by Gilmour, SJB
Kelly shook her head determinedly. ‘I can hang out the laundry. Might do some weeding too… I need…’ I need to do something. I need to get outside.
Sally nodded, understanding. ‘Do the lawn first. If you mow after you’ve hung up the clothes, you’ll get grass all over them. Go on. Get some fresh air. I’ll call you inside when lunch is ready.’
Kelly flashed her a grateful smile and took off.
‘Do you want some more pain-killers, babe?’ Sally sidled up to Mitch and put her arm around his shoulder.
Mitch shook his head painfully. His face felt truly rotten.
‘I don’t deserve it,’ he muttered. ‘I should have been able to protect you all better than that.’
Sally paused for a moment, which was long enough for me to find exactly the thought in her mind I wanted her to vocalise.
‘What are you talking about? It was dark. He was insane. There was a knife and a gun. You kept them both busy and saved me and Kelly from getting shot. You’re the one who’s the hero here, mister. You’re the one who kept that lunatic busy long enough for me to get the gun.’
She said it better than I could have. I focused on her words, letting them echo in his mind. The current of self-confidence rose higher and flowed stronger, but still Mitch didn’t know what to say. In his mind, currents of guilt and pride were tussling for second place, love for Sally having risen to the fore.
Sally smiled at him, knowing full well what he was thinking. Her own mind was also a turbulent current of emotion, though not from regret or shock. Yes, she’d shot a man. Yes, she’d witnessed the truly frightening sight of her husband nearly being beaten to a pulp and slashed to ribbons. But, the bruises and cuts on his face and the bravery and mindless ferocity with which she’d seen him defend her, aroused something primal in her.
Better be quick though. Kells could come in at any minute. The sound of the ride-on lawn-mower reverberated through the house from the outside. Then again, she might be out there for a while…
‘Stand up, she ordered him. ‘And get that gear off!’
‘Salls, I’m in pain. Kells is just outside! I’m not really in the m—’
‘Shut up,’ she whispered in his ear, stripping off her top and pants.
Can’t believe she’s gonna do the elephant man, he thought to himself, but his tone was several shades less bitter now. Fuck I hope that kid doesn’t come in now.
Once he was naked, Sally pushed him back down on the stool.
‘You just sit there, mister,’ she purred.
She ran her fingertips down the tops of his thighs to his knees, then pushed his knees apart. Mitch groaned and held on to my bench-top for balance. Even feeling concussed, he was still beginning to harden in Sally’s mouth.
Seated as he was, Sally couldn’t reach very far sown along his shaft, but she could go far enough to cup his balls and massage the firm base of his cock just beyond them with her middle finger.
Oooh, whoa… Mitch thought, feeling even dizzier than before.
Once he was hard and throbbing in Sally’s mouth, she pulled back and stood up between his thighs, arching her back and pressing her belly and chest into his abdomen. Smiling to him with a cheeky grin, she slowly turned the bar stool around and pushed it back a little so the edge of my bench-top met the small of his back. Then she guided both his hands to her shoulders.
‘You hold on to me,’ she advise him confidently. Then she climbed up on top of him, standing on her tiptoes on the circular footrest of the bar-stool so that she was high enough for him to enter her. Then sliding back down on top of him, she reached out with her arms on either side of him so she could hold onto my bench-top for balance. In that position, she ground into him, pressing her body hard up against his, all while gazing into his face with her heart in her eyes. He may have been a right mess to look at, but to Sally, Mitch was every kind of hero.
She writhed faster, hooking one leg around the shaft of the bar stool to force herself onto him even harder. She kept her right hand on the granite and brought her left up to press into the base of Mitch’s neck. Breathing fast and hot now as the pressure within her rose, she pressed onto him as hard and tightly as she could, even squeezing her thighs about him as hard as she could. Mitch responded by clenching and un-clenching those toned buttocks of his to match her rhythm.
I didn’t dare enter their minds now. That Sally loved him so much, and he her, was so clear it tore at my soul. I purposefully redirected my sight down onto the shadow of my own blood that was still on the floor. I stared at it, refusing to even look at them. I may not be able to enjoy such pleasures now, but I certainly had loved my dear Ashleigh. Would I ever feel that again? I barely heard their groans of orgasm as I pondered the spectral shade that was a constant reminder of my own death.
‘Still, mustn’t grumble’ I whispered aloud to myself. Then I chuckled. Silly of me really, to try to keep my voice down when Sally or Mitch were in me. They couldn’t hear me any more than they could hear or see Mason or Alec. I looked up to watch them dress.
Mitch was sweating and dizzy. He wobbled so badly as he tried to put his pants back on that Sally had to help him. Then she marched him out to the bedroom, still while she was stark naked. She appeared back in me several minutes later, having had a shower and donned fresh clothes. The old clothes she’d left on the floor, she just kicked into a pile by the doorway to take to the laundry later.
Poor bloke can hardly move. Can’t even open his mouth much. Needs something soft. Better make sure that roast cooks nice and long, but in the meantime… Sally turned on the power to her blender and put in a banana. Then she added the contents of a protein shake sachet and some cold water. Lid on, she blitzed the mixture then poured it into a large glass tumbler. A quick rummage in one of my drawers produced a bendable straw. Then she tipped into her palm one of the powerful opiate painkillers the paramedics had left for him.
I looked at the label on the bottle. Oxycodone. I’d heard of it, but never used it myself. I hoped it would make him feel better.
Lucky bugger. Really did get the good stuff… She thought then about whether or not she could get away with taking one, but resisted the urge. Keep yourself clean girl. Remember the mantra “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels?” Resisting the dope uses the same brain muscle.
Huh? Was I missing something here? All this time, I’d never even seen any evidence in Sally’s mind about any problems she might have had with drugs. I plunged into that pretty blonde head. It was faint, buried and starved from lack of attention, but the memory was there. Yes, Sally had experienced the clutches of addiction back at high-school. A broken ankle after a bad fall in netball. But, the pills had helped and oh, how she’d missed them when the prescription ran out. I pulled out from her mind, satisfied she was in control and had been for a long, long time.
Sally’s devotion to Mitch for the next week was all-consuming. Kelly helped out as well the best way she could. She took over all the house-cleaning jobs Sally usually had, as well as cooking as many meals as possible. When the time came for the party, she worked tirelessly to help Sally set everything up.
This left Sally free to field calls from reporters, editors, publishers and his annoying agent until the bruising subsided and Mitch was able to talk on the phone without sounding like he was half drunk.
Good thing I don’t have to deal with that bitch of an agent too often, Sally thought to herself the next Saturday morning as she chopped up two large pumpkins to roast and then turn into soup. Still, she’s invited to this fucking party, so I’ll just have to be nice to her. God, sometimes I get so sick of being nice. Still, Mitch is better now. He can talk to her.
Now the only evidence of his fight with Father Brian was a couple of healing scabs on his bottom lip and cheek. The whole incident had generated a great deal of interest among the invitees. Nearly forty people had been invited, but there was sure to be half as many extras turning up. Sally took this in her stride and was just at home prep
aring food for sixty as she was for just she and Mitch and Kelly.
The drinks were simple to organise. Wine glasses, beer tumblers and champagne flutes were set up on a trestle table in the hall, along with two large coolers which would be filled with ice. The guests, Sally reasoned, could help themselves to what was there, and if and when it ran out, that was it. The food on the other hand; that was a different matter altogether.
Kelly asked if she could help, but they both knew Sally could work faster by herself than were she training Kelly.
‘Tell you what. You make up a few plates of caprese salad.’
Kelly made a nervous face.
‘It’s pretty simple, but it’s the best tasting salad you’ll ever taste,’ Sally guaranteed. ‘Cut up about a dozen tomatoes into centimetre-thick slices. You should get about four slices per tomato. Spread those out, then on top of the slices, put one whole basil leaf. Then slice up all that bocconcini mozzarella cheese in the tubs in the fridge and put them on top of the basil.’
Kelly blinked. ‘That’s it?’
‘That’s it.’ Sally shrugged. ‘Nonna sometimes sprinkled dried oregano on top, but it can get stuck in your teeth, and this is a party, so probably best not to.’ She looked at Kelly encouragingly. ‘You know which one’s basil, right?’
Kelly nodded with a smile as bright as the morning sunrise.
‘Yeah! Mitch showed me.’
‘Well, off you go then. I’ll do some antipasto and then get started on the arancini.’
Kelly grinned and attacked her task with a song in her heart. While she was doing that, Sally produced four large platters of antipasto. These were simple enough; just selections of cheeses, salami rolls held in place with toothpicks, grapes, olives and sliced ciabbatta.
Then she set to work on a huge batch of arancini. I’d seen these little crumbed mash-potato and rice balls filled with spinach and ricotta cheese, pre-made in deli sections in supermarkets and always wondered how they were made. It seemed a lot of work to me, but Sally didn’t seem to think anything of it. She peeled, boiled and mashed four kilograms of potatoes, and also boiled up six cups of white rice.
What followed next was perhaps the messiest, laborious forms of cooking I’d ever witnessed. With the mash and rice in separate bowls, Sally then mixed together a big batch of steamed spinach with three tubs of ricotta cheese. Humming away to herself, she scooped out spoonfuls of rice and mashed them into a little bowls in the palm of her hand. She did this an even one hundred times. Into half of these little bowls, she placed a glob of the spinach and ricotta mix, then she pressed another rice bowl onto it and rolled it around in her palms until it was sort of round. Then she added a layer of mash in much the same way. It took her a good hour and a half, but she eventually had fifty doughy looking globs about the size of lemons on my bench-top. Then she dipped them in beaten egg, and rolled them in breadcrumbs. Finally, they all went onto the fridge to chill and set.
I couldn’t believe all the effort, but they were sure to be delicious, and as always when she was cooking, Sally found a solace in her work that I recognised as something I had enjoyed myself. She could see the contented smiles, and feel the warmth in the bellies of those who consumed her food, and she knew that they would not just be consuming her food, but also receiving her own love and warmth.
Kelly had finished her plates of the classic and beautiful tri-coloured salad. The pride she felt when she viewed the completed plates was dwarfed by the awe she felt when she sat and watched Sally continue her work. Our little general had become the girl’s true heroine. Wow, this is so cool. How did she think of these things?
Sally saw her expression and smiled. ‘My Nonna used to make them. Every Italian’s Nonna did.’
When her pumpkin soup was simmering away and the arancini balls had been chilled, Sally then set four litres of oil to heat in another large pot. While it was heating, she chopped up a handful of sage leaves and squashed two entire bulbs of garlic then sliced them into the oil. She kept a close eye on the herbs, watching them deep fry until they were very dark brown. Satisfied that they’d imparted enough flavour into the oil, Sally then removed them and set to deep frying the crumbed balls, three or four at a time until they too were golden brown. As they were done, she set them on wire racks set into some of her baking trays and put them in my oven which she’d turned down to a very low heat.
By six o’clock, the first of the guests had begin to arrive. Kelly’s happiness gave way to near panic. So many people! They’re all gonna want to talk to me…
‘Sally, I… I can’t… I mean all these people—’
Sally nodded. ‘Take my laptop and your iPod. Go upstairs and shut the door. Lock it. I’ll bring you up a plate of food then you won’t have to see or talk to anyone but me. Got it?’
‘But what if—?’
‘Same as last time kiddo.’ Sally smiled and shook her head with mild disbelief. ‘I still don’t get how you knew something was up, but you did it. Trust your instincts… Shit, I sound like Obi Wan Kenobi.’
They both chuckled at that.
‘Just call the cops again. I planned this party before all this shit happened. Now, if the cops come busting in and break it up early, fine by me.’
Kelly’s face lit up with wordless gratitude. She nodded and bolted out of me and up the stairs.
I knew he was probably floating about somewhere, even if I couldn’t hear him.
‘Alec!’ I yelled as loudly as I could. None of the mortal humans heard me, but the young ghost did. He drifted into me sheepishly.
‘Yeah?’ He peered at his feet.
‘Alec, I don’t care about you hanging around Kelly, but I do think you should respect her privacy.’
‘I know,’ he muttered. ‘I’m losing touch with her anyway.’ He looked around. ‘Now that her mum’s confessed to killing me, it’s just not so interesting. It’s like there’s no point. Been thinking about moving on anyway.’
Good. I didn’t want to be sharing my house with another ghost anyway. Still, I had a job for him and didn’t want him to go away just yet.
‘I need you to watch her door for me, okay? Can you do that? If someone other than Mitch or Sally tries to get to see her, you let me know, okay?’
Alec nodded. ‘Alright,’ he said simply and floated away and up the stairs.
From then on, Sally was in her element. She wore a tight black and white striped dress that hugged her fit curves so well I felt even more embarrassed looking at her clothed than when I’d seen her naked and up to all sorts of shenanigans with Mitch.
Mitch too liked the dress and made sure to brush past her every chance he got. He was in charge of the meat. He’d set up the barbecue on the back porch and would occasionally wander in with another tray of sausages or chops, or just to grab another beer. By seven-thirty, the barbecue was off and the meat and other food either keeping warm in the oven or sitting in smaller trays as needed on my bench. The soup had been decanted into a smaller slow-cooker, from which the guests could ladle their own into Sally’s collection of white mugs.
The noise went up as the evening went on. I watched the crowd ebb and flow in and out of me, moving like babbling and increasingly intoxicated sheep. There was dancing on the front porch, and I gather out in the lounge, while small groups gathered here and there in me and the hall and out in various other spots where they could talk. The favourite topics were Mitch’s success as an author, their amazing survival, and speculation as to whether Mitch would turn the story into a book.
I also noticed with some disgust, that several of Sally’s “friends” wondered if Sally had shot Father Brian intentionally instead of as a result of being tackled by Marcy Greenwood. Huh. If my Sally had meant to shoot the fiend, she’d have blown his diseased head off.
Still, I should have expected this kind of gossip. What I didn’t expect, was some of the gatecrashers. Most were simply add-ons. Two of the boys from Jamieson’s Orchard arrived. They’d brought a case of thei
r home-brewed cider, which of course meant they were more than welcome, though I did hear Sally thinking Be lucky if there’s a bottle left for anyone else at the rate those two are drinking.
Leila MacArthur showed up as well, which surprised quite a few people, not just me. She’d been very close to Marcy. Had she been one of the Brian’s acolytes? She’d certainly fawned over him at church, but was she in the circle of special followers? I didn’t know.
I watched her very closely indeed. True to her nature, she gushed over Sally and frequently lent a hand throughout the night by stacking and unstacking the dishwasher or cleaning up piles of paper plates with discarded food.
She certainly was a busy little bee. Never stood still for a moment. I had only the briefest chances to touch her consciousness, and then only lightly before she took off out of me. Ooh, Frank Webb! Must say hello. Wonder what he knows about the killings? Oh, better clean up that wine. Don’t want it to stain. Where’s the cloth? My, what a turnout. What a buzz about Marcy and poor Brian. Huh. Funny how there’s so much more interest in the Owens now they’re dead… She gave a start as she glanced at a man she recognised as a former lover. Oh! What’s he doing here? Well this is going to be difficult—