Dancing Queen

Jamie was happy living in London. A young professional with cash to spare, she had a wide circle of friends with regular invites to fabulous parties, full of good humour, potent cocktails, and dancing, there was always dancing.

Jamie loved to dance. The music or the occasion never mattered, she was always first on the dance floor. Her father, a professional ballroom dancer until his mid-thirties, runs a dance academy. Jamie, along with her two siblings, attended classes three afternoons a week, throughout their school years.

She has always been close to her family and is missing them, terribly. Why then did Jamie move halfway around the world? Was it for love?

Reality television would have us believe that to be interesting to others we must have a backstory, something that sets us apart from everyone else, that shows we deserve a shot at … what? Fame? Fortune? A chance to be someone?

Jamie came to Australia to be no one. To be unseen. To be forgotten.

If only she too could forget.

***

It started out as many a Friday night before. Jamie’s boyfriend, Cameron, was away with his rugby mates and she was at a launch party for a new vodka brand. By ten Jamie was ready to leave. By eleven, not even the offer of free Espresso Martinis until midnight was enough to keep her there.

Jamie didn’t want to risk offending her host, so she snuck out a side door and asked the Uber driver to pick her up at the next main intersection, a brisk five minutes’ walk from the venue.

The night was cool, but not cold. Jamie left her calf length, peacock blue coat unbuttoned and made her way down the steps and along the footpath. Heavy footsteps fell in behind her. Jamie crossed the road and as she did, she glanced over her right shoulder. There was a man, three houses back, dressed in typical London office attire, with a satchel across his body and over-ear headphones. He too crossed the road, his head downcast.

Jamie relaxed. He looked safe. Most likely a commuter coming home after drinks with his mates. Annoyed with herself for letting fear get the better of her, she turned right.

That’s when it happened.

Two thick, muscular arms reached out and wrapped around her body, pinning her own arms to her sides. Jamie was pulled through shrubbery and forced to the ground. One hand covered her mouth. The other went up her skirt, pulling her underwear down, tearing skin from her thighs. Jamie tried to fight but her attacker was too strong – she would learn later he was high on ice - and too determined. There was no time to think. He loosened his grip only long enough to pull down his pants.

Afterwards, she will recall every detail.

Every punch to her face.

Every whispered threat in her ear.

But in the moment, all she could hear, all she could smell, was her own fear.

His weight pressed down on her, making it hard for Jamie to draw breath. Then suddenly, the weight of him was gone. A man shouted, “call the police”. She heard a grunt. Someone jumped over her, their foot clipped the side of her head.

Jamie sat up. Her head spun; her vision blurred. The commuter was kneeling nearby, his mouth was open, his eyes wide. Something shiny protruded from his chest.

‘Help! Please help me!’ Jamie screamed.

A woman ran from one of the nearby homes. She removed her jumper as she dropped to her knees. She gently laid the commuter down and wrapped her clothing around the knife. She instructed someone to apply pressure.

Sirens wailed.

Paramedics arrived.

There were more hands on her body.

The rest of the night and the days that followed added to Jamie’s trauma. The commuter died. The police failed to catch Jamie’s attacker, now murderer. Every news station in the country wanted to interview Jamie. Her friends and colleagues wanted to know what happened. Her parents wanted her to come home. Cameron was guilt-ridden. As the weeks dragged on, with no suspect in custody, Jamie felt herself sinking into darkness.

Depressed.

Afraid.

Alone.

Jamie’s world narrowed.

Then Cameron’s employer offered him a job in Australia. At the time, it felt like a way out, a chance to escape, to create a new life for themselves. They took hold of the opportunity offered and ran.

***

Three months on, Jamie is still lost. With no way back to her old life, she’s desperate to find a way forward with this one and started seeing a psychiatrist. The work is slow and painful. Jamie isn’t sure how much it’s helping. It’s after five and she still hasn’t been to the supermarket, the house is dark and cold. Jamie worries there’s a limit to Cameron’s patience.

 

‘Come on. Let’s have a look at him,’ Cameron encourages Jamie, early the following Saturday morning.

‘I’m not sure.’ Jamie shelters behind Cameron.

‘Doctor Mailman suggested you start taking some risks. This is a way of helping you do that and feel safe. It’ll be good for you. For us.’

The animal shelter worker is holding out a lead, waiting for Jamie to take it.

‘You ‘right?’ The worker looks from Jamie to Cameron.

Cameron gives Jamie a nudge with his hip. ‘Course she is. It’s just been a while since she’s been around dogs. Hasn’t it, James?’

Jamie nods as she takes the lead. ‘Can we even have a dog with our lease?’

‘Sure can. Aussies love dogs and my boss got it all sorted for us. Come on, let’s show Gus how nice we are. Bet he’s feeling a bit anxious.’

He’s not the only one, thinks Jamie.

 

‘Ready, Gus?’ Gus nudges Jamie’s leg, then sits expectantly. Jamie attaches the lead to his collar. ‘Okay. Let’s go.’

In the four weeks since bringing Gus home, their daily walks have increased in distance and now include a long run for Gus in a leash free dog park. Jamie has to admit, Cameron was right. Getting a dog was good for her, for them. Gus gives Jamie a sense of purpose every day and his temperament is the perfect fit for her.

Gus, a mixed breed of unknown origin, is obedient, calm, and protective. Wherever she is, Jamie feels safe with Gus, knowing he has her back. So much so, Cameron has to announce himself at the doorway when coming home late at night, if he wants to avoid a repeat of the terrifying night Gus had Cameron backed up against the wall. Teeth gnashing, fur bristling, Gus was ready to rip Cameron’s throat out before Jamie calmly commanded him to “leave”.

The first time Jamie took Gus to the dog park she was terrified; of losing Gus, of the other dogs, but most of all, of their owners. They all seemed to know each other. They stood in groups or sat together at one of the benches, chatting away like old friends. It was intimidating for Jamie.

She’s determined today’s going to be different. Intent on making connections within her community, Jamie pushes through the dog park gate, and her fears. She glances nervously around the park. She sees her target group, a mix of men and women of various ages, some with young children chasing after the dogs. They come to the park around this time every day. Jamie takes a deep breath. She releases Gus from his lead and walks into the group. Displaying more confidence than she feels, she introduces herself. ‘Hiya. I’m Jamie. How’s your day?’

 

‘No, that’s Roger.’ Jamie laughs at Cameron’s confusion. ‘He’s from Ireland and owns the Mt Eliza bike shop. Daniel’s the one with the cap, he paints houses. He introduced me to Patricia, whose daughter, Amarlie, runs the local community centre—’

‘And its Amarlie who interviewed you for the dance instructor job and got you thinking about doing a teaching degree.’ Cameron takes Jamie’s hand as they walk across the dog park. ‘See? I do listen.’

‘Yes. Yes, you do.’ Jamie pulls Cameron to her and wraps her arms around him, holding him close as Gus runs around them.

‘What’s this about?’ Cameron asks, smiling down at Jamie.

‘You. You listen. You care. You saved me, Cam.’ Jamie’s voice breaks.

‘You saved yourself, James. You’re the bravest woman I know.’ Cameron takes her face in his hands and kisses her. ‘I love you.’

‘Hey! What’s going on over there?’ Daniel calls out.

‘There are children present,’ Roger adds.

‘Ah. You’re just jealous, mate.’ Cameron laughs, casually placing his arm around Jamie’s shoulder.

Jamie’s phone vibrates against her left leg. She pulls it out. The display reads “Private Number”. Jamie hopes it’s Amarlie calling about the job.

‘Hello?’

‘Jamie? This is Detective Chief Inspector Rutter, from the London Met.’

‘Oh. Hello, Detective.’ Jamie reaches for Cameron’s hand.

‘I’ve got good news.’

Jamie squeezes Cameron’s hand tight.

‘We got the bastard!’