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She was elegant, independent, artistic and a little off-beat, but loved to have me visit her during school holidays, treating me as she might a son. It also relieved my mother, who was happy to get me off her hands for a few weeks, over the summer vacation. She gave piano lessons to locals, as well as conducting a twice-weekly art class, in her shack.On this occasion, I was with Joan immediately after my last year at school, until Uni started six weeks later. Her home was a single large shack, on the far outskirts of a regional town, close to the main road from Sydney that led north. She had electricity, but not town water, sewerage or gas. She had an external pit toilet, an external barbecue, an old-fashioned wood-fired stove, a few sheep and a goat, as well as a few fruit trees and a vegetable garden. She was a vegetarian, and tried to live self-sufficiently. She had no TV, so afternoons and evenings were spent talking, reading, listening to Mahler, Shostakovich, Robert Johnson,. I had no plan to get out of the room, but I figured that the first step would be to get out of the ropes. From there I could look at what to do next.I struggled against my bonds, but they were too tight. I tried cutting them with my sharp nails, but couldn't get at the rope.I thought for a bit, maybe I could use my double jointed fingers to get at the rope. With some effort I bent back my fingers to the point that I could touch the rope around my wrists, and with a bit of sawing I started to weaken the rope. It took a good twenty minutes to get the rope to the point where I was free.Running over, I checked the door. It was too solidly built to force, and I could see no way around it from the inside. I could try waiting, rely on my invisibility to protect me, then try and sneak out once they thought I was gone. It would probably work, but it might complicate getting Gwen free. There had to be another way. I looked around me, and tried to think in terms of my new abilities rather than.
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