The telephone was shrill, once again disturbing the early Saturday morning. It was the third call, and still not yet nine o'clock .

"Pa a a t. Phone".

Peter Jarvis was perched precariously on a ladder and very much aware of being fifty something.

"O.K. I'm onto it."

Pat's running steps could be heard running through the house. Peter felt guilty. Truth to tell she probably had more to do than he had. But then again, she enjoyed this sort of thing. After all, Janie had made it quite clear she would have preferred celebrating her twenty-first with friends at the Isa, where she had been teaching since graduating. But Pat had been insistent that as it was holidays she come home to share her birthday with family.

Pat's hands, still wet from the washing up, were quickly wiped on her jeans.

"Hello, Pat speaking."

"Mum, it's me."

"Janie, where are you? We were expecting you to call last night. What's

happened?"

"Nothing mum, hold your horses." Janie looked at her watch and bit her lip. It really was late, and her parents had every reason to be annoyed. 

"See, yesterday I found I had made good timing to Longreach so decided to divert a little and call in and see Lexie and Trevor out in the suburbs. We got talking and... 

"Drinking" 

The words were not said, but Jane furnished them anyway. "yes, we got drinking - a bit. Anyway, Lexie persuaded me it would be best to stay over and make an early start this morning." 

"And where are you now - after this early start?" 

"Well, that's it mum, I'm only two hours out from Barcaldine. See when went out to start the mudlark this morning I found it as flat as a pancake. We couldn't get it started. It's the battery. Been giving me trouble all term." 

"So why didn't you buy a new one?" 

"Yeah, well, I should have, but ..." 

"You spend all your money on partying" 

Jane didn't hear all of her mother's input or disapproval, as she spoke right over her, but there was little doubt of the reaction. 

"Anyway, Lexie kindly offered I drive her car back, and she's going to get Trevor to fix mine. He can recharge it fully over the weekend. They're heading off to the lakes for a camping trip after lunch, so it will give him a chance to give the mudlark a fine tune and see how it goes. We'll swap again on the return journey."

Putting her mobile away and back on the highway Jane felt light hearted. First of all, it was a pleasure to drive a new - well newish car - for a change. The poor old mudlark was well over its used-by date. But she could only dream about trading it in. Then again, the conversation with Alexis last night had offered lots of insights into career options Jane had not considered since leaving uni, and the road ahead would offer plenty of opportunity to think them through.

Her mother smiled. "As a matter of fact I did. You're lucky. He's home just for the weekend with his folks. He'll be coming over with Nana and Grandpa."

"Ta mum. That's all'.

Jane smiled to herself as she flicked the disconnect switch. Oh well, it wouldn't be so bad after all. David had been the favourite boyfriend and it would be nice to meet up with him again. Almost instinctively she flicked the redial. Pat's reply was immediate.

"Mum. If you get a minute, could you run an iron over..."

"... the blue sundress? I already have. It's hanging up in your room. I cleaned your blue sandals too."

"Mum, you're a saint."

Eight hundred k's from home Jane hummed along with Simon and Grafunkel, observing how 'The sound of silence' was so appropriate to the outback, leaving Pat to run upstairs to iron a sundress and clean some shoes.

The Waltons from next door had brought over the last of the spare chairs from their garage and were admiring the patio lights when the telephone rang again. Grateful for the interruption Pat excused herself and saw them depart awkwardly over the back fence. Expecting the beer delivery Pat answered formally. "Hello, Mrs. Jarvis speaking."

"Mum, Look don't get excited, but I've had a bit of an accident."

"Dear God."

Thankful that her daughter's voice sounded cheerful, if not a little sheepish Pat found herself plying questions automatically.

"Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine, but I've screwed up Lexie's car a bit. Hit a 'roo and skidded into the one bloomin' tree I'd seen in an hour. But that isn't the real problem. See, when I checked the car, I found a slipped fan belt. Well, I fixed it up temp-like, like Dad taught me, and decided to turn back and call in to a property I saw a few kilometres back. But well, now that I'm at the homestead, no-one's home. It looks as if the property has been vacant a while."

Patricia Jarvis listened to her daughter's tale of woe in a mixture of anger at the idiocy of her daughter's actions, upset, that she did not look as if she would be attending her own party on time, and a little knot of anxiety at the unknown. Before she could convey much of this Jane went on.

"The thing is mum, I don't know if Alexis is covered by road insurance.

Relaying all this to Peter in cryptic fashion by having to shout to him in the garage did not improve Pat's nerves. And his response indicated his own exasperation. 

"Ask her where she is - exactly.'

His male supremacy was evident when the message came back his daughter could provide only a rough estimate.

"She says she's about an hour and a half out from Injune And the property is on the left hand side of the highway." Pat old him.

She left out Janie's reasoning. "I left the car out on the road because I didn't think the car could manage the grid irons - they were pretty savage for a car with a klunky fan-belt. It's going to take me a good half an hour to walk back there, and it's getting hot. At least I've got some shade here around the cottage."

Pat was now becoming a little more than nervous about her daughter's safety and decided that busy or not, it was time for Peter to come to the 'phone. She was in the midst of saying this when Jane's voice took on a timbre of excitement.

"Hang on mum. I think I can hear a car coming. Yes, it's a truck of some sort.

This place isn't deserted after all. Look, I'll get the owners to help me out and I'll ring you back."

With a sense of real relief Pat put the 'phone down and was on her way to the garage when it rang again. Janie was obviously on redial.

"Mum, I'm not sure now. There are two guys...and they look a bit rough. They haven't seen me yet. I'm over by one of the sheds. But I expect they know someone is here. They would have seen the car back at the grid. Should I ...

Pat's stomach took a leap. Then she heard a dog bark, and the sound of deep rough male voices. But her daughter's voice sounded cheery enough as with the telephone line still on an open line she heard her call out.

"Hellooo. Yes, hello I'm over here. I'm just ringing for help. My car broke down. Can you tell me exactly where we are please?"

The voices were jarred and indistinct, but Janie repeated their input for her mother to hear as if to reinforce their directions.

"Oh thank you. That's very kind of you. Wait just a moment and I'll tell my mother"

Janie now sounded relieved as she spoke into the telephone. "Mum, these gentlemen, one moment, I haven't got their names...Bob and Joe, are offering to

"Yes mum, we should be there in about an hour. So I'll ring you about two o'clock ."

Before she could reply, the line went dead, and communication was severed.

With a continued feeling of relief Pat retraced her steps to the garden where she found Peter sitting back on the newly cleaned patio drinking a beer. He jumped with guilt as she came upon him, but such thoughts of triviality immediately left him as she conveyed the further developments of Janie's plight.

"So where is she, exactly?" 

Ever pedantic Pete was still annoyed to find that his daughter was in distress in the middle of no-where with two strangers her only means of assistance, and was only mildly placated with Pat's retort that "Janie's a sensible girl - she won't do anything silly."

The answer came back, almost smugly. "She already has."

The middle-aged couple talked through all the options available over a quick lunch, yet it was really clear there was little they could do until her next contact. Both reassured each other that rough or not, the men were probably nice, ordinary fellows, scratching out a tough living. Even so, they would feel a great deal less anxious on her next call. They both checked their watches. It would be a long ninety minutes.

In fact it was long past ninety minutes before they heard from Janie again. By which time the caterer's had come with the advanced load, the flowers arranged, and numerous telephone calls about party matters - each one jarring at Pat's nauseous stomach. Where was Janie? What had happened?

She was just at the point of telling Pete they must do something - even though she had no idea what - when the telephone produced Janie's voice at the end of the line.

"Mum."

"Janie, is that you. Speak up dear I can't hear you?"

"Mum, Oh Mum..." The voice trailed off to tears. "Mum, I've been.... Those men. Mum they've...."

The line was distorted and Janie's tears was intermittent with muffled half formed sentences. Pat's voice was shrill as she put her hand over the mouthpiece and called out "Pete. Pick up the cellular 'phone quick. It's Janie."

In the background she could hear Pete grumbling about not having time to talk if Pat wanted the bar stocked properly in time.

Forcing herself to speak calmly she said, "Janie dear, I can't hear you. Speak up, and try not to cry. Where are you? And what has happened?"

There was a click as the cellular 'phone was picked up in time for Pete to hear his daughter say "I've been .... attacked."

"Dear God. Dear God. No."

Pat was now crying herself. Every cautious fear exploding in an eruption of spasmodic gulps. "What do you mean attacked? Are you hurt? Did they ..." She couldn't finish the question, which is every woman's nightmare

Pete's voice came in now, gruff, but authoritative.

"Now Janie love. I want to know. Where are you, exactly? Tell me where you are? And is anyone else there. Are your..." his voice hesitated a moment, ...are your attackers still there?"

"Dad. Daddy." His daughter's voice was that of a small child. "Daddy, come and get me, please. I've been...hurt. I want you to...." Janie's voice, small and plaintiff was desperate for help.

"Janie. Now, stop your snivelling and tell me where you are?"

Pat took an involuntary breath of surprise at her husband's tone, with every motherly bone in her body wanting to castigate him for his lack of sympathy.

"Janie. What was the last signpost you saw?" Again the disciplined voice, calm but authoritative.

"They didn't help me with the car Daddy. When I put the 'phone up they just laughed and ..."

"Janie, where are you?"

"That's just it daddy, at the same place. Like I told mum. I parked the car off the highway and walked over the cattle grid to this deserted farm house..."

"And what was the last signpost you saw before you left the car?"

Pat heard her daughter repeat the name of the homestead. " I don't know. I can't remember. Something like Spine Creek I think. But this place is called `TravAnne'.

Pete repeated it too.

His voice had softened and from her position at the kitchen 'phone Pat could see him making his way to the old fashioned bureau where he kept his maps. He fumbled at the drawer, looking at her significantly, and indicating she help. Reluctantly she let her own telephone down as she hurried to find the map of Queensland . The afternoon light was gloomy and with frustration she realised she had no reading glasses anywhere near. She ran to the bedroom where they were kept for night time reading.

Pete was still talking calmly.

"Now think love. Any bones broken? Can you walk? No. Right. And you're on your own now? You're sure of that. You're sure you heard them go?"

With trembling fingers Pat thumbed through the S's. Spine Creek. No. No. Yes. A Spindall Creek. That must be it: a tiny, tiny place, in the middle of nowhere. She showed it to Pete. He nodded, still talking calmly as she ran back to her telephone in the kitchen.

"Now Janie. I'm going to ring off now so that I can ring the police. Yes, you can do it too. But I may be able to be a little more coherent. Don't worry darling. We'll have help with you in a while. I'll call you back as soon as they're on their way."

Pat heard the line go click as Pete disengaged the 'phone. Even though she knew it to be the right thing to do, she felt a surge of anger as she heard the deadened line in her hand. It was as if the umbilical chord had been cut severing her from her baby.

She replaced the receiver, watching Pete redial triple zero for police. She stood still. Helpless: with nothing to do. She had a sudden urge to put on the jug for a cup of tea, and almost laughed at herself as she realised the cliche of her actions.

"Hello, police." Pete's voice was mild and clear, but as she moved towards him she could see his face betrayed her own fears.

"I wish to report an attack on my daughter. She was driving a yellow Mitsubishi number plate..." He stopped for a moment calling out to his wife,

"Pat, do you know the number plate of Janie's car?"

Pat thought for a moment, "Yes, yes, it's Janie's initials, JVJ then..." She stopped suddenly, her face going pale. "No Pete. She's not driving her own car. Remember, she's driving Lexie's car."

His voice trembled. "No, her car broke down somewhere near Spindall Creek, on the main Highway. She enlisted the aid of two men who drove up in a truck. No, I don't have the number plate. She thought at first they were the house owners, but now, we're not sure. No she didn't know their name, just as ....."

He looked to his wife for confirmation

"Bob and Joe".

He gave the names, which sounded more idiotic now than before. There was a silence that seemed to go on for ever. "Yes if you wait a moment I'll give you her mobile number."

Pete's voice was cold and distant. "Pat would you have Janie's mobile number?"

Pat froze in thought. "No. No. She gave it to me when she first went to the Isa but I didn't bother to write it down. I told her calls to mobiles were too expensive. I said I would always contact her on the landline."

She knew she was gushing. Dear God. Too expensive! Her daughter's life at stake and she had worried about the cost of calls.

Peter's look to her was recriminating as he spoke with embarrassment. "I'm sorry officer, no, we don't know the number. We'll have to wait until she contacts us again, or..." His voice was restrained and quiet, "...or she calls you." Another hesitation, "But she may not do that. I told her I would take care of it."

Husband and wife stared at each other with mounting terror. They were giving the police so little to go on.

Pat had come over to his side and answered his questioning look with a shake of her head. This was not the time to pass on their worries.

"No, nothing serious at the moment. We'll get back to you."

Decisively the telephone went down. He knew his father would be surprised and irritated, but it was of little account. All could be explained later.

Again he listened, then a quiet "Thankyou, I'm sure you will" and again he put the telephone down.

"That was the police. "They have gone through their computer files. There is no property named TrevAnne listed in that area."

Pat's cry came out more like a shriek. The emotion she had been holding back now flooding through her.

He looked to his wife. "Don't worry. The police are onto it. They're sending a squad car around here. And they'll have a chopper ready"

"Why come to us. We're not the one needing help. Can't they send a helicopter up now?" Pat was bordering on hysteria.

"Well, they have to come and check us out. Those police search and rescue exercises are expensive I guess. They need to make sure we're not hoaxers."

He put his arm around his wife. "But love, these men, this Bob and Joe must have made up the name TrevAnne. So it may take a while."

By now Pat was dissolved in tears, her sobs reaching an eerie wail in the empty house. Then - through the distressed sound - once more the telephone.

Her hand was shaking so much she dropped it. Even while bending down to the floor she put the receiver to her ear so as not to miss a moment.

"Mum."

Thank God. Thank God. Thank God. Pat straightened up, almost dancing with relief.

"Janie. Yes, yes, darling. Help is on its way. We've rung the police, they'll be calling you. Give me your number and ..."

"Mum, mum" The voice so quiet - hardly audible. "The truck, it's coming back. I can hear it…. and yes, I can see it now. It's them mum, they're back."

"Janie, Janie love. Hide, can't you hide?"

"Mum, it hurts so bad..."

Through the open wires Pat heard a dog bark, male voices, the sound of heavy boots on undergrowth.

Then Janie's voice - shrieking with terror.

"No. Please. No. I won't say anything, I promise I won't..."

Eight hundred kilometres away Pat expelled hatred and bile as she yelled into the receiver, "Leave her alone. You monsters. Leave her alone."

And then - two sounds, intermingled as one: a sound that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

First, the leaden sound of a heavy boot crashing down on a mobile 'phone, distorted through the miles, distorted through the wires, distorted through the broken vocal chords of her daughter's scream: her daughter's last breath.

And then - silence.