by T. S. Simons
'I'm a little sad to say that I would have been one of those kids who would have labelled you a dick and walked away. I had no tolerance for silliness.'
'Nor did Sorcha. I was lonely for a long time. I desperately wanted a friend but just couldn't connect. Then, in grade five, I made one great friend, Lil. She was wonderful to me. Lil instinctively knew my silliness was borne from anxiety and would set me straight. She liked me but tolerated no crap. Finally, I knew what it felt like to have a best friend. Then at the end of that year, her dad accepted a new job and her family moved interstate. It devastated me. But we stayed in touch. Then it wasn't until high school I met another kid with similar interests. Just having one friend was enough. It didn't remove the anxiety about everyday stuff, and I still needed help with my social game, but knowing I had one friend I could call? That made all the difference.'
'I never had a good friend,' I confessed. 'Someone I trusted. I had lots of acquaintances. A group of people I socialised with. But after Katrin, I trusted no one… until I met you. Luca. Illy.'
'You didn't have a best friend at school?'
'Not really. The girls hung out in groups, mostly along socio-economic or interest lines. The international students stuck together. So did the boarders. The scholarship kids were identified fairly early, and they stuck together. The sporty girls, the academic ones. The smokers and the partiers.'
'And which were you?'
'Sporty,' I admitted. 'Although I did okay academically too. I competed at inter-schools in a few sports: swimming, skiing, tennis. I made nationals for swimming. A fat lot of good it does me now. When Thorsten was drowning…'
'Should we visit Illy tomorrow?'
'Absolutely.'
Cam disappeared as I shooed children off to bed, arguing with them about teeth brushing and appropriate bedtimes. Not seeing me for months, I knew it would be some time until they felt comfortable leaving me again, each of them prolonging the bedtime separation. I could see the discomfort in Cam's movements on the walk home, but knew he likely didn't want to speak about it. Talking about what happened made it real. We would discuss it at some point, but not now. He was lying on the bed with his eyes closed as I entered the room.
'I've got a gift for you,' I said as I closed the door firmly behind me.
His eyes opened slowly, the pain making him grimace slightly.
'Really? When did you have time to get a gift? Amidst the kidnapping, rescues, and retribution?'
'When we were in Edinburgh. Before Nate.'
Cam sat up against the pillows, and I handed him the black box with intricate Viking pattern embossed in burgundy and silver.
'Highland Park Valkyrie?'
'Have you heard of it?'
'I've had it once before.'
'Really? In Melbourne?'
Cam sighed as he held the box with one hand, tracing the pattern with the other. 'Did I ever tell you about when I followed you to Lewis and then back to August? The part when I left August after I missed seeing you there? When I headed to New Zealand?'
'Parts of it. You told me about Hugh and what you found in Invercargill.'
'After that. When I was on the yacht. I'd left New Zealand and drifted to Bellcamp. Did I tell you that part?'
'Not really. You just said that you were in a bad way.'
'That is an understatement. I had travelled back through that hideous portal. To find you. Then you weren't there, and I heard you were pregnant and with Angus.'
'I'm so sorry…'
'That's not what I meant. It wasn't your fault. Then Hugh died, and I was lost. Nowhere to go. Well, there was a bottle on the yacht. And I drank it.'
'All of it?'
'I may have drunk several bottles,' he admitted with a sheepish grin. 'That was just the first. I don't recall the rest of them except that they were expensive and went down all too quickly. But I distinctly remember the Valkyrie. My mum loved single malt whisky. I remember thinking she would love to have tried it.'
The disappointment must have shown on my face as he rushed to say, 'It's fine! I loved it! It is an exceptional whisky. I can't wait to try it again.'
'Thank goodness. I thought it brought back terrible memories,' I said as I peeled back the black plastic, pulled the cork with a satisfying pop, and poured us both a small glass.
'What? Like the first alcohol you got stinking drunk on when you were a teenager?' Cam's eyes closed as he sipped.
'Oh, goodness yes. For me, that was Midori and lemonade. I was fifteen and at a sleepover at a friend's house. I drank before that, of course. Alcohol was always around us at home. But that was the first time I drank to the point of vomiting, passing out, and losing control. In case you are wondering, yes, it is still green upon reappearance.'
Cam smirked, swirling the amber liquid.
'I was about sixteen and went to a party. Somebody had bought a bottle of Jim Beam. I drank far more than my fair share, mixed in coke, so I couldn't tell how much I had drunk. I was so sick. I can't even smell it to this day without feeling nauseous. Dad turned up and found me lying in the driveway, surrounded by my own vomit. He hosed me off, threw me in the car and drove me home. Mum gave me the silent treatment for a week.'
The smooth sensation from the whisky touching my soul made me close my eyes, feeling the warmness glide down my throat. I felt the glass being lifted from my hand as I was pushed down onto the pillow. I sighed with contentment as my boots were removed, followed by my jeans and top. The comforting weight of his body reminded me I wasn't alone anymore, and the hunger stirred from deep within me. I wanted to kiss him, but he was kissing my legs, my hips, working his way up my torso.
'Come here,' I murmured, pulling feebly at his arms. 'Kiss me.'
'I have been visualising this moment for months. I intend to take my time.'
'But you are in pain!'
'The only time I feel no pain is when I am with you.'
My eyes closed, and my head rolled back on the pillow as I felt his touch, reconnecting us after so long apart. His fingers caressing my thighs and hips, his mouth setting me afire. My world exploded around him, and he followed me over the edge.
Luca's memorial several days after our return began as a sombre affair. Cam planted an oak tree in the memorial garden, near Laetitia's now fully established rose, and the trees commemorating the others who had passed. Oak symbolised a leader, he told me when choosing it. Strong, generous and helpful. As Cam watered it in, Josh read The Oak, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.
Illy stood silently beside me as Cam finished the planting. The Last Post was played, not on a bugle as was traditional, but on bagpipes, in honour of our new home. People clustered around in small groups, forming a semi-circle in the gardens. Shuffling, not knowing what to say. Shushing children from marring the occasion. Finally, she made her way to the newly planted oak and turned to face the crowd.
'This is not what Luca would have wanted,' she began to a collective intake of breath. 'I have had time to think about this, and what Luca would have wanted is a party. A wake celebrating his life, not a service mourning his death. Luca loved to eat, drink and be merry. This is my wish. Take this day. Laugh and share your favourite story of Luca. Please don't let this be a day of sorrow. Let us make it one of celebration.'
A low hum spread among the crowd, followed by an uncomfortable silence, not knowing how to react. Usually, there was a sombre memorial planting, a reading or two, then a meal at the hall. Everyone brought a plate of food to share. People started looking at their feet, avoiding making eye contact. Sensing Illy's anxiety rise, I took the plunge, made my way to her side, turned and spoke.
'Luca was my best friend for years. We travelled to many places together, other communities. Some wonderful, some dangerous. We were so close, shared secrets, laughed more times than I had hot dinners. The thing about Luca I will never forget was his wicked sense of humour. That man loved to tease! Me, especially. Any opportunity to tease me, an
d he took it. He didn't need a reason. Once I found him lying on a deck chair wearing a hot pink bikini and flicking back a long blonde wig, drinking a mango daiquiri. I have no idea where he sourced them, and he looked absolutely ridiculous, his black hairy chest poking out from under the top, stuffed with socks. I laughed until tears were pouring down my cheeks as he mimicked me, called me princess, flicking the wig around. Another time he turned up to dinner in a French maid's outfit, completely straight-faced. We were roaring with laughter as the costume was rather skimpy and didn't quite contain all of him, but he sat there, sipping his wine, acting like nothing was wrong. No one else could eat, of course, but he refused to change. Once, he turned up to breakfast in full lederhosen. The leather shorts were so tight he couldn't sit down. Not deterred, he ate breakfast standing, not breaking character once.'
Chuckles rose from the crowd, and I paused before continuing, gathering my thoughts.
'No matter what I was feeling, Luca could make me laugh until my sides hurt. He was loyal, dependable, and there for me without question, in the good times and the bad. I am so glad I got to see him meet this wonderful lady and have two beautiful daughters. His family was everything to him as he was to me. He saved my son's life, and for that, I will be eternally grateful. Truth told, he probably saved mine too.'
I paused as I sniffed and choked back the sobs threatening to break through.
'I will miss him until my dying breath. Luca made my life so much richer just for being in it. I am so thankful for knowing him and calling him my friend.'
The stifled sob broke free from my chest, and Illy threw her arms around me as the tears flowed and the crowd cheered, and Diana came up to speak, touching me softly on the arm as she passed me.
'Thank you,' she whispered.
At the conclusion of the speeches, a party was held at the community hall in Garynahine, with everyone in attendance. Food, music, dancing, and free-flowing whisky kept the mood light and jovial, and I accompanied Illy as she did the rounds, thanking everyone for coming. Most had heard by now about what had happened to us on Clava, but aside from a few comments expressing concern, a few sideways glances at my still bruised face, the day was about Luca. Everyone had a story to tell, an anecdote to recollect. Luca had touched everyone. From his early time here, to helping rescue the women on Mousa, to his later role in distilling whisky, roasting coffee, and running missions to the mainland to collect supplies, Luca was highly regarded and valued. I could feel Illy wilting at my side, but we pressed on, ensuring she spoke with everyone.
As we reached the end, I made eye contact with Cam across the room. Sometimes being tall had advantages. He pushed through the crowd and steered Illy outside, taking her and the girls home. I could finish up here, make apologies on her behalf. Her pregnancy was not common knowledge yet, and she looked exhausted.
Sorcha came over to me as I stood at the food table, my stomach gurgling and wanting to eat, but uncertain what to choose. She stood beside me as my thoughts churned, unable to decide. Berating myself, I knew it was silly. It was all food, and I liked food. There were sandwiches, pies, cakes, fruit. Why couldn't I choose?
'How is Illy doing?'
I didn't know how to respond to that and stared at the tiny meringues scattered like splotchy stars across a red plate.
'I don't know,' I admitted. 'Pregnant. Alone. Grieving. Relief that we escaped and guilt that we just killed two people. In turmoil, I guess, is an appropriate answer.'
Sorcha nodded and stood beside me as we faced the table. Why couldn't I choose? Months of being fed small basic meals, and here I was with a smorgasbord of choice, and I was crippled.
Finally, I asked, 'Are you planning to use the sample?'
Sorcha looked at me, and a series of expressions crossed her face, making me watch her, confused. She was never lost for words.
'How can I?' she whispered after a long pause.
I raised my eyebrows. 'How can you… what? I don't understand?'
Sorcha's look of scorn made me laugh.
'What?' I asked. 'Really?'
'After what they did to you. How do I?'
'Did to me?' I asked, confused. 'You mean on Clava? What does that have to do with you and Tom?'
'They stole genetic material from all of us, but you most of all. This is Tom, yes. But it was stolen. I don't feel right…. I… I don't think it is ethical to do this.'
I looked at her, stunned. 'It isn't the same.'
'But it is. He didn't give consent. Nor did I. Nor did you. Using his material to father a child that he had no knowledge of? It is wrong.'
I started to object, disagree with her, but the memory of those two surgeries I had endured were constantly on my mind. Waking, shackled to a bed in a tiny room, hooked up to machines. Knowing they had raided me. I would never have a child again because of what they did.
Sorcha was watching as the cloud descended and steered me outside, pushing me onto a seat and sitting beside me. She was still watching as the demons fought for supremacy in my head.
'You are asking me this now as this is torturing you. I can see it. Cam can see it. You are the toughest chick I have ever known, Freyja. But what they did to you was heinous on a level I cannot comprehend. There are absolutely no excuses for what they did. I know we are not close, but I respect you, and I care about you. If you ever need to talk, I am here. Okay?'
I could feel the emotional cork pushing against the bottleneck, ready to explode, but forced the feelings back. No. Not now. Ice-queen time.
'Thank you. Truly. That means a lot. Do you think you could ensure my kids get home? Ceri especially will not know how to cope with a large, emotional event. I need a little time.'
'Done.'
After weeks of negotiation, Illy and Sorcha swapped houses. Living in the second home built in Roseglen, Sorcha and Di lived the closest to us. Sam and Kendra were mature and responsible. At seven, Illy's girls couldn't be left alone with a pregnant mother, in mourning, and whose first pregnancy had been dangerously high risk.
Illy lived further down the valley, past Isla and Fraser's home, and Jamie and Jacinda, but before Jorja and Bridget. Built when she and Luca were newly partnered, we had teased them that they wanted to be out of earshot, or just away from our noisy brood. But now, her home was too far to be within calling distance, especially at night, and we all agreed that it made sense for her to be closer to us. Cam and I had made it clear since the day we returned that we would raise this child together, all three of us.
'I miss removalists,' Sorcha grumbled under the weight of a large box as she transferred it onto the back of a cart.
Illy's face fell. 'I'm sorry. I am kicking you out of your home.'
'Don't be silly,' Diana breezed as she returned to collect another box. 'She is just grumpy. No one enjoys moving. It is one of the few times you realise how much crap you have and how dirty your house is when you move furniture. How are you feeling anyway? You look exhausted.'
Cam confided in me later that Sorcha was looking forward to being further away, despite her whinging. Sorcha wasn't renowned for her tolerance and had a particularly short fuse where Summer and Ally were concerned, although she had tried to keep this in check, recognising that they were mourning their father. Di, conversely, took everything in her stride and could regularly be seen playing with a ball or skipping rope with one of the children. I had long suspected that she missed teaching, being surrounded by cheerful chatter all day. But she was a knowledgeable and valuable addition to the horticulture team, and Cam loved working with her.
'Do you know if she will try to have another child?' Cam asked me later that night as we put the children to bed. 'Sorcha, I mean. Time isn't exactly on her side.'
Not wanting to betray her confidence from the night of the memorial, I replied as casually as I could, 'I'm not sure.'
'Maybe she is waiting for Illy?' he suggested. 'She was very unwell last time, and so was Sorcha when she was
pregnant with Sam. They are both forty, so higher risk.'
'That is very kind of her,' I admitted. 'Placing Illy first.'
'For all her faults, my sister is a born doctor. Bossy and opinionated, and a complete pain in the arse, but she does have her patients' best interest at heart. She is so like my mother. But I have always wondered why women go back for seconds, or thirds, when they get so sick. Every man I know would say, "Thanks, I've done my duty", and shut up shop.'
'It is an instinctive thing,' I confessed as we closed our bedroom door with a sigh, the quietness of the house making me relax after an exhausting day of carrying furniture. 'Hormones probably. You look at your children and know you would endure anything for another.' Even with caesarean births, my pregnancies had been comparatively easy, but I had watched Di and Illy wracked with sickness. Di's inflicted by Clava. Sorcha had still been in her Australian community of Kiewa when she had Sam with her partner, Tom.
It was thanks to Tom's extensive knowledge of biotechnology that Sorcha had set up an extensive network of photobioreactors that successfully produced much of our electricity, especially in winter when daylight hours were scarce. Each home had tanks filled with algae and biogas bladders, and the community had enormous communal walls of tanks, green and murky, but amazingly productive. Thanks to this supplementary energy, we now had the luxury of e-bikes and electric carts or buggies to get around. While we didn't have an unlimited supply, each home had some household appliances that could be operated, and life was just a little easier. But everyone knew the limitations, and families often swapped appliances when they were needed. "It is like an adult toy library," Isla had once joked as I borrowed her blender. No one owned or needed everything, but we used them sparingly, mindful of the power they used.