by S D Wasley
I fired up at his derision. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, and don’t be such a damn snob.”
He shrugged. “Personally I don’t care what the guy does or where he lives but it’s true, isn’t it? You don’t want Uncle Don to know.”
We’d reached the path up to the breakfast room where Uncle Max sat at the table, frowning into his newspaper. I dropped my voice. “Yeah, okay. You win. I don’t want Dad to know about Cain but not because he lives in a trailer or does physical labour for a job. It’s because Dad will try to cramp my freedom and I don’t want to have to deal with that right now.”
He still looked amused but backed down. In the breakfast room Albion allowed me lapse into silence while he told Antonia about truffle oil, serving himself some of her scrambled eggs. He’d been dating a chef for a month and had recently started talking a lot about raw flavour and provenance. Uncle Max flicked through the Sunday paper and slurped his coffee. Without looking up, he addressed me.
“How’s college, bella?”
“Good, thanks, Uncle Max. How’s work?”
“Not bad. Flu season’s nearly upon us though.” He was silent for a while, and then hmmed, stopping on a page. “Did you see this, Albion? There’s a major exhibition coming to Augur’s Well. Sacred Artefacts of the Celts. It opens in a week or so.”
“What the hell?” Albion reached for more toast, shaking his head in amazement. “Why would they be bringing a major exhibition here?”
“It’s all got to do with the tannery development,” Uncle Max said. “Raising the town’s profile.”
“I can’t wait for this new retail café strip-thing,” Albion said. He looked at me, genuinely excited. “I didn’t tell you, did I? I’ve got inside information―Olivia’s mum works for the construction company doing the building out there, Grace Creek. She reckons there’s a Marie-Celeste going in.”
Even I stared at that news. I’d seen dozens of Marie-Celeste cafés on my travels with Dad. The franchise was a favourite with Starr, who raved about the renovated heritage buildings-turned-fabulous upmarket cafés. The idea of having a Marie-Celeste in our dull farming town was extraordinary.
“Is that what they’re doing with the old tannery building?”
Uncle Max nodded. “Yes. Shops and restaurants. And then the housing will go in around it.”
“They’ve sold a lot of sites already,” Albion put in. “People from the city wanting an organic country retreat.”
Uncle Max scoffed. “Organic! Do they understand that Augur’s Well has been farmed for over a century now? There’s probably more chemicals in the ground around here than you’d ever find in a city.”
Albion turned to me. “Will you come to this exhibition with me, Frankie?”
“What about Ethan?” I said, referring to the chef boyfriend. “Why don’t you take him?”
Albion sighed. “He hates anything cultural or high art. It’s the only reason I can’t fall in love with him.”
“Okay, then. I’d love to go.”
He waved a fork laden with egg in a celebratory fashion. “Huzzah! I’ll book us some tickets.”
He dragged me out shopping for clothes in the afternoon. It was torture. The Augur’s Well boutiques were far from high-end enough to satisfy Albion’s tastes, and shopping therefore consisted of him going from store to store, trying on one or two items, abandoning them on the dressing room floors, and complaining loudly about provincial living. When two hours had passed, he declared it hopeless and said he needed a coffee after his ordeal. We queued at a café, Albion griping intermittently about the lack of sophistication in food, fashion, gadgets, and even people in our town.
I didn’t catch much of it because I’d noticed a face I recognised: a girl I’d met at college. Helen, I thought her name was. She sat by herself at a table in the café, a shopping cart of groceries parked beside her chair. She held a cup in her hand but her eyes were focused on something in the distance. Or perhaps she was lost in thought. After a few moments she gave a little jump, slopping a good amount of tea onto the table. That snapped her out of her reverie. She soaked up the spill with some napkins.
“I know her,” I said when Albion nudged my arm to stop me staring.
He followed my gaze. “Blonde girl?”
“Yeah. Helen something. She knew me in high school.”
“She’s cute.”
“She’s nice, too. Crappy home life, though. Her dad killed himself last year.”
“Farmer?”
I nodded. Helen finished cleaning her table and pulled a notebook out of her handbag. She bent over to scribble in it.
“There were a few suicides last year,” Albion said in a low voice, watching her with sympathy. “There was a legal case, a last ditch appeal against the tannery deal, but it got overturned and then the farmers just lost hope.”
I watched Helen. What was she writing, anyway? She’d dropped out of college over a term ago. Was she a letter writer? List-maker? Maybe she was studying online, or something.
“Could you order me a flat white? I want to go say hello.”
Albion scoffed. “You know you’ll get the same thing no matter if you order a flat white, latte, a long black, or an affogato. They all taste like shit and we’ll continue to have no choice in the matter unless Marie-Celeste saves us all. I must be a masochist to drink this crap.” He brightened suddenly. “I’m gonna order a masochisto. Bet you a hundred bucks I get a weak cappuccino that tastes like burnt pan scrapings.”
I made a face and left him in the line, weaving through tables to stop beside Helen’s table. “Hiya.”
She looked up and smiled at me but moved a napkin to cover her notebook.
“Oh, hey, Frankie. How have you been?”
“Good. You? Doing the shopping?” I glanced at her cart, half filled with bags of food.
“Yeah.” A tinge of pink came into her cheeks. “Mum hasn’t been well lately so I’m on grocery duty.”
I nodded. “I noticed you quit college. What happened?”
“It was getting a bit much.” She evaded my gaze. “How did you go in your exams?”
“I passed. Not impressively,” I added with a laugh, “but I’ll take it.” She smiled back and I detected a hint of envy.
“Well done. You should work harder. I could see you were smart when I was in class with you.” She looked at me curiously for a moment. “I heard you got shot in the arm. Are you okay now?”
I smiled. “The rumour mill is working as efficiently as usual in Augur’s Well. Yeah, it was an accident. I’m fine now. Almost back to normal.” I swung my arm a little to show her. “So, did you get a job or something? Or are you working on your farm now?”
Helen picked up her cup in unsteady hands. “No, we had to sell the farm after Dad passed away. We couldn’t run it alone.” She gasped when she slopped the tea again and made a grab for her last napkin to sop up the mess. “Oh, God, I’m so damn clumsy.” She sighed and looked up at me. “Truth is, I had to quit college to look after Mum and my little brother during the daytime. She’s sick and he’s got a disability. My grandma can do nights but she works during the day so that just left me. I’m on a carer’s allowance.”
There was hopelessness in her voice. “Wow. Helen, I’m so sorry―” But before I could say anything more my eye fell on her notebook, now uncovered. I read a couple of words and fixed my gaze on the page, shock building. I devoured every word I could discern of Helen’s small, fiercely neat handwriting. “What is ... that?”
Helen looked down and closed the book hastily. “It’s a dream journal,” she said with a self-conscious laugh. “Lame, I know. I’m trying to keep my brain active.”
“Frankie!” Across the café, Albion held up two cups in triumph. “Two masochistos to go, regular, topped up, no sugar.” He gave me a devilish grin.
I was forced to say goodbye, flustered by what I’d seen. A few steps away from the café I dashed back to ask for her number. We could catch
up, maybe, I said. I missed seeing her at college, I said. Shy and pleased, she gave me her number.
I had to talk to the others at Gaunt House.
****
“What?” Liz was indignant when I told them about the episode that night. “Frankie, I don’t think you could possibly know that. Only Cain knows who belongs with us.”
Cain shushed Liz. “Why do you think this girl’s like us, Francesca?”
“I saw in her notebook―just one page―but it said stuff like, girl on bike, dark hair, schoolbag strapped to rack with red luggage strap. And old lady opening screen door for cat, wedges it open with yellow brick.” I gazed around at their faces as they registered the familiar. “It was like reading from our ledger.”
“Who is she?” Jude asked. He knew plenty of people around our age in Augur’s Well.
“Helen someone. Apparently she was in our year at school.”
“Helen Niven?”
“Maybe. Blonde girl, quite pretty. Her dad―”
“Yes, that’s her. Helen Niven.”
Cain’s face had lit up. “I need to see her.”
I nodded. “I got her number. Maybe if I ask her to meet me somewhere, you can come along too. If you watch us from a distance you might recognise Helen. If she’s one of your faces then you can come over and I’ll introduce you.”
“When?” There was an urgency to his tone.
“Uh, tomorrow maybe? She’s caring for her mother so I’ll need to find out when she’s free.”
“Message her now,” he said, nodding at my phone.
I complied, sending Helen a brief text message to ask if she wanted to meet tomorrow. Unsurprisingly, the message hung. The signal was unpredictable at best in this underground stone chamber. I figured it could wait to send until I was going home but Cain, noticing, offered to take my phone up to ground level to ensure the message went through.
I got to my feet. “I can go myself.”
He came with me anyway. I moved clear of the ruin and stood in the bright moonlight to watch the message finally blink with a sent time. Behind me, Cain slipped his arms around my waist and squeezed me close.
“You are so goddamn amazing,” he breathed into my hair. “You can run into a girl at a coffee shop and identify the next member of our group from a couple of words written in her notebook.”
“Uh, slow down,” I said. “We haven’t confirmed anything yet.” It was hard to focus on anything except his touch, especially when he pushed my hair to one side and pressed his lips to my neck. I tried to be business-like, repressing a shiver of pleasure as I checked my phone. “Do you want to go down now?”
“Do I want to go down?” he asked with a low laugh. “Oh, hell yes!”
“Cain!” I got flustered. “That’s not what I meant.” However, he liked his meaning better and slipped a hand under the front of my shirt, kissing down my shoulders. “We can’t do this.” My knees trembled as his hand made contact with the skin above my navel and inched its way upwards.
He nipped at my earlobe. “Why not?”
“Because one of the others might follow us up here.” I was rapidly losing conviction in my own argument. I twisted my head around to get my lips onto his. He pushed his fingers underneath my bra and I made a noise that sure didn’t sound like a protest.
My phone chose that moment to beep with a new message, startling us both. I adjusted myself hastily and checked the screen. Cain groaned, trying to get his lips back onto my neck, but I twisted away. “Look. Helen’s replied.”
For a moment his desire warred with his sense of duty. Before either could claim victory, I pushed him back from me and held my phone up in front of his face. “She said tomorrow is good for her. Three-thirty at the same café I met her in today.”
He nodded, defeated. “I’ll wait nearby. If I recognise her I’ll join you.”
“Come on.” I took his hand. “Let’s go back inside. They’ll think the worst if we stay out here any longer.”
“They’d be just about right,” Cain said, pulling me back effortlessly and locking me in his arms. “I’ll go back inside with you now but you, Francesca, had better stay around after everyone else has gone home tonight.”
Oh God, yes.
Chapter 2: Suspicor
At Misty’s Coffee Shop Helen and I ordered our drinks, the coffee watery and bitter once again. I told her Albion’s masochisto story. She told me a story about her little brother offending the waiter by pointing at a big lump beside his nose. We both laughed. I finished my coffee and sipped on a glass of water, looking around anxiously for Cain. Finally he appeared, standing across the mall outside a shoe store, observing us. Helen was sitting the wrong way for him to get a look at her face so I nodded toward the store.
“Do they sell nice shoes in there? I need something for a party.”
She twisted her head around, saying, “Yeah, not bad, but there’s another shop on the eastern side of the mall that’s ...” She trailed off, noticing Cain.
Although I couldn’t blame her for staring, jealousy flared inside me as she and Cain shared a profound moment of recognition. He waited for shoppers to pass by before starting over toward us. Helen’s eyes never left his face.
“Who is ...?”
“Cain,” I told her, fighting down my insecurity. However, I couldn’t resist stamping my ownership on him. “My boyfriend.” I even jumped up and kissed his lips when he arrived next to our table, although he was still looking at Helen’s face. “Cain, this is Helen.”
“Hi, Helen,” he said with his beautiful, slow smile.
“Hi!” Her face was full of delight. I wasn’t sure if she knew him, not like he knew her from his vision, but she certainly had some kind of metaphysical response to seeing him. Her nervous fidgeting ceased and her eyes explored his face in that same wondering, reverent fashion I’d seen so often from Liz. My discomfort bumped up another notch.
“We’re hanging with some friends tonight,” Cain told her. “Do you want to come along?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “I’d love that.”
“Cool.” Cain kissed me this time, giving me a look that was all victorious admiration and all for me. The jealousy abated. “Francesca can give you the details.”
He left us alone to finish our coffees and Helen spent the rest of our time together asking me about Cain, her face bright in a way I’d never seen before. I departed with a promise to see her again that night, trying not to think about that moment of deep acknowledgement I’d just witnessed between my lover and another girl.
****
Maybe it was the Misty’s Coffee Shop masochisto but I got sick that afternoon. I started vomiting and Albion sent me to bed as soon as I was able to stop heaving long enough to drag myself into my room. I fell into the kind of slumber you only experience when you’re unwell: dense and long. I didn’t wake until it was dark. Crap. I had to get to Gaunt House. It was Helen’s first night. I sat up and the world spun. Uh-oh.
I flicked on my bedside lamp and lay there, trying to orient myself. Albion peeped in.
“How’s Frankie?”
“I feel awful,” I groaned. “Food poisoning, maybe.”
“Do you need to vomit again?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
He fetched me a bucket. “Do you want Dad to come and check you out?”
“No, I’m okay.” I made another effort to stand. “I need to go―”
“What?” Albion’s voice rose in angry disbelief. “Frankie, are you frickin’ insane?” You’re sick.”
I moaned. “I know.” I slumped back on my bed.
“If I catch you trying to leave this house tonight, I will personally handcuff you to your bed. And don’t think I haven’t got the handcuffs.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Ugh, I’m definitely gonna vomit now.”
I went back to sleep almost immediately. Maybe it was my feverish state, or maybe my agitation over missing a night at Gaunt House, but my sleep
was filled with a dream I couldn’t shake. I was standing beside a rock wall, staring at it in confusion, my mind blank and bewildered. Unexpectedly, the rock crumbled and something emerged from the wall. Hands. It was a pair of hands coming through the wall, reaching for me.
I woke the next morning to find several missed calls and text messages from Cain. He sounded increasingly panicky as the night wore on. I replied, explaining my illness, before sitting up slowly to test my steadiness. So far, so good. In fact, I felt so much more like myself that I got up and made my way into the kitchen to find some breakfast.
“Hey!” Albion smiled at me. “All better?”
“I think so. Must have been a gastro bug.”
“Don’t be so sure. A bunch of people in town got sick yesterday. Dad was out all night dishing out anti-emetics and electrolyte drinks. Lots of them had been at Misty’s Coffee Shop yesterday so the health department’s investigating.”
“Great. Salmonella?”
“Don’t know. Some people are better already but others are still getting admitted to hospital. Dad only just got to bed. I told him about you, and he let me know what to watch out for in case it got worse.” All of a sudden he gave me a hard stare.
“What?”
“Your scary boyfriend came round, late last night when you were asleep.” Albion looked deeply unimpressed. “I told him you were sick but I don’t think he believed me. He looked like he wanted to barge past me and see for himself.”
I opened the fridge door to hide my face. I could kind of understand why Albion found Cain’s behaviour objectionable. But he didn’t know what we’d been through together and how hard it had been when we were apart. “Yeah, I’ve messaged him to tell him I was sick. He was worried, I guess.”
“Tell him he’d better not try that again or I might have to ban him from coming round here.”
You and what army? I was tempted to say. But it was Albion’s house and if he didn’t like Cain coming around he had the right to say so. I emerged from the fridge and nodded, avoiding his eyes. I’d have to remind Cain not to scare Albion.