A book of silences

Chapter six - the attack

"Running late!" muttered Cat, as she rushed into her studio and started to fling various items into large plastic boxes arranged along the wall, before pushing them into the corner of her studio. With her obsession with classification, this was the closest to messy that Cat ever got; even then, only certain things could go into certain boxes.

"Shall I help?" asked her studio partner, Rachel. She grinned at Cat's over-loud 'No!' Along with a barely seen printmaking student called Chloe, they'd shared a studio for a couple of years, and whilst not close friends, they had an affectionate regard for each other's foibles and character. Cat thought that Rachel - a loud, greenie political film maker - was overly concerned with the social life at the college (i.e. drinking and shagging lots of men), but she enjoyed having the studio mostly to herself, and found her approach to life (especially men), refreshing. Rachel thought Cat was just plain bonkers.

Cat grabbed her shoulder bag and swung it up over her head, staggering at the weight. Another drawback to being small and obsessive, transporting all the books, pencils, tools and found objects she felt essential for her day-to-day functioning was a real pain. She settled it heavily onto her shoulder and gave Rachel a quick wave as she left.

She'd arranged to meet her friends at Banjo's Cafe at six, and it was five past already. Not that it would worry them, she thought with a grimace, Bev's idea of timekeeping was so elastic she had been known to miss a presentation by a whole day, whilst Bee just plain forgot. She knew they wouldn't care if she was late or not, but still began a staggering run through the corridors, dodging chattering students. She waved at Joey-the-guard at reception as she passed him.

"Late, late, late!" she muttered to herself as she emerged from the College, bag banging painfully on her lower back. Lateness was one of her major dislikes, and she hated it in herself even more than in others. It didn't stop her from pausing as she emerged from the Art School, however, to take in the city in the twilight; the autumn light here was fantastic, and the mountain looming over the city seemed to bring the scene together. It was the best thing about the city, as far as she was concerned.

Another good thing about living in Hobart, she thought, as she began a staggering dog trot, was the closeness of everything - a quick run across town could literally be that. She dodged bollards and mooring ropes as she loped along next to the docks, enjoying the bustle of the local pleasure yachts and floating fish and chip shops, and thought briefly about living on a boat. "Not enough space," she muttered, noticing the size of the vessels in the harbour, "but no cats." A quick sprint across the main road, ignoring the pedestrian lights and giving an irate driver the finger as she cut in front of him, then onwards in the growing dark, reaching an unusually deserted little side alley that led towards the cafe. She had to stop briefly to catch her breath, then pressed on at a more sedate pace. She didn't want the others to see her arrive all sweaty and puffed out as though she'd hurried, so slowed even more, walking leisurely in the gathering gloom, enjoying the evening.

 She entered Wellington Square via Kemp Street, a little 'U' shaped alley that served as a delivery route for the TAFE College and other nearby businesses. It was dark and had no streetlights along most of its length but tended to be busy as it was a shortcut into the city. Today it was deserted, with no shoppers using the now closed arcade as a shortcut, or TAFE students gossiping and smoking outside the fire doors. There were also none of the street people about, who tended to congregate here prior to finding somewhere to sleep.

Strange, thought Cat standing in the deserted square and looking around. This is the first time I've been here with no-one about. She felt watched, and slowly made a complete turn, peering into shadows and doorway. There was nothing, no movement except for a few scraps of paper that moved slightly in the evening breeze. The shadows seemed deeper, somehow, and the lights dimmed; even the city sounds seemed muted as though behind glass. All of a sudden Cat got the feeling she should not be here, she should be somewhere else, and she looked around for her exit.