CHAPTER 21

A graveyard. Icy and bleak, shrouded in grey mist, a wailing wind furiously shaking the trees. Through the cobwebby wisps of mist, a full moon coldly shines, dozens of bats soar noisily into the sky, and slowly, slowly, the restless dead begin to topple their ancient coffins and rise...

Scotty's mind had tumbled with ideas and it was the darkest picture he could find. The graveyard would be enough to frighten Kane into keeping his mouth shut forever about the diamonds. Their long walk through the night had finally brought them to the foot of the curving stone steps that led to the old church. He looked down at his younger brother and Kane turned, wondering why they'd stopped, his teeth still chattering, to Scotty's irritation.

"This is it," Scott whispered.

Kane nodded miserably.

"You're a killer now. There's no goin' back."

Kane nodded again.

"Okay." Scott tilted his head towards the cemetery to indicate the way forward. "And stop those ------- teeth chatterin', drongo!" He added as they ran up steps that were chipped with age.

"They won't say nothin'!" Kane promised, baffled when Scotty's response was to angrily kick him.

Although the moon was round and full, the long-dead of Summer Bay stubbornly refused to conform to the image in Scotty's mind. Like the setting for some dreamy, romantic movie, a slow breeze half-heartedly stirred tree branches, crickets chirped, traffic droned somewhere in the distance and across the beautiful summer night a calm sea lapped gently to the shore. Save for a handful of small black clouds drifting through the moon-bright sky and the black silhouette of the old church, the graveyard that night was hardly the stuff of nightmares.

But Kane's eyes had seen more than many far older than he would ever see in a lifetime, and he shook as they buried the blood-spattered knife, every one of his shuddering breaths filled with terror. His own nightmare had begun long ago.

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No sound in the world could be more lonely than the ticking of a clock. When her children Lance and Maureen were small, the clock could never be heard but, busy with shopping, cooking and cleaning, bathing cut knees and sorting out their frequent squabbles, Colleen never noticed.

The years flew by and Lance and Maureen became teenagers, their loud music, louder friends and still frequent squabbles drowning out the steady tick-tock. Then, all too soon, they were grown up with children of their own. Colleen found herself in great demand as babysitter to her grandchildren and to many of the younger Summer Bay residents and, what with working at the Diner and busying herself about the Bay, there was never a minute to sit alone.

And so time ticked quickly by without Colleen realising. Her grown-up children and their families moved away from Summer Bay. The young Summer Bay residents grew old enough not to need babysitters and the new generation's parents asked younger people to sit in with their offspring. While Colleen became old. Slow and forgetful and muddled and able to remember years gone by in great detail yet sometimes not even able to recall things that happened five minutes ago.

A couple of days a week she still worked at the Diner, but she knew Alf only let her stay because he felt sorry for her. In truth, Colleen's "work" consisted of chatting to customers and making the occasional drink or sandwich. And the Phillips still asked her to "babysit" but what they really meant was Come and have dinner with us because they never went out and left Colleen alone with Jamie anymore. Not since the time, three years ago, when Colleen had woken up on their couch, forgotten she was babysitting and gone home, leaving Jamie in the kitchen scattering the contents of the kitchen cupboards.

Kirsty and Kane had returned from their night out to find a very tired two-year-old, lonely tears streaming down his face, jam on his nose and cornflakes in his hair, sitting in sugar and trying to read himself and his teddy bear a bedtime story from the back of an upside-down cornflakes packet.

But tonight, this lonely night, the ticking of the clock was loud and relentless as Colleen sat waiting and listening. Somehow she knew in her heart that Ron was never coming back.

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It was a while before Jade found her voice.

"I...I have to tell Seb," she said, still stunned by the doctor's diagnosis. "But I..I don't know how we'll cope..."

"We'll manage," Shelley said. "Whatever happens, you'll always have your family behind you."

Jade managed a weak smile. "And Kirsty? Mum, we promised...we promised we'd always stay twins and I need her so much more now. I don't want to lose Kirsty."

Rhys cleared his throat. The news the consultant had given them put everything in perspective. "We won't lose her. We'll make our peace with Kane and Kirsty." He looked across at his wife.

Shelley bit her lip, understanding the silent question. Were their lives really so empty that it took something like this to make them realise how bitter they'd become? Their daughter (they would always think of Jade as their daughter) looked so young, so defenceless, in the white hospital bed. She had always been the most timid of their children and, even now she was grown up, it was easy still to see the child in her wide, frightened eyes.

Jade toyed with something on her wrist, giving a small, self-conscious laugh as they noticed.

"It's a friendship bracelet," she explained, pulling at the strands of pink wool. "Kirsty made us one each in our favourite colours when we were about ten. Pink for me, green for Kirst, rainbow for Dani. Bigger than we needed then so we could keep them forever. We said whenever we missed each other, we'd wear them, and, well...I...I kept mine and still wear it when I miss Kirsty and Dani. Stupid, I know."

"It's not stupid at all, darling. It's somehow...somehow what families should be about," Shelley said, the friendship bracelet jogging a long-forgotten memory.

To Shelley's huge disappointment, Hannah, the little girl she was fostering, barely glanced at the pretty new dress hanging on the back of the door. Shelley had meant it to be a lovely surprise when she woke. But Hannah, in old, faded pyjamas that she refused to be parted with, jumped off the bed as usual, and, ignoring the Bugs Bunny slippers bought for her when she first arrived, toddled off in her bare feet, as always, to the twins' room.

It had become something of a ritual. The twins were deep sleepers and so the three-year-old would stand in the middle of the room, waiting patiently for Kirsty to waken, but up till now Kirsty never had and Shelley would always gently pick Hannah up and carry her down to breakfast. But that morning out in the road a car suddenly backfired and Kirsty's eyes unexpectedly flickered open.

"Hey," she said, smiling at the little girl. "I see you got it on, huh?"

Hannah nodded, the first smile that she had smiled since before the accident lighting up her face, as she lifted up her hand to show off the motley strands of wool wrapped around her small, plump wrist. Last night, doing a colleague a favour, Shelley had brought home a basket full of unravelled woollen garments, ready to pass on to the old peoples' day care centre, and Kirsty had pestered and pestered until Shelley allowed her to take some wool. Now she knew why.

Feeling suddenly like an intruder, Shelley stepped quietly out of the room. Despite all her knowledge, despite all her exams and training and experience, it was a ten-year-old child who had provided the breakthrough that little Hannah Clegg needed to pull her through the trauma of seeing a car kill her father and seriously injure here mother.

"Friendship bracelets," Shelley smiled. "It was the sort of thing Kirsty always did. You're probably too young to remember, but she made one for Hannah Clegg. The little girl I fostered who went to live in Canada when she grew up."

"Oh, I remember Hannah well!" Jade grinned. "She's training to be a child psychologist now, did you know? Engaged to a doctor and they're expecting their first bub in the spring. They're hoping Kirsty and Kane can make it over when they get married, maybe next year. She and Kirsty regularly write and phone each other."

"They do?" Shelley couldn't help the pang of jealousy. Each year she received beautiful Xmas and birthday cards from Hannah, but never any news.

"I guess that terrible tragedy when she was very young influenced her career choice," Jade said pensively. "Somehow I can't picture her grown up though. I still see her at three years old, standing there looking so scared you just wanted to hug her tight. She was a cute little girl." She sighed deeply, suddenly remembering her own fears, twisting the friendship bracelet round and round.

"So were you," Rhys said. "And, no matter what, you'll always be our little girl."

"Your family will be with you all through this, sweetie" Shelley added. "All of us. Seb, and Dani and Mark, Kirsty and Jamie." She drew in a deep breath. It wasn't going to be easy. "And Kane.. He's part of the family too."

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"Anniedani!" Jamie called helplessly, his voice wavering..

His only chance and now she was gone. He wished now he hadn't run away from Mum though it had seemed the right thing to do at the time, getting away from the madman, going to fetch Dad. Mum and Dad were the only people in the whole world who really loved him. He knew that because Gran and Grandad, Anniedani and Anniejade, they loved him in a different way. They loved him but...

The hesitation before Anniedani took his hand. The way Grandad ran his fingers through his hair. The look in Gran's eyes. The way Anniejade curled her lip. Did they think he never saw? Did they think Jamie, the smartest kid in his class, didn't know love shouldn't have any buts? And then there was Annietasha and Nanny Irene. They loved him, but Annietasha had got on a plane and gone far away, just to have her photograph taken, and Nanny Irene had got in a car and gone far away, to see her other grandkids, and when the madman had come tonight they hadn't been there.

And Anniecolleen, who watched kids' videos, played games and drew pictures with him when Jamie babysat her - the grown-ups said she babysat Jamie but Jamie knew the truth - all she cared about lately was Mr Wilson. Jamie couldn't figure why she didn't just pash him.

His legs were hurting from walking uphill. He didn't know which way was forward and he didn't know which way was back. Everywhere, the parts he could see whenever the temperamental moonlight chose to teasingly peep from behind the rainclouds, looked exactly the same: cold and wet; grey and lonely. His only hope had been Anniedani and Anniedani had left him. And it was sooo cold and he was sooo tired.

Jamie sat forlornly down on the hard ground, hugging his knees to his chin, taking deep breaths to try and stop himself from crying. But the first two large tears, mixed in with hiccups, spilled down on to his cheeks, followed quickly by several more. There were strange shadows watching him and strange noises echoing around him. As if ghosts or monsters or witches, curious to know why he was there, were gathering, discussing him in whispers that till now he'd thought were the drizzling rain and the roaring sea.

There he is, there he is, there he is... the whispers were saying, faster and faster, closer and closer, more and more of them gathering, sometimes whistling in signal to one another, no longer fooling him into thinking it was only the whistle of the wind. Like ice cold fingers, the sea breezes breathed on the back of his neck. Ice cold fingers...

Jamie sprang up in terror and ran wildly through the darkness. Far below the sea was inky black except for where glimmers of moonlight danced on the water. He tried to stay calm, to form a plan. Maybe if he followed the sea it would guide him back down to the beach. Steeling himself not to look round in case the shadows had gained on him, the little boy began to pick his way over the crumbling rocks towards the dark waters. He tried singing Mum and Dad's wedding song again.

"I'm up on the roof...your car drive by..." The little voice was breathless with hidden sobs now.

Weird thing to sing about, Jamie thought, desperately trying to take his mind off the terrifying shadows. Rock like Mrs Parker sold to tourists in Ye Olde Summer Bay Lolly Shoppe and rolls like Mr Stewart sold in the Bayside Diner. Jamie pictured in his mind a guy sitting on the roof and opening the box that contained his lunch, only to find that the stick of rock and a cheese roll had been nicked by the person driving away in the car, and leaning over the roof to yell, "Hey! Rock'n'roll is mine!"

A flash of moonlight suddenly opened up the world. So near the edge! Jamie wasn't meant to be so near the edge. He was meant to be much further back, not swaying like this with the wind behind him and a cold sea swirling beneath him. Okay, he had to be heaps brave now. He had to be real careful when he stepped backwards, the wind was strong and the cliffs were slippy, and if he put his foot in the wrong place he would fa...

...was falling...