The Betrayal of Bindy Mackenzie

by Jaclyn Moriarty

  • Extensive exploration of school grounds/layout —have found alternate entrance to FAD classroom (fire escape)—could be useful? Checked BM’s records—seems to be a ‘super student’/some kind of genius.

  • First FAD class—initial contact with BM—paid close attention to her—other kids seem sweet/fun.

  • E reports that BM ‘loves’ things historical? Useful?

  • Current delivery mechanisms: muffins/pages of historical book/ginger biscuits.

  • At your request, alternative, external location for FAD established at ‘Blue Danish Café’—less chance of interference from other teachers.

  • All seems well—no apparent leaks—seems BM has spoken to nobody—maybe didn’t hear anything at all? Suggest we delay product delivery until this confirmed?—will keep making efforts to get her to talk to me—software running well.

  • Have issued several invitations to BM to come see me—never taken up.

  • Tension between rest of FAD group and BM— (difficult—feeling sorry for BM—she shoots herself in the foot with that group; she even pointed out Sergio’s burn scar today)—decided to exacerbate tension by getting them to do Name Game again, knowing the FAD group would be cruel to her—but might make her more likely to come to me for help/get close to me?

  • Relax! I’m not getting ‘too fond’ of anyone—but plan backfired—BM didn’t come to FAD after last week’s events—says she doesn’t want to come back—refuses to talk . . . had a crazy idea—might just work—will ask BM to do project writing about events she has ‘seen and heard’ . . . might uncover something?

  • As requested, have increased product delivery— instructed M to increase delivery (she says she’ll get BM to work in her bookshop over the holidays)—& new delivery mechanism: nail polish.

  • M concerned about leaving BM alone with her kids as product takes effect/risks of her own kids taking product—wants to offer permanent job in bookshop instead of as babysitter. Ok?

  • Further delivery mechanisms: ventolin inhaler (planted by cleaner in BM’s room.

  • URGENT NOTE—BM did project—REFERS to episode—she THINKS IT WAS 2 SUBSTITUTE TEACHERS ARGUING ABOUT A POLISH EXCHANGE STUDENT (???)—relevant page of her ‘life project’ attached—PERMISSION TO CALL OFF DELIVERY OF PRODUCT IMMEDIATELY?

  • As instructed, have arranged for ‘lawyer’ to contact BM—to ‘prod’ her for possible memories—Still think she knows nothing—recommend cancellation— disagree that inclusion in her ‘life project’ means she knows something—I think it means the opposite—BM is v. sensitive, and was upset about the slapping— noticed nothing else—this is unnecessary job.

  • Product is having extreme conseqs—BM seems ill/completely changed—not doing school work at all—could lead to suspicions—suggest reduction in product so that conseq is slower, less obvious?

  • E wants out—concerned about BM’s contact with her baby—says she’s done e/thing to keep BM away from her baby—but can’t watch her all the time—E thinks BM is going mad from the product and she’s scared that BM will harm E’s baby—or is it just conscience pangs?—enough delivery mechanisms anyway— pressurise or let her go?

  • As instructed, have arranged trip to your Blue Mtns property—agree, good location for ‘accidental fall’ if urgent disposal required.

  • Understand that the cousin who made trouble w/ the police (MP) is ‘missing’ from home—as instructed, have begun ‘blackmail’ of M to get more ‘help’ from her (ie told her actual nature of product/threatened her kids & husband etc)—v. effective—she’ll do w/ever we ask now—have sent M to Queensland to investigate cousin’s whereabouts.

  • URGENT NOTE—‘lawyer’ confirms—BM knows NOTHING—many prompts, referred to software itself—(called it a copyright dispute)—but no memory—PERMISSION TO CALL OFF DELIVERY OF PRODUCT IMMEDIATELY?

  • As instructed, have cancelled M and E—(note that product is still being delivered by nail polish/ book pages/inhaler—but small quantities & not enough to seriously harm—permission to retrieve these mechanisms?).

  • As instructed, have not retrieved mechanisms—mild effects noted but BM is recovering well—Blue Mtns trip w/o incident (rained whole time so hiking & ‘accident’ wld not have been an option anyway)—small false alarm when group talked about poison—(kids getting on great tho—think my FAD course is successful!).

  • Received your fax with identity of MP—he’s a student in my FAD group—seemed so lovely—feel betrayed— but I don’t believe he has uncovered anything—have instructed M to take immediate action. Have provided her with product for delivery of extreme dosage.

  • EXTREMELY URGENT—‘lawyer’ just contacted me— it seems that BM has phoned him & revealed she did hear the conversation. She knows too much. Awaiting instructions.

  4

  This is a description of a ‘meeting’ with my mother

  This happened almost in a dream.

  I was in the hospital, in recovery, but I did not know that at the time. I had just regained consciousness. My focus was hazy. I saw flowers, windows, some curious, violet ornaments. I saw a man in blue rush past glass and I thought of the giant blue cat.

  Then I saw my mother. She must have seen me open my eyes, because she was standing by the bed, crouching, leaning close to me.

  I spoke.

  ‘Why did you do it?’ I said.

  My voice was hoarse and faint, but my mother heard me. She sat on the edge of the bed now, and put a hand on my forehead.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said, ‘you’ve been poisoned, but you’re okay now. Don’t worry, just rest for now.’

  ‘Why did you do it?’ I repeated.

  She smiled gently. ‘It wasn’t me, darling. You mustn’t worry about who it was for now.’

  ‘I mean, why did you move out to the city and leave me behind for the year?’ My voice broke into pieces as I said this, and I found myself crying into my hands. My mother let out a small cry, and gathered me into her arms.

  I heard her murmuring, ‘Bindy, I’m so sorry.’

  Through my tears, then, I spoke a lot of nonsense.

  I remember saying, ‘I know Dad wanted to do it, but why didn’t you stop him? You always stopped him before. You always went behind his back and took care of us. I thought you always would.’

  My mother was rocking me slowly, saying, ‘I’m so sorry,’ over and over. And words continued tumbling out of me.

  ‘You went behind Dad’s back for Anthony this year,’ I said, ‘but not for me. You stopped loving me, didn’t you? Because you spent last summer with the girls from school, Emily and her friends, and not with me. And you liked them better than me. I know you did because they’re better than me. And you wouldn’t help me get professional driving lessons when Dad said I couldn’t have them. And then I crashed the car! And you agreed to move out to the city with Dad. Why did you agree to that? Why did you leave me behind? Why did you stop loving me this year?’

  My mother kept rocking me, saying, ‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ and I could feel the shuddering of sobs in her chest.

  Eventually, I was exhausted, and lay back on my pillow. She looked down at me with her red, teary eyes, and was quiet for a while.

  Then, she said, ‘We thought we were going to lose you, so I wrote you a letter. You can read it if you like. When you feel up to it.’ She put a pink envelope on the table beside my bed. ‘But for now,’ she said, ‘please rest, and know that I will never let you down again.’

  She leaned closer and whispered, ‘I could never stop loving you, Bindy.’

  Then she brushed her hands over my eyes so that they closed, and sat on the bed watching me.

  I think I let my eyes flutter open for a moment, and when I did, I believe I saw my father standing behind the glass, staring in at us.

  I fell deeply asleep.

  5

  Final Words

  A month has passed since my release from the hospital.


  I wish to express my heartfelt gratitude to the excellent staff at the Baulkham Hills Shire Hospital. Apart from their prompt treatment at the critical phase, they have been very conscientious in these last few weeks. I have to return for regular check-ups: there is the possibility of complications following acute arsine poisoning, not to mention chronic arsenic poisoning. But so far, there are no signs of long-term ill-effects.

  Meanwhile, the officers of the Hills District law enforcement are unravelling the wicked scandal! They come by occasionally to ask me more questions. They are still gathering evidence for the prosecution of Maureen, Eleanora and several other members of this criminal conspiracy. (Apparently, the ‘gang’ extends across the nation, and largely consists of computer criminals.) Try herself was a reasonably new member of this gang, and has entered into a plea agreement: she has given the police as much information as she can about her superiors and their plans, in exchange for a reduced sentence. In fact, her information had led them to the man behind the whole scheme. He’s a computer programmer named Elias Brandy. I hear he has freckles and a red beard, and he pretends to be extremely perplexed by the allegations made against him. But the police have not fallen for that. They’ve seized his computers, and talked to computer crime agencies around the world—it turns out he’s part of a gang of notorious ‘cyber-pirates’. They’ve stolen billions from around the world and are implicated in over twenty-five murders. Apparently, Try is terrified of him.

  I believe Try will serve seven years.

  My mother is looking after me beautifully. You see, I am writing these, the final words in this project, in the living room of our old home at 24 Clipping Drive, Kellyville.

  Mum evicted the tenants, and she and I moved in. The really marvellous thing about this is that my personalised letter stationery is now valid again!

  Anthony is staying with his friend Sam in the city, and my father remains, rather tragically, in his little one-bed apartment.

  Sometimes, in these days of recuperation, I turn to the letter that my mother wrote when she thought I was not going to make it. I’ll scan it in below.

  My Bindy,

  I just want to tell you how little you look in this big hospital room. I just want to gather you up and take you home with me.

  It’s too late to write this letter, isn’t it? All year you’ve been sending me e-mails, and each time one arrived, I grabbed my phone and called you. No wonder you ignored my messages. You wanted me to sit down and write, to think about you and your questions—all I wanted to do was chat. I wanted to hear your voice.

  It was such a little thing for you to ask, but I have failed.

  Just as I’ve failed you all these years. I know how much you admire your dad, and how he takes advantage of that. I should work harder to protect you from that—I’ve been realising this all year. How he sent you that cruel e-mail on your birthday. How his wallpaper was almost poisoning you . . . well, it could have been.

  He does mean well. He’s not a wicked man, and he loves you very much. It’s just that he doesn’t really understand kids. He thinks of you as someone fascinating, but I don’t think he really understands you. And he’s completely caught up in his own world.

  Which is why I agreed to move into the city with him this year. I thought you and Anthony might be better off learning to live your own lives, without being in the shadow of your father all the time. I’ve been regretting my decision all year. I feel as if I’ve abandoned you both, rather than given you freedom.

  Bindy, you work so hard, you’re so creative, and you’re unlike anyone else. It’s a miracle that a pair of hopeless people like your dad and me created a person as extraordinary as you. I’m so proud of you.

  You are the strongest, toughest girl in the whole world. You are so very sick, and they say you might not wake up.

  I don’t believe them. They don’t know who you are.

  You’re my little girl.

  Bindy, please wake up.

  Lots of love,

  Your Mum

  So, apart from looking back over that letter, there is plenty to keep me busy here.

  My teachers at Ashbury have agreed to send quantities of school work so that I can begin to catch up. I am devouring the work! I have got my passion back! It is me again! (My mother comes in now and then to make me stop and rest. It’s a real nuisance but she means well.)

  I also have numerous visitors.

  My father comes occasionally, but of course he is a busy man and often has to travel interstate. He always looks very sheepish. (He can’t seem to take in that it was not his wallpaper that poisoned me, even though we have confirmed that there was no arsenic in his house on Gilbert Road.) He never stays long, is very awkward with my mother, and he really only talks about his property development. But the other day he kissed the top of my head, and gave me the gift of a Mont Blanc pen. I was delighted.

  Anthony and Sam also visit often, and bring movies to watch. They also bring their movie camera. They are interviewing me and the members of the FAD group, and plan to make a documentary about the events of my year.

  Astrid, of all people! came by the other day. She brought along a gift certificate for me to get my eyebrow pierced. How droll. I think I will do it. She told me many tales of running from the police, and said she now thinks she’s not a reincarnated carnation, after all, but a reincarnated dove— something about a rooftop she flew from while the police were in hot pursuit. I admit, my attention drifted.

  There was another, more precious, gift that Astrid brought with her. It seems that my FAD group decided to create another Name Game—just for me. It gladdened my heart.

  Other members of the FAD group have also dropped by. They tell me that FAD has been cancelled at my school. The old FAD groups have been transformed into Study Groups. Apparently, my group has permission to continue going to the Blue Danish. I can’t imagine how little study they’re doing! Things will have to change when I get back.

  I will conclude by expressing my utmost gratitude to my FAD group, and to Ernst von Schmerz. Together, they have saved my life.

  I have read through the entries the FAD group wrote in the hospital waiting room while I was unconscious. I must say, I agree with Sergio: their attitude was rather morbid. I considered deleting the entries from this project, but have retained them for their authenticity.

  I have nothing but affection and gratitude for that group, but, truly—you think a little arsine gas is enough to finish me off?

  You don’t know Bindy Mackenzie.

  PART TEN

  Bindy is my best buddy and one day I hope she’ll let me kiss her.

  A SUPERNOVA BRAIN WITH THESE GORGEOUS MAGENTA EYES.

  Well, she is so Much more complicated, interesting and original than I ever realised! And therefore it’s a good lesson for Me. I look forward to knowing her further.

  Bindy is very forgiving, and she has a lot of kind of like happiness and love hidden inside her. And she was brave how she used to wear her hair up funny, but Bindy, you may as well keep wearing it out now, ok, cos it looks good like that.

  Bindy Mackenzie

  I think you are a determined, compassionate, funny, imaginative and kind-hearted person. I think we are lucky to know you.

  Bindy, you are STILL so SMART!!! And you still have HUGE words in your head, and that’s even though you had chronic arsenic poisoning and acute arsine poisoning!

  Bindy Mackenzie talks like a horse & I hope she never stops.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I am extremely grateful to everybody at Pan Macmillan, especially Anna McFarlane and Brianne Tunnicliffe, for their insight and acuity; Mel Feddersen for the wonderful cover and Liz Seymour for the superb design; to my agent, Tara Wynne; to Nicola Moriarty, Sean Moriarty, Fiona Ostric, Katrina Harrington, Steve Menasse, Jane Roberts and Jack Llewellyn, who all shared stories about school with me; and to Frances and Naomi Roberts for Cincinnati information. Thanks, most of all, to my parents, who are nothing like Bindy
’s parents; to my sister Liane, who wanted to know more about Bindy in the first place; and to Colin McAdam, who was there for me and Bindy, at every single page.

  Several texts and articles on poisons were useful in writing this book, among them: John Harris Trestrail, III, Criminal Poisoning (Humana Press Inc, 2000–2001); Peter Macinnis, Poisons: From Hemlock to Botox and the Killer Bean of Calabar (Arcade Publishing, 2004); Carol Turkington, The Poisons and Antidotes Sourcebook (2nd edition, Checkmark Books, 1999); Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry, ‘Public Health Statement for Arsenic’ (September, 2000); M.Amini, M.D., Arsenic Poisoning: Not very Common but Treatable’, (Vol. 3, No. 2, SEMJ, 2002).

  Try based her ‘intelligence theory’ (very loosely) on the theories of David G. Lazear in his Seven Ways of Knowing: Teaching for Multiple Intelligences (IRI/Skylight Publishing, Inc, 1991), and Bindy used the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary (Oxford University Press, 2002) to look up ‘cin’ words. She was also slowly poisoned by Our Deportment (John H. Young, Pennsylvania Publishing Co, 1881) and Twentieth Century Etiquette (Annie Randall White, 1900).

  MORE BESTSELLING FICTION AVAILABLE FROM PAN MACMILLAN

  Jaclyn Moriarty

  Feeling Sorry for Celia

  Dear Ms Clarry

  It is with great pleasure that we invite you to join our Society. We have just found out about your holiday. It is so impressive! You had four assignments, an English essay and a chapter of Maths to do. And you didn’t do one single piece of homework!

  Fabulous!

  Also we have a feeling that you have a History test today. And you’re trying to study now? On the bus? With the Brookfield boys climbing onto each other’s shoulders to get to the emergency roof exit? And with Celia about to get on the bus at any moment? And you think that’s going to make a difference!!! That’s really very amusing, Elizabeth. We like you for it. You’re perfect for our Society and we’re very excited about having you join.