The Naked Room

by Diana Hockley

  ‘Yes, I do, Ally. I think we all need to recover from it, none more so than yourself. But promise me we’ll get together when we’ve both had time to get over this? We’ll take it slowly and see how it goes.’ He gently kissed my mouth.

  ‘I promise.’ I was grateful for the reprieve.

  He smiled briefly and we went on to talk of other things. I realised then that the boy who had romanced me had been replaced by a mature man who loved me enough to allow me to heal at my own pace. I didn’t see him again before his mother and sisters bore him off to recuperate on their family property.

  Apart from an awkward hello at both Georgie’s and Jess’s funerals, I still hadn’t spoken to my mother. Two thoughts kept recurring: What if something had happened to her before she finally got around to telling me who he was? Would she have ever given me the information if I hadn’t been in such danger? We buried Georgie in the Masters Island cemetery on the hillside overlooking the ocean. Early winter-morning mist enveloped the island but by ten o’clock it dispersed, leaving a cold, sunny day.

  The sun turned the whitecaps to tinsel; mica chips in the granite headstones sparkled like the diamonds Georgie loved. The smell of salt spray filled our nostrils as sea gulls screamed overhead and swooped across the headland. I carefully avoided looking at Wild Pony Rock rearing up against the horizon. The media gathered in the distance, ducking as the birds dive-bombed them. I gazed at the flower-laden casket, mum’s wreath uppermost. Guilt seared through me. Susan was adamant that Georgie was a victim of her own weakness, alcohol, and bore responsibility for her actions. If she hadn’t blurted mum’s secret, she would be still alive and I wouldn’t have been kidnapped. It works both ways, Ally. Intellectually I understood, but my capacity to cope with everything that had happened was diminished.

  A couple of days later, we trooped into church in Brisbane and took our places for Jess’s funeral. Brie sat next to Pam. Her mother, Aunt Rosalind, horrified and unnecessarily ashamed when she discovered she had been dating Georgie’s boyfriend and murderer, sat on the other side of me at the far end of the pew. Susan and Harry, my mother’s previously unknown brother and sister-in-law, sat between Brie and mum. My parents tried to talk to me, but I could only shake my head. Friends from our school days and university mingled with our colleagues in the orchestra. Anxious to demonstrate their importance, the directors shuffled into the pew in front of the musicians. Jess’s sister and some geriatric relatives attended. Her parents did not come and no plans were made for a wake. After the service, the congregation made courteous noises and fled to their cars.

  The orchestra management arranged for Pam and me to take six weeks leave of absence. Detective Sergeant Taylor and Susan jumped Pam through hoops, threatening to charge her for interfering with a crime scene. Brie was reluctantly let off the hook after he handed over the recorder which he planted under Jess’s kitchen table. Michael, convicted of concealing a crime, received a suspended sentence.

  Just before I left the country, James persuaded me to lunch with him. To begin with I felt awkward, finding it hard to get my head around the fact that, for the first time in my life I was actually sitting opposite my dad. He waved my grateful thanks for his intervention away with enviable panache and then talked about the orchestra, my career plans and his life. We cautiously avoided the subject uppermost in both our minds, but eventually he took a deep breath, looked me in the eye and grinned sheepishly.

  ‘I fancied you for all of five minutes when you joined us.’

  ‘Ditto, also for all of five minutes! Perhaps we instinctively recognised the similarities between us, because now it’s obvious we’re father and daughter. I don’t know why it wasn’t spotted before,’ I replied, my reward the relief which passed over his face.

  He reached across the table and took my hand. ‘Ally, I’m proud to be your dad.’ He hesitated a moment, then plunged into the controversial. ‘Eloise is not to blame entirely. She knows she handled it wrongly and I want to fill you in on our history. Will you let me do that?’

  I toyed with the stem of my wine glass, glancing around at the crowded restaurant. ‘I need to know. I do love mum, but I just don’t understand what happened or why she lied to me all my life. Can we get out of here?’

  ‘Of course,’ he replied, signalling for the bill. As we walked through the Botanical Gardens, James told me about their romance in 1983 and its aftermath.

  ‘Are your parents still alive?’ I asked, shocked by the duplicity which had destroyed their relationship and left me fatherless.

  ‘No.’

  I took his hand. ‘It’s a bit late to call you “dad” but if I ever get married will you march me down the aisle?’

  CHAPTER 49

  Coming Home

  Ally

  Pam and I took leave and flew to the South Island of New Zealand. I felt lost, violated; dark corners and alleyways were terrifying traps. Pam had a cousin there who owned a huge tract of land near Te Anau where we could be undisturbed but not get lost.

  Amid the clear, cold air, we hiked the mountains and picnicked on rocky outlooks, attempting to come to terms with Georgie and Jess’s deaths and my part in it. Counselling was offered before we left Australia, but at the time, escape seemed more attractive. All I wanted to do was breathe freely again, to learn to cope with the panic attacks, which seized me when least expected.

  ‘Whichever way you look at it, Pam, I’m to blame for Steven’s death,’ I said one night. ‘Why would you be responsible for his suicide years after what happened at Wild Pony Rock?’

  ‘Because I forced him into climbing the rock. Being injured was obviously the beginning of his troubles. Imagine having to face the rest of your life limping because some stupid, bullying idiot made you climb a rock?’

  ‘While you’re busy castigating yourself and harking back to the bullying, said stupid idiot was only twelve years old at the time. And I was there too. I should have stopped you, so I’m to blame too.’ It was very noble of her, but we both knew no one could have stopped me.

  Pam tried another tack. ‘Just suppose I was to injure you in some way now while you’re twenty five and when you’re fifty you kill yourself because of it. At what point after that should I stop feeling responsible for what you’ve done?’

  I opened my mouth to protest, but she held up her hand to silence me.

  ‘Are you your brother’s keeper for the rest of my life? No. Same as Jess was responsible for her actions in what she did to you.’

  There wasn’t much I could say to that, so I had to let the subject go. Somehow I would have to find a way to forgive myself.

  Pam was equally pragmatic about my mother. ‘Now you know what happened between your parents, you have to suck it up about being fatherless. Okay, so Aunt Eloise lied to you and sure it was wrong and you were deprived, but Ally, we’ve just finished talking about your mistakes and how imperfect you are. Your mum is human and she did what she thought was best at the time.’

  ‘But keeping it up for so damned long. How could she?’ I whined.

  ‘Ever wondered where you get your bull-headedness from, you daft bugger? Take a look in the mirror.’ She took a slurp of wine. ‘And another thing for you to get through your thick skull, Aunt Eloise raised you all on her own and made sure you got a good education. She went to work all hours to make sure you had the best of what she could afford, and accepted all those stray animals you brought home and she looked after your pet rats while you were away at college.’ She paused to fix me with a death stare. ‘And Ally, while you’re complaining about your mum lying to you, you might remember that she loves you unconditionally.’

  That fixed me right enough. Susan discovered that Jess and Julia had been sexually abused by their father, which explained Jess’s reticence about her family. I had been blessed with a loving mother and safe home. No wonder my snivelling grated on Jess and prompted her to teach me a lesson. I would miss her for the rest of my life. I would feel guilty for the rest of my life.<
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  Occasionally Pam and I both imbibed too much “Chateau cardboard” and collapsed into helpless drunken giggles or floods of tears. We still had to give evidence at the trial of Tommy Esposito and the old man. June Esposito was incarcerated in a psychiatric hospital, unlikely to stand trial.

  Crazed images streaked through my dreams, sending bizarre messages of menace. June Esposito bent over me, tugging at my throat, pulling at my fingers. Steven plucked at her sleeve crying, ‘Kill her, mummy, kill her.’

  I awoke sobbing and totally out of control, to be comforted by Pam who had her own demons to conquer.

  ‘I’ll never forget seeing Brie standing there, covered in blood, Ally. At first I thought he had killed Jess, but I had to take a chance on him. I mean, this was Brie.’

  ‘I couldn’t see him murdering her. There’s not a nasty bone in his body and besides, he’s mad about animals,’ I said, though what that had to do with absolving him of anything, I didn’t know. ‘He adores his cat. Took her home with him to the farm.’

  Pam finished reading a text on her mobile and looked up, grinning. That was Jacq Mabardi with some “gossip” for us. Guess what? Michael might have survived with admin after the suspended sentence, but he was caught dealing drugs and thrown out of the orchestra. Then he ran off with Nia, the harpist who joined us just before you—’ Pam couldn’t continue. Uncharitably, we roared with laughter.

  We stand on a rocky outcrop watching a waterfall plummet in a great cascade to a rock pool, far below. Two wild deer step out of the bush on the other side of the ravine and watch us for a few minutes before stepping delicately back amongst the trees. I suck a deep breath into my lungs, savouring the sounds and smells of this glorious place.

  ‘You know something? I’m ready to go home. What happened to all of us will never go away, but we’re going to be fine.’

  ‘Yep! Let’s get back to Te Anau.’ Pam answered, grinning. It’s hard to believe I’m actually punching in my father’s mobile number to let him know we’re coming home.

  The flight home can’t pass quickly enough, but finally we grab our bags and rush through the fast lane in Customs. Totally hyped, Pam dives into the driver’s seat of our hire car and barges into the Brisbane afternoon traffic.

  One thing I’ve learned from what’s happened. Do not waste time in life or hang on to regrets and petty squabbles. Treasure the people who love you, and make the most of life while you can. I know Brie wants to see me. He’ll try to take things slowly, but I’m going to get him naked so fast his head’ll spin.

  ‘Shift your bums!’ I bellow at slower drivers, as we fight our way into the city.

  Pam crouches over the wheel like a racing greyhound. ‘Hey, did you hear the one about the traffic cop who spun out of control on point duty?’

  ‘Do tell!’

  ‘His control spun out and wrapped around his truncheon!’

  ‘Ha ha!’ I sneer happily, ‘very funny.’

  ‘It would be if you saw the size of his truncheon’ she roars. We pull into a space at the front of her block of flats, laughing helplessly at our stupid joke as we bundle her backpack out of the boot.

  ‘Bye, see you next week at the wedding!’ she calls, as she scampers up the steps into the building.

  ‘Yo.’ I am still laughing as I reach the freeway and head out of the city.

  James broke his lease on the estate where I was imprisoned, bought a farm outside a small country town and moved there with mum. It’s dusk by the time I arrive. The two younger dogs race the car along the driveway, their joyous barks alerting the house to my arrival. I scramble out of the car and reach the top step just as mum flings open the front door. Behind her looms James.

  ‘I’m home for the wedding!’ I throw myself into her arms and nearly squeeze her to death. ‘Mum, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t come to terms–’

  ‘I’m sorry too, darling, Please forgive me.’

  I reach out to my father, who steps forward and wraps us both in his more than adequate wing span. My heart is so full, the darkness is briefly conquered. For now, happiness is paramount. ‘Just think, this time next week you’ll be Mr and Mrs James Kirkbridge!’

  Glossary of Australian Terms

  Chooks………………………………………….chickens.

  Wharfie………………………………waterside worker.

  Galah…………a mad clown of a grey and pink parrot who doesn’t mind making a fool of itself.

  Drongo…………………………………..stupid person.

  Louie the Fly……………………a well-known and long-running Australian TV advertisement for fly-spray.

  Chateau Cardboard……………………….a silver foil bladder of wine with a tap in the bottom, inside a cardboard box; invented by Australians and used with much enthusiasm, particularly at barbecues and wild parties.

  Ninety not out………cricket term indicating a person is doing well/healthy for their age.

  On the piss…………….getting stuck into the wine, a drinking session

  DISCLAIMER: Masters Island is as much a figment of the imagination as Brigadoon! The characters in this novel are too mad to be real!

  Sample chapter of

  Diana Hockley’s next

  Susan Prescott novel,

  The Celibate Mouse

  CHAPTER 1

  A Little Unpleasantness at the Sheep Dog Trials.

  Susan Prescott

  Saturday: noon.

  There was no mistaking the crack of a high-powered rifle.

  Jack Harlow, the final competitor in the sheepdog trials was shot in front of an audience of twenty-five hundred people, two trial judges, three sheep and his border collie, Stephen. He went down like a pole-axed steer, slamming into the gate at the last holding pen. The sheep seized the opportunity to escape, bolted across his body, leaped the dog and took to their trotters.

  Susan Prescott watched, aghast. Perspiration prickled up her spine, then down her arms to her finger tips. Marli buried her face in the front of her mother’s sweater.

  Pandemonium erupted, shattering a moment frozen in shock. At first, people believed that a vehicle had backfired behind the grandstand. Rumours circled the arena at lightning speed. A wave of conflicting information, punctuated by cries of disbelief, spread to where they sat. A young woman seated a couple of levels below the mother and daughter turned and shouted, ‘I thought he had a heart attack, but they said Jack’s been shot!’

  White-faced, Marli pulled away and wiped her eyes. ‘Aren’t you going to go down there, Mum?’

  ‘Certainly not! I’m on stress leave, remember? The local police will handle it,’ replied Susan. I can’t handle this, it’s too soon. Officiating, over another crime scene, even temporarily would shatter her fragile composure.

  The overcast, sullen day got worse. A woman, whom she later discovered to be Harlow’s wife, Penelope, was walking back from the food kiosk. A group of agitated people rushed up to encircle her. A moment later she dropped her takeaway meal and attempted to scramble, screaming, over the fence into the arena.

  She got stuck. Bystanders pushed and pulled until she landed in a heap on the other side. Clouds of dust rose as she got to her feet and staggered across the grass to be met by a flustered official waving a clipboard in the air. The mob around the victim parted for a moment and Susan glimpsed someone folding a coat, presumably to put under Harlow’s head. No, you mustn’t do that!

  His dog was hauled away from the inert body, the sound of its howls heartbreaking. Distressed, she fumbled for a tissue. A man jumped the fence, rushed over, picked up the animal and headed for the exit gate. One of the judges carefully removed the coat from under the victim’s head and commenced CPR.

  ‘Did you hear that, Fran? Who on earth would want to shoot Jack?’ called a woman sitting on the seat below Susan and Marli.

  ‘Half the fucking town, I’d say,’ a man sitting nearby muttered. Sniggers of agreement rippled through the surroun
ding spectators.

  The recipient of the query glanced around the stand, presumably hoping to pass on the information to anyone who might be appreciative. Catching Susan’s eye, she quivered with curiosity. ‘Do you know the Harlows?’

  ‘No, we’re only visitors here,’ Susan replied, taking deep breaths to quell the imminent threat of nausea. Disappointed, the woman turned away to join in a nearby huddle of excited onlookers.

  The action in the ring stepped up, as someone with more common sense than the rest began to manage the situation. The mob of people around the victim parted and a coat was placed over Harlow’s head. His widow flapped around in the centre of the group, while a woman tried to comfort her. Men circled, speaking furtively into mobile phones, staring at the ground. An official from the sheepdog association organised another dog to round up the three sheep cavorting across the trial bridge.

  ‘How they’re going to get any sense out of this lot I don’t know, but I’m damned sure not going to be amongst them,’ Susan muttered, watching the children caught up in the drama. Several small boys had taken advantage of the lull in proceedings to kick a soccer ball back and forth on the far side of the arena. A patch of sunlight suddenly pierced the clouds, lighting the scene in the centre of the arena like a surreal theatrical production.

  When the report and inevitable phone video footage was aired on the early evening television newscast, those with ghoulish tendencies would be kicking themselves for not making an effort to attend. The final of the championship sheep dog trials had never been so exciting.