by Sarah Barrie
Paisley frowned. ‘I believe those tours are run in wards that contained patients that were genuinely violent and dangerous. Criminally insane monsters that would tear you apart given the slightest opportunity. Would you have gone to visit them while they were alive?’
Tess shuddered. ‘No, of course not.’
‘Then why would you go looking for them when they’re dead?’
Tess’s expression went blank. Then her brow creased thoughtfully. ‘I never thought of it like that.’
Ned appeared at the table. ‘Paisley. You ready to unload?’
‘Hi. Yep. Sure.’ She finished her coffee and got to her feet. ‘Nice seeing you all.’ She smiled once more, but it wasn’t as bright as earlier.
As Paisley and Ned walked away, Connor scratched his head. ‘That was an interesting outburst.’
‘I wouldn’t bring that place up in front of Paisley if I were you,’ Kaicey said. ‘Eileen worked there, Cliff was an outpatient of one of her colleagues there—that’s how they met. That place was a big part of Paisley’s life, and not always in a good way.’ Then she said with a sigh, ‘She seemed happy enough to see me though, didn’t she?’
‘Sure, why?’ Tess asked.
‘We had a falling out before she left. I was worried she might have held a grudge.’
‘Must have been a good one if you were worried she was still pissed,’ Connor said.
Kaicey shrugged. ‘Everyone does stupid stuff when they’re kids, right?’
He thought it was a bit strange the way she looked at them all in turn, waiting for their affirmation.
‘Looks like she’s gotten over it anyway. I have to get back to work.’ Kaicey slid from her seat and, with a quick smile, walked back to reception.
‘So,’ Tess said, ‘do you think Paisley’s mystery friend is Caroline Johnson?’
‘I wouldn’t have a clue.’ Though the way Paisley had been hedging, he wouldn’t be surprised. He thought again about the image from the television, fleetingly wondered if she’d look as fragile in real life as she had on the screen.
‘I reckon it’s got to be,’ Tess said. ‘She’s out there. I’m going to go say hi.’
‘Tess …’
‘Oh, come on! If she’s escaped down here I bet she doesn’t have a friend in the world other than Paisley.’
‘And probably wants it to stay that way,’ he said.
Tess just shrugged. ‘She can kick me out if she wants. Can’t hurt to say hello.’
CHAPTER
9
Scratching. The sound was irritating, and dragged Callie from sleep. She reluctantly opened her eyes and didn’t immediately remember where she was. She sat up, blinked a few times. What on earth had she been dreaming about? She felt like she’d run a marathon. Blearily, she focused on her bedroom window and noticed a grevillea branch with large apricot flowers scraping the window. With dawn the wind had picked up, and light rain was falling. Tasmania, she remembered. The pretty little cottage.
She’d driven herself back here yesterday in her new car. She had been thinking something small and economical but Paisley had shaken her head at the smaller cars and told her she needed something big, safe, gutsy and practical. She’d bought a Land Rover Discovery Sport in gunmetal grey. An ex-demo vehicle, it had few kilometres to its name and looked brand new. It had cost a large chunk of her savings but she wasn’t worrying about that—she loved it already. But then what? She’d unpacked the groceries and taken another wander around the garden then, tired, she’d decided to lie down until Paisley came back. That had been mid-afternoon yesterday. She checked the clock beside the bed. Almost seven. She’d slept that long?
Not surprised to feel a bit hung over from the lengthy sleep, she dragged herself off the bed and stretched. She walked into Paisley’s room. Her friend was tidying up, placing a china doll the size of a small baby on a shelf—a pretty young girl dressed in a floral summer dress.
‘Oh, Paisley, that’s gorgeous!’
‘Thanks. Mum used to make them as a hobby. This is supposed to be me and this one—’ she pulled out another, ‘—is Mum.’
Callie gently touched a delicate miniature hand. ‘They’re beautifully made. The detail in the faces is extraordinary.’
‘I had them stuffed in a cupboard down here, thought it might be nice to bring them out. Guess I’m lucky they never broke.’ She rearranged a couple of nearby books on the shelf around the dolls. ‘How’d you sleep?’
‘Like the dead.’
‘I did come in once or twice to make sure you were breathing.’ Paisley grinned. ‘You’ll feel better for it. You haven’t slept in months.’
‘And now I need coffee.’
‘Already made.’
‘You’re amazing.’ Callie went back out to the kitchen and made herself some toast to go with her coffee. After a few mind-clearing sips, something occurred to her. ‘Who were you talking to last night? I think I remember waking up just enough to hear you.’
‘Mum. Just letting her know we’re here, that everything’s going to plan.’ She glanced at her phone and got to her feet. ‘I’m going to have to get moving if I’m going to make the plane.’
Callie felt a stab of guilt. ‘Are you sure you want to go back again already?’
‘The faster I’m back and there’s movement at the house, the less likely it will be that anyone will cotton on you’ve left. At least in the short term. Besides, I need to be ready for Monday. The new buyers are relying on me getting the place back up to scratch while they hire the staff they need to take over. You know this.’
‘And I really appreciate it.’
Paisley’s eyes danced with amusement. ‘Again? Really?’
‘Leave that.’ She gestured to Paisley’s cup and plate. ‘I’ll get those later. Have you got everything you need?’
‘Almost.’
At the rental car, Paisley dumped her bag and turned back before getting in. ‘So you’re fine? No last-minute questions, concerns? The plane lands at two so call me after that if you need to. If you get desperate, call Ned. Thank you for watching Dad for me.’ Paisley gave Callie a quick squeeze. ‘So … six weeks. I’ll get the business back on its feet and the new manager up to speed, pack up my stuff and drive down.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Callie promised. ‘I have my car, know basically where everything in town is and you’ve left every possibly necessary phone number on the fridge.’
‘And I’ll try and get down here a few times in between.’
Paisley was so protective she sometimes felt more like a mother than a friend, Callie thought as she waved her off down the driveway. Then she closed her eyes and sighed deeply. The sun struggled to warm her against the cold of the winter’s morning. She could hear a boat out on the river, birds—everywhere—and nothing else. It was wonderful. And all she needed to do was whatever she wanted.
She opened her eyes and turned in a slow circle. What should she do first? Her eyes settled on the grevillea outside the cottage, reminded her of the scraping of its branches on her window. She’d start by pruning it back and ensure there were no more nasty sounds to keep her awake at night. She went in search of the tools Paisley said she’d find in the garage of the main house. The tools were there, not as new and sharp as Callie would have liked, but she took them back to the cottage and got to work.
At one stage she stopped to stretch her back and survey her work, glancing up to see Cliff in the window of a second-storey corner room. She smiled and waved. He turned away and disappeared.
By the end of the day, Callie had worked longer and harder than she’d intended, and her muscles were well and truly complaining. Tired, but not feeling like sitting around inside, she decided to go for a walk to find the river. As she made her way down the hill, she found what should have been park-like gardens overgrown with clusters of trees and shrubs in a tangled mess of long grass and weeds. She’d have to invest in a decent sprayer if she was going to tackle this area. It really wouldn’t
take that much to at least give the gardens a façade of order, if not a full makeover. Paisley had done so much for her since all this began. And tidying the grounds was the only way Callie could think of to give something back.
A worn track that led into thick undergrowth veered away from the main gardens. Unusual symbols were carved into gum trees marking the path. Hiking marks? Did this lead to some sort of public trail? She took a few steps in, treading carefully. The trail got darker as trees towered overhead and shrubs stretched out to narrow her path. There was an interesting mix of native and introduced species. She recognised the tiny, fine leaves of tea trees, a few conifers, some tall and slim, others fat and squat, the spears of ancient poplars and silver-blue acacias. It was quiet, cool, pretty. She spotted more carvings on tree trunks, looked around, and around again. There was no sign of where she’d come from, or where she was going.
Enchanted, she pressed on until the path widened and the sun began to filter through the canopy. A narrow strip of grass bordered the river, where swamp gums entangled their roots in the wet ground and the branches of graceful willows touched the river. In the shallows, reeds and spike rush knitted together in competition for space. And everything rustled gently, dancing as the breeze slid off the sparkling water and brought movement and sound—the only movement, the only sound. She was on the outskirts of a bustling town, but right then she could have been anywhere, at any time. And the feeling of being lost in that timeless, happy space had her eyes closing and the first genuine smile in months gracing her face. She breathed deeper than she had in as long as she could remember.
She looked back, saw the top of the house’s tower over the trees. It was impressive, old and thoroughly charming. So what was it about the place that had a slight chill racing over her skin, giving her the creeps? Her mind wandered for a few minutes, thinking about the way the light didn’t penetrate the windows, the cold that had sliced through her by the stairs as she’d inspected the lounge room. Callie didn’t believe in ghosts or monsters or any of that stuff designed purely, she believed, to scare children. But if she did, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to set foot in that place.
Something crashed suddenly in the undergrowth, sounding like it was moving towards her at speed. Heart in her throat, Callie spun. Waited.
The little brown dog with a happy smile and a shaggy coat might have had some Jack Russell in it, but beyond that was anyone’s guess. Its damp muddy paws found her jeans as it leapt, leaving twin smears.
‘Molly! Molly!’ A young boy in linen shorts and a striped shirt crashed through the trees after the dog, looking equally as ragged. Chest heaving, his bare legs scratched—probably from his mad dash after Molly—his frantic gaze fell on the dog and turned to relief. Then his big hazel eyes widened back into distress when he saw Callie and the marks on her jeans.
‘Uh—I’m so sorry! She slipped out of her collar,’ he explained, holding up a lead with a buckled leather collar attached. ‘I guess I didn’t make it tight enough. I’m so sorry. You’re not gonna tell, are you?’
The words tumbled into each other and it took Callie a moment to catch up. Then she grinned. ‘No harm done.’ To prove it, she picked up the puppy, ignoring its state, to give it a quick cuddle. ‘She’s very sweet.’
The stricken look left the boy’s face and turned to a smile. ‘She was my birthday present. I promised Nan I’d take good care of her. I tried but …’ He held up the collar and lead again with a helpless shrug.
The gesture only made her grin more. ‘Could happen to anyone. She looks happy and healthy. You must be getting most of it right.’
His chest puffed out a little. ‘She’s real quick,’ he said proudly. ‘And real smart. And she loves to run.’
‘I can see that.’
‘Sorry about your jeans.’
‘It’s no problem. I was doing some gardening. They’re not exactly clean.’
‘Are you new around here?’ he asked, voice full of curiosity. ‘I haven’t seen you before. You’re not really supposed to be here. It’s private property. You don’t want to mess with old Weirdo Waldron.’
She would not laugh. She. Would. Not. ‘Weirdo Waldron?’
‘Uh—I mean Mr Waldon,’ he said sheepishly.
‘That’s okay, I’m a friend of his daughter. I’m staying in his cottage.’
‘Oh,’ the boy said as though that made everything better. He gently took the pup from her arms. ‘You’re one of us, then. I’m Jonah.’
‘I’m Callie.’
‘Nice to meet you, Callie. Sorry again.’ He bent and struggled with the exuberant pup to get the collar back on. ‘I’ll do it up one hole tighter. See if that works.’ He straightened as Molly tugged at the lead before jumping all over him. ‘No, Molly. Don’t jump. No.’
Cuteness overload, she thought. ‘It was nice to meet you too, Jonah. This is a lovely trail; does it continue along the river?’
‘Yep, just around that bend there. This one is Devil’s Den. The other one that goes right around the point is called the Wallaby Trail.’
‘Devil’s Den?’
‘Sure. The devils used to nest around here.’
And then it clicked. ‘You mean Tasmanian devils?’ she asked enthusiastically. ‘I hope I get to see one while I’m here.’
‘They still come ’round. For the dead stuff … you know. I better get back before I get in trouble. Bye, Callie!’
‘Bye, Jonah.’
As boy and dog disappeared along the trail through the trees, Callie frowned. Dead stuff? She laughed a little, shook it off. She wanted to enjoy this place. Best not to focus on dead stuff and creepy houses, she told herself as she headed back up the track to the cottage. Jonah had called her ‘one of us’. That was a generous attitude. Did staying with the Waldrons automatically qualify you? She had it in her mind that you were never a local in a small town like this until your family was several generations in.
She rounded the last bend in the overgrown garden just as Ned’s car appeared.
‘Brought over some firewood for you,’ he said as she approached. ‘Case you get cold. I’ll put it round the side on the patio.’
‘Oh, thanks. I appreciate that,’ she said. ‘I’ve been gardening in four layers of clothing. I was wondering if it was just me who thought it was freezing.’
‘You’ll get used to it,’ he said, lugging a crate from the back of his car.
‘Let me take a load.’ She lifted another crate of wood and followed Ned. It was heavier than she bargained for and she dropped it with relief next to Ned’s, cracking her head on the fuse box when she straightened too fast. ‘Ouch!’ she grumbled, sore and a little embarrassed, but Ned had already walked away to get another load. She went after him, grateful he had the last container taken care of.
‘Sleep okay last night?’ he asked.
‘Yes, it’s very quiet.’
He nodded. ‘You’ve got any problems while Paisley’s away, don’t forget to call. It’s a bit hard to get away from work—copped a bit of flack about yesterday—but you just let me know. I’ll get myself out here.’
‘I appreciate that,’ she said.
‘Did Paisley give you my number?’
‘Yes, thanks.’ Her phone shrilled, and she pulled it from her pocket. ‘In fact, this is her now. Hi, Paise, just a sec.’ She smiled at Ned. ‘Thanks again.’
Ned paused at the car door, smiling back across the roof. ‘I’ll see you soon.’
She nodded, then returned her attention to Paisley. ‘Hi.’
‘Settling in?’
‘I’ve been gardening.’
‘No!’ Paisley said with exaggerated disbelief. ‘I would never have guessed. And thank you. The house is going to be difficult and time consuming enough to clean up without even thinking about the grounds.’
‘I met a little boy down by the river today. He had a puppy with him. He was curious that I was staying here.’
‘Living in Weirdo Waldron’s cottage?’ Pais
ley guessed. ‘It’s fine. The house has an interesting history and a bit of a reputation. I’d keep quiet about where you’re staying though if I were you. Just say the caravan park or something. A new face around town is one thing, a new face staying with me right after the trial in the same week Caroline Johnson disappears is another. There’s already speculation up here among your loyal gatekeepers, and I dodged about a million questions from Tess yesterday.’
‘Who’s Tess?’
‘Connor Atherton’s sister.’
‘And here I was convincing myself it wouldn’t be big news down here.’
‘All you need is one decent story to break elsewhere and it’ll blow over quick enough. In the meantime, don’t give too much away. You look different, but not that different.’
‘Yep. Got it.’
‘And while I’ve got you, I just want to run through a few bits and pieces …’
By the time they were finished talking, night had closed in and a cold damp seemed to permeate everything. Callie kindled the fire, glad of the wood Ned had brought over, and made herself a simple dinner. She fought back a wave of sadness as the isolation of eating alone swept over her. Thoughts of sharing meals with Dale: simple barbecued lunches on the patio; candlelight dinners at their favourite restaurant; hastily thrown together breakfasts in bed after—she shoved the memories back, locked them away along with the sudden, almost crippling, sense of loneliness. She’d never been a loner by nature, had always enjoyed the company of other people. This was an adjustment. But this was what she’d wanted. What she needed. She’d get used to being on her own. She’d have to.
As she washed up her plate, Callie caught a glimpse of the river shining through the trees below. On a whim, she gathered a blanket around her and went out onto the patio to sit. It was cold but peaceful, listening to the sounds of the night, watching the stars in a sky clearer than she’d ever seen. A boat puttered along the river. Night birds sang to each other.
With a wisp of breeze came the low hum of song, rhythmical, repetitive. She strained to hear but lost the sound, imagined it floated back for another moment before being lost again. More lights had appeared on the river, but the song or whatever it had been was gone. Perhaps she’d imagined it, but something about the elemental sound stayed with her, and it was unsettling.