Sunlit Shadow Dance

by Graham Wilson

  “I sat quietly in the back of the church, unknown and unseen, and wished her a new joy in life after much horror. I intended to leave quietly, to slip away and return to my quiet unknown life, my story still unknown.

  “In that moment when you tried to tear her story from her, I knew that there was another story that must be told. I decided, in those seconds of your confrontation and beating, to seek out her friend, Anne, to ask her to tell my story. She knows I am alive, but not where. I would have given her my story.

  “But, when I saw you sitting in the gutter, beaten and shamed, I knew that it was you who should tell my story. You have been a seeker after truth, even if blinded by your own cleverness. Now you have understood the pain done by your former words, their ability to harm as well as heal, I think you are ready to take and tell my story, if you will.

  “So I will tell it to you. You must find words to tell it to the world with kindness. It, like Susan’s story, is a story with power to harm. But my hiding it for so long has caused more harm. So now I know it must be told.”

  They found a café where they sat for two hours and he listened as she talked. It was the life of an innocent young girl, trusting of her uncle. It told of her sister’s rape and suicide, of her own rape, then of her seeking escape in the selling of her body. She told of her flight from that life to Australia, then of her meeting the man, Mark, travelling with him for a week, first as friends then as lovers, though only for two nights. She told of a first wonderful night, when she had told him of her own awful childhood and he had held her and comforted her. In that night she had loved him and known he cared for her.

  Then she told of a second wonderful night when she had joined her body to him and it seemed he had loved her in return, how he had told of his awful secrets, the killing of Isabelle to save her from the crocodiles, then the killing of Josie and Amanda. Despite knowing this she had loved him still.

  Then she told of the awful realization that came to her in the early light of next morning that he was too dangerous to stay with, not for her but for her family. He slept still as she arose and quietly dressed, knowing she must leave him, to protect him from himself.

  The knowledge had come to her in the darkest part of the night. At first she had not understood it. Now in the morning she saw it more clearly and it convinced her she must leave. She saw in him an uncompromising hatred of those who harmed small children, those who abused them or destroyed their innocence. In that moment she knew he would surely kill her uncle, her own abuser, when the chance arose. He had said it to her in the night. At the time he spoke, full of the rapture of love, she had not really listened.

  His words were, “The only way to fix bastards who do things like that to little children is to kill them. I will fix him so he will never harm another.”

  So, in the morning’s first light she had known, if she stayed with him, he would act on these words. She could not bear for him to further kill a part of the goodness in his soul through killing another and, despite her hatred of her uncle, she did not wish for his death. It would only bring yet more pain to her family. So she fled, taking rides along the highway to Alice Springs. She left all her things in his car, except for her purse with a few hundred dollars which was in her hand as she got out of bed.

  Once in Alice Springs she had stayed there, changing her appearance so no one would know her, finding a cleaning job that did not require identify papers, paid cash in hand. Now more than three years had passed.

  She lived alone, in a tiny room with a gas burner to cook on, and mostly read books when not working. In the early mornings and evenings she walked along the sandy river bed and beside the red hillsides. As people thought she was old and slightly mad, no one troubled her.

  Her only real friends were a few of the aboriginal people who also lived in the river and some who walked in the hills, collecting foods. In this way she had met Vic’s mother, Rosa, at odd times over more than two years.

  Over time and story sharing she had realized that Rosa’s son Vic and Mark were friends so she had connected Susan to them through the story of Mark’s murder and the trial. Then, when Susan vanished, Rosa had told her how cut up her son was, searching for but never finding this girl. Then one day Rosa was smiling again. Cathy knew Rosa had a happy secret but did not probe. One day Rosa had told her, sworn to secrecy, that Vic had found Susan again and, a few months later, of the marriage plans.

  So she had quietly come to the wedding, sitting alone at the back of the church, unknown to all but Rosa who had given her a friendly smile and waved her in past Buck, whispering, “Later you meet Vic and Jane.”

  Instead of that meeting now she was sitting here, telling Jacob this story, saying that once she had talked to Anne, he could write it.

  Jacob sat there listening, spellbound. He knew this story would bring him back to the top if he chose to tell it, the rediscovery of another Lost Girl, being returned to her family along with telling of the childhood abuse that had brought her to this place. But he was no longer sure he wanted to tell it.

  Kate’s family, like Susan’s, had suffered enough pain. They needed to know their daughter was safe; she needed to have a family again. But what good could come from the world knowing of her childhood, of the harm done to her and her sister. It would not bring her sister back. It would not take away her pain and it would give new pain to her parents. Perhaps he could help her give her evidence to the police and that would prevent her uncle from harming others, perhaps that was enough, and in a small way this good may be a balance against past harm.

  He told her of this and she nodded, saying, “Yes, I must tell my parents, but I am terrified. Would you help me do this please?”

  Chapter 32 - Across the Ocean

  It was almost dark when Vic and Jane arrived in Abu Dhabi, stopover point of their flight to London. They approached over the clear waters of the Arabian Gulf and glimpsed high buildings at the edge of the water before settling onto a runway that shimmered with heat eddies in the late afternoon light. They had three nights here and then their flight went on via London to Glasgow, where Jane’s parents who had flown direct would be waiting for them.

  Vic had read the Sunday and Monday papers with trepidation as they waited to depart from Australia, but there had been nothing about where Susan was or linking her to his Jane. He was not convinced it was over but it was out of his hands.

  So he decided that he and his new bride, along with little David and Annie should enjoy this visit to an exotic location. Tomorrow they would do a boat trip out to sightsee in the Gulf. The next day was a rest and relaxation day, visiting the shopping centers and big buildings before an early departure on the third morning for their London leg.

  As they left their airport terminal for the coach to the city the baking heat hit them. Vic felt at home in this desert place, a different landscape but a similar air-feel to his home. He wondered how he would handle the cold rain and mist of Scotland after this blasting heat which barely eased with the setting sun.

  Their days passed like a magic interlude, out in the sparkling Gulf waters on the first day, heat shimmering off the shore horizon. On their second day they mostly lounged around the pool, teaching their children to swim, with a brief lunchtime foray to a huge shopping centre.

  As Jane lay in the circle of Vic’s arms on that last night in the Gulf, he asked her if she was still as happy to be married. They had not talked about what happened on the day with the journalist. With all the other activity of the wedding it had largely passed her. He hoped he could now consign it to the dustbin of history.

  However to this question, rather than giving an immediate answer in her normal way, he felt Jane pause, as if thinking. He looked at her closely. He found himself sinking into her blue eyes. Just when he felt himself losing all other threads of memory in this pool of light she spoke. “I was fully happy before and now I am glad to be married. It has a feeling of rightness for me and in making you the father of my children.

/>   “One thing I do not understand though is who that man was, why he asked that question, and what it meant. I most don’t understand what it was that made you so angry. I have never seen you angry before. With that man you frightened me, not because I thought you would hurt me, but because you were so quick to act against him. There was danger in you in that minute that I did not know existed.

  “If I have done something that caused your anger towards him I feel I need to know and yet the knowledge scares me so. The only thing he said that made sense to me was my name.

  “One day last Christmas, at the farm in the country, I saw a piece paper with the travel bookings for Tom and Elinor MacDonald. I knew it must be my parents, because people called them Tom and Elinor. So it told me that, as their daughter, my surname must have be MacDonald too.

  “I could not remember having that name, but knew it must have been so. So I thought, I have been married before, that is where my babies came from, and that man’s surname must have been Bennet.

  “Then, when that man, Ross Sangster, was asking me questions, he asked me to try and remember being a little girl. I told him I remembered going to my grandparents farm in Scotland. Since that day I have remembered how people called my Susan, or Susie, or sometimes, “little M”, after my aunt Emily. So then I knew that my other names were once, Susan and Emily.

  “So, when that man came up to me and said, “Susan Emily MacDonald,” I knew he was talking to me and I wanted to help him. But when he asked me about marrying the best friend of the man I killed I did not understand.

  “Did I crash a car and kill that man and in doing so did I lose my memory?

  “Or did I cause some other accident that killed him and if so what was it?

  “And why did him saying it make you so angry that you punched him, over and over again, until he fell to the ground?

  “So it has not spoilt being married. But each day my mind asks these questions. Even though it frightens me I think I need to know.”

  Now it was Vic’s turn to think, to try and wrestle a safe answer out of his mind that was true but not dangerous. To mask his uncertainty he put his fingers in her hair and kissed her. She kissed him in return. Soon the question was lost in other pleasures.

  After, as she lay with hair spilling into his face, she said. “My question still remains from our wedding day.”

  He said, “I will start to tell you, one little bit at a time. But if I frighten you please tell me to stop.”

  “Before I met you, you were with my best friend. His name was Mark, Mark Bennet. He is the father of your children. One day he died, I don’t think it was your fault, but some people said you killed him. That man I hit wrote it in a newspaper, saying other bad and untrue things about you too. So, on our wedding day when he asked that question, I got very angry.”

  Jane nodded, “I am glad that is all it was. That is all I need to know.”

  Vic felt relief that Jane had asked for nothing further, though her lack of curiosity also troubled him.

  Instead she placed his hand on the bottom of her belly and put her own hand over it. “Now I have something to tell you. Under there a new person is growing, I can feel his spirit touching mine like butterfly wings. I think his name will be Vic. He will be our child, the product of love and bodies joined.”

  Next day they came on to London and then flew on to Glasgow, having decided it was safest to go straight there. From there they caught the train up into the highlands with her parents. They marveled at the glorious scenery of lochs and snow covered mountains.

  Jane found more and more childhood memories returned as she saw this place, she knew the mountain and lake names, she remembered the little villages, and finally, as they drew near to their own stop, she was bubbling with excitement. As they came to the small village railway stop she could feel herself bursting with impatience.

  She saw her aunt in the distance and knew her name without prompting. “Aunt Ada,” she called out and ran into her arms. “It is so good to see you and remember you. I feared you would be strangers. I am so happy to know you, even though it is only my memory from when I was a little girl.”

  They brought the new family to their country house. It was not so large and grand as in her childhood mind, but was warm and comfortable, tucked into a hill with a lake below, with her grandparents house just behind it.

  As they looked out a late afternoon mist was rising in the valley and far across the heather hillside she saw deer heads, raised proud and tall against the skyline. It felt so good to have returned to a place full of memories.

  Chapter 33 – Anne’s Meeting

  It was the Monday after the wedding of Vic and Jane. Anne and David had decided to treat themselves to a couple days in Alice Springs, before flying to Darwin for the rest of the week to ensure that all the legal issues about Susan and Vic were properly tidied away. Despite the minor hiccough of the uninvited journalist on the Saturday, which they both had only glimpsed and had not spoken of since, it had been a wonderful few days.

  The bride, still Susan in Anne’s mind, looked radiant and spectacularly beautiful in her dress of fine pale turquoise flowers set into delicate lace. Anne, as a bridesmaid, had a soft turquoise toned dress. It matched perfectly with both her auburn hair and the rich brown skin of Jillie, similarly attired.

  She had found Jillie and all Vic’s family to be delightful people, so warm and welcoming to her and Susan, who of course they called Janie now. It was funny how names rolled off the tongue in this place, Annie, Jillie and Janie as the bride group, little Annie and Davie as the flower and ring carriers, she dark haired and cheeky, him blondish and serious.

  She felt incredibly connected to these children, perhaps because she and David had given them names and were nominal godparents, even though missing at the baptism. But they had both taken seriously the promises given to ensure these kids were OK, whatever happened to the mother. Anne felt so blessed that her prayers were answered with her friend returned to her. Even though the damage to her was still writ large in the vacant parts of her mind and her simplicity, she was there and that was infinitely precious.

  Today they had all waved their farewells at the airport as the Cairns jet departed, and then had come back to town, each couple or group to enjoy their own private time before they went their separate ways in a day or two.

  Tonight they were having a group private dinner of all the remaining family and friends as a way to both say goodbye and give thanks for this wondrous time. Now she and David had decided to lunch in the Mall and do the local sights and shopping before a quiet afternoon by the pool. Tomorrow they would do the tourist trip out along the McDonnel Ranges to the gorges.

  They settled into a simple salad lunch after a surfeit of rich food, she reading a magazine and David the newspaper.

  A woman came to their table, not a waitress, clearly seeking Anne out. She must be older as her hair was grey. Something about her was familiar, though Anne could not recollect from where. She was softly spoken and polite and her voice was young. Anne looked at her intently, trying to recognize the familiarity. She realized she had glimpsed her at the wedding, walking away, leading the journalist in a kindly manner. But that was not the familiarity, it was in the face and on that day she had only had a back view.

  The woman said, “You are probably wondering who I am and why I have come to you. My name is Cathy, once Cathy Rodgers, though I use a different surname now.”

  With the words, it all came clear in Anne’s mind. “Oh my God,” was all she could say, no other words would come.

  David looked up, he had been impervious until now, but his brain was working fast, replaying the words and joining the dots, “That Cathy. The one we have sought for over two years now.”

  Standing a few steps behind, as if awaiting the outcome was the black man who Vic had punched. David felt his gut tighten with anger at what this man had written, cause of so many problems. But this girl was so polite that his anger stayed containe
d. He invited her to join them, and then asked, forcing politeness into his voice, “Is the man behind with you?”

  She looked at Jacob and nodded. “He has come to make an apology for the harm he has done. I thought he should begin with you, her best friends. But that is not why I came. I came to seek your help for myself. I realize I cannot hide away any longer but I do not know how to rejoin the world. I have disguised myself and led a simple life for over three years now.

  “I suppose I should just ring my parents and ask them to come to me, but I find myself unable. Too much has passed, with too much pain, to just go home again. But I am tired of running and I am tired of hiding and I don’t want my parents suffering to continue. I have asked Jacob to help me to tell my story, perhaps in public and he has said he will. He will write no more of Susan, she has earned her right to a new life.

  “So now I ask that you hear what he has to say first then allow me to tell of me and what has brought me here.”

  David and Anne both nodded and Cathy invited the man to join them. His words were simple, “I have done your friend great wrong, in what I wrote and spoke. One day I will apologize to her myself. But today my apology is for you, her friend who has walked in her shoes and suffered along with her.”

  Anne took his hand, “I thank you, I cannot speak for her but what you have said is enough for me, the past is the past and cannot be undone. The future is what we can change.”

  He nodded and said, “Thank you.”

  David held out his hand to shake, “She speaks for me too.”

  So they sat and told the stories that they both held.

  Cathy told the story of her three years of living a simple hidden life as an old woman who cleaned around the town and how she had befriended Vic’s mother, thus hearing of the wedding.