“They’re called Stone Flowers. I was going to try and cut them down, but I’ve decided I like them so I’m letting them go wild.”
“Good choice.” He grinned and gave an approving nod. Maggie noticed the slight dimple in his left cheek – her stomach fluttered.
Suddenly off balance, she searched for something to say. “I stopped by Doug Loggie’s today. I wanted to check on him, but he didn’t answer the door. He’s the one who told me... I mean about the flowers –what they’re called.” She stopped. At the mention of Doug’s name, Harness’s expression changed. He probably had to attend when Maureen died. She wished she hadn’t said anything, but realised she might as well continue.
“I think I know something about what’s happening to the children.” She paused.
When he responded, his face was unreadable. “Tell me.”
“I went to see a friend of mine today, Jackson, he works for me at the café.” Maggie brushed a strand of hair back from her face. “I spoke to his grandmother. She’s seen something like this before.” Maggie hesitated and then recounted her conversation with Manjula. Without pausing, she told him about her run-in with Prapti at the café. By the time she finished, she realised that he hadn’t spoken, just listened and nodded. She almost expected him to laugh or get up and make an excuse to leave. Instead, he took a long drink from his beer.
“I spent the afternoon with the Chapels. They’re convinced that there’s a monster out there that looks like a little girl. Annabel told me it’s killing the children.”
It wasn’t the response Maggie had expected. There was no trace of humour or sarcasm in his voice. Does this mean he believes me? Do I believe me? She knew what Annabel believed, but she was surprised the Chapels believed it too. Their insistence that something supernatural was at work added weight to Maggie’s story. She should have been pleased, but all she felt was a dread crawling up from the pit of her stomach.
“What do you think?” She was surprised by how much she wanted him to believe her.
“A week ago, I would’ve said you were all crazy, but now…” He shrugged and looked off into the back yard. Except for the moon and the veranda light, they were surrounded by darkness, wrapped in its shadows. “Now, I’m not so sure what I think.”
Maggie followed his gaze, noticing the silence. When did the insects stop chirping? Beyond the circle of light, the trees stood like inky fingers against the sky. She thought of the flock of birds she’d seen circling the town and her skin prickled.
“Will you help me bring the dinner things in?”
Harness nodded and began stacking the dishes. He helped Maggie carry the plates and utensils inside and pile them into the sink.
“I’m going to have another drink; do you want one?” she asked.
“I’ll take another beer.”
Maggie poured herself more wine as Harness started on his second beer. They settled in on the couch, almost touching but not quite.
“Tell me again about Prapti?” he asked, continuing the conversation.
“She’s... I don’t know how to describe it – strange. She came across as menacing. When I think about the things she said...” Maggie paused and shook her head. Reliving the encounter brought back the sense of fear and outrage she’d experienced in the café. The label squaw reverberated in her mind.
“You think she’s connected to the girl, the one Annabel and Ollie saw?”
“I’m sure of it.” Maggie answered with a degree of conviction she didn’t know she felt until the words were out of her mouth.
“Okay. Well, tomorrow I need to find Prapti and question her about this lost girl and the threats she made. What else do you know about her?”
“Not much.” Maggie took a sip of her wine. “Agnes introduced her to me at the party the other night. Said she was a writer.” Maggie thought for a moment, trying to recall the conversation. “Yes, I remember now. A travel writer.”
“Did she say who she writes for or where she’s staying?”
Maggie looked at him and felt a little confused. “You heard the conversation, right? You said you would have told her to go fuck herself if she had spoken to you that way. Remember?”
Harness scratched his head. “I didn’t really hear anything Agnes said. I was too busy watching you.”
“Oh.” It was all she could think to say.
After an awkward silence, Harness spoke. “I’ll go see Agnes tomorrow and find out what she knows. That’ll be the first step in locating Prapti and making some sense of what’s going on.” She could see he was excited by the idea of having something concrete to do.
“So, you believe me?”
“I’m getting there.” He took her hand and turned it over, as if studying the lines on her palm. Maggie felt a little jolt of pleasure run up her arm as he brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed the skin just above her wrist. He paused for a moment, then leaned in and caught her lips with his. The kiss, soft at first, became urgent. Maggie drew away, looking into his clear blue eyes. She wasn’t sure what she was searching for – maybe some sort of promise that he wouldn’t hurt her. She sawyer face reflected in his pupils. Her reflection and longing – a need for contact, a need she shared.
He was about to speak when she turned and in one fluid movement positioned herself so she was facing him, straddling his lap. Whatever was happening between them felt real. Maggie didn’t care if it was the wine or the sense that life was fleeting. She wanted to be close to him. Without taking her eyes off his, she reached down and pulled her dress over her head, letting it drop to the floor. Harness looked surprised, hesitating then running his hands over her naked skin. Leaning down, he kissed the valley between her breasts, his lips warm on her skin. She ran her fingers over his face, letting all other thoughts and images slip from her mind.
They made love a second time, upstairs in Maggie’s bed. Moonlight filtered through the half-open curtains, casting a bluish tint over their bodies. When he held her, she felt his heart beating, strong and steady. His breath on her neck deep and regular, the moment sublimely intimate.
Later, relaxed and sleepy, Maggie lay on her side watching Harness stare up at the ceiling through half-closed eyes.
“What made you move to Thorn Tree?” His voice pulled her back from the edge of sleep.
The question caught her off guard; she had to think before answering. Why did I come here? To start a new life? Or was she running away...
“The short answer is I needed a fresh start and Thorn Tree is a great town.” She tried to keep her tone light. A moment ago, wrapped in the warmth of their body heat, she’d felt completely happy. Dredging up the details of her failed marriage was the last thing she wanted to talk about.
“What’s the long answer?” Shadows bathed his face, making it difficult for her to see his expression.
“After I left my husband, I…I had to get away. I came here to rewrite my life.” When she said the words out loud, her voice shook.
He leaned in and kissed her on the shoulder. “It’s not easy to start again.” It sounded like he was speaking from experience. He moved his head to her pillow and ran his hand over her stomach. A shiver of excitement travelled her body.
“I want to come with you tomorrow, when you go see Agnes.” Maggie propped herself up on one elbow. She watched his face as she spoke. Even in the dim light she could see he was unhappy.
“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.” His voice was flat.
“Why? Because this is police business?” She didn’t wait for him to reply. “Well, it’s not. I don’t know what it is.” She waved her hand in the air. “What’s going on is way outside of police business.” She tried to keep the indignation out of her voice, but wasn’t having much success.
“No. That’s not why.” He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. His fingers lingered, holding a strand then slowly sliding down the length of her hair. “I just don’t want you anywhere near Prapti or whatever is making people sick.”
>
Maggie put her hand on his chest, his bare skin warm under her palm. She understood his reasoning, even felt a flicker of pleasure over his need to protect her. But the people dying weren’t strangers on the news, they were her friends and neighbours. She wasn’t going to be put off.
“Ness, I’m already involved in this. I’m not going to sit by and do nothing.”
“I like it when you call me Ness,” he responded with a smile, and in spite of the seriousness of the conversation, Maggie found herself smiling back.
“Okay,” she said, “but I’m coming with you tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-four
Thomas woke with a start, drumming still echoing in his head. The girl in his dreams was replaced by the dark lines of his small bedroom. She’d called him to follow her along a path through the bush. The details were blurry, but he remembered how pretty she was, skipping thought the moonlight, dark curls bouncing against the back of her white dress. Like him, she was skinny – lonely. The drumming was kind of scary, but following her made him feel warm. If he didn’t need to pee so badly, he’d go back to sleep and see if he could find her again.
He pushed himself to the edge of the mattress, wincing at the pain in his bruised hip. He knew dreams didn’t really work that way, once they were gone, they were gone for good. He stood and scurried out of the room, thin arms wrapped around his bare chest. Pausing in the darkened hallway, he cocked his head to one side. The sound of regular snorting breaths told him Aunty Liv and her boyfriend were asleep. Thomas let out a breath and relaxed his hunched shoulders.
No longer worried about making a noise, he padded to the bathroom and flicked on the light. The green tiled room smelled like cigarettes. Drops of pee dotted the toilet seat. Picking his way around a puddle of something damp on the cracked tiles, he pulled down his underpants and relieved himself.
On his way back to bed, Thomas peeked his head into Aunty Liv’s room. The woman on the bed coughed, her T-shirt gathered under her bosoms revealing a dome-like belly that wobbled like a bouncy castle. She wasn’t his real aunty, just his foster mum. He’d had three since he turned seven. Next to her, Tyson shifted and let out a fart that reminded Thomas of the sound a paper bag made when you blew it up and busted it.
Satisfied that Tyson wasn’t going to sneak up on him, Thomas padded down the hall into the kitchen. His stomach gave an angry snarl. The last thing he’d eaten was a piece of cold pizza at lunchtime. Just thinking about the cheesy topping made his mouth water. He snatched a quick look over his shoulder just to make sure Tyson hadn’t been tricking him in the bedroom. He was clever like that, always catching Thomas out. Pretending to be watching the footy, his hand snaking out and grabbing Thomas’s wrist when he reached for a piece of popcorn. Or like this afternoon, Tyson lying on the couch tossing the footy in the air.
“Hey, mate.” Tyson grinned when Thomas walked into the room. “Wanna catch?” He smiled around the cigarette dangling from his lips. He sounded happy– friendly, even– but Thomas wasn’t fooled. He’d seen that look in the man’s eyes before.
“No… I mean, no thanks.” Thomas’s eyes shifted to the armchair where Aunty Liv sat, legs spread wide, thick fingers clamped around her phone. She didn’t look up. “I just wh-wh.” His heart fluttered in his chest.
“You just wh-wh…What?” Tyson tossed the footy above his head and caught it with a whack that made Thomas jump.
Tyson’s smiled widened. “Come on, don’t be a wuss.”
Thomas’s eyes shifted back to Aunty Liv, who was jabbing away at her phone. Tyson was waiting for an answer. Whatever he said would be wrong. “I…Okay.” Thomas bit his bottom lip. Whatever Tyson had in mind, it would be easier to just get it over with.
“Good on ya. May as well learn how to play footy now, girls love footy players.” Tyson waggled his thick eyebrows and hand-balled the footy in Thomas’s direction, a gentle toss that was easy to catch.
“Don’t break anything.” Finally, Aunty Liv was paying attention. Thomas felt a little better now. He’d caught the ball and Liv was watching. Tyson never did much in front of her.
“Okay. Toss it back now, dummy.” Tyson’s voice was deeper, his eyes shiny. Thomas’s stomach flipped. The ball shook in his hands.
He lobbed the ball across the room. Just as it came within catching range, Tyson dipped to the right and elbowed the footy sideways. Thomas let out a puff of air, knowing what was coming even before the ball hit the side table and knocked Liv’s open bottle of nail polish onto the carpet.
“Jesus, Tyson.” Liv’s voice rang out like an angry magpie. “I told you not to break anything.”
Thomas watched the nail polish spread on the grey carpet, a splash of red that reminded him of a sore with the scab picked off. All he wanted was to walk to the library and check if there were any new graphic novels.
Tyson jumped to his feet. “Don’t blame me.” He pointed a nicotine-stained finger in Thomas’s direction. “He’s the one who can’t throw a ball.”
Before Liv had the chance to answer, Tyson crossed the room and landed a kick on Thomas’s hip. A hot circle of pain burned its way down his leg. “You clumsy little shit. Get in ya room before I belt you one.”
“Hey.” Liv was screaming something, but Thomas didn’t hang around to hear the rest.
When he reached his room, tears were running down his cheeks. The last thing he heard was Liv’s voice, high and breathless. “If someone at school sees a bruise, they’ll—” Thomas closed the door, not caring what she had to say.
He’d spent the rest of the day curled up on the bed, crying at first but then flicking through an old comic. Liv didn’t really care about him or she would have come and asked if he was okay. She could have brought him something to eat at dinnertime at least, instead of letting him cry in his room while the tantalising smell of burgers filled the house.
Thomas sniffed and opened the fridge. The solitary light cast a creepy glow on the warn linoleum. A row of beer cans, a crusty-looking tub of cottage cheese and squeezy bottle of tomato sauce. His stomach gurgled. Grabbing the sauce, he squirted a glop into his palm. He sniffed the liquid then lapped at it, swallowing the runny sauce in a few licks. He repeated the process three times before deciding he’d better leave some or Liv might get upset.
His stomach continued to burble, the sauce only waking up his hunger. Snatching a quick glance over his shoulder, just to be sure no one was watching, he tiptoed to the sink. There was a box of cornflakes in the cupboard next to the sink, he’d seen it there a few weeks ago. Since they never had any milk, Thomas was pretty sure the box would still be on the shelf.
A smile lit up his gaunt face. The open box stood alone on the shelf, the curly red label smudged with something yellow, maybe mustard. “Yeah.” The word came out louder than he intended.
He forced himself to stop and wait, counting in his head. If he made it to twenty and didn’t hear anyone coming down the hall, he was okay to eat. The seconds ticked by slowly, his gut groaning with anticipation. When he reached twenty, Thomas grabbed the box.
Squatting on the floor, he scooped out a handful of flakes and pushed them into his mouth. They were a bit stale, but he gobbled them up so quickly, he bit his tongue. The taste of blood mixed with flakes made him grimace, but didn’t slow him down. Even with the metallic taste of blood thrown in, the cornflakes stirred a memory. Honey Joys, that was what his mother called them. Crunchy sticky treats made with cornflakes and honey, probably a bunch of other stuff, but that’s all he could taste. She used to make then when she was feeling sweet. I’m feeling sweet today, I’m going to make you something special. He could almost hear her voice, feel her hand brushing the hair off his forehead.
Thomas set down the box and looked around the dark kitchen. Why’d she have to go and get sick again? A fresh stream of tears ran down his cheeks, cutting a trail through the sauce and cornflake crumbs. It was then that he noticed the back door was open. He scampered across the room and stood in
front of the door. The moon was out, painting a silvery trail on the long grass leading to the trees.
It occurred to him that he hadn’t noticed the door was open when he entered the room, but the thought was fleeting, washed away by the way the grass wavered in the slight breeze. His eyelids drooped. Drumming, deep and soothing, made him sleepy. Something moved through the grass. His eyes shot open. The girl, the one from his dream. She’s real.
He stepped through the door, a small voice in his head telling him that dreams weren’t real swallowed by the drumming and the whispers. Happier, playing forever – hold my hand. Thomas followed the moonlight, barely noticing the chill in the air or the way the long grass scratched at his bruised arms.
He could see her head, bobbing amongst the weeds. All he had to do was catch up and they’d be together. A line of sweat popped out on his forehead. His arms and legs shuddered. Hesitating, Thomas looked back towards the house. It seemed so far away, as if he were on the sea and the tide had carried him for miles. The back door was now only a small rectangle in the distance.
Something touched his fingers, the girl’s hand closed around his. He thought she’d be warm, but the hand felt as cold as a popsicle. His teeth chattered. He tried to pull back but the girl’s grip tightened. The drumming shook the ground, he could no longer hear anything else. His heart twisted and the girl’s face came into view. He should have been afraid, but he felt only relief as the creature pulled him into her embrace. Thomas’s mind registered the taste of Honey Joys on his tongue, then blackness.
Chapter Twenty-five
Harness jolted from sleep, the shrill ringing alerting and disorienting at the same time. His surroundings were unfamiliar. Not until he heard Maggie’s soft sleepy voice beside him, did he become grounded in what was happening.
“Ness?” A click and light flooded the room. As Harness blinked past the sudden blindness, he saw Maggie’s hand hover near the bedside lamp. He quickly located his trousers on the floor and pulled the phone out of the pocket.
The Stone Flowers Page 15