Andrea's Secret

by John Kelly

Julian Knowles was in a state of uncertainty. His mind was swimming in a sea of intrigue. Maria Stewart had opened up a minefield of information, which he neither sought to know, nor wanted to know. Like it or not however, he realized he could no longer look upon these people with whom he now found himself linked with the same innocent detachment. He was hooked at both ends. He liked Maria Stewart and he liked Richard, and Elsie was Richard's mother. Elsie, he now learned, had an adopted daughter, Andrea, who had died recently, and who was Maria Stewart's biological sister. He more than liked Michelle, and now he had to conceal from her, facts he was aware of, that directly effected her. 'And who was Warwick Steedman, this overbearing big brother of Richard's, who paid all the bills but had no personal contact or interest in Richard? And Michelle? How could she get involved with that weirdo, whacko, bible bashing dickhead, Douglas Bilby?' It was difficult enough coming to terms with the realization that his life with Annette was sliding away, down the slippery slope of ambivalence. Their childless union of five years, had earlier happier moments, but recently things had fallen flat. She seemed disinterested, detached, in another world almost. Her involvement in the charismatic side of Christian fellowship, which had led to an unhealthy fundamentalist bent, worried him. There were too many 'Praise the Lord,' ejaculations, too many, 'That is the evil work of Satan,' pronouncements coming from her lips, often in the most innocent of circumstances. Satan seemed such a clever fellow. He was everywhere!

  Julian was familiar with Satan. Raised a Catholic, he had long since rejected its teaching on Satan, and in the process rejected the Catholic Church. Looking back on his formative years, he realised the church was little more than a bully. Priests, brothers, nuns, had threatened him relentlessly with the everlasting fires of hell. He had suffered nightmares as a child. He had woken up some mornings in a cold sweat. In the end however, it all became counter productive. In his early adult years, rather than frighten him into submission, it became a way out. 'If I don't believe, then it cannot harm me,' he reasoned. 'Those ensnared within its doctrines and dogmas were on a never-ending merry-go-round of entrapment. The only way to escape was to challenge its credibility and authority.' In so doing, Julian believed the only reason the church existed was to perpetuate itself. Once he accepted this, he viewed all religions as human invention, and this became his gateway to the world of the Atheist. He became a free man. Annette's obsession with Christian fundamentalism marked the beginning of the downward slide in their life together, although he didn't realize it at the time. Her increasing lack of interest in sex compounded the problems in their relationship. Her life and his became not one, but two different lives under one roof. They shared the same bed, the same meals, the same friends, well almost, but their minds were streets apart.

  As Julian drove home that early evening, he wrestled with the avalanche of information gleaned from his visit with Maria earlier. He was embarrassed that he had unwittingly revealed his feelings for Michelle to Maria, but at the same time pleased that he had shared something with his friend. He knew she would treat the matter in confidence and with great sensitivity. He looked at his watch and realized that the prayer meeting was now in full swing. Should he go? In the end, his heart ruled his head and he made his way to the hall. Travelling along Doncaster Road, he arrived at the intersection with Turner Street, and noticed his taxi parked on the taxi rank on the corner. Robert Steedman was sitting quietly in the front seat. 'First night,' he thought. 'I wonder how he's doing?'

  As he turned right, and drove the car into the car park at the side of the hall, he could hear the all too familiar singing coming from inside. The organ was playing which meant that Michelle was there. He could also hear the sounds of tambourines and guitars. 'How am I to handle this?' he thought to himself. 'Perhaps I shouldn't go in.' Through the open window he caught a glimpse of Pastor Doug leading the throng. 'Bloody dickhead,' he thought. 'Bloody cheek of the fellow to fake his way through all this pious crap when all along he's having an affair with Michelle. What an arsehole!' Julian knew that he could do nothing about Pastor Doug without upsetting Michelle and to confront him would only ruin any chance he may have with her. Still the temptation to ridicule him was strong. As he entered the rear door he could see Annette and Margaret together, holding hands as they sang. There were perhaps forty people present and the positive energy that flowed from their voices, their body English, was unmistakable. They had no idea what was about to happen.

  Outside, across the road, Robert sat in his taxi. He was restless. For two hours he had sat at the rank waiting for work. His opportunities to make some money were limited. The GPS dispatch system was foreign to him. There was no on-going radio contact and the silence unsettled him. He was never sure where he was in the queue, and constantly re-plotted to check his position. The screen read, 'You are No 4/ Jobs last hour: 1.' 'Jesus,' he thought to himself, 'If it stays like this I'll be here another four hours before I get another job.' From across the road, he could hear the harmonious sounds of the faithful singing under Pastor Doug's direction. This too, unsettled him. He was not religious, he was not anything, he was a man without direction in his life, and he resented the fellowship he imagined existed in the hall. His mind was stuffed with thoughts of receiving his inheritance from Andrea's estate. The annuity provisions explained to him at the family meeting were confusing. His principle interest was in receiving the ten thousand dollars cash that his brother Warwick had mentioned. His mind was also consumed with thoughts of blackmail. How would Warwick's wife Susan react if she were told about the woman from Warwick's office? Using the newly acquired mobile phone provided by Alberto, he decided to ring Warwick and apply some pressure,

  It was Susan who answered the phone.

  "Hello," she said.

  "Hello Susan, it's Robert here, could I speak with Warwick please?" Susan didn't like Robert and was happy not to engage in small talk. "Just a moment Robert," she answered. Moments later Warwick picked up the phone. "Yes Robert what is it?" he said impatiently. "Haven't interrupted anything have I?" Robert said smugly. "No, but its getting late. What can I do for you?" he replied. "Well, I'm sitting in a taxi doing fuck all right now, and I think we should have a little talk. I think you should get in your car and come to the corner of Doncaster Road and Turner Street. I'll be in the car park." There was a brief moment's silence before Warwick answered. "Now why would I want to do that?" he asked.

  "Because," Robert continued, "Two nights ago, I saw you in Lygon street, in Carlton, in a very interesting position with that receptionist woman from your office, that's why."

  There was no sound from the other end as Robert waited for a response. He continued to wait, determined that he would let his brother sweat it out. Finally, Warwick spoke. "I'll be there in ten minutes." The grin on Robert's face was broad. "Excellent," he said, and turned his phone off.

  Across the road in the hall, the singing had subsided, and the gathering was now infused with the melodic and harmonious sound of people praying in tongues. The first time Julian heard this phenomenon, two weeks earlier, he was somewhat bemused. On this next occasion however, he was overtaken by the sincerity and conviction of those who practiced it. Not for one minute did he believe that it was divinely inspired, but then, 'What was it that caused otherwise sane, normal people to engage in gibberish?' he thought. It was a sobering moment for Julian which caused him to forget his animosity toward Pastor Doug. Instead, he stood and listened to what was, by any standard, a beautiful, unrehearsed, and spontaneous response to Pastor Doug's prayers. When it came to a slow, subsiding conclusion, there was only silence. But for the traffic outside passing along Doncaster Road, one could hear one's own breathing. As happened on Julian's previous visit, various people then began uttering prophetic impulses, an experience with little or no rational explanation, an experience born of a deep abiding faith that they were being moved by the Holy Spirit to say whatever came into their heads. Julian noticed Michelle. She was standing by the organ, her eyes
closed, her arms spread out in front, in a trance-like state. To him she never looked more angelic, more beautiful.

  Pastor Doug concluded the prayer and praise, with a brief expression of gratitude and appreciation that so many had come to the meeting. He then asked everyone to sit down. He drew breath and began to speak?.

  "The Lord," he said, "came to me in a dream last night, and told me not to worry. I was not alone he said. You have nothing to fear, he said. Your pain is real, but beyond that, you have nothing to fear. Your pain is the manifestation of an intimidating force that has captured your mind. It has captured you, but it cannot hold you, for you are free of complicity. It is an evil invasion, but its source is weak. Its source will evaporate if and when you confront it. Even the knowledge of its tenuous hold, its parasitic clasp, will help you overcome the pain you feel each time it invades your mind." Pastor Doug spoke with an air of sadness, but also defiance as if answering a challenge. The congregation were taken by surprise as he spoke. "Go to the source in your reflections, and root it out, the Lord said. Isolate it, so that it stands naked, its own fragile nature exposed. You are strong, it is weak. That is why it provokes and intimidates you. It fears you. That is why it bullies, and tries to dominate you."

  The congregation listened in stunned silence. This was a departure from Pastor Doug's mainstream sermons. One or two members of his flock looked to the person next to them as if to ask, What is wrong? Why is he speaking like this? Julian too, felt something was wrong. Pastor Doug continued.

  "The Lord came to me in a dream last night to help me overcome my fear. From deep within me, there is a part of him that lives, and he promised to guide me, for he was a gentle, kind, and strong man. He knew how to cope with intimidators, bullies and others who hide their own weaknesses behind a veneer of propriety while persecuting others." From around the hall a few murmurings could be heard, people became unsettled. A heaviness filled the hall. Still, Pastor Doug went on?

  "Forgiveness and reconciliation will take away the pain, the Lord said. Engage with the source in the spirit of peace and a genuine desire to restore and normalize relations. Untie the knots. Let the strands hang free. Release yourself from what pains you, he said, and your actions will release others from their pain. Each of us carries pain inflicted by others. Unwittingly, we in turn react in ways that hurt others. Most often, we don't realize we are doing this. Most often, we are simply protecting ourselves from further pain."

  Pastor Doug then looked paternally upon his charges. "Forgive those who have caused you pain, and talk with them," he said. "Let them know how you feel. Sometimes we have to expose ourselves, our fragile nature, our sensitivities. Sometimes we have to take risks and hope that in doing so we might help others untie their knots. Forgive, Engage, Apologize, and Reconcile. Banish fear," he concluded. The congregation sat in silence, unsure how to respond. Pastor Doug then thanked them for their support and asked everyone to stand and join in singing 'Over Many Summers.' The people stood, Michelle played the introduction and Pastor Doug led the singing. He continued singing with the people until they were in full swing, and then as the singing reached a plateau, he quietly made his way to the door behind the podium, and entered the rear office. Few even noticed.

  Outside, across the road in the car-park, two men sat in a taxi. "What do you want?" Warwick Steedman asked his brother Robert. "I want five thousand dollars," he said without blinking, without stumbling, without fear. Warwick looked relieved. "I can arrange ten thousand for you tomorrow from Andrea's estate," he said. "No," Robert interrupted, "I want five thousand from you. The ten thousand from Andrea has nothing to do with this." Warwick stared at him, as his anger began to rise up from inside and burn. "You listen to me you snivelling little shit head," he said. "Don't you dare threaten me. My personal life is my business. Don't interfere, I'm warning you." Robert knew he had the upper hand. Ordinarily if Warwick had spoken to him like this, he would have caved in, but he felt strong. For the first time he was experiencing power. He knew he had the means to bring Warwick to heel. "You can say anything you like. I'm not afraid of you anymore. You're just an ordinary person with the same weaknesses and failings as everybody else. You had me bluffed for a long time, but when I saw you with that woman in the car-park, I thought, well, well, well, he may be a big successful PR man, but underneath all of that, he's no better than the rest of us. So, say what you like, but if I don't get the five thousand by the weekend, Susan gets to hear about your little bit on the side, and that I suspect will cost you far more than what I'm asking," he said defiantly.

  As Robert spoke, the lights at the intersection turned red on the Doncaster Road traffic. The noise level subsided and suddenly there was a sharp, loud, cracking sound from across the road. Both men heard it, and turned their heads in the direction of the hall.

  "What the hell was that?" Warwick said. Within seconds, screams could be heard from inside the hall. Then some people came rushing out, running towards the car park.

  "Something's happened across the road," he added. Robert was unmoved. This was an unnecessary distraction. He wanted his meeting with Warwick concluded. "It's none of our business," he said trying to re-direct Warwick's attention. "So, do we have an understanding or not?" Warwick's did not answer. His attention was focused on one of the ladies he saw running from the hall. "Christ," he said, "that's Margaret over there!" Robert looked in the direction of the hall. "Margaret who?" he asked. "Our sister, you fucking idiot!" Warwick replied. "Come on, let's get over there."

  As the two men made their way across the road, inside the hall it was pandemonium. Many in the hall, had rushed outside once they realized what had happened, including Margaret and Annette. Some of those who remained inside were sitting, crying, some were in shock, some were frantically calling the police and ambulance on their mobile phones. In the midst of the chaos that followed the sound of the shot, it was Julian who reacted first. He ran toward the door and tried to open it, but it was locked from the inside. Julian instinctively put his foot up to the door, and with one hefty thrust, split the timber door, broke the lock, and the door flew open.

  Inside, Pastor Doug lay in a pool of blood, half his head blown off, with bits and pieces of flesh and brain scattered around different parts of the walls and floor. Directly behind Julian, Michelle rushed in. She took one look at the carnage and screamed, taking several steps back before she collapsed onto the floor, hitting her head on the side of the organ. As morbid as his last sermon had been, no one suspected that this was Pastor Doug's final statement to the world. No one suspected the depth of his depression and the torment that he had been suffering. As Warwick and Robert made their way through the front entrance, the rear office area was blocked with half a dozen people, clamouring to see what had happened. Outside, the sound of an ambulance could be heard in the distance. Warwick ran outside towards the car-park, where he had seen Margaret running. Moments later, he found her on the ground, curled up in the foetal position, clinging to Annette, both of them resting against the front tyre of Margaret's car. Both women were in shock, holding on to each other and shivering. Inside, Robert made his way to the rear office. He pushed people aside as he tried to see what had happened. He got to the door, and looked in to find Julian, sitting on the floor and clutching his foot, his trousers, shirt and hands covered in blood. Alongside him, lay the body of Pastor Doug.

  Outside, Warwick tried to comfort his sister. "It's all right, Margaret, you're safe. Nothing is going to happen to either of you. Do you have a rug or something in the car?" Still shaking, Margaret fumbled for her car keys. "Julian," Annette said, "I should see what's happened to Julian," she said as Warwick retrieved a rug from inside the car and began to drape it around the two women. "Don't leave me," Margaret screamed hysterically, "don't leave me." As she spoke, Robert came to the car. Warwick turned towards him. "What happened in there?" he asked.

  "I don't know," he answered. "There's a man lying on the floor in the back room. I think he's
dead. There's blood everywhere. There's a taxi driver in there, I know him," Robert said. "I just met him today. He's in there with blood all over him. I don't know if he's the one who did it or what?" Annette listened as Robert spoke to Warwick. "That's Julian, my husband," Annette cried. "He broke down the door when we heard the shot." The deafening sounds of the ambulance magnified as the MICA unit arrived. Close on their heels, the police car, its siren also blaring, pulled into the car park and two officers jumped out and ran inside. Seconds later, a second ambulance arrived and a second police car. "What happened? What did you see?" Warwick asked Annette. "Pastor Doug, Pastor Doug," she said as she gulped for air. "He shot himself, in the back room, he shot himself, why, why, why?" she pleaded, as Margaret began to scream again. "Robert, can you race over to my car. There's a brandy flask in the glove box? These two need some reinforcement," Warwick said as he handed Robert his keys. Robert nodded silently, and made his way across the street back to the car park.

  Inside, the police had taken control of the situation and an uneasy calm developed. One of ambulance crew tended to the dead body, the other tended to those who required medical assistance. Michelle had recovered, although she had blood coming from the back of her head, and she began to scream. The ambulance officer gave her a sedative, and she agreed to be taken to hospital for observation. Julian was also advised to go to hospital and have his foot x-rayed. The police began taking names and asked for those willing and steady enough to make a statement. As Michelle and Julian were escorted outside, and assisted into the ambulance, Annette saw them and ran to her husband. "Julian, Julian," she cried. "It's all right, I'm okay. I'm going to go to the hospital with Michelle," Julian said. "I have to have my foot looked at, and Michelle will need a bit of support. Could you go home and get some clothes for me. A pair of trousers, a shirt and some sneakers and bring them to the hospital? Can you do that?"

  Warwick and Robert helped Margaret to her feet and brought her over to the ambulance. "We'll do that for you," Warwick said, "Which hospital are you taking them?" Warwick asked the driver. "Box Hill," the driver replied. "Okay," Warwick said. "We'll take care of your wife and come to the hospital." Julian looked at Warwick quizzically. "Who are you?" he asked. "I'm Warwick, I'm Margaret's brother. Is the young lady hurt?" he asked, referring to Michelle. "She's in shock, and she has a cut at the back of her head. The officer has sedated her," Julian replied. The driver then asked everybody to step aside as he closed the rear door of the ambulance.

  As the ambulance sped off, the MICA officer tended to Michelle. She was drowsy and restless. "It's my fault," she said. "It's all my fault." Julian took her hand. "Don't talk, just rest," he said. "This wouldn't have happened if only I had talked to him," she said. Julian stroked her hand gently. "Don't talk," he said. "Just rest."

  Back at the hall, Robert returned from the car park across the road with a flask of brandy. Warwick poured a nip and handed it to Margaret. "Here take this, it will settle your nerves," he said. As Margaret drank, something bothered Warwick. "Who was the young lady in the ambulance?" he asked. "That's Michelle, she plays the organ," Margaret answered, She's very fond?" Before Margaret could finish, Annette cut her off. "I think I'd like some of that," she said, asking for some brandy. "Michelle is part of our congregation," Annette, said, giving Margaret a side look. "Why do you ask?" Warwick handed her a brandy nip. "Nothing, she just looks familiar, that's all," he said. "By the way, I'm Warwick, Margaret's brother. You are??" Annette took a sip of brandy. "I'm Annette," she said. "Annette," Margaret said, "This is my brother Warwick, and this is my other brother Robert. What were you two doing here anyway?" she asked. Both men looked at each other and stumbled, not knowing what to say. "Er, we were just having a discussion about some things, weren't we Warwick?" Robert said. "Yes," Warwick replied, "a bit of a chat, that's all. Now, let's get you home to pick up some clothes for your husband," he said to Annette.

  28.