by Sarah Barrie
‘You might have just missed your chance. She’s packed a bag and taken off. She was saying things that didn’t make a lot of sense.’
Connor heard Indy’s sound of frustration. ‘I didn’t want to let her go but I couldn’t hold her. You’d better tell me what she said.’
CHAPTER
19
‘They’re all in,’ Callie told Connor as they looked over the irrigation pipes she’d just finished laying. ‘I’ll hook the lines up to each garden as I get them completed and these trenches can get on with grassing over. I won’t have to dig up any more of your lawn.’
‘I can’t believe you did all this yourself. It’s a massive job.’
‘This isn’t your average garden. It would have been faster if I could have dug all the lines at once, but I had to go bit by bit so none of your guests fell into any holes.’
‘My insurance premium appreciates that.’
She chuckled, dipped her eyes when they landed on his warm ones. Callie had received a few looks that had curled her toes this week. She’d reminded herself it wasn’t smart to go there, but damn, he had her wondering. Had her wanting. ‘Anyway,’ she continued as she felt the heat creep into her face, ‘I can concentrate on planting out again, which will be good for those plants still in pots.’ She stretched, thought about calling it a day. It was early, but there was no point beginning something else at this stage.
‘How about I go and get the ute?’ Connor said. ‘We can pack the rest of this stuff onto it. It’ll save a lot of trips with the wheelbarrow.’
‘Yes, it will—thanks.’ She started gathering everything together while he was gone, but straightened quickly when she caught movement in front of her. A woman had appeared seemingly from nowhere. She recognised the face but it took her a moment to place it: this was one of the women from the bus tour at the beginning of the week.
‘Can I help you?’
‘I need to speak to you, Caroline.’
The reality of hearing the name out loud was as much of a shock as a punch in the stomach. She knew the blood had rushed from her face, wondered if there was any way to disguise the panic the woman had set off. ‘Sorry?’
A couple of guests strolled past. ‘The gardens look lovely here,’ the woman said brightly. ‘You’re doing a wonderful job.’ Then the jovial tone and accompanying grin both dropped when the guests had passed. ‘They’re watching you.’
‘What?’ Callie asked. The woman’s tone had her trembling. ‘Who?’
‘You need to leave. Get away. Fast.’
‘What? Wait!’
But the woman wasn’t waiting. She swept around the next garden bed and vanished from view.
What the hell? Just what the hell? They were watching her? Who? The media? That strange woman’s friends? And why had she been whispering? Callie looked around her, walked in slow circles, expecting reporters with their cameras and their microphones to burst into view at any moment. Nausea rolled in her stomach. Calm down. Think.
* * *
Connor steered the ute across the lawn to where Callie had everything ready to load on. She was there, but staring into the trees. She seemed tense. She pulled her cap further down and walked—though quickly—towards him. Her eyes darted left and right, forward and back. She was in the ute before he could get out.
She was pale, shaky, her features drawn. She’d been fine a moment ago. What could have happened?
‘Callie, what’s wrong? What happened?’
‘Can we go?’ she asked. ‘I’ll explain when we get inside.’
‘Sure, of course.’ He drove back to the guesthouse, parked around the side and took her straight up to his office, then, taking another look at her face, decided they didn’t need interruptions and steered her through the door to his adjoining apartment. ‘What happened?’
As though it was beyond her to keep still, Callie walked in small circles. ‘There were women, the other day. With the garden group, I think. They were watching me work and whispering and I know they recognised me. They went away but one just came back. She told me I was being watched, that I needed to go.’
He bit down on his lip, kept a vicious curse in his head. ‘Okay.’
‘And I don’t know—I don’t even know if I can stay in Tasmania because if the media come sniffing around, Cliff’s place will be inundated. You don’t know what it’s like, being a prisoner in your own home. They camp out day and night, bang on the door, leave notes, the phone doesn’t stop ringing—’
‘Hey, calm down.’ He got her a glass of water and put it on the table in front of her.
‘And the woman said to get away. Fast. I mean—what? What are you doing?’ she asked, startled, when he took her arms and tried to guide her to a seat.
‘You need to sit, calm down, drink some water.’
‘No. No, I’m fine. I just need to go. I’m sorry. I can’t work here anymore.’
First Kaicey and now Callie? ‘Hold on,’ Connor said with as much authority as he could muster under a decent hit of his own panic. ‘Just wait a minute. Please.’
When she nodded, he perched on the chair opposite. ‘You didn’t actually admit to anything, did you?’
‘No, but she knew, Connor.’ And what she’d gone through must have been hell, because the look, the tone, was devastated.
‘Yeah. Okay,’ he said much more calmly than he felt. Until that moment he hadn’t realised exactly how much he wanted her to stay. He struggled for the right thing to say. ‘It’s going to happen, Callie. Sometime, somewhere. No matter where you go. How long do you think people are going to chase you? How long are you going to keep running, wondering if the world’s moved on?’
‘I don’t know. But longer than this.’
‘Would you at least take a few days to think about it? You told me Paisley’s due down for the weekend, right? Talk to her. See what she thinks. Nothing might come of this. At least, nothing we can’t handle.’
‘We?’ She shook her head and got back to her feet. ‘There is no we. I won’t drag you into this!’
He reminded himself this was exactly what he’d told himself he didn’t want: no more drama, don’t get involved. But right at that moment he realised he already was. And the thought that this mysterious woman could jeopardise these new feelings before he had a chance to get his head around them enraged him.
He pulled Callie to him, hoping to hell he hadn’t misread her feelings, and covered her mouth with his. He lost all sense of the purpose of the kiss the moment his lips met hers. It was no longer about proving a point or showing her something he couldn’t explain. It was just about her: the feel of her, the taste of her, the sensations she set off in him as her rigid body trembled in response. Then that initial shock dissolved and her arms came around him while her body sank against his. By the time she stepped back, they were both breathless.
Eyes wide and face flushed, she stared at him, swallowing hard. ‘This is a mistake.’
‘It doesn’t feel much like one.’ He pressed a finger to her lips as she opened her mouth to object again. ‘And assuming it’s okay with you, now there is a we and you didn’t drag me into it—I dragged you.’
Her eyes softened but she was shaking her head again. ‘It’s not okay! You don’t know what you’re doing. What you could be getting into.’
‘I’m already in. Let me help.’
But she stepped away. ‘I said no! I need to go back to the cottage. I need to think.’
‘Can I at least drive you?’
Callie sucked in a breath and closed her eyes in a visible attempt to calm herself down. ‘No—honestly, I’m fine to drive. I’ll, um … talk to you later,’ she said, voice steadier. ‘Let you know …’
‘Callie, it’ll be okay,’ Connor promised as she turned for the door. Somehow, he was going to make sure of it.
* * *
Her brain had sunk to her feet when Connor had kissed her. It had been too long since she’d been held like that, kissed like that. And on to
p of the drama of the few minutes before, of course she was going to be out of sorts. But with time and distance, she was starting to process. If she stayed away from Calico Mountain—at least in the short term—anyone poking around looking for her wouldn’t be able to find her. They had no way of connecting her to Waldron Park.
But she had to wonder who that woman was. It hadn’t just been the recognition, but the urgency in the woman’s tone that had sent Callie into such a panic. But no one else had bailed her up, so unless the woman knew of some impending invasion—unless they were waiting for her at the cottage …
The thought had her ready to make a quick exit as she turned cautiously into the driveway. But where would she go? She had nothing with her, no escape plan. Stupid, she told herself. She should have been better organised.
She was relieved to find the driveway empty. She could still be okay if she kept her head down for a few days. If that didn’t work she’d go somewhere else. Callie really didn’t want to let Paisley down by leaving before she could get back to sort out Cliff, so she’d play it moment by moment.
She got out of the car on legs that weren’t quite steady to let herself inside and was surprised to see Paisley’s bag in the middle of the room. She wasn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow.
‘Paisley?’ A quick look around the cottage showed her friend wasn’t there, so she must have gone to the house. Callie cleaned herself up, and because she didn’t feel like cooking, heated up a meal she had in the freezer courtesy of Connor and went to deliver it to Cliff.
Paisley met her at the front door. ‘Surprise!’ she said warmly. ‘I wrangled an extra day off so I came down early.’
‘Hi. And great.’
Paisley sent her a speculative look. ‘What happened?’
‘Bit of a drama at Calico Mountain.’
‘Drama?’ Paisley asked as she stepped back to let her in.
‘I’ll, um … tell you in a minute. Just let me put this down. Your dad’s dinner.’
‘Do me a favour and stick it in the oven? I need another ten minutes. Dad’s upstairs sorting out his record collection so I’m sneaking out as much rubbish in the bin as will fit.’
Callie stepped past the rubbish bags and sorting piles and did so. Not sure she was quite ready to talk, she looked around. ‘Can I help?’
‘While I finish here, could you take those couple of tied-up rubbish bags out, put them by the bin?’
‘Sure.’
‘The skip is coming tomorrow. I’ll load it all in then.’
Callie took the bags, then came back in and noticed Paisley had made her a cup of tea and was sitting, waiting.
‘So?’ Paisley asked.
‘I was bailed up by a woman out at Calico Mountain today. She recognised me, told me I should go. It sounded almost more like a threat than a friendly warning.’ Callie peered into another box, this one full of touristy tea towels.
Paisley stared, frowned. ‘What?’
Callie took her through what had happened and afterwards Paisley was quiet, digesting it.
‘You didn’t actually admit to being Caroline, did you? Because I have to think if this woman is as strange as she sounds, who’s going to believe her?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know who she is, what she knows. I’m not sure I shouldn’t leave, go somewhere else for a while.’
‘Again? You’ve just done that. I agree with Connor. Lay low for a few days.’
‘You know what the media were like at home, Paise. We don’t need that here.’
‘You said the woman was from the garden club. Which one?’
‘I don’t know. There were a couple there. They shared a coach. Why?’
‘Because if we can figure out who she and her friends are, we might get a better idea of if there’s anything to worry about. I believe Adelaide’s involved with one of the clubs around here. She might be able to help. What did the woman look like?’
‘Short, maybe sixty, hair was brown and curly but the roots were grey. Round face, nice clothes. And if you do ask Adelaide, you’ll have to tell her who I am. Then someone else will know.’
‘I’ll figure that part out, trust me.’
‘Okay. But it’s not just that.’ Callie wanted to be careful about how this next bit came out. ‘I’ve been having a bit of trouble making Ned understand I’m not interested in seeing him. Romantically.’
Paisley smiled in understanding. ‘It’s nothing to worry about. If he’s being a bit full on I’ll talk to him again. I already told him to leave you alone. I guess he didn’t take enough notice.’
‘That’s just it,’ she blurted out. ‘Everyone said he’s harmless, that he just gets a bit fixated from time to time, but I think this is more than that. I’m not comfortable around him.’
‘I’ll talk to him,’ Paisley promised again.
‘Thanks,’ Callie said, and could only hope Paisley would get through. ‘Let’s get more of this done.’
They got twenty minutes in, then Cliff came down looking for dinner and as he ate it, he kept a close eye on Paisley, complaining about nearly everything she tried to toss out. ‘I might need that!’ he said of a chipped vase, and ‘That’s too good to go in the bin,’ when she tried to throw out an old tin money box showing signs of rust. Callie supposed each held a memory and it was difficult to see your life sorted into important and unimportant piles. It was never that simple, she knew that only too well. Too many of her own things, of Dale’s things, still sat in boxes in storage. She hadn’t been able to throw anything away.
She quickly discovered there was no rhyme or reason to the variety of items in each pile of stuff. A cutting board, several old fishing books, an unopened box of Bic pens, some underwear—thankfully still in their plastic—and a packet of rice were in the box Paisley had pushed at her, as well as an Easter egg that had whitened with the years and several birthday cards yellowed with age which had been nibbled on, along with most everything else in the box.
Callie screwed up her nose and, even though she was feeling sympathetic, wondered if the whole thing could just go out as it was. She opened her mouth to ask and noticed Paisley flicking through pages of a book, a wistful smile on her face.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘One of my old yearbooks.’
‘Can I see?’
‘Sure. I might take it back to the cottage, hold on to it.’ Paisley handed it to her then went into the lounge room, so Callie sat and flicked through it. She found Dale in his year seven class photo. It would have been the year before he’d moved up to the Hunter with his family. Another photo in among a collage showed him dressed up at a school function. Paisley was there, too, some other kids who looked a couple of years older and a pretty brunette with her arm thrown casually over Dale’s shoulder. Cute, she thought, and put it aside, because when had that sweet-looking boy turned into a monster?
Paisley came back in with another box and placed it in front of her, then went back and retrieved yet another. ‘You want to try sorting some, Dad?’ she asked Cliff.
‘Not finished on the records. Lotsa good ones I’d forgotten about.’
‘But are you ever going to listen to them? I can download them for you, show you how to—’
‘Don’t sound the same!’
‘But you haven’t listened to them for how long?’
They argued it out, and in an attempt to smooth over the tense silence that followed, Callie asked, ‘What are those markings on the wall? The flowerlike ones?’
‘They’re hexafoils,’ Cliff told her with a disappointed look at Paisley. ‘You bring her here and you don’t explain? Don’t tell her anything?’
‘You’re right, Dad,’ Paisley said patiently, ‘I’ll make sure I explain it to her.’
‘Don’t agree with any of this,’ he mumbled. ‘I’m going back to my records.’
‘So?’ Callie prompted.
‘Look … this house …’ Paisley looked around reflectively. ‘A lot of bad things
have happened here. You know Dad’s a diagnosed schizophrenic. He goes through highs and lows with his illness. When it gets the better of him, he ties the stories into his psychosis.’
‘What stories?’
Paisley drained her tea. ‘I only know the basics. The house was built by convicts for one of the early overseers of the town, a man named Phillip Waldron. It was pretty harsh out here in the beginning. Most of Phillip’s children and his wife all died, his one remaining son Clarence became a soldier and spent time stationed at Norfolk Island prison. He got tied up with a particularly nasty warden out there and when he came back, he’d changed.’
‘Changed how?’ Callie asked, curious.
‘He was into … stuff. Really dark, nasty stuff. Norfolk Island prison was barbaric. Being sent there was considered to be a fate worse than death. It was said Clarence carried out a lot of the torture. It must have screwed with his head, because when he came back he wasn’t the same. Ex-convicts who worked at the house started dying or going missing, there was talk of rituals and sacrifices held here. Clarence became progressively more insane and eventually hung himself. But one of his surviving sons was said to have carried on with the whole black magic thing and then the next after him, and so on.’
‘Nice story,’ Callie said with a shudder.
‘This house has loads of them. There’s an old tunnel that runs from the river beside the house right under the town to the asylum. It was used to transport patients who weren’t deemed fit to be on the streets.’
‘A tunnel? Really?’
‘There’s loads of them under New Norfolk. But keep that to yourself. Dad’s convinced if the local academics get wind of it he’ll lose the house to some historical heritage bill or something. Anyway, it’s said some patients never made it. That Clarence Junior used to pinch them off the boats and use them in his rituals.’
‘Ew. Good grief.’ An uncomfortable chill washed over her because what Dale had done was never far from her mind. She wondered what motivated people to do such terrible things.
‘People have whispered about seeing figures with burning torches down by the river, hearing chanting in the early hours of the morning, even finding the odd mutilated animal corpse. There’s a record of all the truths and legends in the local library, and Dad’s got a heap of stuff upstairs.’