“Well,” declared Mrs. Zing, in a ringing voice, and people drew their hands back from their spoons.
“I thought I would begin with a general explanation,” she said. “Then, if you have any questions, we can do our best to answer them.”
“Mmm,” said Cath faintly.
Mrs. Zing breathed in deeply and began. Her narration was punctuated by clinking spoons, chiming bellbirds, and the occasional chuckle of the kookaburra or whip of a distant whipbird.
“Several years ago,” Mrs. Zing began, tilting her head slightly as if to remind herself of the details, “my husband, Mr. Zing”—here, Mr. Zing raised a hand to identify himself—“yes, Mr. Zing here, went to Ireland to write a novel. While he was away, I got a job making pies on the set of Pie in the Sky. I had an affair with the star of that movie, Nikolai Valerio—yes, Nikolai Valerio. I had an affair and became pregnant with his child. I told nobody, not even Nikolai, until five months had passed. Then I told him. Mistake, I suppose! He promised to come to my house to figure things out, but I never saw him again. I got a note from the set decoration supervisor, pinned to an artificial rose, if I remember correctly, and it informed me that Pie in the Sky had been moved to a secret location. My pie-making was no longer required.”
She paused and everyone looked at Cath, who was smiling gently.
“Nikolai’s career relied, or so his people thought, on his loyalty to his wife, Rebekka. His image was that of perfection. He was the romantic innocent. Now, there were already rumors surrounding Nikolai’s friendship with me—people had noticed the way we caught each other’s eyes, and, more to the point, a feisty young reporter was on our trail. Do you know, he had a photo of me and Nikolai, slipping into Nikolai’s hotel?! This reporter had approached me, posing as some kind of a set electrician, and asked me all about myself. Me, being a chatterbox, mentioned that my husband was in Ireland and had been gone for almost a year. I think you’ll see where this is going!”
Cath clenched her teeth and looked around the table. Apart from Listen and Cassie, who were staring at Mrs. Zing in wonder, everybody was eating calmly, now and then glancing sideways at Cath. It seemed that nobody planned to stop this woman. Cath was going to have to participate in the humoring of somebody delusional, and she was not sure she believed in that.
“Anyway,” continued the delusional woman, “the reporter had been asking questions. He didn’t have much, of course—there could be all sorts of innocent reasons why I was with Nikolai outside his hotel. But if it emerged that I had become pregnant? While my husband was away? Well! You get the picture. So, Nikolai’s people took steps. They flew Rebekka over to join Nikolai, and gave the reporter those famous photos of the two of them dancing barefoot in a meadow. They got my husband, David, to come home, to try to improve appearances. They rushed me, David, Fancy, and Marbie”—Fancy and Marbie raised their hands, solemnly, to identify themselves—“to a secret location by the sea. There, they offered me a deal.”
“A deal?” prompted Cath, still playing along, but growing increasingly irritable. She had not touched her soupspoon.
“Right. Valerio’s people would arrange for you—you understand, of course, that you were the baby—yes, they would arrange for you to be adopted, and I could secretly keep an eye on you. They set up a corporate structure through which I would communicate with Nikolai, report on your progress, and make requisitions for anything you needed. The corporation paid Mr. Zing and me a generous salary for our work. I’m sure you can never forgive me for giving you up, Cath, but let me assure you, I did it for your own sake. I wanted you to have a normal life. If I’d kept you, that reporter would have added things up, and it would have come out, and truly, if the world knew who your real father was—”
At last, Cath interrupted. “My biological parents,” she said firmly, “died in a house fire. I have a photograph of them at home, and I can assure you my father is not Nikolai Valerio. Nikolai Valerio! For heaven’s sake. Of course,” she continued, her voice growing strident, “I have adoptive parents who I consider to be my parents. They live in Perth and know nothing about what I found in your garden shed, because I knew it would just upset and confuse them, but don’t think for a moment that I won’t tell them if I need to! I don’t want to hear another word about Nikolai Valerio. I know who my parents are! I’ll show you the photo if you like. But I want one sane person to tell me right this moment why you people had all that information about me. I mean, right now. Stop wasting my time, or I’m calling the police.” She held up her cell phone, impressively.
“Ah!” said Mrs. Zing. “The photographs of your ‘parents’! I’d almost forgotten. Yes, we arranged two photos. One, if I remember rightly, was of a young blondish couple, the other of a big firefighter who was supposed to have rescued you. All three were regular extras in Nikolai’s movies. We made up the fire story so you’d never go looking for your biological parents.”
“Your adoptive parents seem like very nice people,” said Mr. Zing. “It’s probably a good thing that you haven’t upset them with this.”
“About the shed,” Fancy put in helpfully. “Well, we kept all our records about you there, as well as the photos. Medical, dental, educational…”
Cath choked on her gasp.
“Oh,” said Fancy sadly.
“It was like this,” tried Radcliffe, leaning his elbows on the table. “Here’s an example. You remember when you had that skiing accident when you were sixteen or so?”
“You needed reconstructive surgery for your knee,” Marbie reminded her.
“Oh yes!” said Mrs. Zing. “We all learned as much as we could about knees and knee operations! We became quite the experts! All the information is—”
Cath had stopped listening. “How do you know about the photo of my biological parents?” she demanded, but her voice trembled. “They did die in a fire. They’re not extras in a film. How do you know about my photos?”
Mrs. Zing suggested that they go inside and watch the DVD of Turntable Troubles, Nikolai Valerio’s fifth movie. Radcliffe pointed out, as the movie began, that Cath had the same fine cheekbones and bump on the end of her nose as Nikolai. She ignored him. Mrs. Zing paused at the spots in the movie when Cath’s “mother,” “father,” and “heroic firefighter” appeared as extras in the background.
It was confirmed that Turntable Troubles had been made five years after these people were supposed to have “died.”
Two
Extracts from the Zing Garden Shed (Burnt Fragments)
COMITO R. B., “COMPRESSION PIN FIXATION OF ARTICULAR PHALANGEAL FRACTURES,” ROYAL BARTHOLOMEW ORTHOPEDIC REVIEW, VOL. XII, NO. 2, FEBRUARY 1989
RECURRING NIGHTMARE NO. 4
A VERY SCARY RABBIT STANDS IN THE CENTER OF THE ROAD. IT IS ORDINARY-SIZED AND ORDINARY TO LOOK AT, BUT THERE IS SOMETHING VERY SCARY ABOUT IT.
NUMBER OF REPORTED RECURRENCES: 3
SUBJECT’S AGE: II
REPORTER: NEWSPAPER DELIVERY BOY
SURVEILLANCE EQUIPMENT—CONSIGNMENT
PENCIL SHARPENER WITH HIDDEN CAMERA, TRANSMITTER, AND RECEIVER.
RETAIL PRICE: $250
YOUR FREQUENT BUYER PRICE: $225
Three
Cath was staring at Cassie, who was spearing peas onto her fork. She had three peas on each prong of her fork, and was trying for another.
“All right,” Cath said finally, looking up around the table. “Just assuming that this story is true—”
“Oh, it is,” interrupted Radcliffe, buttering a slice of bread vigorously.
“Just assuming,” repeated Cath sternly, and Mrs. Zing nodded her encouragement. “How did you get all that information about me? You had photographs of me at my desk in elementary school. You had photographs of me in my law classes! In my dining room! You had photos of my ankles! You had my academic records!”
“Well, good question,” said Mrs. Zing. “We had three main avenues of inquiry. First, and most importantly, we had spies. Second, we had gath
ering techniques. Third, we had one or two hidden cameras.” She raised her voice slightly, so she could pretend not to hear Cath blustering, “Spies? Hidden cameras?”
“In relation to spies, we chose people around the edges of your life. Your postman, the dental nurse, the school secretary, the local florist, colleagues, acquaintances, bus drivers, and so on. They had to engage you in conversation, ask routine questions, take secret photos of you, and so on. And if we needed to get into your apartment for some reason, we might send out an Urgent Request for a Distraction to all the spies. We recruited them by hinting that this was a top secret, yet slightly shady organization—you know, we appealed to their thirst for adventure. They didn’t know anything about the Valerio connection, of course. And they had to sign very strict confidentiality agreements. We paid them so well that it was hard for them to refuse. Also easy for them to ignore any pangs of conscience…”
“Mum did most of the recruiting,” said Fancy. “She always knew exactly the right people to approach. She never got a refusal.”
“In relation to gathering techniques, well, Fancy and Marbie developed all sorts of methods for getting access to school offices, dentists, doctors, physical therapists, and so on, and taking photos of your records. We were meticulous about maintaining up-to-date information. Cath, you really should eat. You need protein and carbohydrates to help recover from burns, I read that. Nathaniel, help Cath to the gravy, would you?”
“Of course,” said Nathaniel politely.
“And in relation to the hidden cameras?” Cath said coldly, ignoring the hovering gravy boat. Nathaniel set it down next to her plate.
“Well, don’t worry yourself too much about that,” said Mrs. Zing. “They never had sound recording devices, so we didn’t hear what you said. We had several around your house when you were small.”
“We should let her know that her adoptive parents didn’t have anything to do with this,” said Mr. Zing.
“You’re right,” agreed Mrs. Zing. “This had nothing to do with them. They never had a clue. That was a golden rule. But anyway, we cut back on the number of cameras as you got older, to protect your privacy. From the age of twelve, we stayed out of your bedroom, for example—that’s the age when I stopped going into Fancy and Marbie’s bedroom, so it seemed about right.”
“You cut back on the number of cameras,” said Cath, “to protect my privacy?”
Everyone looked down at their food.
Four
Extracts from the Zing Garden Shed (Burnt Fragments)
INTERIM SURVEILLANCE REPORT
AGENT: ELLA HIETZKE (SWIM COACH; OLYMPIC MEDAL WINNER)
SUBJECT: CATH MURPHY
SUBJECT’S AGE: 11
OH! SHE IS VERY SWEET LITTLE GIRL, BUT CANNOT SWIM TO SAVE A LIFE. I ALWAYS THINK SHE IS DROWNING, BUT IT’S JUST HER BREASTSTROKE. TODAY I SAY AGAIN, “YOU WANT TO BE A LAWYER? WHY NOT BE A LAWYER? YOU MAKE LOTS OF CASH!,” AND SHE SAY SHE WANTS A HORSE. “A HORSE?” I SAY. “WHAT YOU WANT WITH A HORSE?” SHE HAD A LITTLE COLD, BUT NOT TOO SE
INTERIM SURVEILLANCE REPORT
AGENT: LEONIE MARPLE-HEDGINGTON (FELLOW STUDENT AT TEACHERS COLLEGE)
SUBJECT: CATH MURPHY
SUBJECT’S AGE: 19
I HAVE TODAY ENGAGED IN FURTHER DIALOGIC EXCHANGE WITH SUBJECT IN ORDER TO DERIVE/ARRIVE [AT] CONCLUSIONS/SUPPOSITIONS IN RELATION TO HER CURRENT (UN)STATE OF “MIND.” SUBJECT APPLIES DISCOURSES OF “FEAR” AND “ANXIETY” TO [IMP]ENDING END-OF-YEAR EXAMS AND HER FIRST PRACTICAL TEACHING ASSIGNMENTS. SUBJECT [UN]CONSCIOUSLY ACCEPTS DICTATES OF PATRIARCHY (E.G., “WHAT ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO WEAR WHEN YOU TEACH SECOND GRADERS!”). I INVITED
INTERIM SURVEILLANCE REPORT
AGENT: SUZANNE BARKER (TEACHER, GRADE 1A)
SUBJECT: CATH MURPHY
SUBJECT’S AGE: 23
AS REQUESTED BY YOU, I INVITED CATH AND HER NEW BOYFRIEND TO MY PLACE FOR DINNER ON THE WEEKEND. I GAVE THEM A NICE ROAST, BUT THE POTATOES CAME OUT FLOURY AND, I DON’T KNOW, MAYBE I OVERCOOKED THE CARROTS? CATH SEEMED HAPPY ENOUGH, BUT I DIDN’T TAKE TO THE BOYFRIEND. HE IS SOME KIND OF ENVIRONMENTALIST AND GOES ON ABOUT SWAMPS AND WHATNOT, AND I THOUGHT, “WELL, HANG ON, IS THAT INTERESTING TO THE REST OF US?” MY KIDS WERE PULLING FACES BEHIND HIS BACK WHICH IS A GOOD SIGN—KIDS SEEM TO HAVE A SIXTH SENSE ABOUT THINGS LIKE THIS. HE IS JUST MORBIDLY FASCINATED WITH HIS SWAMPS AND HE’D LEAVE CATH FOR ONE IN A SECOND. I SAW CATH LOOKING HOPEFULLY AT THE BREADBASKET WHILE HE WAS TALKING, AND HE COULD HAVE NOTICED AND PASSED IT OVER, BUT OH NO, NOT HIM. ANYWAY, I JUST DON’T THINK SHE HAD THE AURA OF SOMEONE TRULY LOVED AND
INTERIM SURVEILLANCE REPORT
AGENT: PROFESSOR DAVID CARMICHAEL
SUBJECT: CATH MURPHY
SUBJECT’S AGE: 23
SUBJECT APPEARED EMOTIONAL AND SOMEWHAT UNSTABLE IN MY CLASS TODAY. OF COURSE, SHE COULD SIMPLY HAVE BEEN BORED TO TEARS, BUT I DO TRY TO KEEP MY LECTURES LIVELY. PHOTOGRAPHS OF SUBJECT AT HER DESK (TAKEN WITH TURBAN CAM) ARE ATTACHED, AND, AS YOU C
INTERIM SURVEILLANCE REPORT
AGENT: KATIE TOBY (TEACHER, KINDER A)
SUBJECT: CATH MURPHY
SUBJECT’S AGE: 23
THIS REPORT IS ABOUT SOMETHING VERY IMPORTANT THAT HAPPENED TODAY!! I WAS IN THE SCHOOL PARKING LOT AND I SAW CATH MURPHY AND THE OTHER SECOND-GRADE TEACHER, WARREN WOODFORD, TOGETHER. HE IS MARRIED, I SHOULD ADD! ANYWAY, THEY WERE ABOUT TO GO TO A MOVIE TOGETHER, WHICH I CALLED IN OF COURSE, BUT THE THING IS, THEY SEEMED VERY NERVOUS. COULD SOMETHING BE GOING ON BETWEEN THEM?!!! STAY TUNED AND I’LL KEEP YOU POST
INTERIM SURVEILLANCE REPORT
AGENT: DEBBIE HARLAND (CORNER STORE EMPLOYEE)
SUBJECT: CATH MURPHY
SUBJECT’S AGE: 23
NO MORE DREAMS TO REPORT BUT…(SUSPENSEFUL DRUMROLL)…I JUST WANTED TO TELL YOU A BRIEF EVENT FROM LAST NIGHT. CATH AND A MAN CAME INTO THE STORE, AROUND MIDNIGHT, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SNOWSTORM. “WHAT HAVE WE HERE?” I SAID TO MYSELF, BUT IT TURNED OUT HE WAS A TEACHER FROM HER SCHOOL, AND THEY’D JUST COME FROM A PARTY. THEY BOUGHT CHIPS AND SALSA. HE TOOK A PHONE CALL WHILE THEY WERE IN MY SHOP, AND HE SAID SOMETHING LIKE, “BREDA! HI! DON’T EVEN WORRY YOURSELF. NO TAXIS, SO I’M STAYING AT CATH’S. WE’RE JUST ON OUR WAY. YOU WARM ENOUGH?”
THEN HE SMILED HAPPILY, AND TOLD ME FAIRLY PROUDLY THAT THAT WAS HIS WIFE.
IN THE CIRCUMSTANCES—HE WAS HONEST AND LOVING WITH HIS WIFE; CATH SEEMED MORE KEEN ON THE SNOW THAN SHE DID ON HIM, ETC., ETC.—I DIDN’T SENSE ANY ROMANCE, AND I’D SAY THINGS WERE ALL ABOVEBOARD. AND THAT’S ALL, FOLKS!
Five
“Now,” said Mrs. Zing, “at least try a piece of Fancy’s famous chocolate terrine!” She was slicing it up and passing dessert bowls down both sides of the table.
Cath was pale and silent, so Mrs. Zing continued. “The final thing we must explain is why we were gathering this information. There were two reasons, Cath, one minor and one major. The minor reason was this: You may find this hard to imagine, but your father, Nikolai, adored you. He was greedy for information about you—you are, after all, his eldest child, and his only daughter. So we compiled the information into regular reports, with photos affixed, along with the requisitions for certain funds—and this kept him happy.”
“And kept him happily sending us money to carry on,” Radcliffe pointed out.
At this, Listen accidentally interrupted by saying, in a disbelieving voice, “Nikolai Valerio?”
“But the major reason was that we wanted to make your life wonderful,” Mrs. Zing continued. “We wanted to give you gifts. We wanted you to have every opportunity, to be happy, and to develop your potential. So! Let’s think of some examples, everyone!”
“Well,” said Fancy shyly, “Marbie is a great swimmer, but she never got swimming lessons when she was young. We thought you might have the same talent, and we wanted to make sure it wasn’t wasted. So we found a way to get rid of the mediocre swimming teacher you had—I remember us joking that we should trip her up so she’d break a bone! But we didn’t do that
, just got her another job offer—and replaced her with a former Olympic champion.”
“Any time you were sad,” said Marbie, “we tried to think of a present that might cheer you up—like a trip to Disneyland, or a puppy dog, or a movie pass, or a pair of designer sunglasses. And the same on your birthdays.”
“Nikolai gave you birthday presents too,” said Mrs. Zing. “But you probably never noticed them. He always got us to find out who your favorite singer was, and then he would write a song for you and get them to put it to music and release it on the date of your birthday. You remember Kylie Minogue’s hit, “Blue-Eyed Blonde Beauty,” which came out on your twelfth birthday?”
“And there was that Eminem song on your twenty-first birthday,” said Marbie. “I loved that song. About the student at teachers college with the pet cat? Eminem added all the swear words though, which really annoyed Nikolai. I always wondered if you noticed the similarity to your life.”
“Not really,” whispered Cath. “I didn’t listen to the words.”
“Shame,” said Mr. Zing.
“And we had projects,” added Radcliffe, “for more major things. I remember when we decided that it would be good to broaden your horizons, so we tried to put you in the way of trips or jobs in exotic locations such as Mongolia and Nepal! That was Project 53, wasn’t it?”
“Project 55,” corrected Mrs. Zing.
“The funny thing about that,” continued Radcliffe, “was that your friends kept swooping in and stealing the offers! It just goes to show, you can’t—”
“The spies were supposed to find out what you were unhappy about,” Nathaniel cut in. “Or what you really wanted. And then the family thought up ways to get those things to you.”
“Nikolai was also keen to steer you in certain directions,” added Mrs. Zing. “It wasn’t just us. Occasionally, he would send an edict—a special request for us to concentrate on some aspect of your life. For instance, he wanted you to be refined—a woman of resources. It was his idea to get you horseback riding lessons, and that wine-appreciation course when you were older? Remember?”
The Spell Book Of Listen Taylor Page 35