by Margaret Way
The weight of dread was in Mallory’s chest. “Are you telling me you’re worried about bottles of nail varnish?” How she spoke so scornfully she would never know. “I’m supposed to have pinched a couple of bottles of nail varnish? What’s a bottle of nail varnish worth these days? A few dollars?” Her blood was rising. There was a copper taste in her mouth.
Jessica’s eyes flickered. She backed away. “People lie all the time. I know you’re lying.”
Courage was now part of her. This was either the day of her death. Or it wasn’t.
“Jessica, I’m not lying.” She sounded convincing even to her own ears. “What’s so important about the nail varnish anyway?”
“You tell me.” Jessica came close to hiss into her face. Her breath was so bad, involuntarily Mallory drew back her head.
All the destructive elements in Jessica’s nature had been let loose. Instinctively Mallory raised her hands in a defensive position before her face. She knew her hands would be the first to be badly wounded. She continued to watch Jessica with extreme concentration. She took several quick breaths, trying to moisten her parched mouth with her tongue. She was ready to put up a fight. She felt unaccountably powerful, primed to counter the first thrust.
Only nothing happened.
For a moment Mallory could make no sense of it. Her brain couldn’t be working properly. Jessica was standing rigid. In fact, the two of them were posed like a couple of statues. What Mallory became most aware of was a strange turbulence in the air. She felt air whooshing out of her like sand running through an hourglass. She had to stay conscious when all she wanted to do was sink to her knees, then fall to the floor.
Jessica had turned into a stone carving. She was staring in mounting horror at the front door as though some fearsome figure had suddenly materialized. Her voice, when it came, was barely audible. “What are you?”
The terror and incredulity in her voice caused the hairs on Mallory’s nape to stand on end. The turbulence was growing denser, gathering into a column of smoke, not grey, but as white as the thick clouds one saw from the porthole of a plane. The column appeared to be forming a shape. Mallory felt she could very well be losing her mind. There was no draft, no smouldering smell of smoke. She had not been advised of any burn-off on the farm.
There wasn’t a living soul in the bungalow but the two of them. Beads of sweat were running into her eyes, burning them. She had no idea what was going on. She was moving out of reality, a consequence of blood loss and multiple shocks. She stared across at Jessica while slowly inching forward.
Jessica’s words had been reduced to an incoherent babble. She continued to stand frozen, as if she hadn’t the power to move away.
“Look . . . loo . . . loo . . .” It sounded as though her tongue had grown too big for her mouth. Next minute Jessica started to flail the shining steel hunting knife at thin air. Her head was swinging violently from side to side.
Mallory knew illusions weren’t readily explained. Yet people had witnessed impossible things become possible. There was a loud humming in her ears. Maybe she was about to pass out. Now the cloud was hovering over her head as if it were somehow animated. She felt propelled outside of herself. She lunged forward in blind faith.
Her bloodied right hand shot out to connect hard with Jessica’s knife hand. She was on the point of following up her surprise attack, only she had managed to knock the weapon from Jessica’s slackened grasp. The bloodstained knife spun madly across the floor. Mallory sprang after it, defying weakness and pain. She fully expected Jessica to come after her, both of them on the floor, grappling for the weapon. Her limbs felt heavy yet she was able to get a hand on the knife, bracing herself for whatever was to come. She had no intention of letting herself be knifed to death by a madwoman. Besides, she had the advantage of outside help.
It took her many seconds to realize Jessica hadn’t come after her. Indeed, Jessica had shown no reaction to the loss of her weapon. Unseen terrors had a powerfully fierce hold on her.
“What’s she doin’?”
The fear and bewilderment in Jessica’s voice curdled Mallory’s blood. Strong vibrations were sending her own body into little spasms. She had a sudden image of Kathy’s broken body lying at the foot of the cliff. Could it be Kathy’s soul floating above her? The white illumination, some organised intelligence, was still there. A profound sense of unreality had set in. She fought against pitching over. Her whole body was gluey with blood, her once beautiful white dress stuck to her, an unrecoverable mess.
“Can’t you see, she’s coming for me.” Jessica began to flail her arms violently. She was attempting to hit through something invisible to the naked eye. “Go way. Go way.”
Whatever Jessica saw, Mallory did not.
Even in her woozy state, Mallory heard, above Jessica’s keening, the unmistakable sound of vehicles speeding down the side of the house. Now they rounded the front of the bungalow, coming to a halt near the stairs.
Deliverance.
Brakes, the bark of shouted orders. She caught the blurred reflection of spinning blue lights. Doors slammed. Hard thump of boots on the timber steps. The voices were more resounding. Urgent. One voice she heard above the rest. She would recognise Blaine’s voice anywhere. She felt such relief her body regained some strength. Thank God!
She forced herself to stand upright while Jessica continued to fill the room with her tortured cries.
Jessica Cartwright has crossed the line.
A moment later Blaine kicked in the front door so forcefully it was a wonder the whole building didn’t fall down. The door hit the wall so hard it bounced back, slamming into one of the policemen, who fell back a pace, winded. Jessica’s wailing was making the windows rattle. Following Blaine were two uniformed police officers, big burly men. Even then Jessica seemed unable to cease her crazed wailing. The two policemen, unbelievably, had to struggle to hold the thin woman upright by the arms. From the expression on their faces, they might have been expecting Jessica’s head to do a 360-degree turn.
* * *
Blaine moved like lightning to where Mallory was standing. He felt such a profound relief he was light-headed, but fighting a tremendous anger. “God, Mallory,” he exclaimed, in such a fury of anger against Jessica Cartwright, it burned like acid in his throat. “You’re bleeding all over.” The sight of her in this terrible state shocked him to the core. “We need an ambulance right away.” He half turned back to where the police were holding the shuddering Jessica. She was a pathetic sight, shivering all over as though she were freezing while sweat dripped off her nose and ran in runnels down into the neckline of her blouse. In the face of authority she had turned pitifully submissive.
“No ambulance.” Mallory placed a staying hand on Blaine’s arm. “I’m okay. Just a few nicks.” In reality her head was spinning, but Blaine was there. That was all that mattered.
“Nicks?” Blaine looked like he was ready to explode. Swiftly he began to examine her wounds. Mercifully, they appeared much worse than they really were. He took her very, very, carefully into his arms, her blood soaking into his clothing. It was of no importance. The only thing of importance was Mallory was alive, and relatively unharmed.
“You can take me to the hospital,” she said. “Grab something so I won’t bleed all over the car. The police will attend to Jessica.”
“She needs to be committed,” Blaine muttered, reaching for a throw-over off the back of a sofa and placing it gently around her.
* * *
There was to be a final reckoning. Jessica Cartwright’s mental state was precarious. It had happened in escalating degrees, fuelled by her mental disorder, her life of transgression, and her increasing habit of drug taking. Was she now beyond recovery? Time and the right treatment would tell.
Exactly who Jessica had been talking to was left to Mallory to ponder. Was it Kathy’s spirit that had caused such fear and panic? Or was Kathy a drug-induced hallucination? But what of her? There was no hallucinoge
nic drug in her system, yet she had reacted very strangely too. She had seen things that had never been there. Then again, what did anyone really know about the place they inhabited or when portals opened and then closed? If there was a Divine Being, miracles happened, small miracles and wondrous miracles.
There is Life.
There is Life Beyond.
Epilogue
Two years later
Mallory walked out onto the veranda where Blaine’s mother, Rowena, was feeding her six-month-old grandson, Robert D’Arcy Forrester, the pride and joy of the family. Since the arrival of her grandson, Rowena had been a frequent guest to Moonglade. Indeed, having a grandson to love appeared to have given Rowena a new lease on life. It was a situation that worked supremely well. Mallory had grown very fond of her mother-in-law, and although Rowena and honorary aunt Dot had the occasional difference of opinion on what was best for Robbie, they too got on well.
It was sobering news Mallory had to deliver.
Rowena looked up with a welcoming smile that quickly faded. “Everything okay, dear?” she asked in concern. “You look pale.”
Mallory sank into the wicker armchair near to Rowena with Robbie sleeping peacefully in his grandmother’s arms. She turned to Rowena, briefing her. “I’ve had some . . . tragic news.”
“News?” Rowena’s still-beautiful face took on an expression of alarm. Although years had passed since the tragic death of her husband, Rowena still feared the worst.
Mallory hastened to reassure her. “No, no, no! Nothing for you to worry about, Rowena, only lament. That was Margery Cartwright on the phone. She’s tremendously upset. Jessica died from a drug overdose last night. You know she’d been committed to a psychiatric hospital in Brisbane for treatment under the Mental Health Act.”
“For her attack on you?”
“Yes. From all accounts she was a model patient. In fact, she showed such sensational progress she was released a year later. Jessica is . . . was clever. She could have fooled the most experienced psychiatrist. It was hoped she had been rehabilitated, but she couldn’t kick the habit. The fatal blow was when Jason went off to God knows where. Margery has no idea. I don’t think she wants to know. Jessica would have been totally lost without her twin. She had assumed they would always be together. Instead it ended in raw estrangement. Jason abandoned her. He loved her and he hated her. An overdose could have been Jessica’s way out.”
“Oh! I am so, so sorry,” Rowena murmured. “Although I hardly knew the girl, I can never forget the grief she caused. As for her threatening you! Anything could have happened.”
“I had help, Rowena,” Mallory said. “I had my beloved Blaine.” She had never spoken to anyone outside her husband about her belief Kathy’s spirit had been with her that terrible day. She had worked tirelessly to clear Kathy’s name. The two small bottles she had found at the bungalow did indeed contain toxic substances of plant origin that had significant physiological effects. Kathy had done nothing to harm her daughter. The town had had to confront that. Kathy had gone, as all spirits had to go once cleared.
Rowena wasn’t concealing her joy. “Blaine adores you,” she said. “I’ve never seen a man so happy. Now to be blessed with Robert D’Arcy.” Rowena bent to kiss the top of her grandson’s head with its feathery blond curls. “You know Margery and I used to be friends.”
“You can be friends again. Why don’t you consider spending six months with us and six months with your sisters, Rowena,” Mallory suggested.
Rowena blushed with pleasure. “Heavens, dear, you don’t want me moving in with you.”
As saddened as she felt, Mallory laughed. “You’ve seen the size of Moonglade, Rowena. It’s a family home. Blaine and I have discussed it. We would be delighted to have you stay with us for much longer.”
“Are you sure?” Rowena looked like she was about to burst into song.
“Absolutely sure.” Mallory smiled.
“Then I would love to!”
“Look, I’m calling in on Margery tomorrow,” Mallory revealed. “She feels very comfortable with me. I have a few little things for young Evie too. Come with me. Dot can mind Bubby.”
“What a treasure you’ve got in Dot,” Rowena declared, beaming as her little grandson woke up. “I couldn’t be happier you and Blaine have built such a good life, Mallory.”
“Amen to that.” Didn’t she celebrate her blessings every day of her life? She would celebrate their continuance. New life was growing in her. Maybe a little sister for Robbie? Another boy? Did it matter so long as their much wanted baby arrived safely in the world trailing their clouds of glory? She would make her announcement tonight over dinner. They were having friends dine with them. But first she would tell her darling husband. She couldn’t wait. They both wanted a big family.
Out in the garden a whole chorale of birdsong rang out like some wonderful staged performance. The birds couldn’t have been more than thirty feet away, their song spreading and soaring as if over speakers. Competing with the birdsong they heard their two collies, Prince and Blaze, barking excitedly. Next they heard Blaine’s thrilling voice calling from the door, “Mallory, darling. Mallory. Where are you?”
Mallory stood up eagerly.
“Go to him. Go to him,” said Rowena with a smile, turning her attention back to her gurgling grandson. She had never seen a more beautiful baby.
Mallory went. She would have to give Blaine the serious news, which she knew he would receive with a minimum of fuss. He had always maintained Jessica Cartwright would never pull herself together. At the same time he would take her, his wife, in his strong protective arms and empathize with her. She knew she would never have to manage alone as long as she had Blaine.
“Oh, there you are!” They met up in the living room. Blaine, in a blaze of energy, surged towards her, one arm drawing her into him as he dropped a kiss on her cheek. “One extra for dinner if that’s okay. Guy Gibson is in town. He’s at a loose end so I invited him.”
“No problem. I like Guy.” Mallory leaned against her husband, her body with total trust in his. They were two sides of one physical being so far as she was concerned.
“Love you,” Blaine murmured, in a low intimate voice.
“Love you.” However lightly their bodies touched, desire ran deep.
“I’ve got time for a cup of coffee,” he muttered into her hair, “then I have to get back on site.”
She pulled away, smiling. “Coffee coming up. Rowena is on the veranda with our precious boy. I’ll bring it out.”
“Great!” He bounded away.
No matter how hard he worked, the long hours, Blaine never showed the slightest fatigue. He was a powerhouse. Her powerhouse.
Together they bloomed.
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HER AUSTRALIAN HERO
by Margaret Way!
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Alex walked quickly, even though the day was a scorcher with high humidity. A white-hot sun flared out of a sky that was bluer than any sea. The very air sparkled with heat. It sprang up from the rich volcanic soil, beating at her body, burning through the thick soles of her runners. If there were such a thing as spontaneous combustion, she thought she might go up in flames. She could feel the flush on her skin, but trusted in her daily routine of applying the most effective sunscreen on the market. Glancing down at herself, she noted the sweat marks on the red singlet she wore with a pair of denim shorts. These were her everyday work clothes. Once upon a time in the city she had been something of a clothes horse. Not now. She was back on the farm, and far too busy.
She had been out longer than she intended amid the green colonnades. R2E2, their second most popular mango variety, was bearing a bumper crop. The trees were laden with large, greenish yellow fruit that would quickly turn a deep orange with a lovely reddish b
lush. The heat had set the sugars, guaranteeing the fruit would be delicious.
The air over the entire plantation was saturated with a soporific fruity fragrance that made some susceptible people drowsy to the point of falling asleep. Everyone had heard of the term “going troppo.” Another name for it was “mango madness.” It happened before the onset of the Wet. There were no distinct seasons in the tropics, only the Wet and the Dry. She had always thought the name R2E2 was like something out of Star Wars, but the fruit had actually taken its prosaic name from the its row and position in the field at Queensland’s Bowen Research Station.
She had kept her meeting with the plantation foreman, Joe Silvagni, brief. They needed to set the date of the mechanical pruning that followed on the harvest. No relaxing post-harvest. There was always something that had to be done.
Alex and Joe worked in harmony, which was essential to the smooth running of the plantation. Harvest was a stressful time. There was always the fear of battering storms, hail, flood, early onset of the monsoon. Their top-quality bumper crop would be on the shelves from this coming November through February. It was estimated North Queensland and the Northern Territory would send to market eight million trays, with each tray packed to contain at least twenty large mangoes. Her own favourite and that of the entire country was Kensington Pride. KP had a unique flavour. The drawback was it was an irregular bearer with a relatively low yield. The September harvest had been disappointing, but there was always next year.
It was she who had given Joe the job, sacking the previous foreman, Bob Ralston, her father’s appointee and a known slacker. She had endured quite an argument with her father about replacing Ralston. The good news was, in little over a year, Joe had proved himself. He saw all the things that needed to be done without waiting on orders from her or Connor. She and her father were meeting up with Rafe later in the day. Rafe’s privately owned Jabiru Macadamia Plantation was one of the biggest in the world. Australia was the world’s largest producer of the native Queensland nut, the “bush tucker” the aborigines called bauple. Not that the macadamia plantation that processed the delicious nuts through their various stages was Rafe’s sole business interest. Rafe was an entrepreneur, just like his forebears who had ventured north from the colonised southern states, into the wild frontier that was Northern Australia.