn’t sit around on my arse doing nothing, so decided to carry out some investigations of my own. I owed Ally after my fucking stupid behaviour.
CHAPTER 9
Phone Call at the Witching Hour
James
Sunday: 5.00pm.
Not only had Eloise presented me with a very long ago, post-affair daughter, all the feelings I was sure were buried swirled around my mind like wasps. I pride myself on being
Stunned, I hit the speaker phone button but before I could comment, she rattled on. ‘Yeah, I know. Shocked me too. He must be in Brisbane somewhere. Probably has been all along.’
‘Fucking hell,’ I snapped, enraged on Ally’s behalf. ‘Ally’s father’s supposed to be dead. What’s going on?’
‘I’m stuffed if I know,’ Pam replied, ‘but Ally always thought there could be more to the story. Aunt Eloise would never budge. You can tell who Ally takes after, can’t you?’
‘But perhaps he didn’t want her? Maybe Ally’s mother’s been protecting her from him?’ chimed in my youngest sister, Lara. ‘Domestic violence.’ She nodded knowingly. As a teacher, she understands how that affects families.
I thought about that for a moment. ‘It doesn’t matter, she should have told the truth. Even if he didn’t want her, at least she’d know,’ interjected Pam, having heard the suggestion.
‘Well, Mrs Carpenter’ll be sorry now, won’t she?’ I commented dryly.
‘Shall I come over?’ asked Pam.
‘Of course,’ I replied.
‘And bring some pizzas, it’s nearly lunchtime,’ chorused the girls.
‘Okay, but I’ll be about an hour. Tell me what you want.’
A short discussion took place, followed by some trawling in purses. I contributed the contents of my wallet, and then slunk into the music room. I needed time to think Friday night through again.
My mind immediately flew back to the woman carrying Ally’s handbag. Ally wouldn’t have let just anyone carry her bag. Did the presence of the woman mean they wouldn’t hurt her? Fuck no, it didn’t mean jack-shit. An icy lump settled deep in my gut. For the hundredth time, I castigated myself for my idiotic behaviour Friday night. Ally, I’m so sorry.
The police had questioned Michael, Pam and Jess about Friday evening. I was interviewed again, an hour before the concert was due to start, while a team of detectives questioned the other members of the orchestra.
Management, trying to hide her disappearance from the public, at least until after the concert, announced the star of the concert had been taken sick. So far they’ve been lucky. Either the media hadn’t picked up the truth, or the police have requested a clamp down on their editors. But it was only a matter of time before her disappearance became public. Orchestra admin cautioned us not to speak to anyone, in case he–or she–is a journalist. They were pissing in the wind if they thought they could keep it under wraps for long.
Jacqueline Mabardi, the opera singer and a good friend of Ally’s who was called in to perform at the last minute, wanted to know how she was. At first I was non-committal, but when she said she would phone Ally at home to see if there was any way she could help, I told her the truth.
The concert was a strain. There’d been only one opportunity to rehearse with the stand-in pianist. We were all exhausted by the time the evening programme ended and everyone melted away to their homes as fast as they could when it was over. But my thoughts wouldn’t let go of the scene I’d viewed at police headquarters. Jess’s apparent inability to remember who it was she nodded to at Traynors just before Ally’s disappearance, didn’t set right with me. She never forgets anything. If I find anyone who has anything to do with Ally’s disappearance I’ll fucking kill them.
I couldn’t sit around on my arse doing nothing, so decided to carry out some investigations of my own. I owed Ally after my fucking stupid behaviour.
CHAPTER 9
Phone Call at the Witching Hour
James
Sunday: 5.00pm.
Not only had Eloise presented me with a very long ago, post-affair daughter, all the feelings I was sure were buried swirled around my mind like wasps. I pride myself on being
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