Where the Fruit Falls

by Karen Wyld

  ‘I don’t get it.’

  ‘I need to tell you some other things before it can make sense. It’s not going to be easy telling you this, or listening to it.’

  A while later, Louis felt overwhelmed. He’d offered a few times to listen to whatever had happened to her in the past, but this was not at all what he’d suspected. And now she wanted his opinion. Louis felt this situation was beyond him. Tori sat quietly, eager for his response.

  He suggested, ‘I think someone needs to look in that room. Marcie warned you not to go in there. Perhaps I should.’

  ‘Think it should be me who does.’

  ‘I know nothing I say will change your mind, so I’ll go with you. When?’

  Before Tori could answer, the front door opened.

  ‘Are you home, Louis?’ came a deep male voice.

  ‘In here, Brother. With a friend.’

  The moment Eddie saw Tori he remembered a photo of a young woman and a promise made. A promise to a grieving mother, in the west, where he’d once lived. Mrs Browne had heard she had twin granddaughters while keeping vigil at her youngest son’s side. The accident that had befallen her son Patrick was tragic. Patrick, a local member of parliament, had made promises to a developer who wanted to build a country retreat. He’d offered to sell him the land the family orchard was on. He became frustrated when he wasn’t able to, as his grandmother’s cottage and the orchard had been left to his sister Brigid. Their mother had not heard from Brigid in many years. Still, she refused to go through the legal process of declaring her deceased. So Patrick intended to sell the orchard behind his mother’s back.

  The developer and his senior executives had driven up from the city on the west coast to see the land. When Patrick began to show them around the property, he’d felt peculiar rumblings under his feet. Even if he’d known this movement was his grandmother turning in her grave, Patrick wouldn’t have reconsidered his intentions. The rumblings were soon joined by tree branches loudly creaking. Seeing the worried looks on the visitors’ faces, Patrick had assured them everything was fine, but they’d run to their cars yelling at their chauffeurs to take them back to the city. His plans ruined, Patrick punched the nearest tree. The shock as the shower of apples pelted him was short-lived, as a large red apple had struck Patrick on the temple, knocking him to the ground.

  Hours later, Patrick’s parents had found him under a pile of apples. His mother stayed by Patrick’s side, as his father went to call an ambulance. It was then that Patrick confessed to his mother. It was not the shady deals he had done as a politician, nor the many lies he’d told as a child, that was on his mind. It was telling his sister to never come home. Patrick knew how much Brigid needed family, he’d heard it in her voice, but still he’d told his sister that no one wanted her around. His mother had cried as he confessed, and cried some more when Patrick told her that she had twin granddaughters. By the time Patrick had taken his last breath, she had no more tears to cry.

  A week after Patrick was laid to rest, Margaret told a novice brother about her son’s confession. She’d shown him a photo of her daughter, and believed her granddaughters would be just as beautiful. Brother Eddie had promised to find Brigid and her daughters, and to bring them home. He’d never forgotten this promise made many years ago. This young woman before him was the spitting image of the woman in the photo. He could now complete that promise he’d made to Mrs Browne.

  Tori paused to look at her sister, sitting alone on a long metal bench, surrounded by an eclectic assortment of bags. Tori had told Maggie not to worry, that she’d be back in time. Tori glanced up at the large clock on the bus station wall, then took off. Running around the corner, she bumped into Louis.

  He asked, ‘Where you going in such a hurry?

  ‘I’ve got something to do before we leave.’

  ‘What’s so important? Your bus leaves in just over an hour.’

  ‘I know, so I don’t have time to talk. You can join me or wait with Maggie.’

  ‘Let’s go, then.’

  The city streets were almost empty, as was often the case for late Sunday afternoon. Tori raced ahead, intent on seeing what Andrés had in the locked room. When she got to the gallery, Tori went down the back alley. She stopped under a small window that was slightly ajar.

  When Louis caught up to her, Tori said, ‘I left that unlocked yesterday. If you give me a leg-up, I can climb in, turn off the alarm and let you in the back door.’

  Louis put his hands together, palms up, for Tori to step on, then hoisted her up. She didn’t take long to pull the window open and wriggle through. Louis stood by the door, waiting for her. The alarm went off, just for a few seconds.

  She opened the back door. ‘Oops. Hope no one heard that.’

  Outside the small gallery, she turned the handle, hoping Andrés had forgotten to lock it. Cussing, she tried to find something to break open the door open.

  ‘Move aside,’ urged Louis, taking out a thin piece of wire from his pocket.

  Tori expressed surprise at how quickly Louis picked the lock.

  ‘Don’t ask,’ he said, grinning.

  Tori entered the windowless room first, turning on the lights. She stood frozen, with a hand still on the light switch, eyes wide. Louis glanced around the room.

  ‘We need to get out of here. Marcie was right. You shouldn’t be looking at these photos.’

  Tori shook her head. ‘I have to.’

  Louis stayed by the door as Tori walked further into the room. Closest to the door were the photos Ana had taken of her. Tori eyes moved to the next image. Beside a large black-and-white photo of Tori, taken by Ana, was a black-and-white shot of Brigid. She guessed von Wolff had taken this. She stared at the image of her mother. Although she was much younger than Brigid had been when this photo was taken, the similarities were uncanny. Including the shape of the scarring on their faces. Tori’s hand unconsciously went to her cheek. It felt hot, and she began to feel dizzy and unsteady on her feet. Louis moved quickly to stand behind her, lifting a hand towards her back. He paused, uncertain, then placed his hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Thanks,’ she whispered, straightening herself again.

  Inhaling, Tori moved to the next photo, with Louis by her side. It was a picture of her, Maggie and their mother. She thought von Wolff must have taken a candid shot, as they wouldn’t have been so carefree if he’d been in sight. Tears rolled down Tori’s cheek. She raised a hand, touching the glass that imprisoned this happier moment from her past.

  The next photos were a series of four photos of her mother, most likely taken on the same day, as she wore the same dress. Tori examined her mother’s expression. Brigid’s eyes were ablaze with a steely hatred, as she stared into von Wolff ’s camera lens. Tori instinctively stood straighter, head held high, as she’d done as a child; as she’d seen her mother do many times. Despite that look of strength, in these photos Tori also saw weariness in her mother’s face. Tori wiped away a tear. She suddenly recalled all the times she’d blamed her mother: for not leaving von Wolff, for leaving them. Gabriel had tried to convince Tori that her mother did the best she could. That it was debt that had kept their mother trapped; and that von Wolff had threatened to have them put in an orphanage if their mother left. He tried to get Tori to see things differently, to see from her mother’s point of view. To forgive.

  Tori then thought about Andrés. How mean he was to her. How she had known many months earlier that she should leave, that she deserved more, but still she didn’t leave. She thought of the way he’d fetishised her and Marcie, while also treating them as below him. After he’d got Marcie deported, Tori no longer had a friend to lift her up. Instead, she’d begun to believe that the way that Andrés and Stefan had treated her was what she deserved.

  ‘I understand now,’ she whispered. ‘I know how they grind us down, until we begin to forget who we really are. Until we hate being in our own skin.’

  Tori walked out the door, returning shortly after
.

  Louis asked, ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Chemicals from the darkroom. The really flammable type, I hope. Have you got a light?’

  ‘What are you planning to do?’

  ‘To burn this place down, of course.’

  ‘Don’t do it, Tori.’

  Louis and Tori looked towards the doorway. Maggie stood there, catching her breath.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ asked Tori.

  ‘I was worried you’d miss the bus. I had a feeling you’d come here.’

  ‘You’re just in time to watch this all burn,’ remarked Tori.

  ‘No, you can’t fix the past by repeating the past.’

  ‘I can try, and have some fun while trying.’

  ‘Let’s just go. Leave all the bad moments behind,’ pleaded Maggie.

  ‘Look at us. Do you not see us on these walls? The past won’t let me have some peace until these images are destroyed.’

  ‘That’s not us. It’s just a wicked man’s false image of us. We are not these photos.’

  Louis said, ‘Listen to Maggie, please.’

  ‘Why? She has no idea how much this hurts,’ replied Tori, indicating the photos on the wall.

  Maggie walked into the room. ‘Don’t I? That’s my image up there too. Did he not also treat me appallingly?’

  ‘It wasn’t the same. It’s never been the same.’

  ‘Look again at the photos. Can you remember all the many times I cried myself to sleep? Do you really believe that von Wolff didn’t cause me pain as well?’

  Maggie stood next to Tori, as she moved to the next set of photos. And then the next. Each one took Tori back in time, to a place she’d resisted revisiting. There she was, dressed as von Wolff ’s vision of a noble savage: leaning on a spear, her foot resting on her bare thigh, hair unruly, face painted in a mockery of culture. Sifting her gaze, Tori noticed her sister in that same photo: sprawled on the ground, white gown ripped at the bodice, exposing a hint of skin over a whalebone corset. Then she looked at the next photo: Maggie was in a white safari suit and pith helmet, with a false moustache and holding a large antique rifle, while she sat on the ground at her sister’s feet, bare from the waist up, heavy chains around her neck.

  ‘He tried to portray me as victim to your villain, or conqueror to conquered. White against black. Sister against sister,’ whispered Maggie. ‘Am I not an Aboriginal woman too? Or do you see me as he saw me?’

  ‘No, of course not. I know it was tough on you, but you can’t know what it was like for Mum and me.’

  ‘I’m not saying I know how it felt, but I saw how hard it was for you both. Like in that town on the gibber plains, when we were younger. The townsfolk accepted me because they saw me as white, like them, while they barely tolerated you and Mum. I saw all that. I knew how much you were hurting. It hurt me too. We’re twins. The same blood flows through our veins. Same blood as our mother and father.’

  Tori shouted, ‘You don’t know what it’s like to be in this skin!’

  ‘I know I haven’t experienced racism, like you have. If I could, I would willingly punish everyone who hurt you, and who hurt our mother. I don’t know what it feels like for you to walk in such an intolerant world, but I have been beside you since we took our first breath together. I know that doors shut in your face will stay open for me. Slurs thrown at you will rarely be said to me. The way people ignore my identity is painful, but unlike you, I’ll never be discriminated against because of the colour of my skin.’

  Tori took Maggie’s hand and squeezed it. ‘I’d forgotten how you stood up for me in the school playground. You were so little and so fierce.’

  Still holding hands, they moved to the next images. While they were examining the photos, Louis collected the bottles of chemicals Tori had placed on the ground, and walked towards the door. He was surprised to encounter Brother Eddie standing there, an expression of sorrow on his normally serene face. Eddie reached out and squeezed Louis’s shoulder gently, giving him a nod. He then walked into the room, the twins unaware of his presence. Eddie scanned the walls, visibly shocked by the images. Each photo was seemingly worse than the other, as if Andrés had laid out a path of ascending depravity. Eddie noticed that the twins now stood before a black curtain on the wall. Tori’s hand reached out, to lift the veil.

  ‘Stop,’ said Eddie firmly.

  They both tried to blink away the horrors they’d seen, before refocusing on a friendly face.

  ‘Come on, let’s leave this behind,’ he suggested.

  Maggie moved towards Eddie, still holding her sister’s hand. When Tori did not budge, Maggie stopped.

  Eddie said firmly, ‘Don’t look under that cloth, Tori. It won’t bring your mother back. It will just scar you.’

  Tori shouted, ‘Am I not already scarred? My face might have healed, but I will always carry the scars of what that man did!’

  Maggie went to Louis, who was still standing in the doorway, while Eddie walked towards Tori. Standing not too close, giving her the space she needed. The pain he saw in her eyes almost brought him to tears.

  Taking a deep breath, he remarked, ‘With time, all scars fade. Pain is forgotten. Right now it might seem impossible, but you will know happiness again, one day.’

  ‘Don’t patronise me.’

  ‘That’s not my intent.’

  ‘Then get out of the way, so I can look at the remaining photos.’

  ‘You’ve seen enough.’

  ‘I need to look. Our mum needs a witness.’

  ‘Then let me do it.’

  Tori paused, thinking. She then noticed the concern on Louis and Maggie’s faces.

  Tori sighed. ‘You must tell me what you see. Promise?’

  Eddie nodded. Tori went to stand with her sister and Louis. The twins stood either side of Louis, his arms around their shoulders, as they huddled in silence. Eddie reached for the curtain. Lifting it, he was noticeably shaken. His eyes scanned photo after photo, each more horrific than the last. Eddie’s thoughts raced: How can I keep the promise I just made? How does one describe a mother’s lynching to her own children?

  As he walked towards them, Eddie hid his thoughts while the girls scanned his face for a sign of what was under the curtain. Having seen all these photos, he knew they’d survived experiences no young person should have to endure.

  ‘What’s under there?’ Tori asked.

  Eddie inhaled. ‘Photos of your mother.’

  Tori whispered, ‘Do they show how he killed her?’

  ‘Yes. I’m so sorry.’

  Tori took a step forward, then stopped. ‘I don’t need to see them, do I?’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ said Eddie. ‘I will ensure your mother gets justice.’

  ‘Justice was already served,’ opined Tori. ‘Von Wolff is dead.’

  Maggie reached up, took a frame off the wall, ripped off the back and removed the photo. She held it up for Tori to see. It was the candid shot of them with their mother, the one of them smiling. Tori also selected a photo, of just their mother. Not the defiant pose, the image of her with a serene expression.

  ‘This reminds me of Mum from our campfires and open-road days,’ remarked Tori.

  ‘I know I often whinged about the walking, but I actually liked those days. That was when Mum and you were the happiest.’

  Once everyone was back in the large gallery, Eddie found the switch and turned off the lights in the smaller room. The sun was setting, which reminded Tori they had a bus to catch.

  ‘We need to get back to the station.’

  ‘First, tell me how Andrés got these photos,’ Brother Eddie said.

  ‘It was that cop, Peters,’ said Tori.

  ‘The one who was friends with von Wolff?’ asked Maggie.

  ‘I’m sure it was the same Peters.’

  ‘Do you know where Andrés keeps the negatives?’ asked Eddie.

  Louis chimed in: ‘Tori, didn’t Simone give you that message from Marcie, about how the poli
ce need to check the safe in Andrés office?’

  Tori nodded in reply to Louis, then asked Eddie, ‘Why do you want the negatives?’

  ‘The photos made me realise you were the twins that I’d been told about.’

  ‘Yes, you already told us about the promise you’d made to our mum’s mother,’ remarked Tori.

  ‘No, there’s more. You see, I met a man called Gabriel. Two years ago, while working as a prison chaplain. He told me a bit about a murder, and a fire. And how he’d been framed. Mostly, he spoke of twin girls he was worried about.’

  Maggie cried, ‘You saw him? Was he all right?’

  ‘He’d been hoping to get out, so he could find you two. Instead, he was sentenced to a long term in prison. For double murder, arson and kidnapping. Peters had testified that Gabriel purposely set the studio on fire, to kill von Wolff. He declared the motive was to stop von Wolff telling the police that Gabriel had killed your mother.’

  ‘What a liar. I always hated Peters,’ said Tori.

  Maggie added, ‘Gabriel would never hurt anyone.’

  ‘I know,’ said Eddie. ‘These photos and the negatives might be enough to get Gabriel a retrial. And get Peters charged with perjury for the false testimony. At some point, you might both need to return as witnesses.’

  ‘We would do anything for Gabriel,’ declared Maggie. ‘For our mum to have justice, the name of her killer must be known.’

  ‘What about Andrés?’ Tori asked. ‘Can you make sure he pays too?’

  Eddie responded, ‘Perhaps he’ll be charged for possession and intent to display those photos. Leave this to me. You two have a bus to catch.’

  Maggie hugged Eddie. ‘Thanks for everything. You’re amazing. First you found our grandmother, and now you’re going to help free Gabriel.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Tori.

  Eddie smiled. ‘It wasn’t much at all.’

  ‘It truly is everything. We now have a place to belong, and a grandmother to love us. How can we ever thank you, Brother Eddie?’ asked Maggie.

  ‘Just keep being deadly,’ he said, grinning.