Girl of Shadows

by Deborah Challinor

  Sarah mouthed ‘Jesus Christ!’ at Friday, who nodded wearily back.

  ‘Take comfort where you can. Sometimes there is precious little to be had.’

  Serafina gathered up the cards. ‘Any specific questions?’

  Harrie nodded. ‘Two. Can I have two?’

  Serafina shuffled, cut and lay out the cards again. She studied them for a full minute, then said, ‘The answer to the first question is yes, but you will have to suffer more loss to achieve it.’

  The look on Harrie’s face was an odd combination of hope and dismay; it was obvious to Sarah and Friday what the question had been.

  ‘And like her —’ Serafina indicated Friday, ‘you’ve suffered plenty already. The love of a child will be involved, and commitment to a promise you’ve made. The answer to the second question is also yes, though again, initially you’ll have your share of heartbreak around that.’ She looked Harrie directly in the eye. ‘Most women do, you know, one way or another. But there’s also a warning here, involving water and tides, which connects back to the Moon and Star cards.’

  ‘What sort of warning?’ Sarah demanded.

  ‘Who can say?’ Serafina opened her hands, palms up. ‘I’m only the oracle. I only pass on the message.’

  Sarah didn’t believe her. As Serafina gathered the cards, she said, ‘You can do my reading now.’

  ‘I thought you weren’t having one?’ Friday said. ‘Didn’t you say this was a load of old shite?’

  ‘So? I’m allowed to change my mind, aren’t I?’

  ‘God, you’re contrary sometimes,’ Friday grumbled.

  Ignoring the bickering, Serafina prepared the cards and set the cut deck before Sarah, who gave the topmost card the lightest of touches.

  Serafina lay out the five-card spread and studied it. ‘You’re a very complicated person,’ she said eventually.

  Friday let out a bark of laughter, which turned into a grunt as Harrie elbowed her in the ribs.

  ‘Do you want the short or the long version?’ Serafina asked.

  Sarah shrugged.

  ‘Short, then. I’m getting tired. You’re fierce and cunning and you don’t trust easily. Your blood family has been largely responsible for that. Your mother was weak. Dead now, is she?’

  Sarah nodded.

  ‘And your father is a selfish, childish and possessive bully. Who hides behind … what?’

  God, Sarah thought. He hides behind God.

  ‘Sadly, not dead,’ Serafina went on. ‘But when you do finally allow yourself to trust, you are eternally loyal. In the past you’ve been a loner, though that’s changed over the last couple of years.’ She moved a card out of the spread. ‘Three characters moved into your orbit who have become extremely important to you, and now there is a fourth.’

  ‘Adam?’ Harrie suggested.

  ‘I see he is in trouble,’ Serafina remarked.

  Sarah said tersely, ‘Well, obviously, I know all this.’

  ‘I’m sure you do,’ Serafina said, sweeping the cards into a neat pile.

  ‘So tell me something I don’t know.’ Sarah snatched up the pack. ‘Sarah! Give them back!’ Harrie protested.

  ‘She doesn’t need them,’ Sarah said. ‘Do you?’

  For a long moment Sarah and Serafina stared at each other, neither willing to be the first to look away.

  At last Serafina said, ‘Actually, no. Not really.’

  Friday was confused. ‘Why not?’

  ‘She has the sight.’ Sarah raised the cards. ‘These are just a front, something she hides behind.’

  Friday and Harrie gaped at Serafina as though she’d just grown a second head.

  Serafina gave a small, one-shouldered shrug, as if it were really neither here nor there that her secret was out, and settled more comfortably in her chair, her pale, long-fingered hands in her lap. ‘You have a specific question?’

  ‘I do.’

  Serafina remained still for a moment, her eyes half closed. The left side of her top lip twitched once, then she spoke. ‘Yes, you will. He will.’

  Her shoulders slumping visibly with relief, Sarah used her sleeve to wipe away the sheen of nervous sweat that had suddenly appeared on her forehead.

  ‘Furthermore, there’s a very strong connection between how that comes about, and these two.’ Serafina indicated Harrie and Friday. ‘In other words, they’ll help you. But of course you know that.’

  Sarah nodded.

  ‘Also, and using the imagery of the tarot, there’s a powerful link with the Magus. The same Magus, perhaps, who appeared in her reading?’ Serafina nodded at Friday. ‘Hers as well,’ she added, indicating Harrie, ‘though I didn’t mention that, not after the other bad news. I’m seeing a very unpleasant and dangerous force. Do any of you know who this man is?’

  Sarah raised her eyebrows at Friday. ‘Gellar?’

  ‘Could be.’

  ‘Someone known to the three of you for some time?’ Serafina suggested.

  ‘But we haven’t known Jared Gellar that long,’ Harrie pointed out.

  ‘Not bloody Amos Furniss?’ Friday said, disgusted.

  Sarah said, ‘But this is about me. Why is bloody Furniss in my future?’

  ‘Whoever he is,’ Serafina said, ‘and despite the darkness around him, he contributes to your salvation in a totally unexpected way.’

  ‘Really? So not Furniss, then,’ Friday remarked. ‘He’d be the last bugger to help us.’

  ‘And if I were reading the tarot for you,’ Serafina said to Sarah, ‘I would have turned over the Death card.’

  There was a sudden and dread-laden silence.

  Sarah felt sick. Not Adam, surely? ‘Who’s going to die?’

  ‘The Death card doesn’t necessarily mean death.’ Serafina paused. ‘I can’t always tell. But sometimes it does.’

  ‘It isn’t one of us, is it?’ Friday asked in a small voice.

  Sitting forwards, Serafina leant her elbows on the table. ‘That isn’t my feeling, no.’

  Harrie looked ready to weep again. ‘But do we know this person? Please, can you tell us that at least?’

  Serafina sighed. ‘You do, but I doubt you’ll mourn their passing.’

  ‘Well, that’s all right, then,’ Sarah said.

  ‘However, I’ve already told you, there will be other losses,’ Serafina warned. ‘But the bond between you four girls is extremely strong, and together, one way or another, you’ll weather those storms.’

  ‘Three,’ Sarah said.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘There’s only three of us.’

  Serafina blinked. ‘Yes. Three.’ She regarded them across the table. ‘You’ve been through a few fairly wild storms already, haven’t you?’

  Sarah, Harrie and Friday returned her gaze in uncomfortable silence. It suddenly occurred to Sarah that, given Serafina Fortune’s apparently genuine gift, they could well have made a serious mistake coming to see her. What else had she seen in the murky depths of their pasts?

  Serafina caught her eye. ‘My readings are strictly confidential, and I’m known for my discretion. I hear and see all manner of things, matters my customers most definitely would not want made public. As for my predictions, take heed of them, but keep in mind I may see only one possible pathway. There could be others. Also, of course, I’m not always right.’ She stood, pushing back her chair, and said to Harrie, ‘You work for Leo Dundas, don’t you?’

  Harrie sucked in a quick breath. ‘That’s extraordinary. Did you sense that from me?’

  ‘No. I know Leo quite well, very well in fact,’ Serafina said, darting a vaguely apologetic look at Friday, ‘and he’s told me he has a convict girl called Harrie working for him. Your friend here called you Harrie. How many convict girls called Harrie can there be in Sydney?’

  ‘So that business about Harrie’s illustrations wasn’t a prediction at all,’ Sarah said. ‘You already knew she’s an artist.’

  ‘She only draws flash, though,’ Friday said.
‘On paper. They don’t live and breathe.’

  ‘What exactly did you mean by that?’ Harrie asked.

  ‘Actually, I don’t know,’ Serafina replied with unexpected frankness. ‘I really do only pass on what I see. I often have no idea what it means.’

  ‘Make an educated guess,’ Sarah suggested.

  ‘Perhaps Leo is going to teach Harrie to tattoo.’

  Alarmed, Harrie said, ‘Oh, I don’t think I could do that.’

  Delighted, thinking of the tattoo she was planning for her back, Friday said, ‘Oh, I was hoping he would! That would be lovely. You could do mine.’

  Serafina held the door open. Clearly their session was over and it was time for them to leave.

  As Sarah brushed past her, she asked, ‘How much of us could you see? Of our pasts, I mean?’

  Serafina said, ‘Enough. But it’s not my place to judge. Or tell tales. Besides, I don’t care. It’s none of my business.’

  Sarah studied Serafina Fortune’s face and saw nothing that suggested the woman felt otherwise, but as the door closed she sincerely hoped they wouldn’t come to regret their visit.

  ‘I think I’ll try the fish for a change,’ James said. ‘Rowie’s been spoiling me with mutton and beef at least four times a week.’

  ‘You do look like you’ve filled out a little,’ Matthew remarked.

  ‘A little? I can barely close the buttons on my trousers. I shall be forced to go on a reducing regime if I put on any more weight. I’ll have to have a word with her.’

  ‘Why?’ Matthew asked. ‘Is she forcing you to eat two helpings of everything she cooks?’

  ‘Well, no,’ James said, disgruntled. ‘I must say, Matthew, that being in love for some reason seems to have brought the more impertinent aspects of your character to the fore.’

  Matthew buttered a bread roll. ‘On the other hand, you were a bit on the thin side, especially after, you know, your bereavement. For a while there you were looking very close to gaunt. Anyway, I’m not in love.’

  James grunted. ‘And how is Miss Minto?’

  ‘Very well, thank you.’

  ‘Everything on course?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The last time we dined together you mentioned you intended to ask for her hand.’

  ‘I still do,’ Matthew said, dabbing with his napkin at a tiny smear of butter on his mouth.

  ‘When?’

  ‘When the time is right.’

  James waved to attract the attention of the waitress. ‘Are you sure you’re making the right decision?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

  ‘I’ll have the celery soup to start, followed by the fish, thank you,’ James told the girl. ‘Matthew, what will you have?’

  ‘Soup, and the mutton in caper sauce, please.’ When the girl had departed with their orders, he added, ‘Sally’s kind-hearted, industrious and really rather pretty, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t physically attracted to her.’

  ‘She’s not Harrie Clarke, though, is she?’

  ‘Well, I can’t have Harrie, can I?’ Matthew said flatly.

  James took a sip of his sherry. ‘Neither, it seems, can I. She told me the other day in no uncertain terms she never wants to see me again.’

  ‘Yes, but she’s said that before, hasn’t she?’

  ‘She meant it this time, Matthew. I know she did.’

  Matthew was briefly silent. ‘What brought this about?’

  ‘I told her I believe she’s suffering from hysteria or something similar and that she might benefit from some form of therapeutic rest.’

  ‘You told her she’s mad? Honestly, James!’

  ‘I didn’t, not in so many words.’

  ‘I’m not surprised she never wants to see you again. She probably thinks you want to commit her to the asylum.’ Matthew paused. ‘She isn’t, though, is she? Mad?’

  ‘Have you spoken with her lately? This business about conversing with Rachel’s ghost and what have you? Things are clearly not right with her.’

  Matthew froze with his glass halfway to his mouth. ‘What business?’

  James recounted his conversation with Harrie.

  ‘I had no idea!’ Matthew said, appalled. Though he did recall Friday telling him Harrie was ‘out of kilter’.

  ‘Too busy squiring your new paramour?’

  ‘Too busy clearing the decks for you, actually.’

  The waitress arrived and set steaming bowls of soup before them.

  James blew on a spoonful. ‘Well, actually, I do appreciate that, Matthew. I know how you felt about her.’

  ‘How I still feel about her. But I know when I’m beaten and I’ve no intention of spending the rest of my life as a bitter, lonely bachelor starved of physical company.’ Matthew pointed at James. ‘And neither should you. So don’t give up.’

  ‘Yes, well.’

  ‘What do Friday and Sarah think about Harrie?’

  ‘Friday’s worried. It was she who mentioned it to me, during a visit to the surgery. I understand Sarah is, too.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you go and have a proper talk to them? They know her better than anyone else.’

  ‘Why don’t you?’ James dragged a piece of celery string out of his soup. ‘And then you can tell me. You seem to have enjoyed better relations with them than I ever have.’

  Matthew regarded him for a second, then laughed. ‘You’re scared of them, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, to a certain extent I am.’

  ‘Actually, so am I. Especially Sarah. Friday’s not so bad, once you get used to her ways.’ Matthew decided, however, that now was not the time to disclose to James that he and Friday went regularly to the Bank of New South Wales together to do the girls’ banking. ‘Though I certainly wouldn’t want to find myself on the wrong side of her.’

  ‘Definitely not.’

  ‘I think it would be better if you talk to them, James.’

  James sighed. ‘Yes, I expect you’re right.’

  ‘But tread gently. I gather Sarah has her own troubles at the moment.’

  ‘Yes, I’d heard. Someone was gossiping about it. Her husband’s been sent to Port Macquarie?’

  ‘Five years, for receiving.’

  ‘That’s unfortunate,’ James said.

  ‘Well it is, actually. Apparently he was framed.’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘A friend.’ Leo Dundas wasn’t strictly a friend, but after the hours Matthew had spent in Leo’s tattoo shop they knew each other well enough now to stop in the street and exchange news pertaining to shared acquaintances. ‘And while Adam Green’s away, his business is being run by a fellow Sarah loathes. He’s living in the house, too, overseeing Sarah. You can imagine the atmosphere.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  The waitress removed the empty soup bowls and delivered their main courses with a flourish.

  James regarded his baked fish smothered with béchamel sauce. ‘What sort is it?’

  The girl said, ‘Don’t know what it’s called here, sir, but cook says it tastes a bit like John Dory.’

  ‘I’ll have another glass of sherry to go with mine, if you please. Matthew? Hock? Claret?’

  ‘Claret, thank you.’

  The waitress scuttled off.

  ‘Would you commit her to the asylum?’ Matthew asked, liberating a slice of mutton from its lake of caper sauce.

  ‘Harrie? Of course not! It’s a ghastly place. I wouldn’t send my dog there. Lawrence is acquainted with a very Christian couple who own what is evidently a charming property at Elizabeth Bay. They open their home to young women requiring somewhere peaceful to recuperate. I mentioned Harrie to Lawrence, and he thinks he could arrange a place for her.’

  ‘Who would pay?’

  ‘There are no fees. These people are apparently rather well off. I would, however, make a considerable donation to their charitable organisation.’

  ‘That would be very generous of you,’ Matthew
said.

  ‘It would be, if Harrie conceded to go. But clearly she won’t.’

  ‘Not even to a private home?’

  ‘I didn’t even get that far. When we discussed the matter she was exceedingly grumpy with me and told me I didn’t understand.’

  ‘About?’

  ‘This spirit manifestation business.’

  ‘Rachel returning as a ghost?’

  James popped a forkful of boiled carrot into his mouth and nodded while he chewed.

  ‘Well, do you understand?’ Matthew asked.

  Swallowing, James replied, ‘Well, obviously she’s having some sort of extended delusional episode.’

  ‘But what if it’s true? What if Rachel really has come back?’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, not you as well!’ James snapped.

  ‘I’m just saying. “There are more things in heaven and earth”, or whatever it was Shakespeare said.’

  ‘I didn’t know you read Shakespeare.’

  ‘I don’t, really. But just because you don’t believe it doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Or real.’

  James drew in a deep breath and let it out very slowly. ‘To be honest, Matthew, what I care about is Harrie’s welfare and happiness, and at this point in time she seems neither well nor content. I am not a physician who specialises in disorders of the mind, but I am capable of recognising the characteristics of a patient in considerable mental distress. She must have help of some sort.’

  ‘Well, get it for her, then.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ James said tersely.

  ‘If there’s anything I can do.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  They ate in silence for a while. At last Matthew asked, ‘How is it working out with Rowie Harris? Apart from you overeating, I mean? You’ve never been tempted?’

  James glanced up from his meal. ‘I can’t say it hasn’t crossed my mind. She’s certainly an attractive girl. And an excellent homemaker.’

  ‘So …?’

  ‘Well, that’s all she is — a comely girl who makes a good pork pie. And I want more than that.’

  ‘Yes,’ Matthew muttered. ‘I know what you mean.’

  ‘Anyway, I have my doubts about her moral underpinnings. She’s often visiting Friday at Elizabeth Hislop’s establishment. She seems to hold very fond memories of her time there. Apparently they were close, herself and Friday, though I understand Friday has only called on her at my house once or twice.’