Whispers Through the Pines

by Lynne Wilding

  ‘Wait. What’s that?’ Dowd asked as he pulled at something on her gown. His hand closed around Sarah’s pearl brooch. ‘I’ll be keepin’ that. It’ll fetch a fine price in Sydney Town.’

  Elijah’s hand came up and encircled Dowd’s wrist. His fingers dug in until the other man winced. ‘Fool! That brooch is well-known to be hers, tis the only thing of value she owns. If yer seen with it, the game’ll be up. Drop it.’

  ‘But…’ Greed, followed by anger, showed in Dowd’s eyes. He wanted his booty, that was clear for all to see.

  ‘Elijah’s right,’ Rupert intervened. ‘It makes sense. Put it back, Thomas.’

  Sullenly Dowd threw the brooch back into her clothing.

  ‘All right, lads.’ Elijah gave the makeshift grave a quick inspection. ‘Roll her in.’

  They did so and then stood for a moment looking at her crumpled body.

  ‘Well, come on, fill it in, lads.’

  The three, grunting with exertion, pushed soil and rocks and twigs over her body. Suddenly, with what had to be a superhuman effort, Sarah half sat up.

  The men leapt back, fear on their faces, for they’d believed her already dead.

  ‘You craven cowards,’ she whispered. As she said the words, her head was swimming, and unbearable waves of pain engulfed every part of her body. Her breathing was becoming more laboured and her vision, blurred but not so much that she couldn’t see them well enough to commit their faces to memory stared at them through a mist of her own blood. ‘Remember this,’ she wheezed, as a trickle of blood spilled from her lips, ‘all of you. Revenge will be mine, unto eternity.’ And then she fell back against the earth.

  ‘Quick! Let it be finished. Cover her up, damn it!’

  ‘She still may be alive,’ Rupert objected.

  ‘Not for long, I’ll warrant,’ retorted Elijah. He lifted the rock to do its work again, then threw it as far as he could into the forest.

  They worked for maybe twenty minutes more, hand-shovelling earth and grass, packing it down so as to completely cover her body until all that remained was a slight mound in the earth.

  ‘Roll some stones over the place, and use a tree branch to smoothe the earth down,’ Elijah commanded with some of his old arrogance. The bitch had given him a rare fright, sitting up like that. He’d almost peed in his breeches. As the others stood up, he managed a jaunty smile. ‘Well done, lads. Now let’s be off. And mind yer keep yer eye on Cavanagh. If he says one word, I’ll slit his skinny throat.’

  ‘Yer won’t have to, mate,’ Dowd avowed. ‘I’ll do it meself.’

  As the three walked down the slope and back to the settlement, Sarah regained consiousness. Why was it so dark? What was pressing down on her? She gasped for air. Why couldn’t she breathe? And she was so very cold. Granules of soil trickled inside her nostrils, and she coughed and breathed in more soil.

  Dear God in Heaven! Those cowards had buried her. Alive.

  She screamed but that only meant ingesting more soil. She tried to move but could not, for the earth was tamped down securely around and on top of her. Hail Mary…She broke off the prayer and thought of Meggie, her dear sweet child, picturing her angelic face in her head. What would become of her? Who would care for her?

  She gasped, choked and swallowed more of the damp soil. From every pore and muscle, sinew, bone, fibre and tissue, as a dark veil began to sweep over her, a final vow erupted: If it takes eternity, I will avenge myself on them.

  Jessica woke gasping for life-giving air. Choking. Her heart pounded in her breast. Perspiration dripped off her and, as she jerked upright, her eyes still glazed, her lungs fought for each inhalation. Breathe in, out, in and out. And then she began to tremble from head to foot, even before her mind became alert enough to realise that in her dream, she had relived the last hours of Sarah’s life.

  A bubble of bile rose in her throat, and she threw the covers back and got unsteadily to her feet. Then she raced for the bathroom and was violently ill.

  Ten minutes later, still shaky, she made her way back to the bedroom and sat on the side of the bed. As her hands ran through her hair, she let the tears come. They were tears of sadness for a life tragically lost, wasted, and much more. Sarah hadn’t got to see Meggie grow up, to know the joy of being a grandmother, or of living a full life, because of what they’d done. Bastards. Rotten, stinking bastards. A wave of hatred swept through her, and she lost track of time as she grappled to bring her emotions under control.

  Even Cavanagh. Yes. The only one with a conscience, but he’d been too weak to do anything. He could have tried to save her, but he had just watched. The weakling. A lump of bile rose in her throat and she forced it back. God! it was too awful to think about, but she had to. Sarah would want her to.

  The dream had been harrowing, beyond anything she’d expected. It had been more than a bad dream, she realised, it had been an experience beyond anything she had ever gone through or hoped to go through again. Living through it with Sarah, being in Elijah’s head and in touch with his animal lust, being in Sarah’s head, feeling what she had felt, the fear, the humiliation—it had all been frighteningly vivid. Those men. She shook her head in disbelief.

  She pressed a hand to her trembling lips. No one deserved to die like that…

  ‘It’s all right, Jessica.’

  ‘Sarah?’ Jessica sat up straight and looked around. She couldn’t see anything, no ethereal shape. Nothing.

  ‘I regret the need ta put you through that “dream”, but you had ta understand what they did afore I revealed how I revenged myself on them.’

  ‘It was you!’ Jessica murmured in an awed tone. ‘You killed Waugh, Dowd, McLean and Cavanagh?’

  Where was she? All she could feel was the usual coldness that accompanied Sarah. Unconsciously, she reached for her wrap and draped it around her shoulders. ‘Tell me, how did you do it?’

  ‘Well, ta be honest, I only took care of Waugh and Dowd. You see, t’was I who helped Waugh out of the boat the day he drowned. I held him under the water until he breathed no more. ’Twas a more humane ending than the one he inflicted on me. Then, because I put the thought in his head that McLean was cheating him, Dowd obligingly stabbed McLean ta death, after which the commandant decreed that Dowd hang for murder.’

  ‘And Cavanagh? Did you…?’

  ‘No, Jessica. The poor fool committed suicide all by himself. I believe that the experience that night sent him daft in the head, and guilt eventually drove him ta take his own life.’

  ‘Oh, Sarah, I don’t know what to say. Those men, their cruelty, their lack of feeling—not even animals behave as they did.’ She frowned as she continued to stare about the room. Why couldn’t she see her? Had reliving the dream through Jessica’s subconscious somehow drained her too much to materialise?

  ‘True, my dear. However, I am over the pain. I have taken my revenge and been punished for it by bein’ shackled ta this place for what seems aeons. I feel a certain peace now that you know everythin’. And I need for you ta do one thing, what I have always wanted, needed.’

  ‘Of course. What is it?’

  ‘You must come ta where it happened. I think you know the place.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I will tell you…’ Sarah’s voice faded noticeably, ‘when you get there…’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  ‘Marcus?’

  ‘Who?…Jessica. What’s wrong?’

  Jessica’s mouth twitched into a smile as Marcus’ sleepy tones came through the receiver. Fully dressed herself, she glanced at the clock and saw that it was 4.00 am.

  ‘It’s Sarah.’

  ‘Oh! Another dream?’

  ‘Yes, you won’t believe it. I’m going to Slaughter Bay. Sarah wants me to…I don’t know why yet, but I think I’m going to find out what she wants me to do.’ She heard him yawn into the receiver, and her smile widened. She could well imagine how sexy he looked in just his pyjama bottoms and, in response to the thought, her pulses ju
mped up a beat or two.

  ‘Oh, good.’

  Jessica could hear him waking up mentally the more he spoke.

  ‘When are you going?’

  ‘Now.’

  ‘Wait for me. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.’

  ‘No, I’ll pick you up. That way I’m not wasting time.’ Marcus hadn’t recognised the excitement in her voice, but she was literally jumping out of her skin with eagerness to get to the place Sarah had designated. This, her assignation with Sarah at Slaughter Bay, would be the culmination of all she’d been through. She was sure of it.

  ‘Okay.’

  Hand in hand, each wearing a jacket, for the predawn temperature was cold, Jessica and Marcus walked up the slope at Slaughter Bay towards the big pine. Marcus held a torch in his other hand. A mid-autumn mist was beginning to lift, its grey patches spreading a silent eerieness over the wooded site. An offshore breeze made the tree branches twitch in turn and send a whispering sound across the slumbering valley all the way to the old settlement of Kingston.

  As they climbed the slope, the mist began to clear, especially around the big pine. And then they saw her.

  ‘My God,’ Marcus whispered, his tone awed. He faltered in his stride as he watched Sarah’s mystical form take shape. She was a different shade of grey to the mist. Studying every centimetre of her, he saw that her persona had a peculiar shimmering to it, as if lit from within. It was a sight he’d never forget, even if he lived to be a very old man, and it was made more relevant for him by the knowledge that this being was related to him. If she hadn’t existed, and given birth to Meggie, he’d not be here today. The thought made him feel humble.

  They stopped about three metres from her, and Marcus tilted his head to one side. He could hear something strange, different. For a moment or two, he couldn’t tag what it was and then he did. Weeping. Sarah was quietly weeping. He looked at Jessica.

  ‘Can…you hear Sarah?’ he asked quietly.

  She nodded. ‘She’s crying. Yes. I hear the sound in my head as you do.’ She smiled at his look of stunned amazement. ‘A bit freaky, isn’t it?’

  ‘You’ve come. Both of you.’ Sarah gazed directly at Marcus and raised a hand in greeting. ‘I’m glad, because you’ve become a part of the story, too, kin of mine.’

  ‘Why are you sad, Sarah?’ Jessica asked.

  Sarah smiled. ‘Rememberin’ always makes me a little mournful, even though the pain of it all is long gone.’

  ‘I told Marcus about the dream. He knows what happened to you.’

  ‘Then all you need ta do now is ta’—she paused to wipe a tear off her cheek—‘reveal my bones. They’re here.’ She pointed to several lichen-encrusted rocks on a slight rise and shook her head sadly. ‘My unofficial headstones for all these years.’

  Curious, Marcus asked, ‘How will revealing your resting place help you, Sarah?’

  ‘’Twill set me free, so the spirits are tellin’ me. As soon as a priest sanctifies my grave, my soul will no longer be bound to this place.’ She smiled a radiant smile at them. ‘’Tis then I will be free ta be with my Will, and Meggie, too. They await me, you’ll be knowin’,’ she said pointing to the sky, ‘up there.’

  ‘Oh, I see now. That’s what you were trying to show me months ago, but I wasn’t ready.’ Tears sprang to Jessica’s eyes, and a deep sob was torn from her throat. ‘Oh, Sarah, dear, dear Sarah. What you suffered…’ She turned towards Marcus, and he held her close until she calmed down.

  ‘What…what must we do?’ Jessica finally asked, once she’d composed herself.

  ‘Move those stones, Jessica.’

  Jessica and Marcus dropped to their knees, and Marcus grunted as he pushed hard against the bigger stone. It took a little muscle to roll the rock away and, as he did, from where the earth was now revealed, he saw a small piece of tattered navy blue cloth. As he shone the torch on it, he could tell it was very old. Time and the elements had made the material paper thin; fragile in the extreme. With the patience of an anthropologist, he finger-brushed the soil away from the cloth and, as he dug deeper, his index finger touched something harder. Metal.

  Trying not to disturb the site too much, he dug around the object until it came free. It was a dirt-encrusted brooch. He held it up for Jessica’s inspection.

  She recognised it immediately. ‘My God, that’s Sarah’s brooch. I saw it several times in my dreams.’ For a moment she was overcome by emotion and couldn’t speak. Eventually she said, ‘In the dream last night, Dowd tried to steal it, but Elijah made him put it back with her…with her…body.’ There was a catch in her voice.

  ‘Do not weep for me, my dear Jessica. Now I can be at peace, for I have earned, finally, my eternal rest.’

  ‘This,’ Jessica said, holding up the brooch to Marcus, is proof, isn’t it, that…the rest of her’—she had difficulty saying the word—‘remains are close by?’

  He nodded gravely. ‘I believe so.’

  ‘You must bring a priest to this place and have him say the holy words. Only then will I be free ta go and join my loved ones.’

  Marcus looked at Sarah and said, ‘It will be done. Today. I promise.’

  ‘Can you do that?’ Jessica whispered to him. ‘Just like that?’

  ‘Why not? This,’ he said, as his hand swept over the area, ‘is now a Norfolk Island historical site, which has relevance to the island’s convict-period history. We’ll need to inform the police and other authorities who, I’m sure, will want the area thoroughly investigated and everything, including her remains, identified—that sort of thing. But before we advise anyone, we’ll have the Catholic priest come and bless the grave.’

  Jessica frowned. ‘There’s no resident priest on the island, Marcus.’

  He stared into Jessica’s blue eyes and smiled a sad, compassionate smile. ‘There’s a visiting priest at St Phillip Howard’s church. He said Mass on Sunday, so Nan told me. Sarah’s waited long enough. I’m sure he’ll oblige. Later, after the authorities have done their work, I’ll have Sarah’s remains buried in our family’s part of the cemetery.’

  Marcus got to his feet and pulled Jessica up with him.

  ‘We’ll be back, as soon as we can,’ Marcus told Sarah.

  ‘I will be waitin’.’

  Getting Father Finnigan’s compliance with their wishes took a solid two-and-a-half hours of talking, relating to the priest all that had happened to Jesssica, showing him the brooch and the telling of Sarah’s story, too. Both Marcus and Jessica glimpsed the scepticism in the priest’s eyes as he picked up his bible, the holy water and followed them to the front door of the presbytery.

  It was mid-morning by the time the three returned to Slaughter Bay and made their way up to the big pine. The mist had cleared to a sunny day, as it often did on the island.

  ‘I must say this is rather unorthodox,’ Father grumbled, as he was asked to stand a little away from the rocks and direct his words to the east.

  ‘Please,’ Jessica entreated, ‘it’s important, for Sarah.’

  He shrugged. ‘Very well.’ He began to speak. ‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to farewell…Sarah Flynn O’Riley, who long ago departed this earthly place…’

  That same moment a howling wind suddenly rose up from the water, the force of it bending the branches of the trees around them as it whipped their clothes this way and that. Tufts of high grass danced crazily in the wind, too. In seconds, the keening sound bellowed to a high pitch, becoming so shrill that they all covered their ears with their hands. But then, as swiftly as the wind had risen, it subsided, leaving a silence and a definite sense of peace.

  ‘Extraordinary!…’ Father mumbled. He’d been so taken aback by the shrilling wind that he had dropped his reading glasses.

  As the priest bent to pick them up, Marcus and Jessica smiled knowingly at each other. They were, by now well acquainted with the source of the wind—Sarah’s way of saying farewell. And as Jessica smiled, in her eyes, he saw the sheen of
unshed tears

  Father Finnigan’s sonorous tones continued…

  Simon grunted as he lowered his weight down onto the suitcase to get it closed. He glanced across at his two modest bags and then at Sue’s four lined up near the apartment’s front door. He’d be paying excess baggage for sure. His gaze moved to where Sue was preening herself in front of a gilt-edged mirror, and the thought ran through his mind that he’d be paying, in more ways than one.

  She’d been in a foul mood for days and he knew why. First off, he’d thought she was disappointed because he’d decided to accept the property settlement Jessica had offered him. He now knew that Sue was making an effort to stay off the booze and, while he mentally applauded her for trying to, she’d become damned difficult to live with. Like a Jekyll and Hyde character: one moment, caring and loving, the next sarcastic and critical.

  Boy, he sure could pick them! He shook his head.

  Things would be better once they were in Perth and he had her working on his geriatrics project, he told himself. Thank God, returning home meant his life would resume some sense of normalcy. He would pick up the threads of his practice, start making decent money again, get his project under way, and reestablish links with his friends, which would be awkward, initially, because he wasn’t with Jessica any more. He shrugged his shoulders and comforted himself as he glanced at Sue again. They’d make new friends. Of course they would.

  Two hours later, as the plane circled the island before heading south-west, Sue heaved a sigh of relief and gave Simon a sideways glance. She saw that he was already engrossed in a magazine, shrugged and looked away. At least she was off that damned island, and glad to be. She gave a sly, self-satisfied smile. She had picked up a good meal-ticket: the man sitting beside her. He had promised that they’d marry as soon as his divorce was through. A brief grin widened her mouth. Mother would have been proud, her snaffling a doctor for a husband. She’d made it now, big time. So…why wasn’t she happy? Hadn’t she got what she wanted? No, she hadn’t bested that bitch back on the island. Jessica had had the last laugh, financially, and got Marcus—she had always considered him something of a hunk—into the bargain. That left a definite sour taste in her mouth.