by Tamsin Baker
“Perhaps you could direct me to the best bakery in town,” he said. “I’m sure locally baked bread will taste better than pre-sliced supermarket offerings.”
Cassie hoped he didn’t have the ability to read minds. In her experience, it was mostly women who could do that. “Sure. They’re both good, so I suggest you try each and decide for yourself. I usually shop at Wilson’s. They have a good selection of bread and their vanilla slices are to die for.”
“Thanks for the tip. Perhaps I’ll take one back for afternoon tea.” He lifted his arms slightly, indicating his shopping bags. “I’d better get this lot back to the car.”
“Don’t forget the due date on your books. There are fines for overdues. I can extend them, though, if nobody else has reserved them.”
It was a daft thing to say, but she couldn’t think what else was appropriate. Certainly not was really on her mind—that she wondered what his touch was like, and why his eyes looked to be dark mirrors to his soul. What was he doing here in Harrow, and why was this feeling like molten chocolate swirling in the pit of her belly?
“Sure,” he said. “I won’t forget. I’ll be back before then, anyway.”
Lunchtime errands complete, she hurried back to the library. She’d seen her aunt, Rowena, in the street as well, and it reminded her of the meeting that evening. They would be wanting answers from her, and she still wasn’t sure what she would say.
☐
The quotation Raff gave him for the repair was reasonable. Not that he had much choice. Raff had the only workshop in town. The car was booked in for later in the week.
“I can lend you a set of wheels if you need them,” Raff offered. “Won’t be anything as flash as this, but they’ll get you from A to B.”
“I should be fine. The cottage is close enough to walk, and the fresh air will do me good. I’ll keep it in mind though.”
On impulse, Daniel drove back along the road that had led him to town. He couldn’t get the scene from last night out of his mind. It had been so fantastical, he wondered if he had dreamed it. Perhaps it had been an illusion in the moonlight. Why would a naked woman be chanting in the bush?
He passed the turn-off to the Fielding property and watched carefully for the track he’d found the previous night. There it was. There was nothing indicating if it was private property, or perhaps part of a reserve. This time, he drove down, stopping in about the same place as he had seen the blue Mazda.
Climbing out, he looked around. No sign of anyone else. Michael Fielding’s words were still in his ears. Can’t be too careful. The track narrowed as he remembered, and he followed it some fifty metres through the scrub before it opened into a natural clearing. In the centre was a flat stone. He hadn’t imagined it. Walking closer, he saw the remains of a circle on the grass, made up of petals and something else. It was dispersed in places, but still clearly a circle. He picked up some of the petals and sniffed. Rose petals. The circle comprised deep red rose petals and what looked like crumbled eucalypt leaves.
When he stepped into the circle to inspect the stone more closely, a breeze whipped up, picking up the petals and whirling them around him. He stood still, as pieces of leaf flicked against his face and stung his cheeks. The sun disappeared behind a cloud, casting a shadow over the ground. It made him uneasy. The whole setup did.
His eye was caught by a movement beyond the clearing and in the surrounding trees. Was someone there? His jaw tightened as he strained to see. There he was. A man stood watching him. It looked like he was wearing a long cloak. That was ridiculous. It must have been a long bushman’s coat. Probably a local landowner. He might be trespassing. He’d better ask permission.
“Hello!” Daniel waved and started to walk towards the side of the clearing in the man’s direction, lifting his feet over the long grass. Damn. He stubbed his foot on a stone hidden in the grass, causing him to stumble briefly. When he looked up again, the man was gone. How could he have moved so quickly? Where had he gone?
“Hello?”
He walked to where he had last seen the man, but there was no sign of him. The grass wasn’t flattened, and there was no indication anyone had been there. Puzzled, he looked back towards the clearing, and there she was again. His night-time nymph, as naked as she had been the night before. This time, there was nowhere to hide. He was out in the open. Surely, she would see him. As he watched, a shimmer appeared around her and she faded from his sight—right there in front of him. One moment she was there and then next she had gone. Was he going crazy?
In a daze, he stepped closer to the stone, taking care this time to lift his feet. There on the altar lay a single purple flower. He recognised it as the orchid featured in the book he’d seen in the library. He could have sworn it wasn’t there before. He shook his head. If he’d had mushrooms for breakfast, perhaps he could understand, but this was beyond the realm of reality. Michael Fielding was right, and it wasn’t even moonlight.
Chapter 3
Cassie was out of the library a couple of minutes after official closing. Sometimes she stayed later, but not tonight. The meeting was with the senior women, and she was the youngest to be admitted to the inner circle. It was only because she was her mother’s daughter. Since her mother’s death, the other women had taken her under their wing.
She slipped home first. Monty heard her coming and ran to meet her, yowling a greeting. “And hello to you, too. Is it me you’ve missed, or the dinner you’re waiting for?”
The cat followed her to the bedroom and watched as she stripped off her work clothes and pulled on her jeans and a casual top. “It’s just a discussion tonight, Monty. Nothing special, so these clothes are fine.” The cat jumped onto the bed with a short, mewed response. “I haven’t forgotten. I picked you up a nice piece of fish in my lunch hour.” The tip of the cat’s tail twitched. “C’mon. I’ll feed you before I have to go.”
She moved towards the door of her bedroom. The cat jumped off the bed and ran for the kitchen where he sat in front of his bowl. His eyes didn’t leave her as Cassie unwrapped the fishy parcel and cut part of a fillet into bite-sized pieces.
“There is something to tell you,” Cassie said. “A stranger came into the library today and looked at me weirdly. It was as though he knew me, but of course he didn’t. I’d never seen him before.”
The cat’s yellow eyes blinked before he buried his face in the bowl. The fish!
☐
When Cassie arrived at Rowena’s house, the other women were already there. They were seated in the lounge room, with expansive windows displaying the view out over the surrounding garden and the bush beyond. The harsh light of day had dimmed, but the twilight hour still allowed those inside to appreciate the view. Lilacs and pinks streaked across the sky, giving the world a magical perspective.
Each woman nursed a glass of wine, and cheese and biscuits were in arms’ reach on side tables. The combined scent of sandalwood and bush essences wafted from an oil burner in a corner of the room.
“Welcome, daughter of Bronwyn,” intoned Carmel Fielding. “Blessed Be. Now you’re here, we can begin.”
Cassie accepted a glass of merlot and took a seat in the remaining armchair. Carmel had called this meeting and she sat up straight with an air of importance. Cassie sipped her wine and tried not to sigh. She’d not been looking forward to this discussion.
Carmel cleared her throat and began. “Blessings of the Goddess be upon us. The time approaches for the winter-sun ceremony. It will soon be August and already the sun is rising a little earlier each day.”
The women nodded in agreement. “I’ve found some of the river mint plants on my morning walk,” Marnie said. She was a local indigenous woman, versed in which plants were edible, or perhaps could be used for medicinal purposes. “Not many, but soon there will be more. I even saw some sprigs of wattle this morning. That’s early.” She pursed her lips, nodding as she did. “Global warming, I reckon.”
Her assessment was met with a momen
t’s silence. What was there to say?
“I have a suggestion,” Rosie Wilson said. “If we want to greet the sun, we should do that from the top of Mt Benson this year. That’s where the sun’s rays strike first.” She flung out her arms expansively, almost knocking over her drink. Cassie leaned over and grabbed the glass, moving it to a safer position on the table. Rosie always gesticulated exuberantly when she spoke.
“No argument from me,” said Anna Morris. “Not as cold as down in the valley, and that’s always a plus at that time of day. It’s still winter, after all.”
There was a collective shiver in the room of the thought of that early morning chill on bare skin, for those who chose to be sky-clad.
“Well, if that’s agreed,” pressed Rosie, “I think my Evie should be the maid this year. She’s the right age, and it’s time to introduce her to the knowledge and the ways of the clan.”
Carmel snorted. “She’s still too young. Amber would be a better choice.”
Cassie rolled her eyes and caught a glance from Marnie behind Carmel’s back. Amber definitely was not a ‘maid’ and anyway, she had filled the ceremonial role in a previous year. “Amber has already filled that role,” she said. “She performed well as we all acknowledge, but we need to give all young women a turn.” She put on her most diplomatic voice. “Really, the role suits a young woman on the threshold of life—a bud yet to be opened, just as the sun’s rays have yet to awaken the earth.”
“Exactly.” Rosie pressed her point. “Evie is the perfect age.”
Carmel’s lips pressed tightly together, but she couldn’t argue against fact. Amber had previously been the maid. The conversation moved on to more practical matters, such as who was to bring which of the ceremonial items, and who would collect the flowers. They already knew the date, and they always assembled half an hour before sunrise.
“Cassie, you’ll lead the prayers again?” It was half question, half statement from Marnie.
“I can, but I don’t have to, Marnie. You know we’re all equal and if anyone else would like to take that role, I’m happy for them to do so.”
“No way, girl. You’re the one with the Gift. When you talk to the Goddess, she listens. Just like your mum.”
It was true Cassie’s gift was passed down from her mother, and from her mother’s mother before that.
“That brings us to the second matter for this evening,” said Carmel, fixing Cassie with the look for which she was well-known within the group. “Cassandra, for the good of this community, it’s time you were partnered. You’re now twenty-six, and your best child-making years are slipping away. Have you given thought to our last discussion?”
Cassie didn’t answer immediately, battling her rising irritation. She wasn’t a baby-making machine. Why did it have to be her? She raised her eyes to meet those now focused in her direction.
“I know you’re all worried about the continuation of the Gift, and the benefits it brings to this community. There are two comments I would make at this time.” She held up a finger. “One, there are no guarantees I’d fall pregnant, and if I did, that I would give birth to a daughter.”
She held up a second finger. “Two, there are no guarantees a daughter would inherit the Gift, and then lastly—”
“You said there were only two comments,” interrupted Rosie. Cassie fixed her with a look of her own.
“—and lastly, I will not marry just any man to satisfy the needs of this community. If it were that simple, I would have done so years ago.”
She sat back in her chair, but her white-knuckled grip on the armrests indicated her state of mind. The women exchanged glances before Carmel spoke again.
“We’re worried you’re running out of time. You know Bronwyn would have wanted this too. She knew and understood the responsibilities associated with the Gift.”
Why does Carmel have to make this such an onerous obligation? I know better than any of them what my mother would have wanted, and it would not have been a forced marriage.
“If Bronwyn were still with us, she would have advised you on your choice,” Rowena said. “As she is now in the place of eternal light and peace, at one with the earth from which we come and to which we all return, it is our duty to advise you in her place.” She leaned forward, tapping the armrest lightly for emphasis. “We have given you time, but so far you have done nothing about selecting a mate. That gives us little choice but to take steps on your behalf.”
Did they have to be so serious about all this? “I told you I was working on it.”
“So you did,” Rowena said. “But what have you done? We haven’t seen any action on your part.”
“I asked the Goddess to help me. Last night. I held a private ritual at the stone.” The comment was met with astonished stares.
“But you could have asked us,” Marnie said. “You know we’re here to help. There’s my Raff, for instance. He’s knowledgeable in the ways and is solid and reliable. He’d make a good husband.”
Cassie knew Raff quite well, and there was no way she would consider him as her life partner. He was solid and reliable—and boring to boot. No, that was wrong, he wasn’t boring. Because of his mother’s indigenous background, he’d grown up with knowledge she didn’t have, but there wasn’t the connection she sought in a future mate.
“He will make someone a very good husband,” Cassie said diplomatically, “but Raff and I have always been good friends, not potential lovers.”
“Being good friends is an excellent start,” Carmel sniffed. “The love comes with time.”
Cassie mustered her fast-dwindling patience. “That may be so, but I held a private ritual and made my offerings to Aphrodite. I asked her to find me a partner I could love, one who could love me in return and honour my Gift.”
“But that could take months, years even, and you’re not getting any younger.”
Rowena had married her childhood sweetheart when she was twenty, and to her, that was the perfect age. She said so often.
“Thank you for reminding me.” Cassie broke a cracker biscuit in half with a resounding snap. “I’m not on the shelf yet.”
Twenty-six wasn’t old surely? Just because there was no one in town who appealed to her, didn’t mean she had to settle for second best. Certainly not Raff. He was a perfectly lovely man, just not the right one for her.
It begged the question—how would she describe the right man for her? She’d never imagined what he might look like, even more, what he might feel like and what he might do. She would know him when she saw him. His characteristics were important—sense of humour, someone with integrity… oh, and good lover. That was a given.
Carmel broke into her reverie. “Aside from the time factor, it can’t be just anyone. He needs to be one of us.”
“Or be prepared to become one of us,” Rowena amended. “There’s no point in finding a mate who doesn’t understand the ways. He might take you from us, and that would be no better than no mate!”
Cassie looked around at the women in the room, watching her with looks of varied concern, reflecting their individual level of anxiety. They meant well. She would keep telling herself that. She assumed what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
“The Goddess will help.” Her open-handed gesture begged the question. “When has she ever let us down? She will answer my prayers. I understand your concerns, but you must listen when I say, I won’t marry just anyone, and when I do, the mate I choose will be for me.”
“I still think Raff is a worthy option,” Marnie muttered, but none of the others commented. Carmel did allow herself a sigh, but that was only to be expected from Carmel.
“Right, then,” Cassie said, more brightly than she felt. “We’ll give the Goddess a chance to act on my behalf. As soon as there’s any news, you’ll be the first to know. Agreed?”
She turned to Rowena. “If there’s nothing else to discuss, I’ll head off now. It’s been a busy day, and no doubt there’ll be another tomorrow.”
As Cassie and Rowena made their way through the house to the front door, there was a murmur of voices behind them. No prizes for guessing what they were talking about.
☐
Daniel was happy with his output for the day. He’d made solid progress. The pressure was mounting on this project. He’d taken over from a writer who was dismissed for harassment issues, and he didn’t have the time usually allocated for a script development. If he delivered on time, there would be a handsome bonus for him. If he didn’t, there would be a sad loss of face. He’d staked his reputation on completing the script within the original time frame.
He stood and stretched, easing the cricks from his neck and shoulders. Shouldn’t sit so much. Getting out for a walk would be good. A rumble in his belly reminded him it was time for food. Decisions. He had stocked the fridge but wasn’t in the mood to cook. If he walked down to the pub, he could stretch his legs and buy a meal as well. He wouldn’t do that every evening, he told himself. Just this once.
The choice of which pub was easy. The closest. In time, he could try the other. It was an unusually balmy night, almost t-shirt weather, but he slung a jacket over his shoulder in case it was cooler when he walked home. To appease his conscience about going to the pub, he walked the long way around, traversing several streets before turning in the direction of the hotel. He passed some people in their gardens, either watering or just sitting on their veranda and taking the evening air. Everyone waved and called a greeting. Seemed a friendly community.
A few vehicles were drawn up in front of the pub, and the light spilled out through the windows of the front bar. When he pushed open the door, he was met by a series of inquisitive eyes. Several people sat on stools at the bar and swivelled to see who was entering their domain. Others sat at tables or played darts in the corner. A flat-screen television was fixed to an end wall and was tuned to a current reality cooking program. Nobody paid it any attention.