Poison Orchids: A darkly compelling psychological thriller

by Sarah A. Denzil

  “It’s okay.” Taking a deep gulp of air, Hayley met eyes with Gemma. “Look, maybe we’re both spinning out. It’s only our second day here. You know, when you mentioned my parents, the people here suddenly didn’t seem so bad. At least they’re welcoming. That has to be a good thing, right? Seems like they want us to be one big happy family.”

  Gemma chewed her lip, turning her attention back to the dishes. “Maybe. But I don’t need a family. I never needed one.”

  “Okay,” Hayley said gingerly. “But they haven’t been awful to us or anything. So… we’ll stay for a while and see how it goes?”

  “We’ll stay.” Gemma nodded. She shouldn’t have called Hayley a rich girl, even if it was true. Hayley was here trying her best to survive on her own. She had to admire that. “Hey,” she said, attempting to lighten things up, “even if the scenery isn’t quite what they promised, at least the guys here are kind of easy on the eye.”

  But Hayley’s face creased into a questioning look. “You wouldn’t end up going off with one of them and leave me on my own… right? Like, you’ll keep sharing the cabin with me and everything?”

  “Of course. We came here together. We stay together. And if we’ve had enough of this place by the time we get our first pay packets, we can take off then.”

  Hayley hugged her.

  Half an hour later, the dishes were done. They emerged from the dimly lit hall, blinking in the harsh sunshine. Gemma felt even stickier now, soap suds and mango tree sap making her crave a shower.

  “Are we about to be sent straight back out to the fields, or what?” Hayley cupped a hand over her eyes to shield them from the glare. “Where did Ellie disappear to?”

  The redheaded girl who’d told them to shush in the hall stepped up in front of their faces. She turned to Gemma. “Mr Llewellyn wants to see you up at the house.”

  “Me?” said Gemma in surprise.

  “Yes, you. He’s busy, so let’s go.”

  Shrugging at Hayley, Gemma followed the girl to the house.

  The girl cast an odd look at Gemma before pointing to the staircase. “Up there.”

  “Is everything okay?” said Gemma, starting to worry.

  “Of course. Everything’s always okay here.” Her voice rose in an upward inflection that sounded as if she were asking a question.

  Leaving her behind, Gemma ascended the stairs. She felt as if the girl were still watching her.

  All the doors were shut on the second floor. Where did Tate expect her to meet him? Then she spotted his tall frame, just in front of the enormous glass wall that overlooked the farm.

  “Gemma,” he said.

  She took self-conscious steps across the marble floor. The intense light coming through the glass highlighted his sculpted cheekbones and beautiful eyes.

  “How was the trip to the farm?” he asked her. “I haven’t had the chance to ask yet. Any problems?”

  “No, no problems. We made it in one piece.”

  “Good. That’s good to hear. How’s your friend settling in?”

  “We’re doing okay.” She laughed nervously as she realised that Tate had only asked about Hayley, not about both of them.

  He didn’t seem to notice her nervousness. “I hope our Ellie is being helpful? I’ve trained her to ensure new people feel comfortable, but she can be a little… scatterbrained… at times.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  Tate studied her face in surprise, and then a smile cracked across his face. “Honesty is the best policy.”

  He asked then if she’d like a cup of tea or coffee, and she accepted. The woman from the office—Sophie—brought them up two cups and then left again.

  Gemma sipped her tea, looking out at the farm’s expanse with Tate.

  For a moment, she had a view that sent a pack of tiny shivers down her spine. It wasn’t the view of the farm—it was her mind’s eye view of Tate and herself standing here together having tea. It seemed intimate, as if they were a couple, and as if they owned all this together. The image felt secure and thrilling at the same time.

  Hayley was waiting outside the hall when she returned. “What did he want?”

  “Just a chat,” said Gemma lightly. She’d almost forgotten what they’d talked about. The mental picture of herself with Tate looking down on where she was now crowded everything else out.

  A line of large vehicles passed them, kicking up dirt. All battered SUVs and utes.

  Clay and Eoin stopped in their car, both with their heads out the windows.

  “You girls coming or what?” called Clay.

  “Coming where?” Gemma called back in confusion.

  “It’s a surprise. Wear swimsuits.”

  Eoin grinned. “Make that bikinis.”

  “I thought we were supposed to be doing some sort of harvest?” Hayley shrugged at Gemma.

  “That’s right.” Clay nodded. “Go grab your gear and jump in.”

  “Whatever this is, it has to beat mango picking,” said Gemma as she and Hayley dashed back to the cabins for their swimsuits.

  When they returned, the boys were still waiting. They climbed up into the high seats of the SUV.

  “Woo-hoo!” Eoin howled from the front passenger seat.

  “So, there is actually somewhere to swim around here?” muttered Hayley. “I know there was supposed to be water nearby, but I can’t imagine it. Feels like we’re in the middle of a desert.” Tugging her hat down over her eyes, Hayley wriggled down in her seat as if she were going to nap.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, city girl,” Eoin told her.

  “Didn’t you say you were from Dublin?” Hayley said in a dry tone, from beneath her hat.

  “Hayley’s got you there.” Clay jerked the car to a stop as an enormous red kangaroo bounded out of nowhere and crossed the road, making them all slam forward.

  Hayley pulled off her hat, watching with wide eyes as the kangaroo hopped away, kicking up dirt as it went.

  “I’ll be a Dub boy ‘til the day I die.” Eoin shrugged. “But I’ve been here for a few months now. A lot of the city’s been knocked out of me. You girls just need to stick close to me ’n’ Clay, and you’ll be right.”

  “We don’t need anyone looking after us, thanks.” Gemma yawned and settled back in the seat as Clay drove away again. It’d already been a long, strange, and exhausting day.

  Hayley nodded. “We got ourselves all the way here on our own. I think we can manage this. You guys seem to have it pretty cushy, anyway, with your meditation and gourmet meals.”

  “Yeah right,” Eoin said then made a derisive sound through his teeth. “You chicks get it easier here than us guys do. The Chemist works us harder. But being pretty gets you girls a long way. ‘specially on Harvest days.”

  “Why’s that?” Hayley demanded. “What is Harvest Day?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.” Eoin ignored the sharp glance that Clay shot him.

  “Shut it,” Clay warned. He twisted around to the girls, shaking his head. “It’s not like that. Girls work just as hard as the guys do on the farm. You’ll earn every cent that you make.” He threw Gemma a quick smile before he turned around again, correcting the slight swerve that the car had taken.

  Eoin’s a big jerk, Hayley mouthed at Gemma.

  Gemma nodded. Eoin was being a jerk, but it was just banter. He wasn’t being weird in the way that the people at lunch had been weird. Everything was going to be okay. And Clay seemed like one of the good guys.

  Hayley angled her hat over her eyes again and leaned her head against the seat.

  Gemma followed suit, though trying to sleep through the bumps and bounces of the SUV proved almost impossible.

  It took an hour or so to reach their destination. Gemma woke in time to see the sign for the town, Katherine.

  The SUVs and utes from the mango farm parked near a river, and everyone jumped out. Gemma and Hayley stepped beside Clay and Eoin to a long, separate body of water that ran alongside the rive
r.

  “Katherine thermal springs, ladies,” said Eoin. “Come on in with us. We’ll keep you safe from the crocodiles.”

  The clear, turquoise-coloured springs had square-cut stone walls and stone steps leading in, overlapped by palm and paperback trees. The water flowed underneath a small bridge.

  Throngs of tourists milled about, snapping photographs and swimming. Lots of families and middle-aged couples but also groups of young backpackers.

  Another SUV pulled up, this one new and unscratched. Ellie stepped out, wearing a sundress and sunhat, looking more like a tourist—instead of that safari-suit gear she wore back at the farm.

  “Hayley, Gemma, there you are,” she exclaimed running up. “Thought I’d lost you.” She cast a sharp glance in the direction of Clay and Eoin. “I’ll take care of the girls, thank you.”

  “Are there crocodiles in there?” Hayley pointed at the springs, her face anxious.

  “Yeah, we don't want to be a croc's lunch.” Gemma glanced across at the shadow-speckled areas where the springs vanished around a bend.

  A short, raucous laugh burst from Ellie's throat. She covered her mouth in sudden embarrassment. “No. No crocs. I mean, I wouldn’t trust the river, but the springs aren’t connected to the river. The water bubbles up from underground.”

  “Hey, Eoin and I can show the girls the ropes, Ellie,” Clay said.

  “No. You’ll only distract them,” said Ellie primly. “Do I need to remind you this is still part of our working day?”

  Clay and Eoin slunk away.

  Ellie laid out a picnic rug on the grass, placing containers of cut fruit, towels, and an insulated container of water on top.

  “Can I ask why we’re here?” Gemma couldn’t keep the disappointed note from her voice. It’d seemed like fun until Ellie showed up. “How are we supposed to be working here?”

  “We… recruit,” Ellie explained, her gaze darting away to the tourists surrounding the springs. “We let people know about the farm—to bring in new workers. About half of our workers are long-term, but we have a high turnover with the other half—as you’d expect. Almost all of our workers are backpackers. We try to find the ones who’ll stay long term.”

  Hayley shrugged. “So, can’t Tate just advertise for fruit pickers?”

  “Mr Llewellyn likes a special kind of person,” Ellie told her, each word firm and precise “We don’t accept just anyone.”

  “What kind of special person?” Hayley asked curiously.

  “Someone’s who’s likely to stay with us for a while and be loyal. Someone who needs us as much as we need them. We’re a family…” Ellie’s voice faltered. “Anyway. Watch and learn. Welcome to your first Harvest Friday.”

  She pulled her sundress over her head, revealing a startlingly skimpy red bikini underneath.

  18

  Hayley

  Ellie didn't seem the sort of girl to wear such an outfit on her own volition, and Hayley immediately felt a niggle in her tummy that something wasn't right. She shared a bemused glance with Gemma and frowned.

  “What's going on?” Hayley asked. “Were you told to wear that, Ellie?”

  Ellie gave one of her hyena-chorus laughs and slapped Hayley on the shoulder, which definitely stung after a morning in the sun. “Don't be ridiculous. You think we get a checklist of what to wear? No. But part of Harvest Fridays is talking to tourists, finding out more about them, and presenting the farm in a certain way.”

  “Are we supposed to flirt with them?” Hayley said. “Isn't that… honey trapping?”

  Ellie rolled her eyes. “You don't get it. The preservation of the farm is important because Tate's work is important. It's a small… what is the word? Sacrifice. It's a small sacrifice. It does no harm. Come on. It’s a bit of fun. You’re not prudes are you?” She wrinkled her nose.

  Gemma recoiled from the insult. “You don't know me.”

  “Gem.” Hayley placed a hand on Gemma's arm, worried that her friend was getting worked up. She turned to Ellie. “Maybe we should go. I… I'm not good at flirting like that.”

  “No, no, wait,” Ellie said. “The outfit is my choice. You don't have to do all that. Look, stick around and wait. Watch. It's not as bad as it sounds.” She smiled nervously before skipping off towards the group of backpackers lounging around the springs. Clay and Eoin were already chatting to some of the girls, stripped down to their shorts, revealing toned, bronzed bodies.

  “What do you make of all this?” Hayley turned to Gemma hoping she was feeling just as uncomfortable.

  “They're taking liberties. But, I dunno, it gets us out of mango picking. And it's only for a few hours. I'd be in a bikini in this weather anyway, so I guess it's not that different.”

  “Yeah, but.” Hayley couldn't find the words to explain how she felt about the situation. She was downcast that Gemma didn't see anything wrong with it. Maybe she was a prude. She knew she had issues after her boyfriend left her in Thailand. But this was different, wasn't it? She had a choice. She didn't have to do anything sexual. All she had to do was talk.

  Hayley found a patch of shade to sit and watch Ellie, Clay, and Eoin chatting with the young backpackers. They were all around 18-19 years old, relaxed, tanned, and nodding along to whatever Ellie and the others were saying.

  “Hope Clay doesn’t end up hooking up with one of those girls. Because he is fine,” Gemma said, flopping down onto the grass next to her. She let out a sigh like a teenage girl with a crush, and Hayley was jealous of the way she was so open to the idea of a new relationship or fling or whatever.

  “Don't you think the name is creepy? Harvest Fridays sounds… I dunno, dystopian or something, like we’re harvesting people.”

  Gemma laughed. “What, like there are people growing on stems and you have to pluck them?”

  Hayley raised her eyebrows. “It looks like we’d be doing more than plucking them, given the outfits.”

  Gemma laughed harder, then she quietened after a moment. “I get it. Like we were saying in the kitchen, this place is a bit odd.”

  “Yeah,” Hayley said. “But where else are we going to go? What else are we going to do? We could just see how it goes.”

  “I guess we can stay for a bit longer,” Gemma replied. “Do you think we have to join in?” She nodded towards the others.

  It was a relief to see Gemma as dubious about the creepy Harvest day as Hayley felt. But she didn’t want Gemma to give up and for them both to leave. The thought of being on the Stuart Highway again horrified her… or worse, having to phone her parents and admit how much of a mess she’d got herself into.

  Hayley let out a long breath. “Maybe it won’t be so bad once we get chatting to them?” She scratched at a patch on her arm trying not to cringe at the thought of talking to strangers. There was no chatting to strangers in a swimming costume in England.

  “I think one of us will have to. Otherwise it looks like we’re being… I don’t know, hostile about the whole thing?” Gemma said.

  Hayley avoided her eyes and continued scratching her arm. “I'm a bit hot, Gem. I think I need the shade for a bit.”

  “All right, but you owe me one.” Gemma got to her feet and pulled the dress she was wearing over her head before walking over to Ellie and sitting down next to her. Hayley watched enviously as Gemma reclined next to the springs, stretching out her long, tanned legs. Within seconds she was shaking hands with the backpackers. She fitted in here. But Hayley never fitted in. She was always on the outskirts.

  The ute had been packed to bursting on the way back with the addition of the new backpackers, and Hayley had been squashed in next to Clay, who was chatting intensely with a petite blond girl to his left. The girl's loud laugh made Hayley wish she had a glass of water and an ibuprofen for the headache it was giving her. No, actually she longed to be alone in her room, on her bed, reading. She was worried that her tension headaches were going to start up again. At school and university the headaches could be debilitating at time
s, so bad that they felt like a sledgehammer taken to her skull. Sometimes, even at the slightest twinge, she became terrified that one of the terrible headaches was going to come back, and anxiety would build up through her body like coiled elastic.

  As they'd crammed into the truck, Ellie had leaned close to her and said quietly, “It's fine for you to watch the first time, but next time you must help. Okay?”

  And Hayley had nodded like a good little girl. But inside she wasn't sure whether she would or not.

  “You okay?” Gemma whispered.

  “Yeah, it's just hot in here.”

  “You seem a bit quiet.”

  “It's just been a long day,” Hayley said, trying not to put a dampener on the afternoon. Gemma was glowing, her smile wide. She'd found it so easy to chat to the guys at the springs. Hayley felt stupid and inadequate for not being able to join in. She pulled her dress over her knees and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Ellie leaned over and said brightly. “There's a party tonight. Everyone at the farm goes.”

  “I thought you were all about the work, El?” Gemma replied with a laugh.

  “Oh, I can… umm”—she paused, searching for the words—“let my hair down.”

  Gemma laughed and the two of them continued talking while Hayley tried to relax on the hour-long journey back, trying and failing to rid herself of the negativity she'd woken up hoping to combat.

  After arriving back at the farm, Hayley jumped in the shower to rinse away the dust and sunscreen. Then she squeezed the water out of her hair and went back to the room still a little damp. Gemma was dancing around the room in her underwear, waving two dresses in the air.

  “Which one?” she asked breathlessly.

  Hayley regarded the red mini dress with polka dots and the long floral maxi with a plunging neckline. “The maxi. Clay will be weak at the knees.”

  “What are you wearing?” Gemma asked.

  “I'm not sure. Most of my clothes are covered in patches of dried sunscreen.” Hayley looked at her pile of clothes in dismay. Maybe after a couple of drinks she wouldn’t care what she was wearing.