by Robin Wrigely
black coffee
‘C’mon Lori for heaven’s sake, wake up, will you? I told
you not to get so pissed last night cos we had this trip booked this morning.
Get up and get bloody dressed or we’re going to miss the
boat’.
‘Leave me alone. I don’t want to go on any bloody
boat trip.’
‘But we’ve paid for it Lori.’ Katy was getting
angry now as she knew her friend could be really lazy and stubborn at times like
this. She had witnessed it so many times in the past.
So what? Tell ‘em I’m sick or something. You’re
pretty good at excuses’. Lori pulled the pillow over her head as she rolled away
from Katy.
‘Alright that’s it. I’m never ever going with you
on holiday again, Lori Chalmers. You’ve been nothing but a pain in the arse
since we left home, and this is the last straw.’ With that Katy picked up her
bag and stormed out of the room slamming the door behind her.
The two girls had arranged this trip to New Zealand
at the last minute. Katy only came to accompany Lori to get her out of this huge
well of depression she had fallen into when her boyfriend Danny unceremoniously
dumped her on her birthday.
The trip was an all-in deal booked on last minute
deal and covered a four week’s tour of New Zealand. They had just explored the
volcanoes around Rotorua when a tout suggested the trip to White Island to see
the famous volcano out there.
Having managed to get back to sleep for a few hours
Lori staggered out of bed and headed for the bathroom. She was desperate for the
toilet. Sitting on the toilet she mulled over the thoughts most prominent in her
state of alcoholic depression. She flushed the toilet, walked back into the
room, switched on the television and fell back on the bed.
On the television two significant things caused her
to sit up and audibly gasp. The first were the huge plumes of smoke emitting
from what the television presenter said was White Island. The second was the
time. She had been asleep five hours since Katy left.
‘Jesus,’ was all she could exclaim through the
fingers of the hand clasped over her mouth. Having watched and listened to the
report of the catastrophe that had occurred at the site where Katy was and where
she, herself should have been, tears sprung into her eyes.
Minutes later standing under the welcome relief of
the shower a plan started to formulate in her mind. Everyone would think she was
caught up in that disaster. Just like some those people she read about in the
papers covering the tower block fire in London, she was going to
disappear.
It was time for a change. Wipe out the miseries of
her past life and start afresh. She started to hum as she completed her shower.
She had a lot to do.
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