Free After Ariel: It started as a game by Diana Hockley Page A

squinted at the dial and cringed. Someone had set the alarm for 3.45am.
    When I was about twelve and staying on Masters Island with my best friend Ally and her mother, Aunt Eloise, we used to sneak the alarm clock into our room, set it for three o’clock and stow it under one of our pillows. When it was my turn, I always woke up, stabbed at the “off” button with shaking fingers, scared that Ally’s mother, Aunt Eloise, would hear it and come to investigate.
    Quivering with excitement, we would get dressed and sneak out into the moonlight – it was always a full moon the nights we went prowling – and roam at will on the island. It never occurred to us that we might come across someone who would hurt us, even though the island had lots of holiday makers most of the year round, for didn’t we always take our dogs along on our adventures? Fortunately we didn’t come to any harm, the most punishment incurred being the delicious secrets – neighbours being in places they shouldn’t, for example – that we couldn’t tell for fear of getting into trouble ourselves. Our mothers were horrified when we confessed years later of the scams we got up to at night.
    A vestige of light shone through the window; I glanced around the room remembering I was Goldie’s guest and the major concert of my tour was tonight! I yawned, hauled myself out of bed and headed for the bathroom feeling like a squashed beetle. Downstairs the sound of the electric jug coming to the boil indicating Goldie was up, getting ready to go out early on a photo shoot. I would join her for a cup of coffee and then get back to bed.
     Doing a tour is exhausting as well as exhilarating. Perhaps there would be time for a nap after rehearsal with a Russian wolf and a run through with the orchestra. My reflection in the mirror, drowned in toothpaste and tangled hair didn’t inspire confidence in my ability to ‘scrub up.’ When I got downstairs, Goldie was downstairs drinking coffee, her camera and tripod nearby.
    ‘Help yourself, love. I’m going to nick off and take some shots of the river at the bottom of the park and the ferry terminal.’ She jerked her head in the general direction of the park. ‘I’ve got to do an article and get some photos of the river and the rowers for KRL magazine in California. Only a small job, but it all helps and it won’t take long. It’ll be light soon. There’s eggs and bacon in the fridge, so just help yourself.’ She nodded at the dress which I had slung over shoulder. ‘The ironing board’s in the laundry and the iron’s in the cupboard.’
    She poured the dregs of her coffee into the sink, went to the backdoor and pulled on her boots. ‘Okay, see you in a coupla hours!’ She gathered up her gear.
    ‘Oh Goldie, have you a spare message stick I can use later today?’
    ‘I haven’t got a spare one on me, but I’ll get one from the office while I’m out this morning and give it to you this arvo. I’ll leave it in the fruit bowl.’ She pointed to the all-purpose shallow bowl on the counter, filled with bits and pieces. ‘Do you want to borrow a camera?’
    Goldie went to a cupboard and took a professional-looking camera off the shelf. ‘You can take my Nikon 2. I left it in the car the other day and I’ve got my new 4 here, so I don’t need it!’
    ‘Crikey, Goldie, this looks too good for me!’
    ‘Don’t be silly, it’s my old one. If you lose it or break it, it’s insured.’
    ‘Well, thanks so much. I’ll look after it, believe me. I need to be at the concert hall early for rehearsal. I should be back here by two. How do the buses run around here?’ I sold my car before I went overseas last spring. Note to self: get car ASAP.
    Goldie shucked her keys over to me. ‘Here, take my car. I’ll catch the bus into town later and walk. I don’t have to be anywhere else this morning.’
    Gratefully, I put the keys on the bench beside me and hurried upstairs to put the camera in my carry bag to