The Wilful Eye (13 page)

‘Watch it!' a cement-mixer voice growled, face hidden in shadow. A hard shove, and Gerda went down, her heart trying to hammer its way out of her chest.

‘Shit!' She was an upturned beetle pinned by the weight of her pack. Her bum stung with cold. So much for self-defence. She scrambled upright, backing away from the man as light fell on his face. Or was it a
woman
? Gerda couldn't be sure in the light. A woman, she decided, wearing overalls. Like Gerda, a woman trying to pass for a man.

‘What did you do
that
for?' Gerda yelled, but she already knew the answer.

‘Back off – you bumped me, buddy boy,' the woman said, stabbing the air aggressively. Her breath made cauliflower clouds.

Gerda saw the crazy way the woman's eyes chased her own. In a flash of insight, Gerda realised the woman was frightened of
her
.

‘Look. I'm not trying to rob you or anything, okay?' she said, deliberately softening her voice.

The woman peered at her, frowning. ‘You're a girl!' she shrieked, as though it was an enormous joke.

The woman's hair was black with a skunk streak down the middle; dyed, wavy and swept into a bun. She was unusually tall with a strong, square chin, but Gerda found herself imagining the woman in bright tangerine lipstick with a beauty spot, right
there
. Then it dawned on her – she was a trannie, a transsexual. Did she live here, on the streets? Probably got belted every second night, just for being what she was . . . he, she – whatever.

‘We'll be
best
friends
!'

Shit
, Gerda thought.
Will it be like this all the way?

‘Will you be my friend, doll? I am so very much in need. I am so tired of
acting
, you know?' the woman said, lifting a huge invisible bowl with her arms. ‘I'm sure that's something you understand,' she said, giving Gerda a wink as though they shared a secret. ‘Acceptance,' she enunciated, to an unseen audience. ‘Companionship. Even love. Isn't that all we crave? Any of us?'

Uh-huh
, Gerda thought.
If you say so
. But she sensed there could be safety in numbers. If this woman – person, whoever – could wander the streets at 5.00 am then Gerda could probably learn something. She was ancient – she must have survived for hundreds of years.

‘What's your name?' Gerda asked.

The woman just waited. Gerda shrugged. ‘Mine's Gerda.'

‘Gerda! I would have called you Snowdrop, or perhaps Tiger Lily,' the woman said. Gerda noticed the floppy skin under her strong, upthrust chin. ‘Something less plain,' she said, staring somewhere beyond Gerda's eyes ‘. . . to offset that . . . aura of the
everyday
. But, Gerda it is.'

‘Hmm,' Gerda said, feeling that same sense of quiet desperation you feel when you're cornered by a loser at a party.

‘My name is Hyacinth,' the woman announced.

‘Um, nice to meet you, Hyacinth,' Gerda said. ‘What . . . um . . . where do you live?'

‘Young lady, I should be asking
you
that question!' Hyacinth crowed. ‘Perhaps you think I am homeless . . .'

Gerda was.

‘Not true. I walk at nights because I cannot sleep after four o'clock. I have a lovely warm bed. Shall I show you?'

‘Ahh . . . no. I have to keep going.'

‘No, child! No! But I insist.' Hyacinth suddenly looked a little more clued-in. ‘This is your first time away from home, isn't it?'

Gerda nodded unwillingly.

‘Then you must be more careful,' she said.

They walked south, so Gerda told herself it was all right. Hyacinth strode along, hiding the hint of a limp. Gerda realised she should act as well. She swung her arms, feeling looser and more relaxed.

‘Is it a boy?' Hyacinth asked abruptly.

Gerda nodded, feeling ashes of misery settle over her again. Meeting Hyacinth, she'd forgotten Kai for a little.

‘Yeah. But not like you think,' she said. Hyacinth had very long legs in her overalls and a high little pot belly that sat just under her . . . boobs? Hmm.

Hyacinth threw back her head and laughed a rich laugh. ‘It's
never
like we think, darling!' she said.

‘No, really,' Gerda said. She wondered how on earth to explain. ‘We were best friends. We live next door. Then something happened . . . I don't really know what. Now he hates everything he used to love. And he just took off; nobody knows where.'

‘Is it another girl?' Hyacinth asked. As though she'd written the script.

‘No. Yes. I think so,' Gerda said. ‘But really it's not what you think.'

‘So why did you go after him, deary?' Hyacinth asked gently.

Gerda ignored the
deary
. She gulped, gravel in her throat. ‘I'm not jealous. Really. He's my best friend and I'm worried. I just want to know he's okay.'

‘Okay,' Hyacinth echoed dreamily. ‘Okay. I think I understand.'

For some time they'd been walking beside the tall wrought-iron fence of the botanic gardens. Without warning Hyacinth started pushing her way into a section of the fence flanked by a thick hedge. Gerda saw that she was trying to squeeze through a big hole bent in the bars. It looked as if it had been hacked out by an axe-murderer.

Old Hyacinth had a definite limp, and a wheezing kind of cough. Gerda felt certain she could outrun her if she needed to. She wriggled through the hedge and they trudged on, Hyacinth humming.

‘Hyacinth . . .' Gerda started.

‘You'll see, darling,' Hyacinth said. ‘It's not often I have company, but I feel I can trust you enough to show you my humble abode.'

Unsettling thoughts needled Gerda. Nobody else in the world knew where she was. But she couldn't make an excuse, could she? Hyacinth would be offended if she disappeared now.

‘Hyacinth . . .' Gerda heard her own voice, hesitant and pathetic. She spoke up. ‘Hyacinth, I really have to go,
now
.'

Hyacinth swung around and Gerda tensed, ready to run.

But Hyacinth looked crestfallen.

‘Gerda. Your people have obviously told you from a babe not to trust complete strangers. I can tell you come from a good family,' she said. ‘But do humour me, eh? A poor old woman, just a remnant of the star I once was.' Her eyes were large and liquid.

Gerda swore to herself.
Excellent
. Now she was trapped because she mustn't offend the axe-murderer.

Then they were facing the statue of a man weighed down by a heavy coat, a sad-eyed man wearing one of those hats you saw on shuffling blokes in black and white movies about the Depression.

‘This section is called the Arthur Stace Memorial Garden,' Hyacinth said reverently.

‘Who's Arthur Stace?' Gerda asked, wondering how such a dishevelled man had earned himself a statue. ‘Was he in the war or something?'

‘A war of sorts,' Hyacinth said. ‘He's the Eternity Man.'

It made no sense.

‘Let's go in.' Hyacinth dug away snow with a branch and heaved out a huge grey flagstone near the base of the statue. She pulled out a little torch and Gerda saw it light a black pit.

‘No—' Gerda said, feeling her mouth go dry and her spine prickle. She could just make out the fence.

Hyacinth was trying to usher her into a
tunnel
.

Gerda folded her arms and planted her feet, looking Hyacinth in the eye.

‘I am not going down there,' she said.

Hyacinth picked her up by the coat with terrifying strength. Gerda shrieked as the she-man pushed her down the hole, face first into the dirt. Staring blindly into the pit that must be her grave, Gerda shrieked and chewed gravel. Whatever tortures waited, she knew she had to fight to her last spit and dribble of strength.

Rocks punched her ribs and her body bumped down until there was nowhere left to fall. She scrabbled forwards, upwards, and burst into the mottled light of a vast green room. She was caught in a whirlpool of tropical heat, trapped in a room full of
plants
. A hothouse. With a lunatic.

What could she do? Knee him in the groin? Did Hyacinth the she-man
have
a groin to knee? Was this it, was this really the end? And Gerda thought she'd just go and save
Kai
!

Hyacinth came at her bellowing, face elongated, eyes fizzing like cartoon dynamite. Gerda just let her run, then stepped aside lightly and tripped her, too easily. The she-devil cannoned into a huge stone pot and Gerda heard a knuckle-crack, felt her own stomach lurch, and saw Hyacinth wobble, then drop. She lay still. Gerda's throat filled and she was fighting vomit, or maybe tears. Had she killed her? Hyacinth's head rested against the pot, which was cracked clean through and spilling bright bougainvillea. Gerda heaved for breath, sweat streaming off her. A worm of blood crawled out Hyacinth's ear. Time froze. Although the head looked disconnected, it gave a long sigh. Is this murder? Gerda wondered, as if watching it happen to herself. Gerda cursed Kai to the North Pole.

At last, Hyacinth shook her head like a dog with water in its ears. Incredibly, she staggered to her knees and focused on Gerda unsteadily.
Where were the exits?
Now Hyacinth was on her feet, swaying. Not the tunnel – Hyacinth knew it intimately, whereas Gerda was blinded and terrified. The green room had doors at either end, but they'd be locked. Would they open from the inside?

‘Lesson one,' Hyacinth snarled, ‘don't ever be talked into anything you don't want to do.' Her tall body was shaking, but she kept her footing.

‘
What
? That was a
lesson
?' Gerda panted, light-headed. ‘You fruit bat, are you for
real
?'

‘Lesson two,' Hyacinth grunted, holding her head in pain. ‘Lesson number
two
. Don't underestimate people. I could be a rapist or a murderer or just somebody wanting to cut your nipples off. You don't know yet, do you?' She grimaced at Gerda, seeming more man than woman. ‘Actually, you didn't do too badly. More determination than I thought,' Hyacinth said, half to herself. ‘Lesson three. Be open to adventures. God knows, darling, life knocks the spirit out of us quick smart. So be bold, but take care.'

She must have seen the confusion on Gerda's face.

‘You just did it, darling!' she shrieked, then winced and gingerly examined her head. ‘When you meet somebody new, and you don't know anyone who knows them, you always take a chance. They could be a stalker or a sadist or an addict who'll make your life a misery, or worse. People are difficult to read, and we all have layers and secrets.'

Hyacinth roamed to and fro, addressing her unseen audience. ‘Will the apple be sweet or rotten inside? The point is, darling, you have to bite it before you find out!' She turned abruptly and twinkled at Gerda. ‘You need a kind of openness to really live life.'

‘So which one are
you
, Hyacinth?' Gerda said, anger smothering fear. ‘An apple or . . . the evil dead?'

‘I've trusted you enough to invite you into my home, Gerda,' Hyacinth said quietly, smoothing back her hair in a distinctly feminine gesture. ‘I've tried to show you what I've learned since being on my own, and how I survived after being evicted. Naturally I have been a
target
.'

She glided forward and touched Gerda's cheek, examining her. Gerda flinched, but stared back.

‘There's something special and good in you, Gerda, and I know you'll find what you're looking for.'

Great
, Gerda fumed, silent.
Now the fruit bat says it's friendly.
‘I'm not here to hurt you, darling,' Hyacinth said, grunting as she shrugged off her coats. ‘Just help you with a life lesson or two.'

Gerda realised she was unbearably hot, and cautiously took off some gear. It was like having sun on your skin, and she'd forgotten how much she'd been missing
green
.

‘Lovely weather in here, eh?' Hyacinth said. ‘I'll make us some breakfast. You must be starving, my darling. Not every day you fight off a madwoman, eh? My late husband loved my French toast . . .' She bustled about, peeling off her gloves, washing her hands in a beautiful mermaid fountain.

‘Even though I was the toast of Sydney I learned to cook a couple of things. Never too posh for that,' she prattled, pulling out a tiny camping stove and frypan from one corner of the building, where the ferns were thick and dark. ‘Hubert
adored
my French toast, with cinnamon and honey drizzled on the top . . . just find the extra camp bed under there, will you deary, and you can sleep on that till tonight. Just keep it well under the ferns, out of sight. Don't snore, do you darling? We have visitors during the day, you know.'