‘Oh Daddy,’ Rose murmured, her cheeks dimpling prettily in the light. ‘Why are you getting so hot and bothered? It’s easy, we’ve been in the library and then we went to a café and forgot the time.’ She paused and asked innocently, ‘where else would we go when the weather has been so unpleasant?’
Nervously, Ellie averted her eyes, certain the Reverend could sense the lies, and why did Rose mention the library? Everyone with half a brain knew it was closed on weekends.
‘Come on,’ Rose reached up her hand. ‘You’ve been out in the garden too long. Let’s have some nice iced tea, and then maybe you can take us to Ellie’s?’
High on the ladder, Matthew held his daughter’s gaze for a long moment then sighed. ‘No,’ he said quietly and gestured to the summerhouse. ‘This needs to be finished, Rose. We need to be faithful to what we have started.’
He paused, his gaze passing from Rose to Ellie, inspecting them each in turn. ‘I will take you Rosalind, but,’ he added, firmly, ‘I do not want to hear that you two have been anywhere but in the town. Hear me?’ He stabbed his finger through the air for emphasis.
Against the dark red of the sky, his blue eyes burned. Ellie swallowed, certain that he could see every forbidden step of the afternoon.
The glare softened as Matthew turned back to his daughter. ‘Rosalind,’ he said softly, and it seemed to Ellie that he was almost begging, his hands clasped together as if in prayer. ‘The End is coming. There are things in the forest that are like poison to the soul. They live. They will haunt you, follow you, whisper secrets into your mind through the day and the night until you cannot stand it, and you will fear for your very sanity.’
Rose nodded slowly, never taking her eyes from her father’s tormented face. ‘Yes Daddy,’ she murmured. ‘Of course, you’re right.’
‘Please,’ he said, his voice rasped, and he bent closer, so his face was level with hers. ‘Do not enter the forest,’ he whispered. ‘Believe me, I do not say this to frighten you, but it is true nonetheless; there is a war on, a terrible war… Evil is abroad. Within the shadows of the trees live witches and their demons, hungry for our very souls.’
Ellie bit back a startled laugh. She glanced at Rose, but her friend’s face was smooth and calm as she nodded seriously, her hand reaching for her father’s.
‘Yes Daddy,’ agreed Rose as serene as an angel. ‘That’s terrible. Witches live in the forest.’ She paused. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like some fresh iced tea? I brewed some this morning?’
‘No child,’ Matthew held his daughter’s gaze. ‘Thank you, I must first finish what I started, then I will take you to your friend’s.’ Reaching for the garden shears once more, he returned to the roof of the summerhouse as a dry and gritty wind rose over the valley.
With his leg braced against the topmost rung, Matthew stopped, his garden sheers poised. On the evening air, peals of helpless, girlish laughter sliced sharply over the garden, painfully loud. Clenching his jaw, he squeezed hard on the shears and the matt of dead vegetation fell into the derelict pond below.
Movement scattered through the trees and the wind shifted, but Matthew ignored both. Unfolding a white handkerchief from his pocket, he carefully wiped his brow and blew his nose. Above him, the sky remained clouded, empty of stars, concealed behind the dark red layering of dust. Further across the valley, he could see the final streaks of the sun disappearing over the horizon.
In the silence, a whistling cry pierced the night. Shuddering, as if cold, Matthew grabbed the shears with one hand and slid off the ladder, stalking across the dry lawn into the back of the house. Another moment and the cry came again, closer and louder this time, but the garden was empty and the doors and windows of the house remained closed.
✽✽✽
The skies were huge with dark thunderheads, deep and violet, sweeping up into the night, towering masses, their tops sheered straight, dead flat. Clad in a light cotton nightdress, Ellie sat on her window ledge, her long bare legs dangling almost to the ground. Above her the clouds flashed with light. She waited, counting the seconds until out of the silence came the low answering rumble. The storm was still miles away, and around her the air remained flat and dead, with no gusts to freshen the day’s lingering taste of grit.
Ellie jumped to the ground as quietly as she could, slipping across the shrivelled lawn to the road. Keeping to the shadows thrown by the arc of the streetlights, she ran on soundless feet, past the suburban houses huddled against the night.
She stopped at the park by the edge of the cliff, her breath coming in short sharp gasps, her green eyes open, every muscle in her body poised, as the song rose out again over the waiting forest.
Ellie didn't hesitate. Before her dropped the stairs, each one bolted firmly to the rock, a long, narrow brace of metal, like a ladder, leading down the cliff face and into the dark.
Her hand twitched as she dreamed. Sprawled across her narrow bed, lying exposed, escaping the heat, Ellie’s breath came in short hard gasps, and the pillow beneath her face was damp with perspiration.
Help us. Strange faces slipped in and out of her vision.
Help us.
✽✽✽
Ellie’s mother tipped batter into a frypan sizzling on the stove. Sunlight spilled in through the open back door, streaming over the twins sitting up at the table. With a conspiratorial grin, Annie and Tom banged their hands on the wood, demanding their pancakes in a burst of high-pitched laughter. A swell of gospel music chorused from the radio perched on top of the fridge. Her father wiped his hands and sat down.
Ellie slid into the empty chair opposite. She glared at the twins. God, they were loud. She tried not to wince.
‘Morning Ellie, you’re up late.’
‘Yeah, sorry,’ her head ached. ‘I had the weirdest dreams.’ Ellie gazed dumbly for a moment at the growing stack of pancakes in the centre of the table. The screen door banged open and Ben hopped in, tying up the laces of his boots.
‘What’s for breakfast, Mum?’ With a grunt, he dropped his large frame into a chair. ‘I’m starving.’
Brian handed him a plate with a chuckle. ‘I heard on the phone this morning that you were getting very friendly with the Reverend’s daughter.’
‘What were you doing with young Rose?’ Claire looked up sharply.
‘Don’t worry, Mum, we just went to the study group.’ Ben shrugged. ‘And Ellie stayed here with the twins, doing homework, as usual.’ He taunted, rolling his eyes at his sister.
Ignoring him, Ellie poured a dollop of thick maple syrup onto the twin’s breakfast. Rose had had a crush on her brother for months. Ellie couldn’t begin to fathom why, but last night during dinner, something had clicked and the two of them had driven off, with Rose’s delighted giggling hanging in the air.
‘It was a great night.’ Ben laughed suddenly, the sound ricocheting sharply off the kitchen walls. ‘It sounds really crazy, but the Reverend sure as hell is right –’
‘Ben! Mind your language!’
‘Sorry Mum, but it’s true,’ he said, reaching for a pancake. ‘And Rose knows what’s going on. ‘We’ve got to be ready,’ she says, ‘when the End Times come, us Believers have got to stick together …’ Ben’s voice trailed off, admiringly. ‘But you know, Dad, she’s changed, seems to have grown up all of a sudden.’
‘She listens to her father,’ Brian nodded, approvingly. ‘You could learn from her Ellie, and start going to Bible study.’
Bible study? Ellie bit back a laugh. Rose had all the interest in Bible study as a rabbit had in knitting.
But before she could say anything, she was interrupted by a sharp intake of breath from her mother. ‘Oh that’s awful.’
‘What?’ Ellie asked, swivelling around.
The morning service had finished and news headlines were blaring out from the tinny speakers.
The sea defenses of Kandholhudhoo, a densely populated island in the north of the Maldives, have been inundated by the highest tides eve
r recorded. Scores are feared drowned, mainly the elderly -
‘Oh, turn it off.’ Claire said, her eyes filling with tears. ‘It’s all we ever hear, hurricanes, famine, drought...’
‘Mum, sit down for a second.’ Ellie stood up and switched off the radio. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
Her mother sank to the nearest chair. ‘No, thank you, love, nothing for me today. Your father and I are fasting for the meeting.’ Claire paused and looked up at Ellie anxiously. ‘I would really like you to come, please? You hardly ever do.’
‘Of course she’s coming!’ interrupted Ben, finishing his breakfast with a satisfied belch.
Ellie winced. Her brother could be so gross. ‘I don’t know,’ she took his plate. ‘I have an essay due on Monday and it’s not finished. I have so much more to do.’
‘Why are you bothering?’ Ben asked, frowning in incomprehension. ‘None of that matters, sis. Everything is changing. Look outside; it’s meant to be freezing now. Remember? It’s almost winter for God’s sake.’ He shook his head. ‘Come to church, Ellie. The world’s going to hell in a hand basket, and we’ve got to be prepared.’
She didn't answer. At the sink, Ellie turned on the tap and waited, studying the old vegetable garden while the pipes thumped, spewing out tepid, tanin-stained water. Spanning half the yard, it used to be the envy of all the ladies in church, with an abundance of thick-stemmed broccoli and long bunches of sweet tasting carrots. But, Ellie sighed, Ben was right. That was then, when the seasons were cool and well defined, and with plenty of rain. Not this continual everlasting heat.
Once she’d finished the dishes, Ellie carried a mug of hot tea back into her room and closing the door behind, sank down at her desk and picked up a textbook, 1944 A Short History of the D-Day Landings. Ellie opened it at the last chapter.
11:28 a.m. The clock’s numbers shone in the corner. Soon everyone would be gone, and there would be enough peace and quiet to finish her paper. Taking a thoughtful sip of tea, Ellie gazed out the window at the enormous red gum spreading its branches wide over the front yard. It looked exhausted, its remaining leaves limp and scorched, its smooth pinkish trunk weathered to grey and struggling beneath the weight of its heavy limbs.
Ben’s right, everything’s all just going to hell
Morosely, Ellie dropped the textbook onto the desk. At once, an object fell to the floor with a sharp crack.
Now what? With an exasperated sigh, Ellie peered beneath the chair. There, in a pool of bright sun, lay the strange stone she’d picked up off the forest floor.
At first it appeared perfectly ordinary, but as Ellie studied it, she noticed a hole right in its centre, bored through, white, and pinpricked with a thousand tiny dents, like a small, wonky window.
Curious, Ellie scooped the stone off the floor. It felt surprisingly heavy and cool, and its rounded shape fit perfectly into the palm of her hand. Frowning a little, Ellie traced around the hole with the tip of her little finger. The edge felt odd, soft and hard at the same time, like the texture of weathered bone, or like the surface of sea coral, ancient and gnarled.
It was beautiful, Ellie decided, holding the stone up to the window. And so strange... A light, shimmering like a gentle, iridescent haze, seemed to be swirling towards her from its centre. Breathing softly, Ellie brought the stone closer, her attention caught by the strange pulsing glow, but was startled by a sudden sharp knock at the door. The stone landed in her lap.
‘Rose is on the landline.’ Her mother peered in. ‘I’ve been calling you three times, why haven’t you answered? And don’t speak to her for too long,’ she added frowning. ‘If you’re coming, it’s almost time to go.’
‘What? No. We don’t have to leave for another hour.’
‘You must have been sleeping over your books, Ellie. It’s almost one o’clock. If you’re coming, we leave in twenty minutes.’
As her mother closed the door, Ellie grabbed her bedside clock. 12:48 p.m. - the numbers flashed, flaunting the squandered hour.
Through the walls she could hear sharp exclamations of protest as the twins were hustled into the bathroom for a final scrub. Ellie stared at the clock in confusion then, remembering the waiting phone call, she hid the stone deep in her backpack and hurried into the living room.
It was empty; her father’s books and papers were shuffled neatly away on the table beside the telephone.
‘Rose? Is that you?’
‘Of course it’s me, you silly. Who else could it be? Anyway, you took so long we can’t talk, but I have to ask you,’ Rose paused, dramatically. ‘Did he talk about me?’
Ellie sank into the sofa. ‘Who?’ She asked, stupidly. Looking around the room, everything looked the same; curtains still an orange patterned brown, woven with metallic thread. She pressed her head; it felt odd and muffled with a vague, stuffy emptiness.
‘Are you even listening?’ Rose’s sharp tone cut through the fog. ‘I’m asking about your brother, silly head, who else? Did he say anything about last night?’
‘Oh Rose…’ Ellie began rubbing her temples. ‘He might’ve done, but I didn’t hear anything,’ her voice trailed off. ‘I slept really badly. I had the weirdest dream -’
‘He’s so gorgeous,’ interrupted Rose, her voice purring with satisfaction. ‘He likes me. I know he really likes me. You should’ve been there, it was so romantic...’ She giggled in delight.
Ellie frowned as she tried to focus. ‘Rose,’ she said at last. ‘What were you doing at Bible study? I thought you hated all that?’
Rose snorted, ‘Yeah, but I like your brother, so why not? I might as well put what my dad spouts to good use. Anyway,’ she added brightly, ‘got to go. See you at the meeting – you’ve got to come, you know, it gets us brownie points. And don’t forget to bring your gorgeous brother.’
And with a click Rose was gone. Sitting in the armchair, Ellie sat staring at the mute receiver until her father called her from the kitchen.
SIX
By the time the family car pulled in the church parking lot, it was already full. The gravel road was dry and cracked and clouds of dust billowed over as it jerked to a stop. Ellie’s father opened his door and adjusted his tie. Wearing a pair of freshly polished shoes, he walked quickly around the car and deftly opened the passenger side door. Claire gathered her skirt in one hand and rose from the vehicle as gracefully as she could. Glancing up, she self-consciously smoothed down her skirt.
Behind her, oblivious to any heavenly scrutiny, the twins tumbled out of the back, complaining loudly of the heat and sticky vinyl seats. Claire examined them with narrowed eyes. Scowling, Annie fidgeted in shiny pink taffeta, rowed with pearl buttons to the neck and securely tied with a tight white bow. Beside her, Tom scuffed the ground idly, his hair still damp from the shower. She frowned, and in a single manoeuvre rummaged in her handbag, dabbed a tissue on her tongue and wiped a small smear of toothpaste off the boy’s cheek. Tom yelped in disgust and ran off up the long gravel path, Annie speeding along in the dust behind him.
Ellie tried hard not to grin. Her mother was determined the family be as shiny clean as possible, presentable, since the Lord may return and claim them at any moment. And the most likely day, her mother always said, would be a Sunday, when they all gathered to praise His name.
The church was old and grand, made from fine light sandstone and watched over protectively by an ornate bell tower. A lone magpie hopped on the ivy-entangled wall as Ellie passed through the gates. She stopped, snared by the smell of moisture rising seductively from the garden. The churchyard was carpeted from wall to wall with a lush green lawn, and populated by rows of dark-leaved flowering shrubs watered by contraband hoses hidden under the leaves. There were no trees, but it was cool and still, and so beautiful Ellie longed to stay.
Well, why couldn’t she? She was kind of, technically, in church. She could just stay out here and tell her parents she’d been listening up the back. And the grass looked so inviting. But Ellie shook her
head, remembering Rose’s comment about ‘earning brownie points’.
Turning away, Ellie hurried on towards the church and stepped into the cool, dark interior as a hundred voices joined in harmony. Sunlight poured in through the high arched windows, fragmenting colour down over the rows of hardwood pews. The congregation were on their feet, singing with their eyes closed and arms raised to the heavens as a clear high soprano soared effortlessly overhead.
Creeping in as unobtrusively as she could, Ellie found a seat in her parent’s row and, smiling vaguely in apology, craned her head up to the front. Through the wall of parishioners she caught the back of the Reverend Matthew’s long black robe, his hands raised and his head tossed back as his deep baritone reverberated loudly through the church.
Beside him, Rose was singing with her eyes closed, her warm contralto weaving effortlessly in and out of the main harmonies. She looked as beautiful and as relaxed as always, her long dark hair cascading down the back of her dress. Standing to her right was Ben, his plaid shirt freshly ironed and curly hair carefully neat.
The hymn swept through the interior of the church, swirling though every corner as it soared towards the highest arches. An exalted, crescendo of praise that surged through the stone and tile and on up to the heavens until at last it dropped away to a whisper, and all was silent save for the deep soothing voice of the Reverend Matthew Hopkins.
‘My people,’ he murmured, his low voice rumbling as he left the front row and stepped up to the dais overlooking the congregation. Light from the stained window behind the pulpit caught and flashed around him.
‘My people,’ he repeated, ‘as Believers we wonder about the world, we wonder about God’s plan. We wonder at the weather, the lack of rain and the failing of the very crops that sustain us. Some of us may be wavering in our faith, wondering even if the Creator Himself has turned away, has hidden His face? Every night, on every channel, in every newspaper, in every broadcast, not a moment passes without news of devastation, earthquake, and pestilence. And you may be wondering, where is God in all this?’
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