Hailstone

by Nina Smith

  A moment later, tyres squealed and a car sped out of the street.

  Magda took the photos into her bedroom and hid them under a loose floorboard in the bottom of the closet.

  *

  It was midafternoon. Magda expected Preacher and John to turn up any time now; she continued to straighten up the house, and even got food out to cook for dinner later. For the most part, nobody had expected her to cook since she’d blown up potatoes in Preacher’s microwave once, but after having such success with Amanda, she was disposed to pretend to be a good wife. Life went much easier when she was in Preacher’s good books, even if that was rare.

  The knock on the door surprised her. Preacher never knocked, and John, in theory, lived here when he wasn’t away on business. She went and opened the front door a crack. She beamed and opened it all the way. “Adam!”

  “Hello my darling!” Adam leaned against the door frame and grinned. “You forgot something when you ran out on us last night.” He held up his hand; her bag dangled from one finger.

  “You are wonderful.” Magda took the bag. She looked over his shoulder; the street was empty. “But you can’t be seen here,” she hissed.

  Adam raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

  “Preacher would have a fit.”

  “Good. I’d like to see that.” Adam pushed himself off the frame and walked in past her. “Is this your house? It’s atrocious, darling.” He tapped a cross fixed to the wall. “Please tell me this isn’t your decor.”

  “God no.” Magda closed the door after another cautious look up and down the street. “It’s my husbands.”

  “I’d like to meet your husband.” Adam spun around and put a finger under her chin. “I hope I didn’t bring this on you.” He brushed her newest bruise.

  Magda shook her head. “No, it was my fault.”

  “Not your fault, darling. It’s called abuse, didn’t you know? It’s actually illegal for a man to hit his wife.”

  “John never hit me. Ever. It was Preacher.” Magda put her bag down and prodded Adam into the kitchen to change the subject. “Can I get you a coffee?”

  “Sure.” He sat at the table and watched her make two cups of coffee. “I just can’t figure you out,” he said.

  “What’s to figure?” Magda sat across from him. “I’ll get you your dress and boots while you’re here.”

  Adam shrugged. “Next time. You might have need of them again.” He put his chin in his hands. “Kat said you were abducted from the dance floor by hairy weirdos last night. She was all for calling the police until I told her you were in a cult.”

  “You didn’t!” Magda stared at him.

  He chuckled. “No. I just told her I’d look you up and make sure you were okay, seeing as your address was in your purse. I respect your privacy. Especially where the press is concerned.”

  “Thanks.” Magda sipped her coffee.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded.

  “You don’t look it.”

  Magda shrugged. “This is my life. I can handle it. I’m on a mission to get Preacher off my back this afternoon.”

  “How will you do that?”

  “Repent loudly.”

  Adam made a face. “Why? Why not just leave?”

  Magda sighed. “You know why. What happened last night will just keep happening. Preacher’s daughter can’t leave the Congregation. He’d lose all credibility.”

  “You need to live your life for yourself, honey, not some dried up old God botherer.”

  Magda tilted her head and listened to sounds in the house. “They’re here,” she said. “You won’t get a good reception. Oh, and sorry, but I need this.” She took his coffee and hers, tipped them down the sink and washed the cups.

  “Magdalene?” Preacher walked into the kitchen and stopped. The look on his face was priceless; Magda leaned against the sink and did her best not to laugh.

  “Preacher, meet Adam,” she said. “He seems very nice. I lost my bag last night. He brought it back.”

  “Sodomite,” Preacher said through clenched teeth. “Magdalene, do you not know who this is?”

  Magda gave him an innocent look. “Is he a friend of yours?”

  Adam chortled. “Hello Preacher, lovely to see you again. Haven’t we got another engagement coming up soon?”

  “Get out of my daughter’s house,” Preacher said.

  John appeared in the doorway. “Oh, Adam, this is my husband, John McAllister,” Magda said.

  “Fabulous.” Adam stood, pushed his chair in and walked over to John with an exaggerated mince; Magda pressed the back of her hand against her mouth. Adam had never minced once yesterday. This was a lot more fun than she’d expected.

  Adam shook John’s hand. “My, aren’t you a big fellow.” He squeezed John’s upper arms. “He’s everything you said he was, Magda.”

  John looked like a rabbit trapped in a set of headlights. He looked at Preacher for help.

  Preacher’s hands shook and his eyes bugged out of his face. A vein throbbed in his neck. “Get out, you unholy creature!” he yelled. “Out, Satan!”

  Adam threw up his hands. “Okay darling, I’m going. See you at the news studio tomorrow.”

  Magda hurried across the room. “I’ll see him out,” she said. She hustled Adam past John and to the front door, which she closed behind them.

  “Well, you’ve met the family,” she said.

  “Mags darling, if ever you need a place to go, just call me.” Adam’s smile had disappeared. “I know what it’s like to live with assholes. Trust me, I’ve been there. I programmed my number into your phone, okay? Us children of Satan have to stick together.” He winked, patted her on the cheek and left.

  Magda went back inside. She took a deep breath and went back into the kitchen.

  Preacher glared at her. Not a good start. She put on the kettle and made chamomile tea in her best imitation of a meek little wife.

  “Did you know who he was?” he demanded.

  “No Preacher, and I’m still not sure. Was he someone I shouldn’t talk to?”

  “Most assuredly, Magdalene. That is Adam Seymour, Hailstone’s biggest purveyor of the scourge of alcohol. He also openly advocates his immoral, filthy lifestyle.”

  “Gosh. And he seemed so nice, to bring my bag back.” Magda set the cups on the table. She gave John’s back a scathing look. She hated the way he never so much as spoke to her in her father’s presence.

  Preacher’s fist landed on the table. His tea slopped over the side of the cup. “Do not talk to him again, do you hear me? He is my greatest opposition in our quest to eradicate alcohol from Hailstone. He opposes my efforts at every turn. He is only interested in you because through you, he seeks to destroy me!”

  “Really? It’s all about you?” Magda wiped up his spilled tea. “When are you on TV next, Preacher?”

  “Tomorrow, after the rally.” Somewhat mollified, Preacher sipped his tea. “Where is Amanda? I expected her report by now.”

  “Oh, she had to leave quickly. Something about a family emergency.”

  “How did you go?”

  Magda sat down next to John and gave Preacher her most earnest look. “She was lovely, Preacher. It’s always nice to make new friends in the church. She really opened my eyes to what I’ve been doing to myself. I know now that I let myself down. More than that, I let you down. I’m sorry. Amanda and I prayed together and I promised God I would turn my life around.”

  Preacher’s brows beetled together. He wasn’t buying it. But then, he wasn’t outright disbelieving her, either. “We’ll see, Magdalene, we’ll see,” he said. “John has decided to cancel his next business trip in order to stay with you and make sure you stay on the path to God.”

  Magda smiled and patted John’s arm. “Oh, that’s wonderful!” she said. She felt John flinch under her touch, so she patted him again. “It’ll be so nice to have you around for a little longer, darling. Look, I’m even going to cook us dinner tonight.�
��

  John looked from her to the potatoes on the sideboard. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I do still need to attend to some business in Hailstone this afternoon. Excuse me, Magdalene. Preacher, I’ll see you later.”

  Magdalene watched him go. She wondered if he should have just married Preacher and be done with it. “Well gosh,” she said when he was gone. “All on my own again.”

  Preacher’s expression softened, as much as was possible in the man. “I know you’re left on your own too often,” he said. “It’s not healthy for a woman to be alone. You’ll come with me to the church and continue the prayer you started with Amanda. I’ve got an interview there.”

  “What kind of interview?” Magda washed up the tea cups.

  Preacher straightened his shoulders. His mouth settled into a smug line. “The Hailstone Herald is running a series on the city’s most influential personalities, including me. I’d like to see Adam Seymour make it into a prestigious list like that, especially in the city’s foremost newspaper.”

  Magda made a sound that was half-snort, half cough, to cover what should have been a scream of laughter.

  Preacher patted her on the back. “There now,” he said. “I know it’s big news. Perhaps if you work hard and pray every day like I do, one day you’ll be in the paper too.”

  *

  Magda had never liked the church. The hall was too cavernous, the shadows too deep. It was always cold and it smelled like wax, or sometimes fear. Nobody ever knew when Preacher was going to decide some unfortunate soul should be exorcised; three times over the years it had been her. She’d sworn never again after the last one, no matter what it took. Exorcisms of anybody else tended to reduce her to a quivering, nervous wreck in the back pew. The last time, when Joseph had been the victim, she’d left bloody holes in her palms from her own fingernails and narrowly escaped being mistaken for a stigmatic. Preacher would have loved that a little too much.

  Today was different. Today a shaft of sunlight speared straight through the window above the pulpit and lit up the synthetic red hair of Kat Catrall while she interviewed Preacher.

  Magda stayed in her pew, out of Kat’s sight, and watched. She listened carefully to the questions Kat posed, and to Preacher spouting his usual answers. She watched the way Kat listened, nodded every so often, and looked incredibly serious whenever Preacher spoke. She wore a full business suit today; Preacher normally didn’t like women who wore trousers, but he said nothing to this woman. Of course not. He wanted to be in the paper.

  After a while she slipped out of her pew and went very softly outside, so as not to distract them. She leaned against the wall of the church and breathed in the cold late afternoon air. The sinking sun turned the colours around her into deeper shades of themselves; redder rooves, greener leaves in the trees that lined the road, longer, blacker shadows. Magda lit a cigarette and held it cupped and hidden in her hand in case anyone drove past. She waited.

  Kat appeared after about ten minutes. “Hey,” Magda said when she walked past.

  Kat jumped. “Hi! I didn’t see you there!” She paused. “Magda? Is that you? Why are you dressed like–er–” she gestured at the church. “One of them?”

  Magda shrugged. “I get in trouble with Preacher if I don’t.”

  Kat took a step closer. She studied her face. “Why should you care?”

  “He’s my Daddy. Is that your car?”

  Kat nodded at the blue station wagon parked by the curb. “You want to go somewhere?”

  “Yeah. Take me out for coffee. Quick, before Preacher comes looking for me.”

  “Are you going to get dragged off by your husband again?”

  “Probably. Are you scared of him?”

  Kat chuckled. “Not if you aren’t. Get in.”

  Magda slid into the passenger seat. She watched Kat’s skirt slide up a little while she got in, started the car and pulled out into the road. She ducked her head until they were well away from the church.

  “Preacher’s daughter, huh?” Kat asked, once they were on the highway. “That explains a lot.”

  Magda shrugged. “I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean for you to get caught in the middle of that. Preacher messes up everything.”

  Kat took an exit off the highway and coasted into the inner city. “I thought you’d been kidnapped by the mob or something. I very nearly ran you on the front page, but Adam practically begged me to leave it alone.” She pulled over in front of a corner coffee shop that had tables outside covered by big white umbrellas. “Will this do?”

  “Sure.” Magda got out and sat with Kat at the table furthest away from other patrons. A girl came out and took their order, then disappeared.

  Magda watched Kat curiously. She was all business today. “What’s your article really about? The one with Preacher and Adam?”

  Kat grinned. “Leading lights of the city? It’s an in-depth look at both sides of the alcohol debate. But I’m framing it as profiles of the faces of the debate, because I figured I’d get more out of Preacher that way.”

  Magda giggled. “Will they be on the same page?”

  “Opposing pages. Big pictures.”

  “Gosh, you won’t be popular with Preacher next week. Not if you put him beside Adam.”

  Kat shrugged. “It’s not my job to be popular. It’s my job to give the city a balanced view of the issue.”

  “What did Preacher tell you?”

  “Same thing he says on TV every other week. Disintegrating moral fabric, young people on the streets, alcohol is a scourge. He said the church was building a special program to help people overcome their addictions. Apparently he’s opening up a bunch of outreach centres.”

  “Really?” Magda frowned. “He hasn’t said anything about it to me.”

  “Would he normally?”

  She shrugged. “Perhaps not. Most times he’s more interested in curing my supposed delinquency. He got awful mad when I got home drunk last night.”

  Kat chuckled. “Anti-alcohol Preacher’s alcoholic daughter? Hell of a headline.”

  “Don’t put me in your paper.” Magda watched the coffee land on the table in front of them.

  “You’re not in the Congregation of your own free will, are you?” Kat looked serious again. “Adam was right, wasn’t he? That church is like a cult.”

  “I don’t know what a cult is like. I’ve never known anything but the church.” Magda sighed. “Maybe one day you’ll be able to run that for a story. But not yet.” She tilted her head. “I like you, Kat.”

  “I’m not gay.” Kat’s mouth quirked in a half-smile. “Just in case you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”

  “Okay. But I still like you. Can I have your phone number?”

  Kat flicked her over a business card. “My mobile’s on there.”

  “Are you covering the rally tomorrow?”

  “Taking photos of a street full of angry Christians isn’t my idea of fun, but since I’m covering the whole issue, I guess I’ll have to.”

  “If you see me there, don’t take a photo. I’m probably going to get dragged along.”

  “If you hate it so much, leave.”

  Magda took a sip of her coffee. “You sound like Adam. It’s not so easy, you know.” She eyed a car that pulled off the road and idled by the curb in front of them and sighed. “Case in point. Don’t look around Kat, just keep your back to the road in case he recognises you.”

  “Who?” Kat did as asked.

  “My husband.”

  The window wound down. “Magdalene get in the car,” John said.

  “I have to go. I’ll be seeing you.” Magda left some money on the table for the coffee and got into the car. There, she gave John her biggest, most charming smile. “I’m so glad to see you. My friend there was going to help me jumpstart my car, but then we realised she had no jumper leads. Have you got some? It’s just around the corner from here.”

  WEDNESDAY

  A loud thump on her door woke Ma
gda up.

  “Get up Magdalene!” John called from the other side. “It’s time to get ready!”

  Magda groaned and buried her face in her pillow. She peeked up at the clock; 11am. She’d overslept. No wonder, she was still exhausted from two days ago. She always felt exhausted when John was home. Constant surveillance did that to a woman. She hadn’t locked her door last night; the man couldn’t stand her, he wouldn’t come in. But he’d watched her every move, from the moment she got in his car. He’d watched her while he jumpstarted her car and he’d tailgated her all the way home.

  Now what did he want? She crawled out of bed and dressed in the clothes she hated. She downed a pill, chased it with the last mouthful of vodka from the bottle in her bag and stuffed the empty bottle in the back of her closet. She could easily have slept all day.

  She pushed open her door and listened down the hall. If she was quick, she might make it out of the front door before he ever knew she was awake. She could spend the day relaxing down at the river, or go down to Adam’s little downstairs bar and drink herself stupid.

  The front door slammed. Magda jumped when Preacher’s voice echoed through the house. “Is she up yet? The car’s packed and ready to go.”

  Crap. Magda closed her eyes and sighed. The rally. Of course. A day to herself would be far too much to ask.

  “Magdalene.” John appeared at the end of the hall. “Time to go now.”

  “Do I have to?” she could barely keep the plaintive note out of her voice. “I’m so tired, John. I’d rather stay home.”

  The look he gave her was barely civil. “Get in the car,” he said.

  Magda matched his look. Then she crossed the hall and laid her hand on his arm. “Good morning, darling.” She kissed him on the cheek.

  He pulled away and rubbed his arm. God, the man couldn’t even stand her touch, no wonder he rarely came home. Magda smiled at him. She felt a surge of power in her ribs. She liked having a way of making John as miserable as he made her.

  “Come along, Magdalene,” Preacher said from the kitchen. “I want to see you front and centre at this rally. Some people in the Congregation doubt your commitment to the cause after recent events. I want them set straight. Here, take this to my car. You go in John’s car though, there’ll be no room left in mine.”