Beneath the Mother Tree

by D. M. Cameron

  Ayla didn’t know how to reply.

  His mother collapsed into a chair, as if the act of standing took all her energy.

  Riley sat opposite. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been angry with you Mum…if you hadn’t lied about Dad –’

  Marlise cut him off with an audible sigh.

  ‘When I cleaned your house the other week, I accidentally knocked over a box under your bed. One of the letters got caught in the vacuum. I read part of it and told Riley about it.’

  His mother’s face was a mask, too hard to read.

  ‘I know you were probably waiting for the right time to show him that box yourself, but either way, it’s done now and he knows about it, even though he hasn’t seen it because when we went back it was gone. I know you told me not to vacuum under the bed. I’m sorry. I forgot.’ She said in one breath.

  ‘A box? What box? I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Marlise looked genuinely surprised.

  ‘Mum, please…I just want to know where he is. What country is he living in?’

  ‘What box is she talking about?’ His mother’s confusion seemed to be growing.

  ‘It was wooden with carvings on the lid. It had a false bottom full of letters from Riley’s father and photos of him with you and Riley.’

  ‘I have no idea what she’s talking about.’

  ‘Mum, please? Stop lying.’

  ‘Lying? I’m not the one lying here. She’s the liar.’

  Now it was Ayla’s turn to be confounded. ‘Why would I make it up?’

  ‘No doubt you showed her the photo you found –’

  ‘Mum’.

  She turned to Ayla, her wild eyes black with emotion. ‘Did he show you that photo and tell you the sob story of how angry he is because I lied to him?’

  Ayla nodded, wondering where this was heading.

  ‘I lied only to protect you Riley. She has fabricated this box of other photos to feed your anger toward me. That’s why you haven’t seen it. Because she is making it up. Can’t you see what she’s doing?’ She swung back to Ayla, cold now. ‘You’re trying to turn him against me. He hasn’t spoken to me in days. My own son. My only son. Now I know why.’

  The phone in the lounge room rang. They all ignored it. On the sixth ring, Marlise stormed out.

  ‘Remarkable, isn’t she?’ The contempt on his face made Ayla nauseous.

  Marlise stomped into the room. ‘It’s Tilly, Riley, can’t find the key to her tool shed.’ She continued to the large kitchen window, ripped open the curtains and stared out at the swamp.

  As soon as Riley left, she was in Ayla’s face, bent close, her breath repulsive. ‘Please say you made it up. You’ll turn him against me. Don’t do this to me.’

  ‘I…I can’t lie to him.’

  The madness in Marlise’s eyes frightened her.

  ‘I thought you were the one for him. If you turn him from me I’ll… who knows what I’m capable of? I’m warning you,’ she hissed.

  Riley walked into the room, watching his mother. Deflated, he sank into a chair. ‘Forget about the box. I just want to know where he is.’

  The deadness in the way he said it made Ayla want to shake Marlise. Why was she doing this to him?

  ‘I have no idea where he is.’ Marlise’s voice was controlled, but Ayla noticed one of her knee caps undergoing a wild spasm.

  ‘What’s his first name then?’ Riley asked.

  The shape of her mouth as his mother left the room made Ayla think Marlise was going to spit on her.

  ‘I don’t even know his name,’ he cried out.

  Ayla moved her chair to his and hugged him.

  ‘You should go.’

  ‘Do you want to come back to my place?’

  He studied her face like he might never see it again. ‘I can’t. I’ve started this now. I need to pursue it.’

  ‘Let’s catch up for dinner at least. Mandy wants to meet you. We were thinking of having a fire up near the cave…cook up a damper or something?’

  His eyes held no hope as he touched her face. ‘Sure. Why not?’

  She waited, trying to say something comforting, but kept coming up empty.

  ‘I’ll walk you to the corner.’

  ‘No, need. Stay and talk to her.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll text you where and when, now I’ve got your number.’ She managed a smile and left.

  The image of him slumped at the table, broken, stayed with her all the way to Hibiscus where she intercepted Grappa dragging his row boat down to the water. ‘You’re alive.’ She hugged him. ‘How was quarantine?’

  ‘Don’t want to talk about it.’ He seemed short-tempered.

  ‘So, it wasn’t Hendra?’

  ‘No. The horse died of MV something or other.’

  ‘MV?’

  ‘Can’t remember what the bloody hell it was. Wasn’t Hendra. That’s all I care about.’ He sure was grumpy.

  ‘How did you and Maria get along?’

  He gave her a suffering look then changed the subject. ‘Want you to know I like Riley. I was wrong about him. Make up with him, will you? Never seen a boy so miserable. Drank me dry he did.’

  ‘I was just over there.’

  Grappa froze. ‘Don’t go there. Hear me? You tell him to come to yours or meet somewhere else. I don’t trust that woman.’

  ‘Sure is a piece of work.’ Ayla looked toward the mangrove swamp and told Grappa what had occurred. When she relayed how Marlise had threatened her, Grappa almost dropped one of his oars in the water.

  ‘Sweet Jesus.’ He sat in his row boat, oars poised, lost in thought. ‘I need to know what we’re dealing with. Do you know her surname?’

  ‘Legros.’

  ‘French? Thought she was Irish?’

  ‘I thought she was American?’

  ‘Legros? Sure that’s her name?’

  ‘That’s her dead husband’s name. David Legros.’

  ‘I need her name, her maiden name.’

  ‘I’ll ask Riley.’

  ‘What’s his last name?’

  She had seen him write it twice today when he was signing for his phone. ‘Gallaher.’ At the time, he had said, ‘Apart from the photo, that’s all I have of my father.’

  She spelt it out for Grappa.

  He secured the oars. ‘Don’t go anywhere near her. You got that?’

  ‘Grappa, I can take care of myself. Please don’t do anything stupid.’

  ‘Listen to me. All these deaths on the island, it’s no coincidence.’ She began to walk as the mozzies gathered, ignoring his overblown sense of drama.

  He called as he rowed. ‘Don’t cross her. Stay away from her. Go straight home.’

  ‘I am.’ She blew him a kiss.

  The lack of a breeze amplified the sound of the oars slapping against the water, echoing it around the bay. The humidity of the coming summer, already thick in the air, felt oppressive. But it wasn’t only the weather. Marlise’s glacial eyes, devoid of human warmth, kept flashing into her mind.

  Eventually Riley gave up pleading through the locked laboratory door and went to shower. The intensity of her silence was maddening.

  When he emerged, cleanly shaven and dressed, he found her in the kitchen, cooking. ‘Look darling, risotto, your favourite.’ She was radiant, as if nothing had happened.

  ‘Ayla’s already invited me for dinner.’

  She kept stirring the rice as her eyes filled.

  ‘Please, Mum? I won’t be angry, I promise. I just want to read his letters.’

  ‘I don’t know why she’s making up stories. She’s trying to take you away from me.’

  ‘Mum, it’s not going to work. I’m not thirteen anymore.’

  ‘Thirteen?’

  ‘What happened with Kelvin –’

  ‘They moved away. You can’t blame me for that.’ Her voice rose in a choked pitch.

  ‘I do.’

  A curious lonely sound detached itself from her. She held onto the kitchen bench as if it was about to fly
away. ‘You’ve been so unhappy here –’

  ‘I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.’

  ‘Maybe we should go somewhere less populated, somewhere –’ she went to touch him but he stepped back.

  ‘I like it here.’

  She turned toward the sink again and picked up a glass of water. He could see the liquid vibrating.

  ‘Obviously you’re fucking her already.’

  The vehemence in her voice set off an alarm in him to protect Ayla. He tried a different tactic. ‘Maybe I’d consider moving somewhere new if you were willing to be honest with me about my Dad?’

  She spun around, eyes flashing in anger. ‘Why this obsession? You haven’t mentioned him in years and now you –’

  ‘I thought he was dead.’

  All the fight seemed to go out of her. ‘It makes no difference, you know. I never knew my father.’

  And look how stuffed up you are, he thought, placing his tongue against the back of his teeth to stop from speaking the words.

  ‘He was a stranger. An American just passing through. Gone before my mother even realised she was pregnant.’

  ‘Is that why you ended up in America? Searching for him?’

  Before she looked away, he saw he had guessed the truth.

  ‘I didn’t even have a name. The only thing she could tell me was he had a brown birthmark in the shape of a heart on the side of his neck. It didn’t take me long to realise it would be impossible to ever find him. Once I accepted that fact, life became much easier.’ She drank from the glass, crying.

  He softened his tone. ‘I miss David, Mum. I miss him so much it hurts.’

  ‘You think I don’t miss him?’ A sob interrupting the middle of her question.

  He hugged her.

  ‘We need to get off this island, make a new start. It’s not right here for us.’

  He didn’t answer but continued to hold her. It was his duty. She was his mother. He was all she had. Suffocated by this thought, he pulled away. ‘Got to go.’

  ‘Please? A quick bite? I’ve gone to all this effort.’

  His phone beeped.

  ‘Where did you get that?’

  ‘I bought it.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Today.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Went to the mainland with Ayla.’

  ‘You went to the mainland?’

  ‘It’s a short ferry ride, Mum.’

  ‘But...you don’t need a phone. We’ve got a land line.’

  ‘I’ve got a job now. I need a mobile.’

  ‘You can borrow mine. I don’t use it.’

  He opened the message. ‘No need, have my own now.’ He left the room without looking at her, ran downstairs and slammed the screen door.

  He heard her come down behind him but didn’t hear the door. He could feel her watching him. As he got to the bend, she cried out softly like a wounded animal in a cage. ‘I love you.’

  He refused to look back.

  Marlise stood lost in the kitchen, a painted bowl in her hand. If she had the energy, she would start packing their belongings back into the boxes she had yet to throw away. What an atrocious mistake she had made bringing them to this overcrowded hellhole. It was vital they leave as quickly as possible. She needed to get Riley away from that girl. That little minx had taken him to the mainland and bought him a phone. Who did she think she was, his mother? And Riley had gone without telling her. How many times had he done that? What else had he been doing without her knowledge? That little tart was leading him astray, teaching him how to be deceptive. She looked innocent, but Marlise knew now she was intent on destroying his relationship with his own mother, wanting him all to herself. She had even told him about the box for fuck’s sake. Marlise pelted the ceramic bowl so it smashed against the floor.

  She took another bowl and dished some risotto, trying to think methodically. This time she would not be so hasty in her decision. Choosing a house via the internet had been idiotic. Who would have thought it would turn out like this, living under a microscope with a bunch of mosquito-hating imbeciles? She had learnt her lesson. This time they would rent for six months and then buy, only if it were suitable.

  He knew about the box. My God, he knew about the box. Her brain kept jumping back to it. She gulped for air. Her hands felt numb as she carried the bowl of risotto to her computer.

  ‘Calm down, Marlise.’ David’s voice, a soothing balm. She remembered the feel of him, the way he stroked the back of her neck.

  Of course…Riley hadn’t seen the box. It was her word against Ayla’s. Once she had convinced Riley that slag of a girl was lying, he would see her for the little manipulator she was, trying to steal him away from his own mother.

  Marlise stabbed at the computer so it came to life. At least this time she didn’t need to drive hours to an internet cafe. She could trawl the web all night, if necessary.

  The memory of the way Riley looked at her when she denied the existence of the box flipped her stomach. She pushed the steaming bowl of gluggy undercooked risotto away. The fear that he would stop loving her had shrivelled up her appetite.

  Grappa was so exalted to be home in the cramped comfort of Little Beaudy, he kissed her walls several times. Fussing around the cabin, checking all was as he left it, gave him infinite pleasure. He put the kettle on and fired up the battered old laptop Helen had given him years ago. One bar of battery left.

  ‘Blast.’

  He typed the name Gallaher into the search engine and read, ‘surname commonly found in the south of Ireland,’ before the screen died. His mind ran over everything his Gran had taught him. And the dream. He kept returning to the dream.

  The south is where the Fey are most active. Marlise would’ve been a young woman when she met this Gallaher, a young woman living in the south of Ireland? Was Riley’s father from her village? As a child, was she whisked away by the Fey? Did this twist her in some way? Give her the power to curse? Or is she one of them, replaced? Maybe she’s not from there at all? Maybe only the grandmother is Irish? His mind raced in circles.

  Weary at the thought of the long night ahead, he made himself a potent cup of coffee then fired up the engine. Impressed she caught first go, he kissed her again.

  ‘You little beaudy.’

  Grappa steered out of the bay and found the hidden channel into the mangroves, killed the motor, drifted to his hidey-hole and lowered the anchor. The view from the deck was clearer but the drone of the mosquitos kept him in the cabin, propped against the circular window with his binoculars, where he watched and waited. There was light in the front room. He could see her sitting at a computer, the remainder of the house in darkness. After half an hour, he lay back to rest a moment.

  ‘Nothing like your own bed.’

  The loud buzz of his snores soon brought the crabs complaining from their holes in the mudflats. They clicked their claws in unison, organising themselves into a protest march, but Grappa snored on obliviously.

  Riley was starving. The two sausages they fed him had only increased his appetite and the baked crusty smell of the damper Ayla was pulling from the fire grew torturous.

  Maybe I should have eaten some of Mum’s risotto, he thought, his guilt sedating him. Though, her gluggy mess always turned out nothing like David’s. He tried not to picture her at home alone, waiting for him. Why did she make things so difficult?

  ‘Throw me the cloth, Mand.’

  ‘It’s on your shoulder. Duuh.’

  Watching the way the two girls related, Riley was acutely aware of lacking a long term friend. He had felt the same with the young people at the markets; the assumption and casualness they had with each other spoke of years of shared experience.

  Now the damper was out, he stoked the fire. The night was warm, but a fresh breeze blew in off the ocean. Mandy lifted the blackened alfoil and the smell set his taste buds weeping. From her backpack, Ayla produced a wad of butter, another plate and a knife.

  ‘What else
you got in there, the kitchen sink?’ Mandy teased.

  ‘Shut up and start buttering.’

  Spellbound, he tried not to stare at Ayla. In the firelight reflected against the cave wall, she had moved beyond the realms of earthly beauty.

  ‘Careful, it’s hot.’ Her soft eyes locked with his, checking him over, comforting him.

  The damper was fluffy and buttery, melting in his mouth, demanding their full attention. Even Mandy fell silent.

  He stole another glance at Ayla who was looking out to sea, searching the horizon. ‘Did you see the last painting Mum did? She’s turned them into mermen.’

  The unexpected sorrow on her face seemed to encompass all the oceans of the world.

  Mandy followed Ayla’s haunting gaze. ‘Yeah…who knows, hey… never found their bodies. Maybe they are swimming around out there, not a care in the world.’

  Part of the drunken night on the boat with the old man, returned to him. He remembered how Grappa’s blurry eyes lit up as he spoke of his granddaughter. ‘The night her Dad went missing, I took her to the old fig in the circle of pines –’

  ‘The Nor Folk Tree?’

  ‘She told you about it?’

  ‘She took me there.’

  ‘That’s a good sign, son. She never took Harry there.’

  ‘Who’s Harry?’

  ‘A dead head who broke her heart. No one important. So, what did you think?’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘The Nor folk? What did you say to her when she told you about them?’

  ‘Said, “I think you’re the queen of them,”’ Riley raised his glass.

  The old man leaned in. ‘She is. The night her father went missing, we hugged the tree and prayed for him and Reg to be found alive, and I swear to God, when I opened my eyes, the circle of trees was lit up from within, from the base of the fig. I could see the root system extend under the earth, spreading out to the circle of pines. And Ayla…she was a part of it. She had her eyes shut, still praying, but I swear on my dead Gran’s soul, Ayla can commune with the spirits of the land.’ The old man hiccupped, and Riley realised how drunk he was.

  Mandy’s voice cut through his memory. ‘If this water was permanent’ – she was washing the dishes in a trickle of water coming over the rock – ‘then this would’ve been the island birthing place for sure. Imagine it? You’d be sitting on the site of the birth place of generations of babies. Generations of mothers’ blood spilt into this very earth. A sacred site, thousands of years old.’