PART SIXTEEN

"Baby?" Tim said.

"Yes baby. I’m pregnant." I looked at the floor, unable to face them.

"Baby ... wow. You’re ... wow." Tim was, for the first time that I’d ever seen, lost for words.

"Is this good or bad?" Mikey asked.

"The jury’s still out on that one," I answered. I still didn’t actually know the answer.

"Wow," said Tim.

"Yes Timmy, we got that," Paul said. He’d kept quiet until now.

"I just can’t believe it." Tim looked at Paul. "You don’t seem too surprised."

"I already knew," Paul said.

A look of amazement spread across Tim’s face. "So ... do you mind if I ask ... who’s the daddy?" He asked this while staring directly at Paul.

"Tim!" I said, annoyed and embarrassed by what he was thinking.

"Well then ... who is it?" Tim repeated.

"No one," I said.

"Now Sammy, you’ve studied medicine for 9 years. You know that’s impossible."

"Tim how about you take the hint and drop it," Paul said.

"But I’m curious."

"Nosy is more like it," I said, half annoyed. I really hadn’t wanted to get into any of this with them.

"Look Sam, I’m sorry. I guess it just came as a shock, that’s all."

"You’re telling me," I muttered.

"When’s it due?" Mikey asked.

"March next year," I said. I watched Mikey’s face as he did some quick maths, counting back nine months from March. It didn’t take him long to put two and two together and figure out that this happened around the time of the siege.

"Shit," Mikey said. "Is it ..." I nodded before he could get the words out. "Are you okay with it?" he asked.

"I’m getting there," I answered. "It’s not easy, but I have some pretty good support." I looked at Paul, who smiled. Tim looked confused, but shrugged and finished his beer. Then he suddenly realised what was going on.

"Oh shit! It’s that Steve guy isn’t it?" he asked. I nodded, wishing that he would just drop it.

"So," said Mikey before Tim could speak again. "Are you coming to the taping tonight?"

"Yeah, Paul talked me into it." I was thankful for the change of topic. Tim didn’t mean to upset me, I knew that. It was just his way of dealing with the surprise.

We talked a bit about the show, who the guests would be, the band that was playing. They had The Whitlams on, something which I was really looking forward to. I loved that band. All in all it sounded like it would be a good show.

"Well there won’t be a show at all if we don’t get moving," Paul said as he looked at his watch.

"How’s that for power," Mikey asked. "We don’t show up and they can’t do a taping. It’d be interesting to see what Ted did if we just didn’t turn up one day." He grinned at the thought of being so nasty to the producer. But today wasn’t the day for it so Mikey called a cab while the rest of us tidied up a little. Half an hour later we were on the road.

I felt a shudder go down my spine as the taxi pulled up outside the studio. I climbed out of the car and stood staring at the door, unable to follow the guys inside. It felt as though me feet had been nailed to the ground, they just wouldn’t move. Paul looked back and turned around, coming back to where I was standing.

"It’s okay," he said.

I shook my head. "I don’t know if I can go I there."

"It’ll be okay ... we’re all here if you need us." Paul took my hand. I took a deep breath and let him lead me into the building where we were kept as hostages.

We went through the halls and out into the main studio, where Mikey and Paul disappeared to tell someone that they had arrived. They then came back over to Tim and I.

"We have about half an hour before we have to start getting ready," Paul said. "After all that rushing, we ended up early. Let’s go get a drink." Mikey led the way and we ended up at the door to a way too familiar room.

"Sam, are you okay?" Tim asked.

"Oh God, I ..." I ran out the door.

PART SEVENTEEN

I stood in the bathroom and washed my face with cold water. I had to hold on to the sink or else I’d fall over. I didn’t think that coming back here would effect me this badly, I thought that I could control it. I rinsed my mouth out, checked myself in the mirror then opened the door. Paul was waiting for me in the hall, leaning against the wall. I offered him a faint smile.

"Sorry," I said.

"Don’t be," he replied. "I did exactly the same thing the first time I came back here." We started walking back down the corridor.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah. It’s all really creepy, and sad. It just got to me." We arrived at a closed door and stopped. "This is my dressing room ... I told you about this didn’t I?"

"Yeah, you said it was where we were locked in for a while," I said looking at the door.

"Do you think you can come in? Will you be okay?"

"I think so," I said, though I really didn’t know. Paul opened the door and went in. The room wasn’t very big, there was a table and some chairs, mirror, clothes rack with suits hanging on it and a sink. None of it was familiar at all, although it had been pitch black when we were in here.

"How do you know that this is the room?" I asked.

"Come here." Paul took my hand and led me to the far corner of the room. "See this?" He pointed to a deep scratch on the wall. I nodded. "When I was first thrown in here I found a pin on the floor. Out of sheer boredom I scratched at the wall over and over until they put you in here. this is the scratch I made." Paul looked away from me, but not before I saw the glint of tears in his eyes.

"It really gets to you doesn’t it?" I asked as I pout my hand on his arm.

He turned to face me. "Yeah," he said, "it does. When I think about all the hurt and pain that was caused ... it was in this building, the same damn studio. I have to come in here all the time, and every time it’s like I re-live a little of it. It’s just so fucking scary." He lowered his head as tears fell down his cheeks.

"Paul," I said, "I’m so sorry. I had no idea just how much this effected you."

"Neither did I until just now," he said. "I think I’m just so relieved that he’s dead and you’re not ..." He stopped and looked at me. "This afternoon, when you were talking about being in hospital, you said that it will never go away. Did you mean that?"

His eyes were pleading with me, begging me to say that I didn’t mean it, that I didn’t think of dying. But I couldn’t lie to him again, I owed him the truth. "Yes, I meant it," I said slowly, "I don’t think it will ever really go away. There will always be some part of me, no matter how small, that will want to die." I looked at Paul. "But I’ll try not to let it, I promise." I had seen the pain he was going through and wanted to avoid adding to it, no matter how awful I felt myself.

Paul didn’t say anything, just put his arms around me and hugged me close.

"God," I thought, "please let me be able to keep that promise, because without your help I don’t know that there’s any way that I can do it."

A while later I left him to get ready and went in search of Tim. I went around a corner and bumped into someone coming the other way.

"Hey, watch it! There are other people around here besides you!" the person said. I looked up at them.

"Oh Tim you’re a dickhead." I hit him on the arm as he grinned at me.

"Yeah, but I had you worried didn’t I?" he said. "I was just coming to look for you. We were worried when the two of you didn’t come back ... or did you guys sneak off for a little privacy?" Tim winked at me.

"Christ Tim, will you stop that!" I really was getting a little annoyed by his innuendo. "We were talking, that’s all."

"I know, I’m just kidding around. C’mon, Ted said we can wait in the green room till the show."

Paul jumped back to the middle of the stage. "So," he said, "before we get the show going does anyone have any questions, anything they’d like to discuss?"

"Woah," Tim whispered. "Really creepy deja vu happening." I nodded.

Paul started to turn back to his desk when he stopped, frozen to the spot as someone called out from the audience. I grabbed Tim’s hand in fear as I heard the person yell "Yeah, I do. Me and my mates here want to know something."

PART EIGHTEEN

Paul turned slowly back around, his face drained of colour. He looked at me and I’m sure he saw the terror on my face. He took a deep breath and looked around at the audience.

"Okay, well what do you want to know?" He did a damn good job of sounding his usual cocky self in front of the audience.

"We want to know ... when the hell are you going to come and do a show in Perth?" I saw Paul breath out as relief swept over him. The voice was different, nothing like Steve’s. I loosened my grip on Tim’s hand as Paul grinned evilly, ready to pay out the guy stupid enough to actually call out.

Paul and Mikey came into the green room where Tim and I were waiting. They were both laughing.

"Holy shit that was a long taping," Paul said.

"Yeah, well you stuffed up all but a couple of your lines. You have the bloody things to read and you still get them wrong." Mikey said.

"Hey, I just wanted to give the editors something to do. it’s not like I get to make up everything I say, they get kinda pissed if I do that too often." Paul laughed as he threw himself down on to the couch next to me. "I’ll tell you what though, I just about shat myself when that guy called out." He looked at me. "How are you doing?"

"Okay now. It scared me too. I think you got him back though, paying him out the way you did. I almost felt sorry for the guy!" I said. "It was a bloody good show though. Very funny."

"Thanks."

The room slowly began to fill up with people. It got very noisy, with people discussing the show and other important world events. Paul introduced me to people as they came in and I was soon involved in a discussion with Paul, Mikey, Tim, Julie and Hugh Jackman about the Olympic Games. There were a few different opinions, and Ted Robinson had to step in before Tim and Paul killed each other. It ended with them rolling around on the floor, play wrestling, while everyone else cheered them on.

Finally they stood up, laughing, and agreed to disagree. As it was getting late, people started to leave and before long there was only Mikey, Julie, Paul, Tim and myself left. We were beginning to get ready to go when there was a knock on the door.

"Uh ... is Samantha Brodie here?" a security guard asked.

"Yeah, that’s me," I said.

"This was left for you at the security gate," he said as he handed me an envelope. Tim started jumping around like a kid at Christmas.

"What is it? What is it?" he asked.

I shrugged. I don’t know who could have delivered it. The envelope was blank, except for my name which was typed on the front. I opened it and pulled out a single sheet of paper. It had just three words on it, typed in large print in the centre of the page. I read them then let the paper go. I looked at Paul as things started to go fuzzy. I saw the piece of paper and read the words again as I started to fall over.

"IT’S NOT OVER"

Then everything went black.

PART NINETEEN

"Sam? Can you hear me?"

I slowly opened my eyes, Tim was standing over me, looking down at my face. "Are you okay?" he asked. I was getting tired of people asking me that.

"Yeah," I said as I slowly sat up. Tim and Julie helped me get over to the couch where I sat with my head in my hands. I looked up as I heard someone come running through the corridor.

"Is she okay?" Paul asked as he ran into the room. He came and sat down next to me. "Sam, are you ..."

I cut him off. "Please don’t ask if I’m okay, I’m sick of hearing that. I’m fine."

"What did they say?" Tim asked Paul.

"Not much. It was delivered by a taxi, the driver was apparently paid to bring it here. They didn’t ask any questions, didn’t see the need to, just took it," Paul said.

"Well that’s fucking helpful," Tim said.

"Samantha," Paul said. "This is probably just some sick joke. You heard what the detective said."

"Paul’s right," Tim added. "The guy’s dead."

"But why would someone do this?" I asked. I could feel myself beginning to cry and tried to hold it back.

Paul took my hand. "I don’t know. There are some really sick people out there, Steve proved that."

"Paul," I said softly. "I can’t do this again. Even if it is a joke ... I just can’t."

I know." He put his arm around my shoulders, trying to reassure me that it would be okay.

Suddenly something occurred to me, something which terrified me. "How did they know I was here?"

"What do you mean?" Mikey asked.

"The person who sent his note, whoever it was. How did they know to send it here?" I couldn’t control the shaking in my voice. "I didn’t tell anyone that I was coming here tonight."

"What about your parents? Could they have mentioned it to someone?" Tim asked.
"They didn’t know. They’ve gone to visit my Nan in Orange for a few days, they left yesterday. I didn’t decide to come until this morning. Shit, I didn’t even think anyone knew I was in Sydney." The tears came then, dropping down my face and on to my hands. Paul held me tighter and Julie came to sit on my other side.

"Who would do something like this?" she asked.

No one had the answer to this. My head kept telling me that Paul was right, that this was just a joke. But something way down deep in my heart told me that it wasn’t. I was filled with dread at the thought.

"Look," Mikey said, "it’s really late. Why don’t we all go home, this might seem a lot clearer in the morning."

"He’s right," said Julie. Everyone stood up and started getting ready to leave. As I was putting on my coat Paul came over to me.

"Sam, you said that your parents are away?"

"Yeah, they come back on Sunday."

"I don’t want you going back to an empty house," he said. "It may be nothing, but if there’s someone who wants to scare you ..."

"I agree. I’d actually prefer not to be alone right now, especially if someone’s following me. But where can I stay?"

"My place," Paul said. "And before you complain, it’s not a bother. You’ll feel safer and I’ll feel better knowing that you’re okay."

I smiled at him. "Well I would feel better ... okay. As long as it’s no problem." Paul just shook his head and pulled me out the door.

I sat nervously in the taxi the whole way back to Paul’s place. The thought that someone might be following me absolutely terrified me. I looked out the window, but seeing all the other cars on the road just made it worse.

When we got to Paul’s place he found a blanket and pillow and threw them on the couch. the he handed me some clothes.

"You own tracksuit pants?" I asked as I looked at them.

"Ha ha." Paul threw a small cushion at me. "You can stay in my room, I’ll sleep out here. Don’t you dare complain!" I just smiled gratefully, said goodnight and went into his room, shutting the door. Once I was changed I sat under the blankets, leaning against the wall and staring out the window.

I hadn’t realised how long I’d been sitting there until I heard a soft knock on the door. It opened slightly and Paul peered in. When he saw that I was awake he came and sat next to me. He brushed his hand softly against my cheek, wiping away the tears that were there. He didn’t say anything, just put his arms around me and pulled me against him. I half sat, half lay in his arms, my head on his chest feeling the beating of his heart. I fell asleep like that, feeling safe for the first time in months.

PART TWENTY

I woke up slowly, opening my eyes in the early morning light. I didn’t move, I didn’t want to wake Paul. His arms were still wrapped around me, holding me close to him. My head was resting on his chest. I lay in Paul’s arms and listened to the soft sound of his steady breathing, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. Why did it take something so awful to make me feel so close to him?

Gradually Paul began to stir as he woke up. I turned my face towards his to see him looking down at me. He smiled when he saw that I was awake.

"Good morning," he said. "I didn’t wake you up did I?"

"No," I replied. "I’ve been awake for a while."

"How’d you sleep?"

"Good. Better than I have in months actually. You?"

"Mmm ... good." For a while we just lay there in silence, but for the first time in months it was comfortable rather than awkward. Eventually we managed to get out of bed, moving to the kitchen. I sat at the table while Paul made some coffee.

"Paul, thanks for letting me stay here last night. I was pretty freaked, I couldn’t have handled being in a big empty house by myself."

Paul handed me a mug of coffee and sat down opposite me. "Hey, it’s no problem. You should know that. But if that house is going to be empty until Sunday then I want you to stay here until then."

"Thanks, but it should be okay. I probably just overreacted last night. You were right, it must have been some sick joke. Steve’s dead, I don’t need to be scared of him any more."

"Sam, c’mon. I know that this still scares you, it’s in your eyes. We’ll both feel better if you aren’t’ alone. We can go and pick up some clothes this morning, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Thanks." I really was grateful for the offer, the thought of being alone at mum and dads place really did scare me. "But," I added, "I’ll stay on the couch. I’m not going to kick you out of your own room. Don’t you bother complaining!" He shut his mouth on the protest he was about to make. then he smiled and nodded.

Two hours later we climbed out of the taxi at my parents place. We walked slowly up the front steps, Paul’s face showing his amazement.

"Wow," he said as I unlocked the door. "This is some house. You grew up here?"

"Yep. I lived here up until I started uni. But the place hasn’t changed in all the years I’ve been gone." We went inside and I shut the door behind us, making sure it was locked. "I came back after nine years and it felt like I had never left. Do you want the grand tour?"

"But of course!" We started in the lounge room, then the dining room, kitchen, living room, enclosed deck and backyard, complete with pool.

"This place is incredible. I’ll bet you had some good parties here if your parents ever went away."

"Oh yeah, one or two." I smiled, remembering the trouble I had been in when I got caught having a party here when I was sixteen. I was grounded for a month. "My parents room is through there, and this is the bathroom," I said as we went down the hallway towards the stair. I took Paul upstairs where there were two more bedrooms, a study and another bathroom.

"And this," I said, opening the door, "was my room." We went in. Paul looked around the room, his eyes stopping on a framed photograph of me and my puppy dog. I was six years old, hair in pig-tails and grinning at the camera.

"Cute," Paul said as he grinned. "Oh, what a beautiful view," he said as he went to the window. "This would make a great painting." I joined him at the window and we stood looking out at the beach.

"Yeah, I loved waking up and this being the first thing I saw everyday. It always made me feel so peaceful." I stared at the deep blue of the ocean. "I just wish it helped me now."

"You’re scared, aren’t you?" Paul turned to face me.

"I don’t know. Just the thought that someone made such a huge effort to scare me ... or that it really isn’t all over ..." I couldn’t continue.

Paul put his hands on my shoulders and turned me around so that I was facing him. "Sam ... I wish I knew what to say, what would make it all go away. Just remember, Steve’s dead. he can’t hurt you." He held me then, and I hugged him back. "I promise, he can’t hurt you." His breath was warm, I could feel it on my neck. "I won’t let anyone hurt you." Paul pulled back slightly, looking me in the eyes. His look was so intense, I felt as though my legs would have given way if he wasn’t holding me so tightly to him. "I promise," he repeated, and this time his breath was on my face. "Samantha ..." Paul whispered.

At that exact moment the phone rang. I looked at Paul, deciding that the machine could get it. He kissed my forehead, it was so soft and gentle. He put his fingers under my chin, tenderly tilting my head up towards him. I closed my eyes, feeling his breath getting closer, but my eyes were jolted open when I heard Kelly’s urgent voice through the speaker on the answering machine.

"Sam, it’s me. Umm ... God Sam, you have to come home. Something’s happened, I can’t explain it now. Please, you have to get out of Sydney ... just get back here as soon as you can."