The Shadow Behind Her Smile

by Janene Wood

  “Mummy…”

  The sound brought Jane back to herself, as if waking her from a trance. “Oh dear God,” she whispered. “What's going on here? Get the hell away from my daughter!” she screamed at the priest. Springing forward, she thrust herself bodily between Kate and Father Peter, forcing the priest to step back from the bed. The surprise on his face would have been comical if Jane hadn't been so furious.

  “Madam...” he began but was cowed into silence by the look on Jane’s face. He took another step backward.

  “Why is my daughter tied to the bed like a crazy person?” Jane demanded, her face an alarming shade of crimson.

  “I am a man of God, Madam. I don’t answer to you! How dare you interfere at such a critical time in the ritual!” sputtered the priest.

  Alerted by Jane's raised voice, Frank and Holly rushed into the room. Frank assessed the situation in an instant and immediately took charge. “Boys, untie your sister, please,” he instructed quietly, keeping an eye on the priest in case he tried to interfere.

  Simon quickly moved around the bed while Sam stepped past Jane, both of them hurrying to do as they were bid. Jack hovered nearby, waiting for them to finish untying Kate’s hands so he could comfort her. She was clearly in great distress. He gently wiped her eyes with a tissue, blinking back his own tears.

  “What’s wrong with you, you monster?” Jane demanded of the priest. “She’s just a little girl!”

  “I don’t expect you to understand,” said Father Peter with righteous indignation. “A woman like you.”

  “Try me,” Jane dared him, her voice dangerously calm.

  The priest pulled himself up to his full height and took on an air of haughty superiority. “The child is possessed by an evil spirit. I was attempting to purge her of it before I was so rudely interrupted.”

  Jane gave a short, humourless snort. “An evil spirit? Are you serious? I've never heard anything more ludicrous.”

  “You cannot deny she has supernatural abilities; I've seen the proof of it myself.”

  “Yes, she has a gift,” admitted Jane defiantly. “A God-given gift that allows her to perform miraculous deeds for people in need. Good deeds. If you were truly a man of God, you would recognise it for what it is,” said Jane derisively. “It certainly doesn’t need purging.”

  Nona got unsteadily to her feet. Everyone's attention was focused on the interaction between Jane and the priest, so they didn't notice her till she spoke. “Her immortal soul is in danger,” she informed Jane testily, in heavily accented English. “The ritual will restore her to God's grace.”

  Jane and Holly both looked across at the old woman in surprise; neither of them had realised Heather's great-grandmother even spoke English. They did know she was fanatically religious. They exchanged a brief, dismissive look and returned their attention to the priest.

  Frowning slightly, Nona sat back down and took something from her handbag. Using two shaking hands, she unfolded a small penknife. Gazing into Kate's eyes with real affection, she took her hand in a surprisingly firm grip, and explained, “This is for your own good, child. The demon needs to be cast out.” Then she sliced open the soft flesh of Kate's inner arm.

  Kate screamed.

  Nona held firm to Kate’s arm. “Begone, demon!” she cried joyously. She raised the blade once more, but Holly was already scrambling around the bed and managed to wrestle the knife from Nona's hand before she could do any more harm.

  “Sit down you crazy old bat and don't move!” She pushed Nona back into the chair and glared at her fiercely.

  “Oh God, baby! Are you all right?” cried Jane frantically, alarmed by the blood oozing from the gash on Kate's arm. The incision was only small, but looked like it might have nicked a vein.

  Frank rushed to the door and stuck his head out. “Somebody help!” he yelled. “We need a nurse in here!”

  Kate was crying, more from fright than from pain or serious injury. Her tears elicited a similar outpouring from Jack. Simon and Sam didn't know how to react; there was so much confusion and noise! Jane was trying to comfort the two youngest kids without much success. She lifted her head and caught Father Peter's eye. “Look what you've done, you old fool!” she berated him. “Are you pleased with yourself?”

  The priest had the grace to look discomfited, if not actually regretful. “That wasn't meant to... I didn't know...”

  “Get out of here now, before I bloody well stick you with a knife. And take that crazy old woman with you.”

  Father Peter was obviously conflicted and his uncertainty made him hesitate.

  “Get out!” screamed Jane. “Get out before I call the police and have you arrested for assault!”

  Father Peter collected his Bible, the bottle of holy water and the incense burner, leaving the burning candles behind in his haste to be gone. Holly propelled an unresisting Nona to the door, where the priest hovered, waiting to escort her out.

  Out in the corridor where no one could overhear, Holly took Father Peter aside. “If one word of this gets out,” she said softly, “or if I even think people are talking about what you tried to do here, I'll make it my mission in life to see you defrocked and disgraced, and if possible, excommunicated.”

  Holly watched the priest carefully to make sure he got the message. “You know I have the connections to do it,” she reiterated, “and believe it or not, God is on my side, you sanctimonious hypocrite.”

  The priest's lips were pursed in disapproval but he nodded once. He turned on his heel and stalked away.

  New Year's Eve

  December 1965

  “Do we really have to take the tree down today, Mum?” called Kate from the living room. “Haven't you ever heard of the twelve days of Christmas? By my calculations, we’re six days too early.”

  Through the east-facing windows, she could see a thin sliver of shimmering blue ocean, sandwiched between the pristine white of the dunes. That was where she wanted to be, outside under the wide expanse of azure sky, not stuck indoors, helping her mother prepare for tonight's party.

  In response to Kate's threatened insubordination, Jane McDermott stepped out of the kitchen and paused gratefully in front of the electric fan. She had been on her feet since dawn, chopping, stirring, kneading, frying and baking, and her hair was plastered to her scalp with sweat.

  “I’ve already explained this to you, Kate,” sighed Jane. “There’s going to be 50 people here in six hours’ time so this room needs to be cleared out completely. So do me a favour, stop complaining and just get on with it.”

  Kate muttered mutinously, but returned to her task. She had already removed the tinsel from the tree and most of the ornaments, but hadn’t been able to bring herself to turn off the coloured lights, not until she had exhausted all avenues of appeal. The lights were her absolute favourite thing about Christmas, and once they were gone, it meant Christmas was truly over for another year.

  On the bright side, there was the party to look forward to. Heather was sleeping over, and they were both excited about staying up until midnight and welcoming the new year in. 1966 was going to be the best year ever, decided Kate optimistically. Her mother and Frank were getting finally married, which meant she and her brothers were going to have a real, official father for the first time in their lives. That – the surprise announcement of their imminent nuptials (in two days’ time at the registry office in Cairns) – was the reason for the party. The fact that it was also New Year’s Eve was entirely incidental.

  Not that 1965 had been all bad. Compared to the previous year, it was a picnic. The fallout from Heather’s ‘miraculous’ recovery had been difficult to deal with, but Kate managed to tough it out. The entire school, including the teachers, seemed to have an opinion on the subject of Kate’s ‘gift’ and insisted on sharing it with her. True, most of the comments were positive, but they were totally overshadowed by the hurtful, disapproving, insultingly ignorant barbs of the minority. Their poisonous words had a way of worki
ng themselves deep under Kate’s skin and festering for days afterward. Luckily, Kate had Heather and Jack (and to a lesser degree Sam and his annoying friend Tayo) to lean on. Without the four of them acting like a protective force-field, keeping the worst offenders at bay, things would have been ten times worse.

  And when the story of Father Peter’s aborted exorcism finally leaked out, as was inevitable, the whole business climbed to an entirely new level of insanity that Kate could never have foreseen. Yet even the incessant teasing was preferable to the alternative. As long as Heather was safe and well, she would have put up with just about anything.

  Unsurprisingly, Bulldog French and his small faction of mindless troglodytes were Kate's harshest critics, suggesting to anyone who would listen that Father Peter should have been allowed to finish what he started and that Kate shouldn't be allowed to return to school if he so clearly believed she was a danger to herself or others. They went so far as to lobby the school principal to have her removed, and may well have succeeded if it hadn't been for the timely intervention of the Bishop of Cairns, who happened to be acquainted with the facts of the case. It was no coincidence that the perfidious Father Peter soon found himself bundled quietly out of Fiddlers Creek and into a busy Brisbane parish where he had far more pressing matters to concern himself with than the persecution of innocent young girls.

  Kate placed the last branch of the silver and white Christmas tree into its long cardboard box and closed the lid. She could hear Jack in the kitchen, arguing with their mother. After spending the last two hours in the hot summer sun mowing the lawn, he was begging Jane for some of the tasty fare she had cooked for the party.

  “Kate!” called Jane, poking her head out of the kitchen unexpectedly. “Have you finished with that tree yet or am I going to have to come in there and do it myself?”

  “Don't come in here!” Kate yelled back in a sudden panic. Halfway through packing away the Christmas decorations, Kate had decided to decorate the room with the discarded strings of coloured lights, to give the party a more festive feel. “I’ve finished the tree and I’m doing something else now as a surprise. I’ll tell you when you can come in!” Just a few minor adjustments and she would be done. Climbing onto a chair, she adjusted the fall of the lights so they were more evenly distributed across the top of the window frame.

  “Whatcha doin’, bruv?” called Jack from the doorway, his curiosity piqued. He clutched a half-eaten banana in one sweaty fist and a tall glass of iced tea in the other. “Nice job,” he remarked.

  “Thanks,” said Kate. Her final act before climbing down was to drag the curtains across the window. Stepping back to examine her handiwork, she was pleased to see the twinkling lights were much brighter now. “Okay, Mum, you can come in!”

  Jane pushed open the door and looked around at the cheerful display of coloured lights. “Oh Katy, how lovely! What a thoughtful surprise.” She drew her daughter close and kissed her on the forehead. “Why don’t you go into the kitchen and help yourself to a piece of raspberry tart? It's still warm from the oven.”

  “Hey! What about me?” demanded Jack indignantly. “I’ve been working my guts out all morning and you fobbed me off with a lousy banana!”

  Jane laughed aloud at his wounded expression. “You can have some too, darling boy,” she replied, “but only if you have a shower first. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but–”

  “You stink!” finished Kate gleefully.

  Jack’s expression didn’t change, but he took a surreptitious sniff of his armpits and wrinkled his nose. “Fine. But don’t let Kate eat all the tart. You know how she gets when she's on a sugar high.”

  Picking a rubber thong up off the floor, Kate threw it at him, but Jack laughed and ducked out of the way.

  “Do you know where Simon is?” asked Jane as she sliced the tart into generous squares.

  “I haven’t seen him since breakfast,” said Kate. “I asked him to help me fix my bike tyre, but he said he was too busy.”

  Jane eyed her dubiously. “Doing what?”

  Kate shrugged. “He didn't say, but he was wearing that awful after-shave he got for Christmas.” She knew the after-shave was probably all that Simon's on-again / off-again girlfriend, Rosanne, had been able to afford to buy him, but it was truly revolting. Jobs were few and far between in Fiddlers Creek, so most young people ended up looking for work in Tully, Innisfail or even as far away as Townsville or Cairns, two hours’ drive away. So far, Rosanne had declined to go that route, preferring to get by with some casual babysitting and the odd bit of ironing, hoping something more permanent might turn up.

  “He’s probably in his room,” added Kate, “pining for Rosanne.”

  Jane rolled her eyes and muttered, “Of course he is.” She listened intently for a moment, and sure enough, there it was, the faint but unmistakable strain of music, drifting down the hall from Simon’s room. “Why, that lazy…”

  Jane stalked out of the kitchen, following the sound of The Animals' “House of the Rising Sun”. Kate crept after her but stopped short at the foot of the staircase leading up to her own private domain.

  Kate waited nervously for the fight to start. Naturally, she was curious to hear what her mother had to say, but she didn't like it when the people she loved became angry and said hurtful things to each other, so she was ready to run upstairs and shut the door if it got too out of control. High spirited debate was normal and healthy, especially in the McDermott household, but the arguments between Jane and Simon since his return from Brisbane a week ago had reached a disturbingly new level of intensity.

  It was a mystery to all of them why Simon had even bothered coming home for Christmas. Even when he was here, he wasn't really present. He spent most of his time with Rosanne or catching up with his mates. The rest of the time he sat in his room with the door closed, listening to records and playing his guitar. He obviously didn't want to be here. Twelve months ago, the move to Brisbane had seemed like such a wonderful opportunity, but Kate doubted the wisdom of it now. A year on his own had changed her eldest brother, and not in a good way. So he was a hot-shot cadet at the Courier Mail now. Big deal. It’s not as if he’d won the Pulitzer Prize or done something truly remarkable. And yes, maybe he was the new boy-wonder at one of Brisbane’s largest rugby league clubs, but in the grand scheme of things, did it really matter?

  Kate was happy Simon’s dreams were coming true, but he seemed to have forgotten Jane’s most oft-repeated mantra: Family Is Everything. He didn't seem to need or care about his family any more. He deigned to take his meals with them, but no matter how overtly or subtly they tried to draw him out, when he spoke about his new life in Brisbane, it was only in the most annoyingly off-hand way. He was morose and uncommunicative and flared up at the slightest excuse. Simon had never been a braggart, but they had expected him to at least share the bare bones of his life with them.

  To Kate’s immense relief, it seemed there would be no loud, bitter exchange of words today. Her mother probably didn’t want to ruin what was supposed to be a happy day. In a reasonable voice, Jane told Simon how disappointed she was he hadn’t made any effort to help with the party preparations, particularly when everyone else had been working hard all day.

  Simon gave his typical Neanderthal-like grunt in response.

  “Could you at least get off your backside for two seconds and take the boxes of Christmas decorations downstairs?” Jane asked finally, barely keeping her temper in check.

  Simon gave another unfathomable grunt, and Kate felt for sure her mother was going to launch into a long, angry tirade on his lack of civility, good manners and general bad attitude. But then her brother spoke actual words – even if they were uttered in a reluctant, sullen monotone. “I'll do it in a minute.”

  Kate scurried back to the kitchen where her raspberry tart awaited, lest her mother catch her eavesdropping.

  Jane managed to put Simon's recalcitrance out of her head and get back to work, but half an hour
later, when she returned to the living room to select a platter for the canapés, she was annoyed to see that the boxes were still in the same place Kate had left them.

  “Simon!” she yelled, furious he had so blatantly ignored her request. “One thing! That's all I've asked him to do all day,” she muttered to herself. Jane looked around for Kate to ask her to tell her brother she wanted to see him, but remembered she was downstairs taking the washing off the line.

  “Simon!” called Jane again, shaking her head in irritation when there was still no response. Either the little bugger was ignoring her, or he’d turned his music up too loud to hear her – deliberately, probably. “As usual, it'll be quicker if I just do it myself,” she muttered angrily. Stacking one box on top of another, Jane hefted them into her arms. They weren't particularly heavy, but that wasn't the point; she shouldn't have to do everything!

  “I've a bloody good mind to–”

  The words died on Jane's lips as an intense pain stabbed her behind the eyes. At the same time, her vision blurred, becoming a confusing medley of shapeless colours. All at once, she felt disoriented and dizzy. The low-grade headache she’d been ignoring all day intensified, throbbing so severely it made her nauseous. Losing her balance, the boxes tumbled out of her arms and she collapsed, falling to her knees, and then face down onto the hard timber floor.

  By the time she stopped moving, her spirit had already left her body.

 

  Silence.

  said George, inside Kate's head.