First Lines

As a writer you hear about the importance of the first sentence. As a reader I’ve never really judged a book by that one criterion. Admittedly I decided to take a book home based on the first sentence but I tend to go for more than that.

Anyway today I met someone who chose their books that way. If the first sentence or two didn’t have enough description like he wanted (you know the building as opposed to the character, that sort of thing) then he didn’t want to bother with the book.

I can’t imagine reading that way, there is so very much you would miss out on.

Some first sentences – decide for yourself.

The storm had broken. Pug danced along the edge of the rocks, his feet finding scant purchase as he made his way among the tide pools.

When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow. When it healed, and Jem’s fears of never being able to play football were assuaged, he was seldom self-conscious about his injury.

The nation had watched Shaiana cry so many times. Heard her voice crack as she struggled to complete her sentence.

My father’s family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip.

She wanted only to sleep. The plane touched down two hours late and there’d been a marathon wait for the luggage.

There was once a young man who wished to gain his Heart’s desire. And while that is, as beginnings go, not entirely novel (for every tale about every young man there ever was or will be could start in a similar manner) there was much about this young man and what happened to him that was unusual, although he never knew the whole of it.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.

A surging, seething, murmuring crowd of beings that are human only in name, for to the eye and ear they seem naught but savage creatures, animated by vile passions and by the lust of vengeance and of hate. The hour, some little time before sunset, and the place, the West Barricade, at the very spot where, a decade later, a proud tyrant raised an undying monument to the nations glory and his own vanity.

The race was barely nine minutes old when Jason Chaser lost his steering rudder, At 690 kilometres an hour.

1801-I have just returned from a visit to my landlord-the solitary neighbour that I shall be troubled with. This is certainly a beautiful country!

This inscription could be seen on the glass door of a small shop, but naturally the was only the way it looked if you were inside the dimly lit shop, looking out at the street through the plate glass door. Outside, it was a gray, cold, rainy November morning.

Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and having nothing to do; one or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, “and what is the use of a book,” thought Alice, “Without picture or conversations?”

This is the story of an adventure that happened in Narnia and Calormen and the lands between, in the Golden Age when Peter was High King in Narnia and his brother and two sisters were King and Queens under him. In those days, far south in Calormen on a little creek of the sea, there lived a poor fisherman called Arsheesh, and with him there lived a boy who called him Father.

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.

Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn’t hold with such nonsense.

In fairy-tales, witches always wear silly black hats and black cloaks, and they ride on broomsticks. But this is not a fairy-tale. This is about REAL WITCHES.

Journey Home

Further entries from this journal novel can be found at http://www.webook.com/project/Journey-Home. If someone happens to be following the story and would prefer me to keep posting here please let me know.

The Oasis

Further chapters of this novel can be read at http://www.webook.com/project/The-Oasis. Unless anyone actually happens to be reading it and wants it still posted here, in which case please let me know.

The Oasis - Ch 10

Rachel walked into the kitchen flicking through the mail. The only thing for her was a postcard from Darwin sent by Liz. Rachel had been surprised the first time Liz had contacted her after leaving the hostel. She honestly didn’t expect to ever hear from her again, that was seven months ago. Somewhere between then and now Rachel had told Liz the truth, about her age and running away from home. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell her about Trevor though. The only thing Liz said in response was she was right to stick with a cash job and if she could get one a fake ID might not be a bad idea. Unfortunately Liz didn’t know where Rachel could get on from but thought Jez or Brett might know someone.
The advice had not been much help though because the boys had left to travel just over a month after Liz had left and Rachel hadn’t heard from either of them since. Not that she was exactly surprised, by the leaving or the no contact, though both had hurt. She wasn’t sure whether she had been more hurt by the no contact or by the way she’d found out Jez was leaving.
After they had been together one night he’d said, ‘I’m going to miss this.’ Not her, just this, just the convenient sex. Rachel asked what he meant and that was when he told her he and Brett were leaving at the end of the week. Apparently they both felt the need to move on and the best thing about not being tied down to anything, was the fact you could just pick up and leave anytime you wanted. Rachel remembered hearing Liz say those exact same words.
Rachel was disappointed that the news had hurt her so much. She hadn’t intended letting Jez get that close. They hadn’t even known each other for three months. The three days between being told and the guys actually leaving were hard. Rachel had tried acting normal but inside she was angry and confused and more bricks were built into the wall around her heart.
Less than a month after Jez and Brett left Rachel had moved in with Mark and his brother Danny. Rachel had been sharing a place with them for around five months now and she still had no idea what Mark did, except that he was stoned a good percentage of the time. Danny on the other hand looked like a clean cut public servant, but then looks could be deceiving. Danny was the one with the contacts. Danny was the one who got her the fake, ID. He was the one who got her a job at the strip club.
The hours weren’t great but the money was definitely better and it was more interesting than working at the deli. Sure some of the guys that came in made her skin crawl but as long as they paid Rachel decided she could cope with the creepiness. In fact she quickly learnt that when serving drinks or collecting glasses the occasional brush of her body on theirs earned her some good tips. It took a little while but she soon worked out how to pick the right guys to work on.
Putting her bag on the kitchen table she headed to the fridge. She’d just had a meeting with her boss and finally convinced him to let her dance. It was better money. She wouldn’t get a great time slot but she couldn’t expect to she’d have to work her way up to what she wanted and she was prepared to do that. Rachel had just turned seventeen, today in fact, and her goal in life was to be completely self reliant, to never need a man for anything except personal gratification, on her terms and hers alone.
Grabbing a beer from the fridge she scanned the postcard before heading out into the back yard. Mark was spread out on the outside lounge smoking a joint. Rachel wasn’t sure he smoked anything else when he was at home. He offered it to her, she took it and he lit up another one. Marijuana and alcohol were her drugs of choice, if you didn’t include caffeine but most people were caffeine junkies so she figured you really didn’t need to count it.
She didn’t smoke very often but living with the guys she did, it was always around. It would have been easy to get other stuff, Danny had offered to set her up enough times but she preferred to be in control as much as possible, the occasional smoke and drinking binge were all she allowed herself. Besides she preferred to spend her money on other things. She had just about anything she wanted when she was living at home but somehow knowing she’d earned the money for it herself, rather than her parents buying her off, made stuff more valuable to her.
“Happy birthday,” said Mark holding out his beer for her to chink.
“How did you know?”
“Some chick called to wish you one, said she’d call you back later.”
“Wow you actually answered the phone, I’m impressed.” Rachel sank into the papa-san chair curling her legs up underneath her.
“Blow me.”
“You can’t afford it.”
“If you must know I was expecting an important phone call.”
Rachel didn’t pursue the topic, the less she knew about what Mark did the better it would be, after all what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. In this particular case she decided that ignorance was definitely bliss.
Mark changed the topic, “You got any plans tonight.”
“Nah, it’s my night off, I start dancing tomorrow.”
“Good lets go out and get pissed to celebrate.”
Rachel couldn’t help herself, she laughed. “Well it’s not going to be a very long party then, you are mostly pissed already.”
“That’s okay,” a third voice joined the conversation, Danny closed the sliding door behind himself as he joined the other two out the back. “When he passes out you and I can continue on with our own private party.”
Rachel smiled around the neck of the bottle she had just lifted to her mouth. Danny was the biggest flirt she knew. He had a different girl nearly every weekend and as far as she was aware she was the only person he had been with more than once. In his recent history at least. It wasn’t a monogamous relationship. Neither of them wanted that, it was more a matter of convenience. Sometimes when one of them wanted an itch scratched the best person to do the scratching was the other. It worked well. Rachel felt she was stronger than she had been with Jez and as long as they saw other people her head, or heart couldn’t form any particular attachment to Danny.
“As a special birthday treat what say you and I go out for dinner first?”
“What about me?” demanded Mark.
“What about you? There is plenty of food in the house, I’m not going to waste good food and good money on your damn munchies, you’re so stoned you won’t care what you’re eating.”
“You’ve got a point there.” Mark conceded taking another toke. “Just leave money for pizza and I’ll meet you guys down the Stamford later then.” He used the remainder of his joint to light another one.
Rachel rolled her eyes and not for the first time wondered how Mark always seemed to have pot but never money for anything else.
Danny turned his attention to Rachel, “If I were you I’d go and get changed.”
“Why, we’re just going down the pub.”
“Well if you expect to get lucky in that outfit.”
“I thought I wouldn’t need to try tonight.”
Danny put his hand on his chest in mock pain, “Oh I’m hurt that you don’t think I’m worth trying to entice.”
Rachel uncurled herself, stood, walked over to Danny and kissed him. “You might be worth it. I could do with a shower anyway, besides you’re right, it’s my birthday I might get a better offer.” Rachel went inside.
Danny shouted after her, “So might I.”
When Rachel walked into her bedroom she discovered the real reason behind Danny’s comments about getting changed. Lying on her bed was a new top, she picked it up and held it against her torso. It was dark red, practically backless with a plunging neckline, Rachel loved it. She wasn’t about to complain about the top but she made a mental note to ask Danny why. They were housemates who occasionally had sex, gifts weren’t a usual part of their relationship.
Danny was already showered and changed by the time Rachel emerged from her room. ‘Guys definitely have it easier when it came to getting ready to go out,’ Rachel thought as she looked him over. It was quite impressive considering he wouldn’t have been able to get in the shower until she was out of hers.
Rachel gave a little spin and Danny’s eye’s travelled over her body with approval. “It looks good on you.”
“Yes it does, but why?”
“Because you’ve got the right body type and it is the right colour for you.”
“Don’t be an idiot.”
“You mean I’m wrong?” Danny asked trying to play innocent.
“No you’re right, I look hot, and you can compliment me as much as you like but you still haven’t answered my question.”
“I dunno,” Danny gave a half shrug. “I saw it and thought you would look good in it.”
“And?”
“And my birthday isn’t far off and I expect something in return.”
“That’s it?” Rachel wasn’t completely convinced. “There isn’t some girl you’re trying to manipulate into sleeping with you by being seen with someone else? Though I have to say if you are I don’t mind as long as you keep paying me off like this.”
“What do you take me for?”
“You’re right I’m sorry what was I thinking, they all know you are the biggest sleaze there is.”
“Be nice or I’ll take that back.”
“You can try later.” Rachel handed him some money. He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want to ruin the line of my clothes.”
“Oh, obviously.”
They headed out the door.
“Later Mark,” they shouted in stereo.
Mark grunted at the in reply from the backyard.
Rachel turned to Danny, “What do you reckon the chances are of him actually making it down to the pub tonight?”
“Pretty good, there isn’t much beer left in the fridge.”

Journey Home - Entry 11

To finish where I left off yesterday, my little girl was the first casualty. She was also the youngest victim by nearly twenty years. I on the other hand just ended up with a bullet in my thigh.
You know why my daughter died? Why a child, who had so much to give, lost her life? She died because some fifteen year old boy couldn’t handle being rejected. Some girl had told him she wasn’t interested in going out with him, “not to the movies and not ever,” according to what they printed in the newspaper.
If we all reacted to rejection that way everyone would be dead. I don’t care how extreme or stupid it may sound because that’s just the way it is. Rejection happens to everyone at some point in their lives. Okay so it happens more often for some than others but you don’t see everyone shooting people because of it. Rejection is a part of life, an unpleasant one certainly but still a part. We all have to deal with it and move on.
My baby died because another kid decided it was his right to shoot up a shopping centre when some girl said she didn’t want to go to the movies with him. That just doesn’t make sense. It also doesn’t seem fair. What exactly are we teaching our kids these days.

The Oasis - Ch 9

During the second week of her stay Rachel decided she needed to find herself a job. She had the reference from her old job at Woolworths but she wasn’t going to be able to get a job in a pub she was too young. She couldn’t go to a supermarket because they would probably check her reference and that’d let her parents know where she was. In fact a lot of jobs would result in that which was about the last thing she wanted. What she really needed was something that paid cash in hand and where she wouldn’t be asked a lot of questions.
It turned out to be a lot more difficult than she thought it would be to find a job like that. Nearly no-one paid cash. She called a few places, not wanting to go in just in case they called the police on her, but they wanted older people.
Finally she got lucky. The deli down near the train station was looking for a casual junior, it was a fair hike from the hostel but the bus that ran right past it stopped at the train station. She only found out about it because she overheard a conversation and applied before they even had time to advertise it. The wife of the couple who owned the deli was six months pregnant and had just begun to find the hours too much to handle. They offered her cash.
She told them her parents were dead and her aunt’s boyfriend beat her up so she needed a job in order to stay out of their place. The couple were sympathetic. Rachel felt a bit guilty lying so outrageously to them, they seemed nice, but she needed the job. Not desperately, yet, but she didn’t want to let it get that far, she had no idea when she would need some emergency cash.
The work wasn’t really exciting but at least it was a job. When she wasn’t at work she was with Liz, Brett and Jez. Jez treated her better than any other guy she’d been with, though that wasn’t necessarily saying anything. Life quickly settled into a loose sort of routine. Liz ended up stay a week longer than she originally intended before heading down south. They had one blazing send off for her though.
They stayed up all night drinking and watched the sun come up down on the beach. ‘Which really was somewhat stupid,’ Jez had said, ‘considering the sun set over the ocean and rose on the other side.’ No–one could argue with that but like many drink induced ideas it had seemed like a good one at the time.
Liz decided to take a taxi to the bus terminal. She figured she would be less likely to get lost that way, the cabbie could simply drive up to the terminal and kick her out. She hoped there wouldn’t be too many busses waiting she didn’t want to get on the wrong one. The alternative was bus then train, transfer to a different train and make sure she got off the at the right station. Liz was still very drunk and wasn’t feeling that confident in her ability to make the right changes at the right places.
As the taxi pulled away Rachel felt sad. She hadn’t known Liz for very long but she was the closest thing to a best friend Rachel had had in her life since she was ten, even though she’d never gotten around to telling her the truth.
“Well I guess that’s that.” Jez slapped Brett on the back.
“Yep.”
Rachel felt as though she was intruding. “I’m heading up to bed, I am stuffed.”
“Oh you wuss. I’m sure there has to be more beer left somewhere in this place.” Brett flung his arm around her shoulders.
“Fine, you go hunting for more beer, I am going to have a shower.”
Standing under the hot water felt so good. Rachel had sand everywhere, ‘but,’ she thought ruefully, ‘that’s what you get when you are down the beach for several hours drinking and being silly buggers without the benefit of many clothes or even a towel to sit on.’
She heard the door to the bathroom open.
“Hey I’m in here,” she shouted.
“I know,” Jez stuck his head in the shower. “Would you like some company?” He didn’t wait for her answer, just stepped under the water fully dressed.

Journey Home - Entry 10

I couldn’t finish it yesterday so I’m going to try again today.
That particular Thursday we were finishing our ice-creams, her chocolate chip and my strawberry swirl, looking in the toy shop window. Jessica was listing off all the things she wanted for Christmas even though it was months away. It was at that place and time when my life fell apart.
It started with a loud noise, well noises actually, one after another in quick succession. I didn’t know it was gunfire until after the fact. Jessie fell down and I threw myself over her. People were screaming and glass was flying everywhere. There was so much happening all at once it’s difficult to describe. My only concern though was protecting Jessie.
When the gunfire stopped I sat up and picked Jessie up. I was going to hug her and reassure her that everything was all right. I’m not really sure what I said because that was my last semi-coherent thought, and I do mean semi-coherent because then I noticed all the blood. Some of it turned out to be mine but most of it was hers. That was when I think I screamed.
It took two paramedics to get her out of my arms. I didn’t want to let her go even though deep down I knew I had to.
Jessie died just as we got to the hospital. I was holding her hand. They managed to revive her and took her into surgery but she never regained consciousness. She was pronounced dead in the operating theatre. The doctor told me she wouldn’t have felt anything, wouldn’t have suffered. Like that was much of a consolation.
I was so numb. I think in many ways I still am.

The Oasis - Ch 8

Rachel lay on her stomach the sun beating down on her back. It had been a great weekend, spent mostly at the beach. Liz was great company, Rachel was glad she had decided to go into the common room instead of straight up to bed that first night. She could feel the sun starting to cook her skin and knew it was time to apply more sunscreen to her back, the only problem was she was feeling too relaxed to move. Settling for a compromise she rolled onto her back and put her hat over her face.
A part of her couldn’t believe just how good a time she was having and it occurred to her that for the most part she hadn’t thought about her parents but she supposed they weren’t giving her much thought either so it was all equal.
The guys were a lot of fun too. Last night the four of them had gone down to the nearest pub. Briefly Rachel was worried she’d be asked for I.D. and then kicked out because she didn’t have any, she knew a credit card simply wouldn’t cut it in that situation. She needn’t have given it any thought. The bouncers on the door knew the other three so didn’t even give her a second look. Well maybe a second but not a third. She was introduced to some interesting people including some who were also staying at the hostel.
One of the girls working behind the bar, Emma, had been staying at the hostel but was now living with her boyfriend. She told Rachel it was cheaper and she was lucky he wanted to travel with her because she could only work in each place for three months. Unlike Liz, Emma appeared to think she had found someone special. Rachel was sceptical but she wished the other girl the best anyway.
Nothing she had seen in her life made her believe a steady relationship was a great thing. Her parents may have been still together but in her book that didn’t make them well rounded people, especially considering they always seemed more interested in themselves than their only child. That is of course until she started doing things to tarnish their pristine reputations.
Quite a few of the kids she’d gone to school with had divorced parents and her past relationships or interactions with the opposite sex had done nothing to show her why you would want to tie yourself down to one guy. Still everyone was different Rachel reasoned and as long as Emma was happy it was none of her business. Then again it wasn’t even her business if Emma wasn’t happy because Rachel didn’t even really know her.
A shadow blocked her sunlight. Rachel lifted her hat, Liz was standing above her.
“So what’s it like being a lady of leisure?”
“Oh you know.” Rachel tried to make it sound as if it was all she ever did.
“No actually I don’t.” Liz plonked herself down on the edge of Rachel’s towel, kicking her sandals off and burying her feet in the warm sand.
“Alright, so you’ll know in a couple of weeks.” Rachel put the hat back over her face.
Liz took it off. “That doesn’t mean I don’t wish I could spend the whole day at the beach like you.”
Rachel sat up. “No you don’t, you’d get bored.”
“Like hell I would, have you not noticed some of the bodies down here.
“Have you not noticed the other ‘somebodies’?”
Liz looked around, it didn’t take many seconds to realise what Rachel was referring to. “You mean the attachments. Surely some of them are single.”
“Probably but trying to figure that out sounds like too much hard work to me.”
“So maybe I could buy a magazine or even a book, the speed I read that’d keep me busy for about a month. Seriously though, what are your plans?”
Rachel looked around the beach for a few moments and then looked back at Liz. “You know, I guess I haven’t really thought about it. I’m still a bit amazed I’m here actually.”
“It’s a bit like that when you first travel.”
“Hey?” Rachel spoke before she thought.
Liz lifted her sunglasses and really looked at her. For a minute Rachel thought she had stuffed up and Liz was onto her, but Liz put her glasses back on and turned to stare out at the surf.
“I just meant it does sometimes take a while to adjust to the feeling of being somewhere new. I suppose the big difference between you and I is you’re still in your own country. When I was getting ready to come over here it was so weird. I was doing all the planning, sorting out my visa and everything but it was like it didn’t really register that I was going to another country to live for two years. People kept asking me if I was excited and I wasn’t, even though I thought I should’ve been. It wasn’t until I was here, on an Australian beach, in this wonderful weather that it really hit me. That was when I first got excited, up until then I think it was all just a bit too surreal.”
Rachel let Liz’s words sink in. She really wanted to tell Liz the truth, she just wanted someone to know but she still wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do. Instead she took a side issue. “Why did you pick here? Most people pick the bigger cities, you know on the east coast.”
“Honestly, the beaches. About a year ago an Aussie girl named Kate started working at my favourite pub back home. She was the reason I decided to travel. Anyway Kate was often talking about all her travelling and she’d tell us about what it was like back here. She seemed to be having so much fun. She would work for a while then take off for a couple of weeks and travel. Then she would come back to England and find another job somewhere else.
“I started to think it sounded like a great thing to do. So I asked her about places she had been and places she would recommend. She sold me on the beaches of Western Australia and she wasn’t wrong, I mean look at that,” Liz stretched her hand out in the direction of the ocean.
“Isn’t it just amazing. When I leave here I’m going to Kate’s home town of Esperance for a couple of weeks. I’ll be staying with a friend of Kate’s. She’s promised to show me some of the best beaches I’ve ever seen, including some places they apparently don’t tell regular tourists about. I suppose she could just be yanking my chain but I don’t care. After that I’m going to head up north, you know do the real tourist thing, dolphins, Monkey Mia and the like. I’m hoping to get some work in Broome and I’d love to see the gorges, I’ve seen some great pictures of them.
“Then I’m thinking Darwin and Alice Springs, but who knows, something may happen and my plans may change. I kind of like that aspect of travelling by myself, it means I’m not tied down to any particular schedule and I can change plans whenever I want.”
“Wow,” said Rachel. “You really seem to know what you want out of life.”
“You’re kidding right?” Liz couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Why do you think I’m travelling? It’s because I don’t know what I want. What I just told you about is probably less than six months of my life. I don’t even know what I want to do after that, except maybe to spend some time in New Zealand. There are other places I’d like to see, but who knows how I’ll feel in six months time. By then I may want to go home.”
“I don’t ever want to go home,” muttered Rachel.
Liz gave her a questioning look but didn’t press the issue. When Rachel didn’t elaborate she just continued on as if Rachel hadn’t said anything.
“That is of course if I don’t get kicked out of the country first.” She paused staring out at the ocean. “So what are your plans?”
“What do you mean?”
“Work my dear. Unless of course you are independently wealthy, or your folks are forking out the money for you to slum it around the world.”
“Yeah like that’d happen.”
“Well then you are going to need an income even if you are staying somewhere as cheap as the dump we are in. Don’t get me wrong some of the best places I’m likely to stay would be considered dumps by more than a few people, but that aside, they still cost money.”
Rachel sighed. “I know,” she paused not sure what to say next, “but I’m trying not to think about it. I figure I have at least a week’s leeway before I have to do that kind of thinking, maybe it could be stretch to two if the weather stays this nice.”
“Oh so you really are a lady of leisure.”
“No not really, I’d just been planning this for a while so I have a little money put aside.”
“I wouldn’t let the guys know that they’ll try and hit you up for drinks and stuff.”
“Why, they work.”
“Yeah but they also drink and smoke a lot, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
The two girls sat on the beach in silence watching the breaking surf. Eventually Rachel spoke, “I guess we should head back.”
“Why?”
“I’m starting to feel hungry and I could do with a shower before trying to decide what I want to eat.”
“I can’t argue with that.”

Journey Home - Entry 9

I realise in all this I haven’t actually said what it was that happened to change my life so drastically. I’ve relived it again and again but I haven’t yet put it down in words. I guess I haven’t wanted to for much the same reason I haven’t wanted to talk about it with anyone, giving voice to it or words to it gives the whole thing more substance.
I wish I could live in denial but that isn’t realistic. I suppose I should be happy that my mind hasn’t shattered enough for it to be an option.
So anyway here it is in words.
It was a Thursday, just a normal Thursday afternoon, or at least that’s the way it started out. Jessica and I were doing our weekly shop. Like most people we were minding our own business, enjoying the time we were spending with each other.
I tried to make sure Jessie and I spent quality time together every week, so Thursday had become our shopping night. Let’s face it girls love to shop even if it is just window shopping. We would come home after school, get changed and prepare for battle. It was so much fun. We would disagree about everything from cereal to clothes. Usually starting at home with, ‘Mum you can’t wear that it’s sooooo embarrassing’ and I’d get changed. I used to plan in advance the most hideous outfits I could. It was all part of our weekly ritual. We’d shop, make wish lists and then grab an ice-cream before heading home. Thinking about it now hurts so much. I don’t know if I can keep writing.

The Oasis - Ch 7

Rachel’s head was pounding when she woke up the following morning. She tried to lift it but it felt as though the whole world was rocking. She stopped trying to move and waited for the rocking to finish. When it had almost stopped she heard a groan near her ear and felt an arm pull her closer and the rocking started again.
“Don’t, it’s too early,” mumbled an almost incoherent male voice.
Rachel would have jumped if she wasn’t so focussed on trying not to move. It all came back to her. Well not all of it. She wasn’t at home and she wasn’t on the farm, so far it was all good news. She was in Perth, near the beach staying at a cheap hostel. She remembered that much and it still qualified as good. She had met some people, gotten drunk and the reason the world was rocking was because she had woken up in a hammock with a Kiwi called Jez. Still not bad. Her head hurt too much to try and fill in the details so she decided not too. Apart from her head nothing hurt, so Rachel reasoned things must be okay.
Slowly she opened her eyes. Then shut them again straight away. It was very bright. She wished she had her sunglasses. Then she remembered her jacket. She had her sunglasses when she went down to the beach for dinner last night and hadn’t been back up to the dorm since. She realised though that she wasn’t wearing it, in fact she wasn’t even sure where she had left it. She decided it could wait, Jez really did have a great chest and she curled in closer to him.
She was almost asleep again when something shook the hammock.
“Hey Romeo, get up we’ve got to go to work.”
“Not going, too comfortable.” Rachel heard Jez’s response through his chest. He was right it really was too comfortable to move.
She felt the hammock begin to tilt, and sat up suddenly, her body protesting at the movement. “Hey!”
“Hey to you too,” answered Brett. “You have five seconds to wake him up before I throw a bucket of cold water on you both.”
Rachel flipped herself off the hammock somewhat unsteadily, which sent her head spinning. Her body seemed undecided about it’s ability to hold up her weight. She put a hand on the closest tree to try and steady herself. Her mind was trying to convince the rest of her that what she’d just done had to be better than being shocked awake with cold water. The rest of her wasn’t quite convinced.
“Get up Jez.” She poked him in the ribs. He just grunted. She looked at Brett through mostly shut eyes and shrugged. “I tried.”
Brett lifted a bucket and emptied it over Jez. Rachel winced, glad she’d moved before the water hit.
Jez sat up and shook his head, getting water all over Rachel and Brett. “I guess that means I don’t have to have a shower, thankyou.”
“Your welcome.”
“Breakfast?”
“Maccers.”
“Work?”
“Dunno.”
The two guys walked off continuing the conversation one word at a time. Rachel shook her head and winced again. It had been a while since she had been hung over. Especially this hung over. Looking around she found her jacket. Bending over to pick it up gave her head the opportunity to take another spin on its axis. She decided she was going to get a huge glass of water and then go to bed. It wasn’t as if there was anything pressing she had to do.
It was after twelve when she woke up again. She didn’t feel queasy any more rather her stomach seemed to be letting her know it was time for her to eat. Her head also felt better, not normal but definitely better. Rachel grabbed her toiletries and headed to the bathroom hoping one of them was free. Half way there she ran into Liz.
“Hey sleepyhead, have fun last night?”
Rachel laughed before realising what a bad idea it would be. Her head started throbbing again. “Did you?”
“You know I did, but you didn’t answer my question.”
“Yes I had a good time, thanks for including me.”
“You still didn’t answer my question.”
Rachel stared at her briefly until it dawned on her what Liz was talking about. “Oh. I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean, ‘you don’t think so’?”
“I had a good time but not the way you mean, I was still fully dressed when I woke up in the hammock.”
Liz laughed, “The hammock, now that’s something I haven’t tried. I wonder if it could take the weight?”
“I’ll let you know when I find out.” Rachel joined in Liz’s laughter.
“Anyway on to more serious matters,” said Liz. “I was just about to head down to the beach, do you want to join me?”
“Sure, I guess I can get something to eat down there.”
Liz raised a questioning eyebrow and looked at the toiletries in Rachel’s hands.
Rachel shrugged, “Not much point having a shower if we’re going swimming and food was the next thing on my ‘to do’ list.”

Journey Home - Entry 8

This is so much harder than I thought it would be. Not that this is something I ever thought about mind you. Then who does think about how they’ll cope with the death of their child? It just isn’t something anyone ever really considers. I suppose you think about it when you hear, see or read those stories about children being killed. Even so, you never really consider the possibility it could happen to you. I know I certainly didn’t.
The news headlines make it all sound so impersonal. I saw one that read “TRAGEDY: SEVEN DEAD IN SUPERMARKET SLAUGHTER”. In normal circumstances you would read that and think ‘oh how sad’ and maybe wonder about what this world is coming to, but it’s still something far removed from you personally.
The only problem was this time it wasn’t so far away. In fact it was so close I’m sure the scars I have will never completely fade.
Perhaps the public nature of it all is one reason I’m finding it so difficult to deal with. It’s so hard when a personal tragedy is laid out for all to see. People think they know me because of what they’ve read about me in the paper. They don’t. They don’t know the first thing about me, except my daughter was killed.
They mean well, I don’t doubt that, but it’s so hard to grieve when you don’t have the privacy to do so. It’s as if everything I’m feeling is amplified by the fact everyone seems to be watching me to see how I will cope.
I’ve only just got my privacy back so maybe things will start making sense again soon.

Journey Home - Entry 7

I haven’t really talked about the funeral. I don’t know if I should or even if I can. However it is my journal and I can talk about anything I want without any concern for the etiquette of death, if such a thing exists.
I haven’t had a lot of experience with funerals. One of my grandfathers died when I was little but I don’t remember much about that. I’ve heard people say the funeral for so and so was beautiful and similar sentiments, but I’m not sure the words beautiful or lovely suit a funeral. It may be Jessica’s is still too fresh in my mind.
Her funeral was not what I would consider a private affair but then I shouldn’t have expected it to be. After all the way she died was horribly public. Jessie was the youngest victim and so many people came to express their condolences. I didn’t even know half of them. I just thanked them and moved on.
There were so many flowers as well. In fact I’ve received more flowers in the last few weeks than I probably will during the rest of my lifetime. What’s with flowers at a time like this? I don’t get it. What have flowers got to do with death? Why do people think they are a good thing to give to someone who’s grieving? Sure they’re pretty but they don’t last very long before they die too, doesn’t that make them a highly inappropriate thing to give?
It seems a tragedy like this brings, I don’t know, people’s hearts to life. So often we live day after day not caring about others. I know because I see it all the time; disdainful looks, poorly looked after children, abuses of many kinds. So many different things. Things we seem to become immune to until some sort of tragedy awakens the compassion in us. I know I’m being somewhat cynical, not all people are like that. I hope I’m not like that, but if I’m to be honest in many ways I am. I’ve turned my nose up at people, muttered about how they should look after themselves better. I’ve even seen things and thought someone should do something about it. It never crossed my mind to do anything about it myself. I’m just like everyone else.
Where was I? Jessica’s funeral. Sometimes it seems so long ago, sometimes it seems like yesterday and always I wish it were some horrible, terrible dream I could wake up from.

The Oasis - Ch 6

When Rachel got back to the hostel there were three people sitting in the common room watching television. She hesitated, unsure of the protocol of a situation like this. Sure she had spent plenty of time with people older than herself but it was on her own turf, where she was now was unfamiliar territory and that placed her outside her comfort zone. Which, considering the circumstances that brought her to this point, seemed like rather a silly thing to be worrying about.
Part of her was concerned someone would guess what she had done and turn her in. For a moment she thought she’d be better off trying to keep to herself as much as possible, then she realised there was really no point. If she was going to be found out, she was going to be found out and the only thing self-imposed isolation would achieve would be to deny herself a bit of fun. It was entirely possible her parents wouldn’t come looking for her for two weeks. With a bit of luck they might think she’d come home once the time she was supposed to be at the farm was over.
Rachel made up her mind. She went into the common room. She sat in one of the empty chairs. No-one even acknowledged her presence and she started to feel really self conscious. Then the ads came on.
“Hey new chick, have a name?” asked the guy stretched out on the couch, his legs laying on the lap of the other female in the room.
“Yeah you?” Rachel said. The girl bit back a laugh. When the guy didn’t respond Rachel started to feel even more uncomfortable, with no idea of what to do or say next. He just stared at her until she broke his gaze by turning her attention back to the television. Rachel was sure her face was bright red. It certainly felt as though she was burning up. She heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh but refused to turn around. If this was some initiation thing they would have to do better than that to get her involved. Rachel was beginning to think she would have been better off going straight up to the dorm.
“Geez Brett you can be such a prick sometimes. Hey..?” Rachel turned back to face the couple, the girl was smiling. “I’m Liz, this dick is Brett and the quiet one, sorry make that the stoned one, is Jeremy, only he doesn’t tend to answer to that so call him Stoner, we all do.”
A cushion flew across Rachel’s view and would’ve hit Liz square in the face if she hadn’t ducked.
“Don’t tell the girl lies, I answer to Jez but only me mum calls me Jeremy. What was that are you blind ref?” The whole time he spoke Jeremy’s eyes hadn’t left the screen.
Rachel turned her attention back to the show and noticed for the first time that they were watching rugby. She didn’t understand rugby and didn’t want to ask any dumb questions so once again found herself thinking about going upstairs.
Liz came and sat on the arm of the chair Rachel was sitting in. “Look don’t mind those two, they are just a little obsessive about their rugby.”
“Are not,” shouted Brett in the midst of abusing someone in the game.
Liz smiled, “See what I mean? Still they are entertaining.” She was quiet for a minute.
“I’m Rachel.”
“So Rachel what brings you here?”
Rachel paused. She didn’t want to tell the truth, she had no idea how Liz would react, she didn’t know what type of person Liz was. The problem was she hadn’t thought about what she would say if someone asked her that question. In retrospect not having a prepared answer did seem a bit stupid but there wasn’t anything she could do about it now.
“Geez, I had no idea I’d asked such a hard question.”
“Sorry, I guess you could say I’m on holiday.” Rachel realised her answer sounded a bit odd, so immediately directed the same question back to Liz. “You?”
“I’m working my way around this lovely warm country of yours.”
There was an awkward pause, filled only with the noise of the television.
“So, where are you from?” Rachel asked Liz.
“Reading in England, do you know where that is?”
Rachel shook her head.
“Don’t worry,” interrupted Brett, while still staring at the rugby, “You’re not missing anything by not knowing.”
Liz rolled her eyes. “And those two are from someplace in New Zealand no-one has ever heard of, except the unfortunate people who live there.”
“I got the New Zealand bit,” Rachel laughed. “I may not have travelled outside this country, actually I’ve never left this state, but you can’t mistake that accent.”
Jez stood up and stretched. “Beer break,” he announced. “Do you want one Rachel?”
Rachel shrugged, “Sure, why not.”
“That’s my girl, why not indeed. Off you go then, the nearest bottle shop is about one kilometre in that direction.” Jeremy pointed away from the beach.
“I have a better idea. I’ll pay if you go get it,” threw back Rachel quickly.
“But the game is on.”
“Oh and the game is more important than a young woman’s safety? Surely you don’t want a girl like me to walk all that way in the dark by myself, anything could happen.”
“Beer,” grunted Brett.
“The game,” grunted back Jez.
“Oh look I’ll go with her,” said Liz. “Besides someone’s got to show her the way, but we’re only going on the condition that you pay.” She walked over to Brett with her hand out.
He looked around her and pointed to Jez. So she walked over to him and was about to stand between him and the television but he pulled out his wallet and handed it to her.
“Now see Brett,” she said putting herself directly between Brett and the television. “That’s the kind of thing a girl likes, a guy who’s not afraid to give her his money.” As she spoke she opened the wallet, she had barely finished her sentence before it went sailing across the room, completely missing its target.
Jez picked it up and put it back in his pocket, once again without taking his eyes off the screen.
Liz turned to Rachel. “How about you and I get to know each other over a game of pool?”
“What about the beer?” Brett’s question trailed off into a stereo sounding groan with Jez.
Liz shrugged, “No money, no beer. It’s not a difficult equation to work out.” She started to walk out of the room.
“Just a sec.” Liz turned back to look at Brett. “Here.” He held out a fifty dollar note.
Liz walked back across to him. “Now that is more like it.” She lent in and kissed him.
Rachel was pretty sure that was Liz’s way of claiming Brett as hers. The crowd on the television erupted into noise at the same time as Brett and Jez started punching the air and cheering. Liz and Rachel left.
“So,” Rachel asked, “How did you and the guys meet?”
“At the hostel.”
“Oh.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Rachel paused. “I guess I just assumed you guys must have been friends for ages you seem really comfortable together and you and Brett seem really close.”
Liz laughed. “That depends on your definition of ages. I’ve been here for three months and they were already here when I got here, but you could say that Brett and I are really close, for the moment.”
“Why just for the moment?”
“Well, I’ll be out of here in a couple of weeks, three actually and I assume they will be staying.”
“Both of them?”
“Sure they’re best mates, practically inseparable since birth, as best as I can tell. Though there are some things they do separately.” Liz lit a cigarette. “Sometimes I think it would be great to have a friend like that and sometimes I’m glad I don’t. Thing is when you travel like this you make friends easily. It’s the staying in touch once you’ve gone your own ways that’s tougher”
Rachel was thinking about what Liz had said. “Won’t you miss him though?”
“Brett? Sure, I mean the sex is pretty great but there are plenty more guys out there. I like being free to pick and choose don’t you? Guys have had it that way for ages so I think it’s only fair that we can have the same attitude to it. Can you believe in this day and age it still seems okay for a guy to go home with a different girl every weekend but if a girl does it she’s a slut?” Liz paused.
Rachel didn’t say anything she was content to let Liz keep talking.
“I’m not ready to settle down with any one person yet. I plan on enjoying myself the whole time I’m here. There will be plenty of time for serious relationships and commitment when I get back home.”
Liz took a few drags on her cigarette before changing the topic to different people she had met in her travels and some of the things she had done. Rachel was wishing she was older. She was beginning to think she’d love to travel around the world like Liz was doing, but she didn’t think airlines would let her travel alone without parental permission while she was still only sixteen. Even if she could physically get on the plane she wouldn’t be able to pay for all of it. She’d have to work her way around like Liz was doing which might prove to be a whole other problem, she wasn’t so sure she’d be able to get jobs. When she was older though it was definitely something she was going to look into.
When they got to the bottle shop Rachel said she’d wait outside. She was pretty sure she looked old enough, she’d bought alcohol before but it wasn’t a risk she wanted to take here and now for several reasons, one of which was Liz. In the brief time she had known her she decided she liked the British girl and didn’t want to cause her any problems.
Liz came out carrying a carton. Rachel was wondering how long it was going to take them to get back to the hostel carrying that. The two of them hadn’t even walked out of the car park when Liz put the carton down.
“What are you going to do, drink half of them before we get back?”
Liz laughed, “No but I like the way you think.” She ripped the carton open and handed Rachel two six packs. She threw the exterior carton in the bin and picked up the other two six packs. “It’s much easier to carry them this way, don’t you agree?” They started walking back to the hostel. “So tell me something about yourself.”
“Like what?” asked Rachel.
“I don’t know, anything.”
“Uh, well I was born in mining country, lived there all my life. I don’t have a boyfriend and agree with you I should be able to sleep with whoever I want.”
“Good for you.”
The girls continued a light conversation on the way back to the hostel. Liz stopped Rachel just outside the door. She put the beer down and reached into her pocket, pulling out two miniature bottles of vodka. Rachel put her beer down and accepted the little bottle. Unscrewing the lid Liz chinked hers on the one Rachel was holding. “Cheers,” and raised it to her mouth.
Rachel followed suit wincing slightly as the vodka hit the back of her throat, warming her on its way down.
“There is a bin just inside, we’ll get rid of the evidence there.” Liz screwed the lid back on the now empty bottle and put it back in her pocket. They dropped their bottles off on the way through to rejoining the guys.
They had barely walked in the room before Jez had his hand out, “Beer.”
Rachel headed for the chair on the other side of him and handed him one on her way passed.
Rachel couldn’t remember ever having such a fun night. Once the rugby was over they sat around drinking, talking and laughing at the television. Jez was actually quite cute Rachel decided once she had a good look at him. Both guys had great bodies and Rachel could see why Liz had hooked up with Brett, they looked good together. Jez looked a bit more serious than Brett, though Rachel wasn’t quite sure that was the word she was looking for. Maybe he just didn’t look like as much trouble.
“Geez get a room.” Jez flicked the lid from his fresh bottle of beer at Liz and Brett. They ignored him. “Let’s leave these two alone, it seems they have forgotten there are other people in this room. I’m going to go out for a smoke, do you want to join me?”
Rachel followed Jez outside. He offered her a joint. “No thanks,” she said as she shook her head. “I was just being polite, I figured they could use the privacy. I think that was one of those situations where they say three is a crowd.”
“You could be right. Brett is up for a lot of stuff but that I’m not sure about. Oh who am I kidding, of course he’d be up for it.”
“He may be but I’m not and I don’t think Liz would appreciate it somehow.” Rachel wasn’t entirely comfortable with the direction the conversation was going.
“Here hold this,” Jez held the joint out to her. “I don’t think they will be needing their spare beers so we may as well make use of them.”
He disappeared inside, reappearing a minute later with four bottles. Rachel gave him back his joint and grabbed another beer. She knew she didn’t need anymore, the vodka had certainly done its job, but she didn’t care. She was here to have fun, to do what she wanted, when and how she wanted. No-one was going to tell her off or lecture her here. Besides technically she was still celebrating her big escape, so she took another long swig of beer and savoured the taste of freedom.

Journey Home - Entry 6

The funeral was two weeks ago today and it’s still hard for me to accept Jessica won’t be coming home. I suppose only time can bring about that sort of acceptance.
It’s strange I know but I can’t help feeling she’s only away on holidays or over at Bree’s or Mum’s. Sometimes it even feels like she is just off playing somewhere and I expect her to come barrelling through the back door at any minute, dirty and bloody from climbing a tree or exploring.
She wasn’t a very girly girl. Dolls and ribbons weren’t really her thing. I suppose she got that from me. Physical stuff though, now that she loved. I took her to gymnastics classes once a week and she was trying to convince me that she needed to join the swimming club. I wish I’d let her. It might have put us in a different place that day.
When she was in a quiet mood she would play with her teddy bears, read or do something creative. She loved art, she had so many drawing and colouring books, scrap books filled with her own pictures.
But the feeling she’s out playing doesn’t last for very long before I once again realise it’s just not so. She is never again going to come running through the back door to give me a muddy hug, or any other door for that matter.
Sometimes I find myself wondering if it would have been easier if she’d been sick. That serious, terminal kind of sick where you’ve been told your child will only live so long. I guess though I probably wouldn’t have handled that any better. It probably would have been worse. I wouldn’t have liked to see her suffer and at least with the way she died, she didn’t. That’s what they told me anyway. I suppose I can always be grateful for that – but in reality?
Every day spent with your child is precious, special. There are times it doesn’t seem that way I know, but now I spend hours wishing I had just a little extra time with her. The thing is no matter how she died, even if I had of known her days were numbered, I would still feel as though she had been stolen from me.

Journey Home - Entry 5

I was saying yesterday that being at home isn’t any easier than being at my parents place. Well I’ve been thinking about that and I’ve come to realise in some ways it is. Oh there are certainly ways in which it isn’t but there is a sort of balance here I don’t get at Mum’s.
Sure there are far more things here to remind me of Jessie; her clothes, toys, photos of her, even a certificate from school that’s still on the fridge door (I’m obviously not the only one who thought she was wonderful).
All those things and the memories they bring are balanced out by the freedom I have here to grieve. The freedom I have to get angry and even cry. The freedom to scream and to throw things. In fact to express any of the number of emotions I can go through in one day, who am I kidding – in one hour. When I’m by myself I don’t have to watch what I do. I don’t have to constantly be aware of others watching and worrying about me. I can just feel without really having to think about it.
I’m not sure if it is better being here. I think it is. It’s got to be better to have the freedom to express my feelings rather than having to keep a close guard on them. The problem is I don’t think anywhere is a good place to be at the moment.

The Oasis - Ch 5

Once in the city Rachel found the library, she needed to make some phone calls and didn’t want to leave her bags out in the open too long. She took out her list of possible places to stay and started dialling. The first two places were full, the third place wanted identification. Rachel hung-up, she hadn’t contemplated the possibility she would need anything like that just to stay somewhere. She had no idea what she was going to do. She hadn’t thought is would be so difficult to find a place to stay.
Rachel left the library and went back to the station. She was feeling hungry and had seen a bakery there. She bought herself a pie and walked over to a little grassed area where people were smoking. She sat down to eat and think. She finished the pie and looked through her purse hoping for an answer to slap her in the face. There it was, her mother’s credit card. The card only had her mother’s first names initialled on it, and they happened to be the same initials as Rachel’s own. The first names weren’t the same, her mum was Renae Leanne, but maybe it would be enough.
Rachel went back to the phones. She put her name down at the first place with a vacancy and asked directions. It was a bit risky but she was hoping that when she turned up they’d be unwilling to refuse her. She had to wait twenty minutes for the right bus but in less than an hour she was checking in to the Sunshine Coast Backpackers.
When they asked for ID she said she didn’t have a passport and had been waiting for her new licence to arrive back home but she had a credit card and hoped that would be alright. There was a slight hesitation by the young man behind the counter so she added that she was planing on paying in cash for two weeks up front if they would take it. The guy smiled and handed over the forms. She signed but added a couple of years to her age, and didn’t hesitate to leave her home number, she knew no-one would pick it up. No-one was home and her parents had given her a private line when she turned fourteen, and they never answered that, plus before she’d left she’d disconnected her answering machine. Rachel was starting to feel as though she may have pulled off her big escape.
The place wasn’t very fancy but she wasn’t paying for fancy, she was paying for a place to stay and be dry, or more importantly somewhere to keep cool, rain in January was unlikely to be an issue. The backpackers was two stories comprising of a communal kitchen and two living areas one with a television and one without, the second had a pool table. They were both downstairs along with the office and a toilet. Upstairs were two rooms containing ten beds and four bathrooms. There was a garden out the back with some chairs, a table, a hammock and a washing line. There was no laundry, Rachel had been told the nearest laundromat was two streets away, and she supposed she could wash her clothes in the sink or shower.
Rachel carted her gear into the girl’s dorm. She unpacked her beach towel and hung it over the end of her bed like a couple of other people had done. She figured at least that way they would know the bed was now someone’s. Looking around she realised it may take a while to get used to these living arrangements. As an only child she had never had to share her room with anyone before, so sharing with nine other people was going to be a big change.
As she took in her surroundings she noticed clothes hanging over bed ends and on window ledges, Rachel wasn’t sure if they were there to dry out or just air out. There were a couple of closed backpacks pushed neatly under beds, most though seemed open and half under the beds, as if their owners had kicked them out of the way as they left. Rachel suddenly felt a little self conscious about having a suitcase rather than a backpack but the guy at reception hadn’t commented so maybe she wasn’t too out of place.
The whole place seemed to have an air of freedom about it and it suddenly hit her that she no longer had to think about having parents looking over her shoulder. Her parents were now officially no longer part of her life.
Her bed had a pillow and a thin blanket but no sheets. Rachel had another look around the room, every bed but hers had a sleeping bag on it. She didn’t have one and to be honest it wasn’t something she’d even thought about. With no idea where to get a sleeping bag from she looked at her watch and thought if she was lucky she would be able to get something to sleep on from the supermarket near where the bus had dropped her off. She quickly got some money out of one of her socks, closed and locked her case, pushed it under the bed and headed off for the shops.
Rachel smiled to herself as she walked. She had done it. She was away from abusive and non-caring relatives and unbelieving parents. It was summer time and she was staying about one and a half kilometres away from the beach. No-one had called her bluff or even asked awkward questions. Things were definitely looking up.
She got to the shops just before they closed but that was fine she wasn’t planning on being long. She bought a cheap set of sheets figuring they would do until she got around to buying a sleeping bag. Anything else could wait for another day or so, she had shelter, all the clothes she would need for a while and access to food. The guy at the hostel’s front desk, Tony she thought his name was, had told her breakfast was included in the price but it was nothing fancy; cereal, toast, tea or coffee, so she figured she had until lunch time tomorrow to work out what she was going to do about the rest of her meals. It was tempting to think it wouldn’t be an issue because she had plenty of money but she wasn’t going to allow herself that luxury. Having no idea how long her money would have to last she was determined to use it wisely.
However the planning and being careful could wait until tomorrow because dinner on the beach was looking like a mighty fine idea as she walked back to the hostel. It was easy to convince herself that she deserved at least one celebratory meal. First though she took her sheets upstairs and made the bed. Still no-one else was in the dorm but a few things looked different so she assumed someone had been there. She grabbed a lightweight jacket and left again, this time heading towards the ocean.
The sun was still fairly high over the horizon when Rachel reached the beach and not being really hungry she decided to take her shoes off and go for a walk along the shore. The sun was warm, the breeze brisk and the water felt great as it lapped at her feet when the waves washed up onto the sand. Breathing in the salty sea air Rachel felt things were getting better by the minute, for the first time in years she wasn’t feeling dread on her first night away.
She briefly wondered if her parents even knew she hadn’t turned up at the farm. Then decided she didn’t actually care. If they had have cared the way they should’ve they wouldn’t have continued to send her back to the one place that gave her nightmares. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have them very often anymore, it mattered that she had them at all. Then of course there were the inerasable memories. In one of her more imaginative moments Rachel wondered if there was a way to selectively erase someone’s memories like they did in the movies.
Rachel, starting to feel hungry walked away from the water’s edge, found herself a seafood takeaway place. She bought some fish and chips, a coke and went and sat on the beach to eat her dinner as the sun set.
‘This is perhaps,’ Rachel thought, ‘the most perfect moment I have ever experienced in my life.’
It was well after the last of the sun’s rays had left the sky when Rachel started back to the hostel. Things felt so good. She didn’t have to be afraid of the night anymore. She didn’t have to crawl into bed wondering if Trevor was going to come into her room or if he was going to draw it out in anticipation. He was the nastiest person she had ever met, yet the people closest to him thought he could do no wrong.
Even her own mother hadn’t believed what she had said about him. Not that she had been completely surprised by that. Trevor had told her people wouldn’t believe her but she guessed deep down she felt her mother should have believed her above other family members. To the best of her knowledge her mother had dismissed what she had said outright, never even giving it a second thought. Not for a minute giving her daughter the benefit of the doubt.
That had been Trevor’s ace, and probably the thing that hurt many rape victims. People simply didn’t want to believe someone they knew would be capable of something like that.

Journey Home - Entry 4

I came back home today. My home I mean. Since Jessica died I’ve been staying with my parents and that’s been fine but I know it’s been hard on them as well as on me. I haven’t exactly been the best of house guests. When you are surrounded twenty four hours a day, seven days a week by people who are treading on eggshells because they’re concerned about you, let’s just say it can make for a somewhat stressful situation.
I love my parents dearly. I really do. They’ve always been there for me. They certainly would never kick me out or say I was an inconvenience. It’s just, I don’t know, I feel I can’t keep staying there, relying on them and disrupting their home life. It also feels as though I’m hiding from the truth in some way. I’ve never been one to run away from a situation and as hard as it is for me, I know I shouldn’t start now.
Being back here is really difficult. There are so many things that remind me of Jessica and I don’t know what to do about them. In my head I know I should do something with her stuff, perhaps even something constructive like give some of it away. But in my heart, well my heart doesn’t want to let go, of any of it. It’s all I have left of her. I mean on one hand I know I have no further use for those things but on the other I’m scared to let them go. Scared that if I give them away I’ll be giving her away. It’s really difficult to explain but when I think about it I feel as though I am betraying her somehow. Giving her things away seems so final. I honestly don’t think I’m ready for that.
The really silly thing is I can’t even bring myself to go into her bedroom. Here I am thinking of giving her stuff away or rather how I would be betraying her if I did, yet I can’t even bring myself to look at it.
I didn’t really expect coming home to be this hard. For some reason I was expecting things to be better if I was in my own place, but they’re not. I don’t even know why I thought it would be easier here but I did, and I came back only to find out just how wrong I was. I spoke to Mum about it, all of it including the toys and stuff, and she said I wasn’t being silly. She said how I was feeling was perfectly normal considering the circumstances and I shouldn’t rush things. I should only do them when I felt I was ready.
I like her advice but if I followed it I might not even get out of bed in the morning. Besides how will I know when I’m ready? Will I wake up one day and say to myself ‘I think I’m ready to go through Jessie’s things today’? Maybe a better question at this point is; how can I know if I’ll ever be ready?
I suppose I’ll just have to do what Brianna suggested, cliché or not, and take it one day at a time.
The other thing Mum said was if I wanted to go back my old room at their place was still available. She hadn’t converted it back into her sewing room yet. I think she was trying to make me laugh, it didn’t really work. It did make me smile though. I know she wasn’t being serious, my mother only sews when the mood hits and a rough estimation of how often that happens is about once every three or four years.
I turned down the offer. I have made my decision and I am determined to try and stick it out. I’ve been told I can be quite stubborn at times.

Journey Home - Entry 3

I didn’t do too well yesterday. My emotions got the better of me, but as far as I‘m concerned there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Women are emotional and I’ve just gone through... am going through, a highly emotional period in my life. Look at me I must be a mess I’m apologising to a book for crying out loud.
Anyway moving on. I have this crazy notion I should write down some of my story. Who knows this may even help me. I’m not sure how but hey, the experts say it’s good not to keep it all inside and I guess they can’t all be wrong.
I wouldn’t say I had a sheltered life but I certainly didn’t run with the wild crowd. I didn’t see the point and not being one of the really popular kids meant I didn’t get pressured to conform to the latest phase. Which probably wasn’t a bad thing as I doubt my parents would have let me go along with half of them. Actually I suppose you could cover it all by saying my school years were pretty average. Some things I did well, some I didn’t. Some days were good and others not so good. There were people I got along well with and others I didn’t. I got teased but heck who hasn’t been at some point in time. I learnt to ignore some of it and occasionally I even managed to get my own back.
On the home front I loved my parents and they loved me, still do in fact. I have a sister, Brianna and a brother Stephen. Both are younger than me and apart from regular sibling rivalry and bickering we got along great. Though I suppose that depends on your definition of normal sibling rivalry. I guess that’s another one of those things which becomes clearer with the perspective of time.
Every Sunday our parents took us to church. I grew up believing in God, mostly because it was a given fact in our house. It was something we just knew and never really questioned. Truthfully though, by the time I was old enough to question it my belief and faith were very much a part of my life. I officially committed my life to Christ, as they say, when I was twelve. It was at an Easter camp and it somehow seemed like the right thing to do. I did it because I felt I needed a point of reference for my faith, something definite I could look back on and say, “That was when…”
I never once let go of my faith. Until now. Not even when I found out I was pregnant. I never once blamed God for that. I didn’t need to, plenty of others tried doing that for me. Instead knowing I had Him to rely on, to lean on, really helped me through what was a very difficult time.
The pregnancy wasn’t a difficult one, just the circumstances. My favourite bible verse at the time was Psalm 46:1 ‘God is our refuge and our strength, a very present help in trouble.’ For a young Christian girl being pregnant out of marriage seemed to be a definitive description of trouble.
My family were all so wonderful, so supportive. Right from the word go there was never any question of me giving up the child. Not for abortion or adoption. Adoption was mentioned but I didn’t think I would be able to give my baby up despite the circumstances. Abortion though was never an option, not for me. I had a tiny little life growing inside me and there was no way I would have been able to bring myself to get rid of it.
Little Jessica Emily was born in March the year I turned nineteen. She was so tiny and from the moment I saw her I knew I had made the right decision. I had a love for my little girl that had begun from the time I found out about her. Sure I went through ups and downs during the pregnancy, what woman doesn’t? By eight months I was feeling so big and heavy I was wishing she would just get out of me but not once did I consider getting rid of her.
When I first held her, before they had cleaned her up, I made up my mind the circumstances surrounding her conception would never hurt her. I was going to love her and be the best mother I possibly could. I didn’t know how but I was determined to do it.
With the support of my family I went back to university and finished my degree in teaching. I won’t say it was easy because it wasn’t. There were times I felt like giving up but I didn’t. I couldn’t. It was all because of Jessie. Well that’s what I told myself. All the hard work was worth it because of her. She was my motivation to succeed.
You know through all of that I never let go of God. Back then I thought things happened for a reason, life goes on and you play the hand you’re dealt the best way you know how. But now? I just don’t know how He could have let this happen. How can I have been blessed with Jessie only to have her snatched away after so few years? It’s just so hard to get my head around it.

The Oasis - Ch 4

The day of her big escape arrived. Rachel had to try hard to seem unconcerned and not too happy. She tried to act as if she was simply going back to the farm even if she didn’t want to. What she was really feeling was a weird mix of excitement and nerves. She was about to make the biggest move of her life. The single biggest independent decision she had ever made. Not to mention the riskiest. Though when she thought about it Rachel decided going back to the farm was probably riskier, she had no idea what surprises Trevor had planned for her this year or what she might do to him if he tried and he was by himself.
She had had enough. There was no way she would continue to allow herself to be treated that way and now she was old enough to be able to do something about it. There had even been the odd occasion when Rachel had thought about what she might like to do to Trevor if he tried again. She been taking self-defence classes, and learning things from those who knew how to handle themselves.
Her parents had been surprised when she had asked for a gym membership, they had compromised by getting her a trial three month membership, which they later extended when it became clear to them that Rachel was serious about using it. Rachel had become driven. She had decided it was her body and no-one was going to do anything to it she didn’t want them to. She wanted to choose who she let touch her. She was a physical person and she realised the better her body looked the more likely it was she would get the kind of attention she craved.
Rachel got on the bus refusing to wave to her parents or even acknowledge they were there. She was being dumped at the bus station as her parents were on the way to the airport. They were heading to Bali, she’d found the plane tickets in her Dad’s study one night when she was looking for spare cash.
Part of her thought her parents would figure out her plan before the bus pulled away from the station so she refused to allow herself to relax until the bus was driving along the open road. Rachel couldn’t believe she was really doing it. The thing she had spent the better part of twelve months planning. She wanted to get up and move around, she was feeling excited and a bit scared all at once.
She made herself stay seated, something could still go wrong. Her aunt and uncle might actually be on time and waiting for the bus. It hadn’t happened in four years but it was one of those things she couldn’t control. If they were there, there was the chance they may try and flag the bus down and if that happened she was stuffed. They may even call the police who might then be waiting for her at the bus terminal in Perth. She wouldn’t know she was clear until she was checked into a backpackers.
Rachel looked at her watch, her parents could know something was up in as little as eight hours. That was providing someone could contact them in Bali, which was by no means a certainty they weren’t particular about checking their messages when they were on holiday. As for their mobile phones, well if they had them on technically they could be reached, if they were staying somewhere there was signal, but they usually had them off.
Rachel knew all this because there’d been a few times over the last six years she had tried calling them to tell them what Trevor was doing to her. She had even asked her parents about their contact-ability a couple of years back only to be told “When we go on holidays we like to be as un-contactable as possible.”
“But what if I really need to talk or something happens to me?” she had pushed.
“Your aunt will know how to contact us.” Her mother made it sound as if that was the end of the conversation.
Rachel, unwilling to give in so easily, tried a different approach. “What if something happens to her?”
The response was a very unsatisfying, “Don’t be silly nothing is going to happen to Lena.”
Rachel pretty much gave up on her parents after that. She just didn’t understand them. Even though she’d been annoyed, angry and hurting, there was still apart of her that wanted to believe her parents really did care about her. They were supposed to love her, they said they loved her, but they never actually did anything that showed her they loved her. In fact if their actions were anything to go by she seemed to rate low in their priorities.
Rachel stared out the window not really paying attention to the scenery racing by. She was thinking about her new life and wondering if her parents would even miss her.
“From now on,” she whispered as the bus drove through the town she was supposed to be getting off in, “I’m going to live my life, my way and no-one is going to tell me different.”
She breathed a sigh of relief as they drove right past the service station that served as the town’s bus stop. It looked as though whoever was supposed to be picking her up was running late. She now had a little extra breathing room and with a bit of luck their first thought would be they must have gotten the dates mixed up.
There was no-one waiting when Rachel’s bus arrived at the East Perth Terminal. She waited impatiently for her bags to be off loaded, as soon as they were she quickly made her way to the train platform so she could get into the city proper. She wanted to get out of the terminal as soon as possible, the quicker she got into the city the quicker she would be able to get lost.

Journey Home - Entry 2

It’s funny looking back on your life. Viewing the events that shaped you, made you the person you are today, through the perspective of time. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, I’ve got plenty of time for it. Apart from a couple of things my life has been pretty normal. It was those two events that dramatically altered the course I thought my life was going to take.
I wonder if life ever takes the path we plan for ourselves? If the person you want to be as a kid, or even as a teenager, is ever the person you end up being? Perhaps that would be expecting too much. A life without hiccoughs, what a concept. Then again the person you think you’re going to be is pretty two dimensional I suppose.
They say (well that is to say I’ve heard it said somewhere) surviving difficult situations is something that makes you stronger. It supposedly develops your character.
They, whoever ‘they’ are, make it sound like it’s something that’s good for you. Well let me say I’m not sure I want to have my character developed any more. I have had enough of growing, maturing and adjusting to the results of other people’s problems.
I just want my life and my daughter back.