your car, an old
Holden, and head down the highway, your usual route home. Picture the highway
at night. Almost midnight. No street lighting, cloudy moon, very few cars
about, no sense of humankind out there except for a farmhouse porch light on a
distant hillside. Its a hot night, the hills are steep in places, your car
badly needs a tune. Eventually the radiator boils over. You limp as far as the
gravelled area in front of Foursquare Produce, which is a huge barn of a place,
set in the middle of nowhere, but there is a Telstra phone box nearby.
No doors on it, very little glass, mostly steel mesh painted blue-grey. Feeling
exposed to the darkness, you call the VAA.
He slipped a cassette tape into a
machine and pressed the play button. They strained to listen:
Victorian Automobile Association.
How may I help you?
Yes, my names Jane Gideon. My cars
broken down. I think its the radiator. Im scared to keep going in case I
break something.
Your membership number?
Er
They heard a rattle of keys. Here
it is: MP six three zero zero four slash nine six.
There was a pause, then: Sorry,
we have no record of that number. Perhaps you allowed your membership to
elapse?
Please, cant you still send
someone?
Youll have to rejoin.
Jesus Christ, someone muttered.
Challis held up his hand for quiet.
I dont care. Just send someone.
How would you like to pay?
There was a pause filled with the
hiss of radio signals in the dark night. Then Jane Gideons voice came on the
line again, an edge to it.
Someones coming.
You dont require assistance after
all?
I mean, theres a car. Its slowed
right down. Hang on.
There was the sound of more coins
being fed into the phone. Im back.
The operators tone was neutral, as
though she could not sense the black night, the isolated call box and the young
womans fear. Your address, please.
Um, theres this shed, says
Foursquare Produce.
But where? Your membership number,
thats the Peninsula, correct?
Im on the Old Peninsula Highway.
Oh no, hes stopping.
Where on the highway? Can you give
me a reference point? A house number? An intersecting road?
Its a man. Oh God.
The operators tone sharpened. Jane,
listen, is something going on there where you are?
A car.
Is there a house nearby?
No. She was sobbing now. No house
anywhere, just this shed.
Ill tell you what Im going to do.
You
Its okay, hes driving away.
Jane. Get inside your car. If its
driveable, find somewhere off the road where it cant be seen. Maybe behind
that shed. Then stay inside the car. Lock all the doors and wind up all the
windows. Can you do that for me?
Suppose so.
Meanwhile Ill call the police, and
Ill also send one of our breakdown vehicles out to you. You can rejoin the VAA
on the spot. Okay? Jane? You there?
What if he comes back? Im scared.
Ive never been so scared.
Her voice was breaking as her fear
rose. The operator replied calmly, but there was no comfort in her advice: Get
in the car, lock the doors, do not speak to anyone, even if they offer help.
I could hide.
Clearly the operator was torn. The
Victorian Automobile Association had been taping its emergency calls ever since
a member had sued them for offering wrong advice which proved costly, with the
result that operators were now careful not to offer advice of any kindbut a
young woman alone on a deserted road at night? She deserved wise counsel of
some kind.
I dont know, the operator confessed. If you
think it would do any good. Hide where? Hello? Hello?
There was the sound of a vehicle,
muffled voices, a long pause, then the line went dead.
The rest you know, Challis said. The
VAA operator called 000, who contacted Frankston, who sent a car down there.
They found Jane Gideons car. The phone was on the hook. No signs of a
struggle. They searched around the nearby sheds and orchards in case Gideon had decided to hide herself, but found nothing. He glanced at his watch. Uniforms
started searching the area at
Holden, and head down the highway, your usual route home. Picture the highway
at night. Almost midnight. No street lighting, cloudy moon, very few cars
about, no sense of humankind out there except for a farmhouse porch light on a
distant hillside. Its a hot night, the hills are steep in places, your car
badly needs a tune. Eventually the radiator boils over. You limp as far as the
gravelled area in front of Foursquare Produce, which is a huge barn of a place,
set in the middle of nowhere, but there is a Telstra phone box nearby.
No doors on it, very little glass, mostly steel mesh painted blue-grey. Feeling
exposed to the darkness, you call the VAA.
He slipped a cassette tape into a
machine and pressed the play button. They strained to listen:
Victorian Automobile Association.
How may I help you?
Yes, my names Jane Gideon. My cars
broken down. I think its the radiator. Im scared to keep going in case I
break something.
Your membership number?
Er
They heard a rattle of keys. Here
it is: MP six three zero zero four slash nine six.
There was a pause, then: Sorry,
we have no record of that number. Perhaps you allowed your membership to
elapse?
Please, cant you still send
someone?
Youll have to rejoin.
Jesus Christ, someone muttered.
Challis held up his hand for quiet.
I dont care. Just send someone.
How would you like to pay?
There was a pause filled with the
hiss of radio signals in the dark night. Then Jane Gideons voice came on the
line again, an edge to it.
Someones coming.
You dont require assistance after
all?
I mean, theres a car. Its slowed
right down. Hang on.
There was the sound of more coins
being fed into the phone. Im back.
The operators tone was neutral, as
though she could not sense the black night, the isolated call box and the young
womans fear. Your address, please.
Um, theres this shed, says
Foursquare Produce.
But where? Your membership number,
thats the Peninsula, correct?
Im on the Old Peninsula Highway.
Oh no, hes stopping.
Where on the highway? Can you give
me a reference point? A house number? An intersecting road?
Its a man. Oh God.
The operators tone sharpened. Jane,
listen, is something going on there where you are?
A car.
Is there a house nearby?
No. She was sobbing now. No house
anywhere, just this shed.
Ill tell you what Im going to do.
You
Its okay, hes driving away.
Jane. Get inside your car. If its
driveable, find somewhere off the road where it cant be seen. Maybe behind
that shed. Then stay inside the car. Lock all the doors and wind up all the
windows. Can you do that for me?
Suppose so.
Meanwhile Ill call the police, and
Ill also send one of our breakdown vehicles out to you. You can rejoin the VAA
on the spot. Okay? Jane? You there?
What if he comes back? Im scared.
Ive never been so scared.
Her voice was breaking as her fear
rose. The operator replied calmly, but there was no comfort in her advice: Get
in the car, lock the doors, do not speak to anyone, even if they offer help.
I could hide.
Clearly the operator was torn. The
Victorian Automobile Association had been taping its emergency calls ever since
a member had sued them for offering wrong advice which proved costly, with the
result that operators were now careful not to offer advice of any kindbut a
young woman alone on a deserted road at night? She deserved wise counsel of
some kind.
I dont know, the operator confessed. If you
think it would do any good. Hide where? Hello? Hello?
There was the sound of a vehicle,
muffled voices, a long pause, then the line went dead.
The rest you know, Challis said. The
VAA operator called 000, who contacted Frankston, who sent a car down there.
They found Jane Gideons car. The phone was on the hook. No signs of a
struggle. They searched around the nearby sheds and orchards in case Gideon had decided to hide herself, but found nothing. He glanced at his watch. Uniforms
started searching the area at
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