Spookily enough, that thought coincides with yet another urgent rapping against the window. I don’t want to believe Reece when he says the trees are in fact four sad women but then again, what does he have to gain by lying? I’ll see if I can find a Mrs. Oakleigh when I research Euthanasia’s history at the library, although I’m hoping she’s just a figment of Reece’s overactive imagination. We can’t possibly be dealing with yet another supernatural shit storm. Obidiah and the terror he wrought is behind us now, just a bad memory on the long, dusty road of life. A niggling little voice reminds me that Reece called me Angel but I’m determined not to read too much into that.
Making up my mind that too much thinking never did anyone any good, I get up to switch off the lights and head off to bed. This will be my last night of peaceful sleep before I have to share my room with my sister and I plan on spreading out on the mattress like a wandering starfish to make the most of my last few hours of freedom.
Chapter Fourteen
Naturally, Organza doesn’t hitch a ride or catch the bus from the airport to Euthanasia. Oh no, those modes of transport are for the peasants and Organza is far too good for that kind of rigmarole. Organza arrives in some type of expensive chauffeur-driven limousine but she insists it’s just a ‘premium Uber’. She haughtily instructs her chauffeur to carry in her copious amounts of suitcases as she waltzes on ahead of him and steps into the house.
Organza is a gorgeous young woman, there’s no denying that. She’s blonde and blue-eyed, slim but well-endowed. The type of woman who looks great in both gym wear and cocktail dresses. Add that amazing figure to her flawless face and you have Organza Friedlander, full-time social media ho. It’s a job that suits her down to the ground.
Mom hugs Organza and fusses over her, which saves me doing it. I show the chauffeur through to my bedroom where Organza’s bags soon take up most of the available floor space. My one paltry, battered suitcase looks completely out of place next to Organza’s matching pale blue designer luggage range but I honestly don’t give a fat rat’s patootie.
I close the front door as the chauffeur leaves and then I finally have the chance to greet my sister. “Hey, Organza. Welcome to my humble home.”
She wrinkles her surgically enhanced nose as she trots regally around the room and peeks up the hallway. “It is quite small. I didn’t realize how small it was when I agreed to come out.” She says ‘agreed’ as if she’s doing us all a huge favor by being here. “Does this town have a Hilton? We could always ring to see if they have any rooms available. I don’t know where you’re going to sleep otherwise, Ellie. Perhaps you can take the sofa? Reece did say there are only three bedrooms.”
Cheeky cow. “I’m sleeping in my own bed, the same as I did last night and the night before that. However, out of the goodness of my heart I’m allowing you to sleep in there with me rather than shoving you at the sofa and wishing you all the best. And no, Euthanasia doesn’t have a Hilton. It doesn’t even have a Best Western.”
“Girls.” Mom wades in to pour oil on troubled waters or, in Organza’s case, Botox on troubled wrinkles. “How about we keep the squabbles to a minimum over the next few days? It’s so lovely to have the family together again.” She looks pointedly at Organza. “Before you say anything else, no one is going anywhere. We’ll all staying here so we can make the most of our limited time together.”
That’s easy enough for her to say. She’s not sharing a bed, or even a room. I think Organza’s mind is running along that same rocky trail because she’s just opened her mouth to let loose a retort when Reece inadvertently saves the day. He swoops in on Organza and wraps her in a bear hug, shutting down all hopes of her speaking her mind to Mom. “Organza! I’ve missed you so much!”
Yeah, it’s sweet. Those two were always close. I watch as Organza’s icy expression melts. Pure, unconditional love shines from her face as she gazes at her brother. “Hey, Reece. I like your sweatshirt.”
He holds her at arms’ length and scrutinizes her perfect face. “You really don’t need to have all that clostridium botulinum toxin. You’re pretty enough without it.”
“Huh?”
I’m able to clarify this for her. We did a TV special on it not so long ago. “He means Botox. It’s made from the same bacteria that causes food poisoning.”
“Ewwwwwwwwww.” Clearly, Organza has never bothered to ask her beautician exactly what it is she’s injecting into her face.
“What are we having for lunch?” asks Mom, already on her way out to the kitchen and apparently intent on doing some mothering now that everyone is here. “Do we need to get some groceries yet? I think we do. We might need to pay a trip to the store.”
“I’m not going grocery shopping.” Organza flops down on the sofa. “I’m here on vacation.”
Shit-a-roonie, I want to strangle her already. How am I going to share a room with her? “Well, I’m not here on vacation but everyone else seems to be forgetting that.” I desperately need an hour or so to myself and I’m not lying when I say I have work to do. “I’m going to the library this afternoon to do some research. I don’t want to fall behind on my assignment.”
“Can I come?” Reece is practically dancing on the spot at the mention of the library. “Mom and Organza can go do the grocery shopping and you and I can go hang out with the books.”
I love the way he says that, as if books are real and live things. Our buddies. “Sure, Reece. Sounds good to me.”
Organza starts to curl her lip but she catches sight of Mom’s warning look and sucks her pout back in again.
“We should get some food organized for Reece’s birthday,” Mom continues. “Have you made any plans, Ellie?”
“Uh, that’ll be a no. I thought we might go to a restaurant or something but I haven’t made any firm plans. It’s not a big deal – we’re the only guests.” Okay, I’m a bad big sister. Reece’s visit here was supposed to be all about his birthday but the addition of Mom and Organza is a distraction. It’s a little difficult to focus on one quiet young man with two narcissists vying for attention.
“We should go out,” Organza says. “There must be at least one decent restaurant here.” Organza went to the Isle of Capri for her 21st birthday eleven months’ ago. Not one of us was invited but from the photos she posted to her Instagram account, it seems she had a good time.
“We went to Waffle Palooza last night,” Reece muses. “I liked it there.”
Mom does this soppy, girly giggle. “They have very nice wait staff.”
“We’re not going to a waffle house for Reece’s birthday!” Anyone would think we’d just asked Organza to dance naked through the chimpanzee enclosure on opening day at the zoo. “There must be something better than that.”
“Knock yourself out, Organza. You find somewhere better than Waffle Palooza and we’ll go there, although I have to agree with Reece that it was pretty good.” I share a conspiratorial grin with my brother.
Organza grumbles and groans for a while longer but soon gives up when she sees that no one is listening.
Mom clatters and bangs around in the kitchen for a bit before reappearing with a notepad and pen. “Anyone have any special requests from the grocery store?”
“More marshmallows,” says Reece.
“I’m an organic vegan now,” Organza puts in loftily. “I’m very fussy about what I eat. I have to be in order to keep my figure.” She drags a disdainful glance over me. “Obviously you eat whatever you want, Ellie.”
“Generally.” I swear, she’s got me so on edge that even my teeth are itching. “Hey, are you ready Reece? We should head over to the library now. I could be there a while and I’d like to get started.”
“Leave the car for us to use.” Organza hasn’t lost her knack for giving orders. “We’ll need it to bring the groceries home. I’m not lugging grocery sacks back here.” She holds up her hands to show us. “I had my nails done at a salon at the airport. Manicure and pedicure.”
“Ther
e’s no car. You’ll have to walk.” I give my sister a sunny smile as I pack my notes and video camera into my shoulder bag. “Enjoy your afternoon.”
Chapter Fifteen
Euthanasia Public Library sits housed in one of those innocuous red brick buildings that might be home to anything from a kindergarten to a doctor’s rooms. The ‘L’ is missing from the word Public on the sign, an unfortunate omission that makes Reece snigger. There are a few cars parked in the parking lot and a bicycle propped up against the wall, but otherwise the place looks deserted.
Reece bounces in the door, delighted to be back in his spiritual home, and immediately takes off toward the Adventure & Action section. I make a more leisurely circuit of the library before setting up camp in the Non-Fiction area, close to the shelves marked “Local History”. An ancient librarian whom I’m 99% positive has sprinkles of actual dust coating her grey curls looks over her glasses at me from behind her desk. She gives me a disdainful once-over before returning to the book laid out in front of her. Aside from the librarian, Reece, and I, there is a man with his nose buried in a magazine and a young mother reading to her toddler. The young mother interests me – she’s the first female around my own age that I’ve seen in Euthanasia – but she doesn’t look up.
I grab a random stack of books off the shelf and take them over to the nearest desk. It seems there have been several books written about Euthanasia and its surrounds, but most of them refer to the investigations conducted into the non-appearance of infant girls in the region. I spend thirty minutes of so flicking through these but it’s not really what I’m looking for. I’m about to return the books to the shelf when I see a slim volume almost hidden between two meatier books. The cover is tattered and torn, bandaged up here and there with tape, and the old-fashioned title font is worn off in places. However, I can read it well enough for the words to give me a sudden thrill of excitement. ‘The Moribund Witches of Euthanasia.’
Witches? Oooh, this will be fascinating. I know there used to be witch trials in this part of the country in days of old, back in those times when a simple accusation could lead to often fatal persecution, but I didn’t know that Euthanasia had its own coven. The ‘moribund’ stumps me for a bit and I have to admit that I take a quick sneaky look at Google to find the definition. Seems it’s another word for doomed, which makes the book’s contents even more intriguing.
The first chapter is hard going as it’s written in a flowery old style that was probably popular back in the late eighteenth century. It also contains several rows of names that mean absolutely nothing to me. From what I can determine, the author is introducing his readers to the members who served on the Town Council at the time. Small town councils are an entity that I personally hate almost as much as I hate small town law enforcement. The Town Council members of Warren’s End were the men who voted to turn my family into outcasts and their appalling behavior still rankles.
I flip over to Chapter Two and this is where it starts getting gripping. According to the author, a T. L. Milne, four women in the town faced the accusation that they’d sold their souls to the devil and were operating in the guise of witches. My eyes light up when I see he’s listed the names of the accused women: Jane Oakleigh, Agnes Highborn, Myrtle Johnson, and Maisie Abraham. Jane Oakleigh. I glance over to where Reece is engrossed in what looks to be an encyclopedia. He said that one of the four sad women he’d seen outside the house introduced herself to him as Mrs. Oakleigh. Coincidence? I think not. We’re the Friedlanders, remember? Coincidences are pure fiction in our world.
I turn the page to start reading Chapter Three, aware that I’m already over halfway through the book. This chapter dedicates its content to how the citizens of Euthanasia went about ‘proving’ these women were witches. It’s difficult for me to read this stuff. I know what it’s like to be ostracized from a community. Anyway, I struggle through and then I’m onto Chapter Four, which covers the trial.
The trial itself isn’t a trial in any modern sense of the word. Basically, these poor women were dragged in front of the esteemed members of the Town Council and dunked in a pond until they ‘confessed’. Nasty. I can’t say I’m sad to reach the end of Chapter Four.
Chapter Five proves to be the most useful for my purposes. In these pages, the author describes how the entire bloodthirsty town turned up to watch the witches burn at the stake. Interestingly enough, the stake and surrounding bonfire were made from silver birch branches. Coincidence? Uh-uh, as I said before there’s no such thing.
Jane Oakleigh was the last woman who the council members tied to what would ultimately be her death post. According to witnesses, she stood up loud and proud and announced to everyone assembled that she wanted to say her final words. Somewhat reluctantly, the Town Council agreed and they recorded her last words to go down in the annals of history. Or in this case, in the pages of this innocuous little book.
‘I, Jane Oakleigh, wife of the late Desmond Oakleigh, henceforth place a curse on the small-minded citizens of Euthanasia. As the Town Council members who have condemned us have come from both far and wide, I hereby issue a Sacral Decree wherein a rift shall divide the town and surrounding countryside forevermore. From this day forward, life and death will foster a boundary that will remain unbroken unless dire wrongs can be righted. Furthermore, two centuries from now, there shall be a dearth of female babies born to the womenfolk of Euthanasia. This incident will incite the menfolk to suffer a further period of heartache and loss. We four women will not be cast aside like rags and bone without leaving this town with a permanent reminder of our existence. Heed me well as we will be forever vigilant.’
Very cunning, Jane Oakleigh. I must say I’m impressed by your foresight in extending your curse out to two centuries in the future. Nice work.
According to the last paragraph of the book, the Town Council saw to the hasty lighting of the bonfires after that startling little announcement, making sure that Jane Oakleigh and her curses were hurriedly dealt to. Interesting stuff. I now have more of an idea of when and why the whole town/country divide started. Clever Jane Oakleigh used her curse to drive a divisive wedge between the council members, men who resided in both the town and the outlying countryside.
I take the book with me and wander over to talk to the ancient librarian. “Hi there. I doing some research on the history of Euthanasia. Do you know anything about the Sacral Decree?”
Ms. Old and Crusty shudders, but I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve asked her about the Sacral Degree or because I’ve interrupted her reading time. “Who wants to know?”
Who does she thinks wants to know? As far as I’m aware, there’s only one person standing in front of her desk right now. “Uh, me?”
She’s staring at the book in my hand now, as if it’s some slimy toad I’ve just pulled out of the swamp. “Where did you get that?”
“Off the local history shelf.” I have to focus hard on being patient and courteous so that I don’t start tapping my fingers impatiently on the desktop. Aren’t I supposed to be the one with the questions?
Madam Le Grouch glares around the library and I follow her gaze to see that magazine man and the young mother have gone. Only Reece and I remain. The librarian clears her throat, using the same tone as a bulldozer revving its engine before it desecrates a cliff face. “Time to leave. The library is CLOSED.”
With that, Ms. Joy, Light, and Happiness scoots us outside then slams and locks the door behind us. Luckily, she didn’t see me stuff the book up inside my sweatshirt before we were evicted.
Chapter Sixteen
When we arrive back at the house, I tell Reece to go on inside. I hang back, mumbling something about the paperboy throwing the newspaper into the hydrangeas this morning and me not being able to find it. As soon as he’s inside, I whip around the side of the house to check on the silver birch trees. I walk right up to them this time and lay my hand on the papery bark, wondering if these four pleasant-looking trees could really be four witche
s who vowed to remain ever vigilant in order to oversee a centuries-old act of revenge.
“Ellllllieeeeeeeeeeee.”
Organza screeches like a demented hoot owl from the front doorstep and I nearly jump right out of my skin. “WHAT?!” I roar back, partly to cover my fright and partly because it’s Organza.
“Mom wants to know if you want beef casserole or vegan broccoli bake for dinner.”
What the hell? What kind of option is that? Sure, I love broccoli bake but without the cheese? Has the girl finally gone completely mad? I stomp back around the side of the house and follow Organza, who is clearly lacking any joy in her life, back inside.
“I bumped into the Sheriff while I was waiting for Organza to finish taking her selfies at the park. He was so pleasant and welcoming.” Mom has that pleased look on her face that tells me the good Sheriff gave her a compliment or at the very least, an admiring glance.
“Oh yeah. Dixie Normous.”
Organza brightens at once. “Ooohh, Ellie. I didn’t realize you’d been that active since you arrived in Euthanasia. Is there anything more you want to tell us about your ‘work assignments’?”
I wave away her clumsy attempts at sly innuendo, deciding to overlook my own prior childish jokes about his name. “It’s his real name. His family is French. And no, I would not go there. Not ever.” I sniff the air, smelling Mom’s famous beef casserole as it curls tantalizingly through the air. “I’m putting my hand up for the beef, Mom. I’ll have some broccoli but only if you add cheese to mine.”
Nothing Town Page 6