The Naked Room (28 page)

CHAPTER 49

Coming Home

Ally

Pam and I took leave and flew to the South Island of New Zealand. I felt lost, violated; dark corners and alleyways were terrifying traps. Pam had a cousin there who owned a huge tract of land near Te Anau where we could be undisturbed but not get lost.

Amid the clear, cold air, we hiked the mountains and picnicked on rocky outlooks, attempting to come to terms with Georgie and Jess’s deaths and my part in it. Counselling was offered before we left Australia, but at the time, escape seemed more attractive. All I wanted to do was breathe freely again, to learn to cope with the panic attacks, which seized me when least expected.

‘Whichever way you look at it, Pam, I’m to blame for Steven’s death,’ I said one night. ‘Why would you be responsible for his suicide years after what happened at Wild Pony Rock?’

‘Because I forced him into climbing the rock. Being injured was obviously the beginning of his troubles. Imagine having to face the rest of your life limping because some stupid, bullying idiot made you climb a rock?’

‘While you’re busy castigating yourself and harking back to the bullying, said stupid idiot was only twelve years old at the time. And I was there too. I should have stopped you, so I’m to blame too.’ It was very noble of her, but we both knew no one could have stopped me.

Pam tried another tack. ‘Just suppose I was to injure you in some way now while you’re twenty five and when you’re fifty you kill yourself because of it. At what point after that should I stop feeling responsible for what you’ve done?’

I opened my mouth to protest, but she held up her hand to silence me.

‘Are you your brother’s keeper for the rest of my life? No. Same as Jess was responsible for her actions in what she did to you.’

There wasn’t much I could say to that, so I had to let the subject go. Somehow I would have to find a way to forgive myself.

Pam was equally pragmatic about my mother. ‘Now you know what happened between your parents, you have to suck it up about being fatherless. Okay, so Aunt Eloise lied to you and sure it was wrong and you were deprived, but Ally, we’ve just finished talking about your mistakes and how imperfect you are. Your mum is human and she did what she thought was best at the time.’

‘But keeping it up for so damned long. How could she?’ I whined.

‘Ever wondered where you get your bull-headedness from, you daft bugger? Take a look in the mirror.’ She took a slurp of wine. ‘And another thing for you to get through your thick skull, Aunt Eloise raised you all on her own and made sure you got a good education. She went to work all hours to make sure you had the best of what she could afford, and accepted all those stray animals you brought home and she looked after your pet rats while you were away at college.’ She paused to fix me with a death stare. ‘And Ally, while you’re complaining about your mum lying to you, you might remember that she loves you unconditionally.’

That fixed me right enough. Susan discovered that Jess and Julia had been sexually abused by their father, which explained Jess’s reticence about her family. I had been blessed with a loving mother and safe home. No wonder my snivelling grated on Jess and prompted her to teach me a lesson. I would miss her for the rest of my life. I would feel guilty for the rest of my life.

Occasionally Pam and I both imbibed too much “Chateau cardboard” and collapsed into helpless drunken giggles or floods of tears. We still had to give evidence at the trial of Tommy Esposito and the old man. June Esposito was incarcerated in a psychiatric hospital, unlikely to stand trial.

Crazed images streaked through my dreams, sending bizarre messages of menace. June Esposito bent over me, tugging at my throat, pulling at my fingers. Steven plucked at her sleeve crying, ‘Kill her, mummy, kill her.’

I awoke sobbing and totally out of control, to be comforted by Pam who had her own demons to conquer.

‘I’ll never forget seeing Brie standing there, covered in blood, Ally. At first I thought he had killed Jess, but I had to take a chance on him. I mean, this was Brie.’

‘I couldn’t see him murdering her. There’s not a nasty bone in his body and besides, he’s mad about animals,’ I said, though what that had to do with absolving him of anything, I didn’t know. ‘He adores his cat. Took her home with him to the farm.’

Pam finished reading a text on her mobile and looked up, grinning. That was Jacq Mabardi with some “gossip” for us. Guess what? Michael might have survived with admin after the suspended sentence, but he was caught dealing drugs and thrown out of the orchestra. Then he ran off with Nia, the harpist who joined us just before you—’ Pam couldn’t continue. Uncharitably, we roared with laughter.

We stand on a rocky outcrop watching a waterfall plummet in a great cascade to a rock pool, far below. Two wild deer step out of the bush on the other side of the ravine and watch us for a few minutes before stepping delicately back amongst the trees. I suck a deep breath into my lungs, savouring the sounds and smells of this glorious place.

‘You know something? I’m ready to go home. What happened to all of us will never go away, but we’re going to be fine.’

‘Yep! Let’s get back to Te Anau.’ Pam answered, grinning. It’s hard to believe I’m actually punching in my father’s mobile number to let him know we’re coming home.

The flight home can’t pass quickly enough, but finally we grab our bags and rush through the fast lane in Customs. Totally hyped, Pam dives into the driver’s seat of our hire car and barges into the Brisbane afternoon traffic.

One thing I’ve learned from what’s happened. Do not waste time in life or hang on to regrets and petty squabbles. Treasure the people who love you, and make the most of life while you can. I know Brie wants to see me. He’ll try to take things slowly, but I’m going to get him naked so fast his head’ll spin.

‘Shift your bums!’
I bellow at slower drivers, as we fight our way into the city.

Pam crouches over the wheel like a racing greyhound. ‘Hey, did you hear the one about the traffic cop who spun out of control on point duty?’

‘Do tell!’

‘His control spun out and wrapped around his truncheon!’

‘Ha ha!’ I sneer happily, ‘very funny.’

‘It would be if you saw the size of his truncheon’ she roars. We pull into a space at the front of her block of flats, laughing helplessly at our stupid joke as we bundle her backpack out of the boot.

‘Bye, see you next week at the wedding!’ she calls, as she scampers up the steps into the building.

‘Yo.’ I am still laughing as I reach the freeway and head out of the city.

James broke his lease on the estate where I was imprisoned, bought a farm outside a small country town and moved there with mum. It’s dusk by the time I arrive. The two younger dogs race the car along the driveway, their joyous barks alerting the house to my arrival. I scramble out of the car and reach the top step just as mum flings open the front door. Behind her looms James.

‘I’m home for the wedding!’ I throw myself into her arms and nearly squeeze her to death. ‘Mum, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t come to terms–’

‘I’m sorry too, darling, Please forgive me.’

I reach out to my father, who steps forward and wraps us both in his more than adequate wing span. My heart is so full, the darkness is briefly conquered. For now, happiness is paramount.
‘Just think, this time next week you’ll be Mr and Mrs James Kirkbridge!’

Glossary of Australian Terms

Chooks………………………………………….chickens.

Wharfie………………………………waterside worker.

Galah…………a mad clown of a grey and pink parrot who doesn’t mind making a fool of itself.

Drongo…………………………………..stupid person.

Louie the Fly……………………a well-known and long-running Australian TV advertisement for fly-spray.

Chateau Cardboard……………………….a silver foil bladder of wine with a tap in the bottom, inside a cardboard box; invented by Australians and used with much enthusiasm, particularly at barbecues and wild parties.

Ninety not out………cricket term indicating a person is doing well/healthy for their age.

On the piss…………….getting stuck into the wine, a drinking session

DISCLAIMER: Masters Island is as much a figment of the imagination as Brigadoon! The characters in this novel are too mad to be real!

Sample chapter of
Diana Hockley’s next
Susan Prescott novel,
The Celibate Mouse

CHAPTER 1

A Little Unpleasantness at the Sheep Dog Trials.

Susan Prescott

Saturday: noon.

T
here was no mistaking the crack of a high-powered rifle.

Jack Harlow, the final competitor in the sheepdog trials was shot in front of an audience of twenty-five hundred people, two trial judges, three sheep and his border collie, Stephen. He went down like a pole-axed steer, slamming into the gate at the last holding pen. The sheep seized the opportunity to escape, bolted across his body, leaped the dog and took to their trotters.

Susan Prescott watched, aghast. Perspiration prickled up her spine, then down her arms to her finger tips. Marli buried her face in the front of her mother’s sweater.

Pandemonium erupted, shattering a moment frozen in shock. At first, people believed that a vehicle had backfired behind the grandstand. Rumours circled the arena at lightning speed. A wave of conflicting information, punctuated by cries of disbelief, spread to where they sat. A young woman seated a couple of levels below the mother and daughter turned and shouted, ‘I thought he had a heart attack, but they said Jack’s been shot!’

White-faced, Marli pulled away and wiped her eyes. ‘Aren’t you going to go down there, Mum?’

‘Certainly not! I’m on stress leave, remember? The local police will handle it,’ replied Susan.
I can’t handle this, it’s too soon.
Officiating, over another crime scene, even temporarily would shatter her fragile composure.

The overcast, sullen day got worse. A woman, whom she later discovered to be Harlow’s wife, Penelope, was walking back from the food kiosk. A group of agitated people rushed up to encircle her. A moment later she dropped her takeaway meal and attempted to scramble, screaming, over the fence into the arena.

She got stuck. Bystanders pushed and pulled until she landed in a heap on the other side. Clouds of dust rose as she got to her feet and staggered across the grass to be met by a flustered official waving a clipboard in the air. The mob around the victim parted for a moment and Susan glimpsed someone folding a coat, presumably to put under Harlow’s head.
No, you mustn’t do that!

His dog was hauled away from the inert body, the sound of its howls heartbreaking. Distressed, she fumbled for a tissue. A man jumped the fence, rushed over, picked up the animal and headed for the exit gate. One of the judges carefully removed the coat from under the victim’s head and commenced CPR.

‘Did you hear that, Fran? Who on earth would want to shoot Jack?’ called a woman sitting on the seat below Susan and Marli.

‘Half the fucking town, I’d say,’ a man sitting nearby muttered. Sniggers of agreement rippled through the surrounding spectators.

The recipient of the query glanced around the stand, presumably hoping to pass on the information to anyone who might be appreciative. Catching Susan’s eye, she quivered with curiosity. ‘Do you know the Harlows?’

‘No, we’re only visitors here,’ Susan replied, taking deep breaths to quell the imminent threat of nausea. Disappointed, the woman turned away to join in a nearby huddle of excited onlookers.

The action in the ring stepped up, as someone with more common sense than the rest began to manage the situation. The mob of people around the victim parted and a coat was placed over Harlow’s head. His widow flapped around in the centre of the group, while a woman tried to comfort her. Men circled, speaking furtively into mobile phones, staring at the ground. An official from the sheepdog association organised another dog to round up the three sheep cavorting across the trial bridge.

‘How they’re going to get any sense out of this lot I don’t know, but I’m damned sure not going to be amongst them,’ Susan muttered, watching the children caught up in the drama. Several small boys had taken advantage of the lull in proceedings to kick a soccer ball back and forth on the far side of the arena. A patch of sunlight suddenly pierced the clouds, lighting the scene in the centre of the arena like a surreal theatrical production.

When the report and inevitable phone video footage was aired on the early evening television newscast, those with ghoulish tendencies would be kicking themselves for not making an effort to attend. The final of the championship sheep dog trials had never been so exciting.

Susan caste her gaze across the grounds. The victim had dropped like a stone, indicating a possible direct hit in the head or heart. He’d fallen to his right, so she knew the shooter might be somewhere in the vicinity of the announcer’s box. The five-metre tower at the side of the arena looked like an excellent place to pick off a target, but was a risky proposition.

Heads bobbed inside as she weighed up the likelihood of it being the source of the shot. ‘Not up there, unless it was a conspiracy; unlikely.’

Cars lined the fence on both sides of the pillars which supported the small announcer’s box. The sniper could have fired from inside one, or crouched between them— ‘Maybe from the hillside? No, too exposed,’ she muttered. A long distance shot would require a telescopic sight which could reflect the light and draw attention. He or she was long gone, unless the rifle was stowed while the perpetrator mingled with the crowds.

Her police training warred with an overpowering urge to escape, to avoid any involvement. Private fear won hands down, coupled with the necessity to keep sixteen year old Marli from experiencing the aftermath of violent death.

A vivid memory of scolding a woman for fleeing the scene of a particularly gruesome scene sprang into her mind. ’If you ever get to walk in my shoes, officer, then you’ll understand how I feel,’ the woman had retorted. Now she, a Detective Senior Sergeant, recently Acting Inspector, was intent on emulating her. It was not an auspicious start to their country stay.

Marli and Susan had arrived on to stay in Emsburg shortly before lunch. Marli’s twin, Brittany, had chosen to live in Sydney with their stepfather, Harry, and his new partner. In an effort to assuage her daughter’s loneliness, she had allowed Marli to arrange to buy a puppy from a breeder of Border Collies. They had stopped at the local showground to collect it, but the woman was competing in the trials when they arrived, so they had found seats in the grandstand to watch the competition.

Never having attended a sheepdog trial, Susan had been interested but confused about what was happening. The farmer sitting beside them, leaning a little closer to Susan than strictly necessary, explained the procedure sotto voce, like a commentator at a billiards tournament.

‘The man and dog are a partnership, see? They have to drive three sheep through the gates, over the bridge, then into that pen.’ He pointed to the one near the exit to the arena, ‘They have fifteen minutes to do it before the hooter sounds. The handler has to keep walking between the points without stopping or backtracking. He can signal or whistle the dog, but nothing else. We can’t clap until he’s closed the gate at the last pen, otherwise the sheep’ll most likely take off and they could lose points.’

Susan watched as the canine half of the team cast a swathe around three recalcitrant sheep on the far side of the arena and turned them toward the next obstacle, whereupon they bolted in different directions. Undaunted, the dog streaked, a black wraith, around the arena and patiently gathered them together again. Amid much stamping of feet and defiant glares, the sheep were herded reluctantly into the last pen, whereupon the dramatic conclusion to the life of Jack Harlow had taken place.

The championship competition having been blown to smithereens, the farmer abandoned the women, with a regretful glance at Susan accompanied by a muttered apology, to join a group in the stands below.

Ashen-faced, Marli sat rigidly, hands tightly clasping the neck of the tote bag which carried everything she considered necessities of life and to which she appeared permanently connected.

‘Come on, Marli, it’s time we left.’ Once they had collected and paid for the pup, Susan intended to leave the area immediately and go to the farm where they were going to house-sit their relative’s property, five minutes outside the country town.

Trying to hurry her daughter along, Susan grabbed the tote bag, stuffed Marli’s iPod and hat inside and thrust it back into her hands. A police uniform moved into the centre of the crowd around the victim as they started down the steps to the exit gate. Almost immediately, an announcement came over the tannoy, ordering everyone to remain on the grounds until further notice.

The crowd moaned collectively. Loud protests broke out, as people tried to control fractious children. Nearby, a newborn baby bawled and what appeared to be it’s toddler sibling set up a sympathetic wailing. A tired-looking young woman grabbed the child by the arm and jounced the pushchair down the steps making the baby screech even louder as they left the stands.

A man stood up, cupped his hands around his mouth and roared his displeasure to the officials. A couple of small girls, giggling hysterically, jostled through the crowd, almost knocking Marli off her feet.

Unable to censure them without revealing herself as the “police,” Susan ducked her head and pushed through the crowd, towing Marli behind, hoping any observers would think they were heading for the restrooms.

Within a couple of minutes they arrived at the back of the grandstand in the competitors’ camping area, where Susan propped herself against a fence post and waited for Marli to locate the breeder. Happy, hairy faces beamed at her from behind mesh dog boxes; tails swished enthusiastically. Resisting the impulse to “sweet-talk” to the fur- faces, she hoped the promise of five hundred dollars would outweigh the woman’s curiosity about what had occurred in the arena and she would be waiting for her young customer.

James Kirkbridge, her brother-in-law, had already delivered the Prescott dogs to a neighbouring farm, before he and his wife, Eloise, had flown from Brisbane to the UK on urgent family business. The animals would be delivered to the farm later that afternoon.

The sun vanished behind the clouds again underscoring the day’s disaster; a chill wind rose from nowhere. Susan was struggling into her coat when Marli arrived back at the car, clutching a curly-coated, squirming black and white bundle with beguiling blue eyes. Colour blossomed in the girl’s cheeks again as she smiled and nuzzled the pup, thoughts of the drama in the ring briefly forgotten in the excitement of the moment.

Susan paused, battling a modicum of guilt and wavering about returning to the arena. ‘Darling, I need to check out what’s going on. Don’t worry, I’ll be right back, I promise. Wait for me here. Okay?’

‘Mum, for God’s sake, I’m almost seventeen, not seven! I’ll be here, okay?’

Susan eyed her daughter’s stormy expression and hastened to ward off a “teenage moment. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to treat you like a child.’

Marli shrugged, giving off an air of nonchalance, though the expression in her eyes retained the shock of what she had witnessed.

Susan left her struggling to hold the over-excited pup, walked to the corner of the grandstand and peered at the action. The centre of the ring resembled a kicked ant heap, as agitated officials and competitors buzzed around bumping into each other. High-pitched screams, like the squeaks of a mouse, came from the centre of the melee.

Any decision she might have made to join in the action was irrelevant when an ambulance trundled through a side gate onto the grounds, closely followed by a blue and white- checked patrol car. A movement on the town-side of the grounds revealed the arrival of a media van. Anxiety shot through her. The last thing she needed was anyone from the press to spot her. She slunk back to Marli.

‘Come on, let’s get out of here!’

Doubling back and then dodging behind trees and advertising hoardings as they passed gaps in the buildings ensured no one saw them, as did the circuitous route through the competitor’s caravans and motor homes. They reached the car park without being prevented from leaving, much to Detective Senior Sergeant Susan Prescott’s relief.

She knew that if she lost her hard-won control, her stress leave would be blown before it had even begun, and the counselling she had received after Detective Constable Danny Grey’s death barely three months previously, would be all for nothing.