The Jade Spindle

by Alice Major

  “Made it!” Joss greeted her brother after the final math exam on Friday.

  “You think you did well?” Mark asked, surprised. At midnight the night before, Joss had been crying because cosines and tangents made no sense to her at all.

  “No. But I don’t have to write another test for four months!” she said. “How did you do, Molly?”

  Molly came rolling up in her wheelchair and executed a neat and cheerful three-point turn. “Pretty good, I think.” Her face looked tired though. Just the physical effort of writing a test was hard for her.

  “I feel like celebrating,” said Joss, then stopped. “But Ariel still has three exams next week. She’s not going to feel like throwing a party.”

  “She’d never let us throw a party anyway, while Mum and Dad are away,” said Mark.

  “True, too true,” said Joss resignedly. “Oh well. Let’s go, Molly.”

  As they moved away, Molly said, “Would you like to come over and watch movies tonight. It’s not that wild a celebration, but you could sleep over.”

  “Sure.” Joss liked Molly’s big-screen television, not to mention the fact that the spare bedroom was a lot classier than the room she shared with Ariel.

  She got to Molly’s place after supper, her pyjamas and robe in a gym bag along with a couple of rented movies. Trudy met her, smiling, at the door. Molly’s parents were away at some dinner.

  “She’s down in the backyard,” said Trudy, offering to take the gym bag.

  Joss found Molly down close to the edge of the ravine. The late evening sun was slanting in gold slashes across the lawn and the air was still warm. Molly was sitting on the lawn, with her back against a tree trunk for support. She had left off the brace she normally wore, and put on a cotton summer dress, and seemed more fragile than ever. The light breeze that was hurrying along mosquitoes lifted her hair slightly.

  “It’s too nice to be inside right now,” Molly said as Joss approached. “I’ve been coming down here to see whether the wild woman will come back. But she never has.”

  “Have you tried playing the synthesizer again?”

  “Yes. Nothing happens.” She lifted her thin hand restlessly. “I keep thinking about her.”

  “How’s that mark she left on your forehead?”

  Molly pushed her hair aside. “Oh, it’s all gone. It didn’t last long. Maybe I just imagined it felt burned.”

  But Joss, looking at her friend’s face in the late-day sun, saw there was still a trace of the incident left—a faint silvery line like a crescent moon on her forehead. She told Molly so. Molly shook her head, troubled. “The whole thing doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “Who was she? Where did she come from?”

  “Just some crazy person,” Joss offered. The whole incident had faded a bit in her mind over the past week. She had arrived at an explanation in her own mind that made enough sense.

  “No,” Molly said. “I don’t know much about being mentally ill, even if my dad is a psychiatrist. But she knew exactly what she was doing, even if we didn’t.”

  “Crazy people think they know what they’re doing.”

  “Don’t say ‘crazy people,’ Joss. It’s like saying ‘cripple.’“ Molly’s voice was tired. It was so unusual for her to sound like that that Jocelyn looked at her in alarm.

  “Are you all right? What’s the matter.”

  Molly smoothed the soft cotton of her skirt slowly. “Nothing,” she said, looking up at last. “Help me get back into the wheelchair. What movies did you bring?”

  It was late before they went to bed, but Joss woke up for some reason just as the sky was beginning to lighten slightly. She felt the crisp, unfamiliar pillowcase on her cheek and wondered for a moment where she was. Then remembered. She turned over and looked at the window, snuggling underneath the down quilt. The room looked out over the back yard, and a single star hung shining like a bright berry through the branches. She lay contented, listening to the early-dawn chorus of birds—and then thought she heard something else. A murmuring.

  She sat up, listening. Maybe Molly, in the next room, was talking in her sleep. But listening a while longer, she thought it came from outside. She slipped out of the bed, shivering a little in the cool air, and went to the window. On the grass down where she and Molly had been sitting the evening before, a brown, hunched figure was crawling. At first, it almost seemed like a dog or some other animal. But then Joss heard the muttering a little more clearly.

  “She’s back,” she whispered and flew to pull her sweatshirt over her pyjamas. She opened the bedroom door softly. Molly’s door was already open, and she had pulled herself into the chair by the window. She looked over her shoulder at Joss. “Do you see?” she asked.

  “I’m going out to get a closer look.”

  “Wait for me!”

  “No, we’d make too much noise. I’m going to sneak along the bushes there and maybe she won’t see me coming. Wait here.” Joss didn’t pause to argue but ran lightly in her bare feet to the side door of the house. She made her way as quietly as she could along the row of bushes that bordered the lawn, hoping that the rustle of the dawn breeze would mask any noise she made, and paused behind a large lilac near the edge of the ravine.

  The wild woman was crouched and patiently searching for something in the long grass at the edge of the lawn. She mumbled softly to herself as she worked her way nearer to where Joss was hiding. But as she came close to the end, a kind of despair seemed to come over her. She sank to her knees, holding her arms up to the slowly brightening sky as if she were pleading with it for help. Then she sat down on the grass, taking off the antler crown and laying it beside her. Her black-and-grey hair hung in tired elf-locks as she sat, hunched forward with her head against her knees. Then she lifted her head to look over towards the ravine, and Joss was shocked at the change. Her eyes were dull. Her lined face looked hollow. When Joss had first seen her, she had crackled energy. Now she looked frail and tiny.

  Just as Joss stepped forward, saying impulsively “What’s the matter?”, she also heard the whirr of Molly’s wheel chair coming down the lawn. The wild woman snatched up her headdress and sprang to her feet, the amulets sewn to her cloak tinkling. But this time she didn’t come near either of the two girls. She simply looked from one to the other, glaring out of her dull brown eyes, and leaped into the bushes at the edge of the ravine.

  Joss ran after her, calling “Please, we just want to help.” But the bushes had closed silently around the wild woman. Joss looked for an opening, a broken branch, a clue as to where she had disappeared, but didn’t see so much as a leaf quiver. She turned around to face Molly, whose eyes were bright with anger.

  “Don’t leave me behind like that,” Molly said.

  Between a rush of concern for the wild woman—who had suddenly become a real person—and a guilty irritation, Joss lost her temper.

  “Shut up, Molly. I had to get out here fast. Otherwise I’d never have got near her.”

  “You scared her away anyway.”

  “You scared her away.”

  “I could have talked to her. I can understand her.”

  “Oh, stop it. You’re just imagining that.”

  “I could hear what she was saying.” Molly scanned her friend’s face fiercely. “Don’t believe me, then.” She turned the chair and headed back to the house.

  Joss didn’t follow her. She sat on the grass for a while, still angry, and thinking. People couldn’t always wait for Molly. She just wasn’t reasonable. And then, what was the wild woman looking for? She didn’t look as though she had enough to eat. Joss had looked directly into those strange, dull eyes and felt that somehow the wild woman was close to the end of her rope. What should they do about it?

  Finally she stood up and brushed grass off the long T-shirt that served as her night dress. She went back to the guest room, past Molly’s clos
ed door. She washed her face and dressed, then poked her night things roughly into the gym bag. As she came back out into the hall, Molly’s door was opening.

  “I’d better be getting home,” Joss said stiffly.

  Molly simply nodded, just as stiffly.

  Joss heard the radio go on at the other end of the hall, towards the kitchen. Molly’s father was an early riser. She didn’t want to have to explain to Molly’s parents why she wasn’t staying for breakfast, so she said simply, “See you,” and headed quickly for the side door again.

  She walked quickly down the sidewalk and hurried down the street. She was halfway home before she remembered that she had left the rented videos in Molly’s living room.

  “Bother,” she thought, hesitating, then continued on her way.

  Nobody at her home was an early riser. The house was completely silent when Joss let herself in. She tiptoed through the front hall and opened the blinds in the kitchen. She poured herself a bowl of cereal and sat at the table in the early morning sun, eating slowly and staring out at the back garden without seeing it. Then she made herself some tea, and forced herself to drink that slowly too, glancing at the clock from time to time.

  Finally, at eight-thirty, she stood up. Mark never got up before nine-thirty or ten on a weekend. “It’ll do him good to wake up early for once,” she said self-righteously and went up the stairs to her brother’s room. He was sleeping on his stomach, one long arm trailing over the edge of the bed. Joss looked at him doubtfully, closed the door softly behind her and went over to shake his shoulder. It took several sharp shakes before he stirred and mumbled “Go ‘way,” into his pillow.

  “Wake up,” Joss hissed.

  “Go ‘WAY.”

  “Sh-h-h. Don’t wake Ariel.” She kept shaking until he rolled over and tucked himself face to the wall. “Oh, Mark, wake up!” she said despairingly. Finally he rolled over in the other direction and glared at her through half-opened eyes. “What time is it?”

  “Eight-thirty.

  “Eight thirty! Jeez, it’s Saturday, Joss! Leave me alone.”

  “Sh-h-h. Don’t wake Ariel,” she repeated.

  “What d’you want,” he said wearily, closing his eyes as if he was likely to slip off into sleep at any minute. Hastily, she told him what she’d seen in Molly’s backyard. As she spoke, his eyes began to open more and he half sat up, propping himself on his elbow.

  “We have to do something,” Joss concluded desparately.

  “And she seems to be looking for something? I wonder if it could be those stones and the stick she left on the rock?”

  “Oh maybe. But what good would they do her? She needs food and shelter. Maybe we should talk to the police or something . . .”

  They didn’t notice the door swing open. But suddenly they heard their sister’s voice, sharp with worry. “What’s this about talking to the police?” Ariel came into the room, pulling a battered pink robe around her. Her short dark hair stuck up like a cockatoo’s crest. Even as her stomach dropped, Joss thought “Why did she ever get that haircut?”

  “Relax, Ariel,” Mark said. “It’s nothing important.”

  “What do you mean, ‘nothing important?’“ Ariel demanded, folding her arms across her robe as if she was trying to act like their mother. “If it involves the police ...” She broke off and looked sharply at Joss. “And what are you doing back so early. I thought you were spending the night at Molly’s.”

  “I did. I just came home before breakfast.”

  “Why?” Ariel asked with deep suspicion. “You’re never up this early.”

  “I just came home,” said Joss. “It’s my house. I can come home whenever I want.”

  “What have you been up to?”

  “Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.” Joss said indignantly. “I just came home early.”

  “So what do you have to talk to the police about?”

  “It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s none of your business.” Joss was standing almost nose to nose with her sister now, shouting. Tears started in Ariel’s eyes.

  “What do you mean, ‘none of my business’?’ I’m stuck looking after you two and I don’t know what you’re doing most of the time. It’s like looking after a volcano. I’m supposed to be responsible for it and I don’t even know when it’s going to blow up.” Her voice was rising to a wail.

  “Jeez, Ariel, don’t start crying!” Disgusted, Joss threw herself into the chair by the window. Mark groaned and swung his feet over the edge of the bed.

  “Look,” he said. “It’s no big deal, Ariel. It’s just that we saw someone ...” he hesitated, “...someone a little strange down in the ravine last week. And Joss saw her again. And we were wondering if we should notify someone.”

  “What do you mean, “a little strange?” Ariel almost had her voice back under control, but she didn’t sound any more peaceful.

  “Just a little old lady,” he said soothingly. “She must be living down there.”

  “Living! in the ravine.”

  “Told you she’d freak,” said Joss gloomily.

  “She doesn’t do any harm,” Mark went on, ignoring his twin. “She mostly runs away when she sees anyone.”

  Ariel sat down on the end of the bed. “So we should tell the police.”

  “I guess so,” Mark said slowly. He felt uncomfortable with the idea, although he couldn’t say why. Joss sounded a lot more definite. “Yes,” she said. “Somebody has to look after her.”

  It was Ariel who telephoned the police station a few minutes later. In mid-afternoon, a fair-haired constable came around and talked to them, taking rapid notes in a small bound notebook. Joss found that she couldn’t keep from staring at the handgun strapped on his hip. It was docile and buttoned down into the leather holster. It was the shape of a horse’s head stuck in blinders and a muzzle, she thought.

  “What will you do?” she asked nervously.

  “We’ll send a couple of men down into the ravine to have a look for her,” said the constable. “Don’t worry. It sounds like she’s harmless enough.” Joss nodded, but that wasn’t what was worrying her. She just had a sudden vision of the tiny wild woman trapped between two large, uniformed men with those politely menacing holsters.

  After the police left, she trailed upstairs moodily. Mark found her in his room again, staring out the window.

  “I don’t think they’ll find her anyway,” he said, not sure if he was trying to cheer himself up. “Look how she just disappears into the bush.”

  Joss nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  “Look,” Mark burst out. “I just keep thinking we should return those things to her. Maybe they’d help her get back ...” His voice stopped, uncertain.

  “Get back where?”

  “Wherever she came from. She hasn’t been in the ravine forever. Nobody could live there through a winter. Maybe ...”

  “Maybe what?”

  “Oh maybe they’d just make her feel better if she had them back.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Alasdair has that stick thing. He wanted to look at it. The stones are here.” He pulled open a small wooden box on top of his dresser and took out the five jagged pieces of crystal. Joss turned one of them around in her fingers studying the way the light caught in its faint gold depths.

  “How would we make sure she got them back?” she wondered.

  “I’ve been thinking . . .” Mark took the crystal back from her and put the five stones into the pocket of his jeans. “Remember how she showed up when Molly played that synthesizer thing?”

  “Um,” Joss figured she knew what was coming.

  “What if we tried that? Tried it down at the back of Molly’s yard where you saw her this morning.”

  “Um,” she said, non-commitally.

  “What’s the matter with that id
ea?”

  “Nothing. It’s just ... well, I had a bit of a fight with Molly this morning,” she said uncomfortably.

  “What about?”

  She told the story. “It’s just ... like she gets so hung up on not being left behind all the time,” she concluded. “You’d think she’d just accept things by now.”

  Her brother frowned. “But you don’t want to go on with the fight, do you?” he said. “I mean, you’ve known her since you were nine years old—she was stubborn even before she had to go in the wheelchair. You don’t want to stop being friends with her now.”

  Joss sighed. “No.”

  “So why can’t you phone her and tell her what’s happened and ask her if we can use the synthesizer?”

  She hesitated a while longer before unhooking the knee that she had dangled over the arm of the chair and got up. “Okay.” Just as she went through the door, the phone rang further. She went to the extension at the top of the stairs and picked it up. Through the receiver, Molly’s voice sounded uncertain.

  “Hi, Joss,” she said. It’s me.”

  Chapter Six

  It took several phone calls and waiting for Alasdair to get home before they had arranged things. The twins would meet Alasdair at the park after supper, he’d bring the stick, and the three of them would go on to Molly’s from there.

  But before they could get away, it was Joss’s turn to make supper. Glancing at the clock, she put a big pot of water on to boil, then grabbed a container full of spaghetti sauce from the freezer and put it in the microwave to defrost it. “Forget salad,” she thought, finding that the lettuce had gone brown and sickly-looking in the crisper. “There’s enough vegetables in the sauce.”

  The sauce seemed to take forever to give up its frozen state. “Drat,” Joss said, poking it with a fork after it had been through yet another lengthy zapping in the microwave. There was still a lump of ice in the centre, and the liquefied part was still depressingly lukewarm. “Hurry up,” she muttered to it, and punched the microwave buttons again. Meanwhile the noodles were boiling themselves rapidly to mush.