In Strange Worlds

by Brenda Cheers

  She had driven more than three thousand, six hundred kilometres in two and a half days. When she opened the door of the car and dropped to the ground, her legs almost gave out.

  "I woke just now to a thrilling sound — one that has made my heart beat faster and put a smile on my face. It is the sound of another voice.

  Even though the girl is in the spare room, I can hear her clearly. Her voice is girlish and although I can't make out the words, I can tell she is speaking very fast.

  I should get up and see her — check her vital signs and general condition — but it's so nice just lying here quietly.

  She's giggling now, the girl. Now she's chattering again and it doesn't seem to worry her that it's a one-sided conversation. Her voice trills up and down scales and has variances in volume and tone.

  I can't wait any longer — I've got to see what the boy thinks of all of this."

  Meg rolled out of bed and padded silently through the house, stopping next to the door of the spare room. From there she slowly moved her head until the bed came into sight. She needn't have been furtive — the two of them were oblivious to her.

  The girl was lying in much the same way that she and the boy had laid her the afternoon before, except that there were now three pillows under her head. The bed was littered with food scraps and packaging.

  The boy was seated on the bed, looking down at her with an expression of dazed wonderment. He was following every word as though they contained the secrets of the universe.

  "So, I didn't give up, really. I really hoped you'd still come. But I sort of lost interest in everything for a while, but then you came and now I'm really, really happy!"

  Meg cleared her throat and two heads swivelled around to look at her.

  "Good morning, you two. Did you sleep well?"

  Meg had a great many questions to ask, but thought the gentle approach might mean she eventually received quality answers.

  "Oh, yes thank you. And also thanks for all that you did to rescue me. I don't remember much except Luke here feeding me mandarins." She laughed, the strange tinkling sound echoed through the house.

  Luke? The boy's name was Luke?

  "I'm Meg, by the way. What's your name?"

  "Oh, sorry. Of course you don't know yet — silly me! Meg is a nice name by the way. Mine is Constance. It's old fashioned I know but it was my grandmother's name — on Mum's side." Her eyes began to fill with tears. She cleared her throat. "Anyway, my best friend calls me Connie. Well, she used to…" The tears began coursing down her cheeks.

  "Connie is a lovely name. So how long have you and Luke known each other?"

  She blinked at Meg several times.

  "Oh, just since — well, just now really."

  "Just now?"

  "Yeah, well as I said, I sort of remember him looking after me on the way here, but I'm only just really getting to know him now."

  "Ah, okay. So I must've missed something here. He knew where to find you and you know his name. How?"

  She looked at Luke and he nodded.

  "This is gonna sound really weird, you know? We both had dreams, sort of. About each other and stuff like that. My dreams were all about him coming to get me. Just now I asked him if he had dreams about where I was and he nodded."

  Meg was having trouble believing this until she thought of her own dreams — Richard telling her that the Sunshine Coast hinterland would be a good place to live, and also how she woke with the exact knowledge of how the house would look. Luke finding his way to the Maleny house was still unexplained as well. Did he dream of that?

  "We'll have to compare notes later about all these things, but for now I'll have to check you over. Luke — seeing as you're now the man of a household with two women, you can feed the animals while I look after Connie." She thought she saw an almost imperceptible puffing of his chest as he left the room.

  Meg took his place on the bed and reached for Connie's left hand. The puncture mark where she had inserted the I.V. line was red and angry looking.

  "I'll get some cream for that. Does it hurt much?"

  "No, well — just a bit. It throbs every now and again. You connected me to a bag through this?"

  "Yeah, and we were lucky it worked well. Are you still hungry? I can see Luke's been feeding you."

  "I was starving, you know? It hit me early in the morning. I just couldn't get enough to eat. Now I'm stuffed. I feel yucky, though. Dirty. My hair is awful."

  "Are you up for a bath or shower, or do you want me to wash you here in the bed?"

  "Oh, I'd love a bath! I love water, you know? I swim a lot. Dad calls me his little fish...well, he used to. He'd take me out in his boat and I always wanted to swim when he was trying to catch fish." More tears welled.

  "Right, I'll run you a nice warm bath then. I'll find you clean pyjamas or a nightie. Then you can come back here to bed for the rest of the day."

  "Oh, good! I'd like that. Is there some nice smelly stuff to put in the bath? I think I smell bad. I always like to smell really nice, you know? Like flowers or candy or something. I have lip gloss that tastes like marshmallow. It's my favourite. My best friend — she really likes it too. When I buy one, I always get another one to give her."

  Gosh the girl could talk.

  "Yeah, I'll find something nice to put in the bath."

  As Meg turned on the taps and watched the water gush into the bath, she realised that the novelty of someone else's voice had run its course. She found she preferred silence.

  "I always brush my hair fifty times before bed, you know. My Grandma, Constance that is — the one I was named after — she taught me that. She said it massaged the scalp and helped the hair grow thick and shiny. So I do it all the time. Do you like my hair?"

  "It's very nice, Connie." The girl looked completely different now that she was re-hydrated, fed, and washed. She had long, kinky, reddish hair and pale skin. There was a fine dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her eyes were large and blue.

  "What happened to your hair?"

  Meg laughed.

  "It used to be long and thick like yours. When I got married and had children I got it cut shorter."

  "Gee, you really cut it short all right!"

  "Yeah, well I ended up shaving it all off." She desperately wanted to find another topic of conversation before Connie asked what prompted that extreme action. "So you smell nice again and you've got a book. I've got to catch up on a whole lotta jobs, but I'm sure Luke here will be happy to stay by your side."

  "Oh, that would be sooo nice. I think Luke is my new best friend and he's sooo nice to me. It's just good to have someone to talk to again. I had no-one for so long."

  "That must've been hard," Meg muttered under her breath as she left the room.

  "I have woken to silence, a blissful state that is rare at the moment.

  I don't know what to think about having Connie here. I mean, it has to be a good thing that someone else is alive — right? Has to be good that we saved her life? Luke is a lot happier — his face shines when he listens to her. It's just that it's so noisy now, after all that silence. When it was just Luke and I the house was a place of peace. Now there are shrieks and squeals and high-pitched laughing all the time. And talking...non-stop talking.

  It is driving me insane.

  Often when I find myself in a quandary, I think of my boss and say, 'How would Angela handle this?' She had a talent for summing up a difficult situation and then quickly positioning herself so the outcome would work to her advantage. I was constantly surprised by the successes she achieved this way. Some of her methods were breath-taking in the scope of the risk involved, and when I would comment on her skill, she would say, 'Fortune favours the brave, dear girl. Don't ever forget that.'

  I have seen her make friends with people who seemed destined to be enemies, especially competitors in business. She would even offer these people help and advice. Her reason for doing this? 'Keep your friends close, and your enemies cl
oser, Margaret.'

  Her strengths lay in the fact that she was a people-person. She would remember the names, birthdays and troubles of every person she'd met. She would take time to talk to most people whether they were cleaners, shop assistants, or delivery persons, and would listen to their stories.

  Originally a training school for office workers, her business expanded to job placement. I had signed up for several courses at the school to bring my skills to a level where I could re-enter the workforce and support myself. When it came time for job placement, I completed the psychometric test that all graduates did and the results became known to Angela. She plucked me from the pool of job-seekers and plonked me behind a smart desk outside her office which was equipped with state-of-the-art equipment.

  It wasn't just the fact she was my mentor in every meaning of the word, she seemed to consider me her pet project. She was forever poking around in my psyche for remnants of damage left by Richard's treatment of me, and helping me let go of it.

  One day she strode out of her office and said, "C'mon. We're going to lunch." I had only a second to grab my handbag before running after her, and soon we were in a cab going to her favourite business restaurant. Someone was already at the table and Angela introduced her as 'my good friend, Elizabeth.' As it turned out, this woman was a child psychologist and, as the lunch progressed, she drew details about my children from me. I blurted out the issues I was having with sharing custody with Richard and especially his new live-in girlfriend.

  Elizabeth gently explained what damage can be done to children in custody battles and how to avoid it. She made me realise I didn't own Nicholas and Emily and that I should just step back from the battles and look at it afresh. 'There are three things to remember: Never criticise your ex or his girlfriend in front of the children — it causes loyalty issues; make the children feel like they can see you whenever they want; show them you can be happy on your own and that your happiness doesn't depend on them being with you.'

  I came away from that lunch with a whole different mindset. That night I rang Richard and removed any barriers to the shared custody arrangement. For a long time I thought how lucky I was that Elizabeth had been at that lunch, before I realised that Angela had orchestrated the whole thing.

  So what would Angela do if she found herself in my situation? How would she handle Connie? Firstly she would find out a lot more about the girl and what happened on the night of May 13th. She would talk to her for a long time — no, not talk, listen. She would hear the words that weren't spoken, understand the meaning of the gaps and silences. She would listen actively and not interrupt until Connie ran out of words. She would then take time to process this information — a day or two, before having another talk with the girl and coming to some sort of understanding.

  And even while writing this, I have developed a theory. Maybe she didn't always talk this much. Maybe Luke's mutism and her chattering come from the same place — terrible trauma. I must investigate this.

  The Zen monk tells me that unhappiness is caused by wanting something to be different to the way it is. It's up to me to change the way I view this, accept it so we can make our own happy little family."

  Meg replaced the cap on the fountain pen with a smile. Writing about the problem had helped, and she was now committed to doing her utmost to ensure that the three of them remained harmonious.

  CHAPTER TEN

  "Hey, Meg!" Connie was walking across the grass, pulling Luke behind her. Both their faces were bright and flushed. "Guess what?"

  "What?"

  "We both had the same dream last night. It was a voice telling us that we must become man and wife."

  Meg raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

  "Yeah. It was, like an order or something."

  "So what do you think it meant?"

  Connie frowned. "I thought it was obvious. We have to get married!"

  Meg thought that it could also have another meaning — just to have sex — but she didn't say so.

  "Aren't you happy for us? Say something!"

  "Of course I'm happy for you. As long as this is what you want."

  "Oh yes, isn't it Luke?" He smiled and nodded.

  "I guess you're old enough — in some cultures you would have been married years ago. Anyway, it's not up to me. I'm not the mother of either of you."

  "Yeah, but we want you to be happy about it. Besides, you'll have to perform the ceremony."

  Meg laughed. "Yes I guess so. Have you picked a date yet?"

  "Well, we've been awake for ages thinking about it. How about sometime romantic like the next full moon?"

  "When is that?"

  "On the nineteenth."

  "The nineteenth of September 2013. It has a nice ring to it. A spring wedding. How exciting!" Meg was sounding more enthusiastic than she felt.

  Connie hugged her. "Gee, thanks Meg. It means a lot to us."

  As she watched the two of them run back into the house to make plans, Meg considered what feelings were welling up in her. It was mostly unease. It felt like there was a puppet master somewhere pulling strings, and the three of them — Luke, Connie and she — were dancing to his tune. Go to Maleny, find this house. Luke, walk and wreck your feet and get chased by vicious dogs, but get to the same house. Both of you drive thousands of kilometres to rescue Connie. Luke and Connie, become man and wife. What next?

  It was weird and freaky, and she didn't like it. How could they be manipulated in this way? Who was pulling the strings? God? Did He just decide one day to kill off the population of the world, saving only three people and then manoeuvre them until He was satisfied with the result?

  What other explanation could there be? Meg began feeling that terrible sensation deep inside of her, the same one she had when she first found herself alone. The one she was sure would result in madness if she let it.

  There was only one thing to do. Go with it. See where it led. What other choice did she have?

  Despite her misgivings, Meg went to a lot of effort to give Luke and Connie a memorable wedding.

  On a shining blue spring day, they drove to a lookout along the ridge, from where the Glasshouse Mountains looked so close it seemed you could reach out and touch them. Meg had suggested this place, not only for the views, but because it had a pretty white gazebo which she had secretly decorated with ribbons and flowers early that morning. Connie gasped and clapped when she saw it.

  The wedding ceremony itself was simple. When it came to the vows, Meg asked Luke if he wished to take Connie as his wife and lifted an eyebrow. She hoped his speech would return on this special day, but he simply nodded.

  Meg had created a wedding certificate in a publishing program on the desktop computer. It looked authentic. Luke and Connie signed it with great seriousness and Meg added her signature as witness.

  The food had been waiting in coolers and Meg began to unload items onto the picnic table in the gazebo. She had found a linen tablecloth and some silverware that she had polished to a shine. There were glass flutes beside an ice-bucket which contained French champagne. Last, but by no means least, a wedding cake that Meg had baked and decorated secretly in the dark hours of morning.

  When she looked back on the images later, she saw it looked like a normal wedding celebration, the only difference being the lack of guests. The bride and groom were glowing with happiness and looked destined for a happy marriage.

  When all the food had been eaten and the champagne drunk, Meg told them of the next surprise. She had gone to the resort where she had first stayed on her arrival in Maleny and selected another empty cabin. She had filled it with candles and coolers full of food and drink. There was a special nightdress lying on the bed among scattered rose petals.

  She drove them there and handed Luke the key. "Don't forget to carry her over the threshold. I'll come and collect you the day after tomorrow. There's no power, but I don't think you'll mind."

  “I'm alone now for two days and my God, it is so peaceful. I must say
it's a bit strange though. I've sort of gotten used to having Connie to talk to.

  She has a new maturity which has brought with it a different demeanour. Gone is the giggling, chatty girl. In her place we have a woman who is more, shall I say, dignified? Perhaps that's the wrong word. She's a lot easier to live with, anyway.

  Her story of the night of May 13th was harrowing. She had slept late and woke wondering why. Normally her mother or sister would have been knocking on the door. She went to her sister's room first and found her not breathing and with a fixed stare. Connie screamed and ran into her parent's room to find them in the same state.

  The girl next door went to her school and Connie knew her parents. She ran over to their house and pounded on the front door. When there was no reply she went around the back and broke in. There wasn't anyone alive.

  Like me she tried television, radio and the internet for answers.

  She thinks she went into a state of shock — remembers being very cold and shaking and doesn't know how long this lasted.

  When we found her, everyone else had been dead for thirty seven days. Although her father had spoken about driving lessons, these had never happened, and she was too scared to drive. The housing estate was remote from other areas of Cairns.

  When she ran out of food in her house, she began raiding the neighbours’ pantries and refrigerators. When the estate lost power, she began to realise the full seriousness of her situation. That's when she began dreaming of Luke coming to rescue her. These dreams were so real that she didn't doubt it would happen.

  But time went by and he didn't arrive. She got very ill with what she suspected was severe food-poisoning. After that her decline was rapid. She remembers moving to near the front door, her suitcase ready beside her so that Luke would find her quickly. We arrived just in time.

  I don't know Luke's story, but I guess it is very similar. It's hard enough to find that everyone has died — everyone that you knew and loved — but added to that is the fight for survival. In our case — Luke, Connie's and mine, it wasn't as desperate as if we had been marooned in a desert without food or water, but it was still difficult, especially for the young ones who had never had to fend for themselves.