Currawong Manor

by Josephine Pennicott

  ‘Don’t think I was born yesterday, Red,’ she snapped. ‘And it’s my business because I’m an old friend of the Partridges. But don’t you fool yourself for a second, you little tart – he’d never leave a proper lady like Doris for you. Men don’t leave good women for tarts.’

  ‘Shut your face or I’ll thump you!’ I stepped closer to her, my prayers forgotten. Nobody calls me a tart and gets away with it. ‘You’re just a jealous fat old housekeeper that no man would throw a leg over. Don’t you dare call me names! I told you, I’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘Then you’re a liar,’ Rhonda returned, unafraid. ‘But you’ll be judged for that by another greater than myself.’ She narrowed her piggy little eyes at me. ‘Don’t make the mistake of judging what you see, Ginger Jarvis. I’m more than just a housekeeper to Edgar – he needs me, you see. But Rupert Partridge needs nobody except his painting and his family. He couldn’t care less about a trollop like yourself.’ She moved closer to me, and as she spoke a fine spray of spit hit my face. ‘The entire village knows you’re a slut and a home wrecker. And that’s not the worst they say about you . . .’ she whispered in my ear and then laughed at my shocked reaction.

  ‘Whatever you might think of us in Sydney, we’re not a bunch of fools in Mount Bellwood,’ she said. ‘People talk. There are no secrets here. And if you want my free advice, Ginger Jarvis, you’ll get yourself back to Sydney pronto. Or I’m going to make damn sure your dirty goings-on are broadcast as far as I can spread them.’

  And before I could make good my threat and wallop the old sow, she unlocked the bathroom door and stalked out.

  As we left Mount Olympus, Edgar fussed about whether we had wraps and were warm enough in the cooler mountain night air. While I stood silent and frozen in the entrance hall, Rhonda approached me again. I flinched in spite of myself, wondering what she might be about to hurl at me now.

  ‘It was grand to have you as a guest at Mount Olympus, Miss Jarvis,’ she said, her tone as measured and warm as when I had first arrived. ‘You’re a beauty, alright, with your lovely red hair and bonny figure, and I look forward to seeing Rupert’s paintings of you. But I can’t imagine a young girl like yourself is going to be occupied for too long in Mount Bellwood. I’m sure the city will be calling you back soon.’

  When she turned away and her eyes met Doris’s I suddenly comprehended, through my foggy state, that there was an understanding between the two.

  We waved goodbye to Edgar and Rhonda, who stood on the stairs to see us off, a decent distance between them. Somehow, though, I knew that as soon as we had left they would embrace like the old couple they were. It was a relief to see the car arriving, Dennis sounding the horn and his open, friendly face as he jumped out and held the door open. I was sitting in the back seat with the children; with Lois continuing to grizzle, Doris had finally consented to let me take her for the trip home, and I held her in my arms, comforting her.

  Doris clearly had other things on her mind, and as soon as Mount Olympus was out of sight, she turned on Rupert. ‘How could you? I might have wanted to develop Bones of the Lost Boys one day. How could you take that as well?’ He said nothing, perhaps aware of the three of us in the back of the car, and Doris maintained a furious silence for the rest of the trip back to Currawong Manor. When we finally pulled up outside, she jumped out, slammed the door and ran into the house, leaving me to cradle and rock little Lois, who was now sleeping like an exquisite angel.

  I was too caught up in thinking about what had happened with Rhonda to ponder for long on Doris’s outburst. I had more than enough on my plate to fuss or care about whether Rupert was appropriating some of his ideas from Doris. Edgar’s housekeeper was one of the most frightening characters I have ever encountered; how easily she had dropped her polite social mask to attack me so viciously, and then just as swiftly replaced the pleasant, genial mask of Rhonda the kindly housekeeper. No one would have believed her capable of such an attack; she was so respectable, so normal – and so disturbing. I’ve often thought of her over the years with her round, unlined face, her hard, piggy little eyes that missed nothing, whispering her poisonous gossip into my face with a spray of her garlicky breath. Over and over I remembered the glance Doris shared with her, the one that said I would never belong to their world. I think the memory never left me because it hurt so much. I had longed to be one of them, to be included with Rupert’s friends, but I wasn’t. Even his friend’s housekeeper could attack me, because I was a safe target for her. I was just a little Surry Hills rat dressed up for the night in a tacky green gown.

  I wasn’t proud of my affair with Rupert, but it takes two to tango, as they say. Somehow it’s always the woman who has to carry the can, isn’t it? And the way Edgar distanced himself socially from his housekeeper when everyone knew they were carrying on and didn’t care. As long as the hypocritical social mask of respectability was kept well-fastened, and she remained his housewife – never his wife – they could get away with it.

  But one thing Rhonda did get right was that I had made the mistake of accepting everything I saw on face value. For all that time, everything to do with Shalimar and the bloody old dollmaker had been right under my nose. I should have seen the pieces of the puzzle – the wire fences, the notices warning people to keep away, Buster’s death and the dollmaker’s grief. If I hadn’t been so self-absorbed in my own dramas, I might have realised the truth sooner.

  TAPE ENDS

  ***

  Where had the photos ended up? Ginger placed the tape into its case while she tried, and failed, to remember. Everything had been so chaotic back then, after the tragedy. They had all been in a state of shocked grief, and wanted only to flee the Ruins before the currawongs were spotted on the towers again. While all this was going on, somebody had taken those photographs, concealed them. Who? The dollmaker herself, to protect the only people apart from Dolly she seemed to care about? Or had it been Kitty or Wanda who took them, out of concern for their own reputation should it be discovered that they had been mixed up in such a business? Perhaps she should visit Wanda in her nursing home to see if she could get any sense out of her. And was she finally ready to tell Elizabeth and Nick everything?

  20

  Invisible Moths and Secret Tides

  ‘Are we there yet?’ Sugar kept up an incessant whine as they trekked through the bush. ‘I’m hungry. I hope we don’t see any snakes, Mama!’

  ‘Don’t be silly, darling. There are no snakes in June. Look, darling, a currawong!’ A large black bird darted across their path before landing in the midst of a bottlebrush tree to sound its deep melodious cry.

  Louis, oblivious to the scenery, was immersed in some heavy metal jangling faintly from his Walkman. ‘Teenage boys are the worst, aren’t they?’ Fleur said.

  Elizabeth murmured yes, concentrating on the track ahead of them. They seemed to have been walking a long way, but as she’d discovered during her last experience here, time seemed to distort in Owlbone Woods. Still, it was beautiful. Brightly coloured mushrooms in shades of red, yellow and purple sprouted from the trunks of trees, and the track was adorned with splashes of glorious red bell-shaped flowers.

  ‘I love native flowers,’ Fleur said, stroking one she’d plucked. ‘What’s this, Elizabeth?’

  ‘Mountain devil,’ Elizabeth replied. ‘It tends to flower in Spring, but there are some varieties that flower all year. Beautiful, isn’t it? And appropriate for the woods where Devil’s Leap is located, I imagine.’

  There was something addictive about Owlbone Woods, as if once you’d been there you had to keep returning, despite its eerie undercurrent. The air sparkled with enchantment and you felt as though anything was possible in the dreamlike surroundings. Elizabeth was beginning to understand why Shalimar might have disobeyed her parents in order to return here.

  ‘Where’s the witch’s cottage?’ Louis said suddenly, removing his headset.

  ‘Louis, don’t start that again in front of Sugar!’
Fleur reprimanded.

  ‘Is there really a witch?’ Sugar squealed. ‘I’m not going any further. I want to go back to the Land of Goodies!’

  ‘There is a witch,’ Louis teased. ‘She lives in a house made of goodies and she loves to eat plump girls called Sugar!’

  Sugar squealed again and Fleur whacked Louis on the arm. ‘Stop it! Sugar, don’t be silly. There’s no witch. He’s talking about old Miss Sharp’s house. She lived in these woods a long time ago. Dolly Sharp’s mother. You know, Sugar, the lady who bought you the milkshake and gave you the doll?

  ‘Her mother wasn’t a witch, she was a nice old lady who lived out in the bush and made dolls. They called her the dollmaker, and there’s an exhibition of some of her work at the Historic Society of Mount Bellwood,’ Elizabeth said.

  ‘Dolls to stick pins in, I bet,’ Louis muttered. ‘They’re called poppets. Witches make dolls of their enemies and stick pins in them to curse them. Then their enemies die. Sugar’s carrying one now from the witch’s daughter! Check it for pin marks.’

  Sugar looked anxiously at her doll, then said triumphantly, ‘She hasn’t got pins in her!’

  ‘Of course she hasn’t, darling. Louis, if you want me to buy tickets for Yellow Death, then zip it! Ignore him, Sugar. He’s only teasing you. Louis, I’m not messing around here. Keep quiet or Yellow Death is off – and the Luna Park party.’

  Just then, Fleur’s mobile rang, but when she answered it, a jangled, distorted sound screeched out. She held it away from her ear, and when the sound continued, hung up. ‘Must be some interference with the signal,’ she said. Elizabeth thought there was something unnerving about that discordant sound in the middle of the bush.

  The four continued walking, and just as Elizabeth thought they must have strayed from the main path, she heard the soothing sound of the Mermaid Glen waterfall.

  ‘Hurray!’ cried Sugar. ‘Nearly there so we can eat!’

  The group fell silent when they emerged from the trees and saw the glen with its ferns, waterfall, large overhanging rock flanked by the Weeping Rocks and naked statues. At their appearance, a flock of white cockatoos rose into the sky, flapping their wings; a moment later some galahs flew overhead, their soft pink chests beautiful against the blue sky. Elizabeth half expected Louis to start mocking the naked statues, or Fleur to suggest they picnic elsewhere so the children wouldn’t be exposed to them, but the beauty of the glen seemed to have bewitched the Amos family too. They turned slowly, taking in their surroundings.

  ‘What is that rock called? That’s not Devil’s Leap?’ Fleur pointed up to where the giant stone over the water loomed against the sky, and Elizabeth explained that Devil’s Leap was a half-hour’s walk from the glen.

  To their delight, a family of small wallabies was grazing peacefully beside the water. ‘Hooray! Come here, you cuties!’ Sugar ran towards the water, brandishing the doll. The marsupials looked up, shocked, then bounded away.

  ‘Sugar! Come back! Don’t go near the water!’ Fleur yelled. To Elizabeth she muttered, ‘I can’t relax for a second with the kids. Sugar gets so carried away. She’s likely to dive straight in. I hope there aren’t any leeches. Louis, look after Sugar!’

  ‘Sugar’s been having swimming lessons since she was a baby; she’s hardly likely to drown,’ Elizabeth pointed out. ‘She’d be in more danger crossing a road in the city.’

  The two children ran along a bush track behind one of the statues until they were out of sight. Elizabeth spread out a picnic rug supplied by Holly, and began to set out plastic plates and cups, as well as the dishes they had bought from the deli in town: tubs of cold salads, cooked chicken drumsticks, fresh bread rolls, a few mini quiches, blue cheese, crackers, sausage rolls, fruit and a block of milk chocolate. They had bought enough for an army, although Fleur had assured her that Louis could scoff the lot on his own.

  ‘Come and eat, you two!’ Fleur called. There was no reply, and her face tensed as she listened to the sounds of running water from the glen.

  ‘They’re probably happy poking around,’ Elizabeth said. ‘They won’t go far when they know the food is here!’

  Fleur shrugged and smiled at Elizabeth, but continued to glance uneasily in the direction Sugar and Louis had gone.

  ***

  Sugar and Louis squabbled for ages afterwards over who had first spotted the freshly killed carcass by the roots of a large eucalyptus tree. It was impossible to identify the remains, other than that they belonged to some sort of large animal.

  Their screams alerted Elizabeth and Fleur. Fleur got up first and ran around the side of the water towards the trees. Reluctantly putting down the chicken drumstick she’d just selected, Elizabeth followed, treading gingerly on the moss-covered stones along the river.

  When she caught up, Fleur was standing with her children, staring in shock at something beneath a large tree.

  ‘What is it?’ Elizabeth asked before she saw what they were looking at. Chunks of flesh and entrails were strewn across the grass, and the ground was saturated with blood. ‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘What on earth? It looks like there’s been a total massacre. The blood looks fresh!’ She took her Canon out of her jacket pocket to photograph the scene.

  ‘Is that teeth or bone?’ Louis said. Following Elizabeth’s example, he snapped some pictures. ‘I told you people get murdered in the bush, Mum. You shouldn’t have brought us here.’

  With Louis’s words, Mermaid Glen seemed to close in around Elizabeth. She saw Shalimar’s long blonde hair, her panicked face as she came up from the pond, gasping for air, then disappeared again into the dark, icy waters. The air rustled as if giant invisible moths fluttered nearby , and a bewitching sense of dreaming seemed to fill the glen. The grey-blue winter sky pressed down upon the gum and pine trees, like a primordial mouth closing upon them. The trees seemed to vibrate a warning song. It was as if reality abruptly shifted gear from being a colour photograph to a more textured black-and-white eerie image. An image that looked normal – but wasn’t.

  Rebuking herself for being so fanciful, Elizabeth examined the blood. Something had been killed here recently, but what was it? And what – or who – had done it?

  And then Sugar screamed as the trees rustled overhead, and towards them came a figure holding an axe.

  21

  Trespassers

  ‘What are you doing with that axe, Dolly?’ Elizabeth called as the grey-clad elderly woman approached them from a side path. She attempted to keep her voice as calm as possible so as not to alarm the children, but she could feel her chest tightening, her heart pounding. Sugar hid behind Fleur, and even Louis had taken a couple of steps closer to his mother.

  ‘I’m carrying it for my protection.’ Dolly walked up to where they were standing, and looked down at the bloody mess on the ground. ‘How many times do I have to tell you it’s not safe here?’ she said, her face troubled. ‘Looks like somebody’s been hunting.’

  ‘Is it an animal?’ Elizabeth asked, still trying to quell her nerves.

  ‘I think so,’ Dolly replied, looking briefly amused. ‘Got your wind up that it was human, did it?’ She unexpectedly crouched down, a weirdly feline movement, and studied the remains. ‘Yep, I’d wager somebody’s skinned a kangaroo. There’re so many weirdos around here these days. Locals avoid it, but morbid outsiders are attracted by the Partridge deaths. Owlbone Woods was once a peaceful place until the ghoulish tourists began arriving. A few years ago I came across a pack of drunk Sydney louts who thought it sport to hunt the dollmaker’s daughter and bully her into telling them her account of Shalimar’s death. I’ve carried an axe ever since. That’s the only language animals like that understand.’ Her face twisted and Elizabeth felt angry towards the men who had invaded Owlbone Woods, thinking it sport to prey on a vulnerable woman. She wondered if Dolly’s traumatic upbringing had resulted in some form of arrested development: that would explain her odd behaviour with Sugar and why she seemed to seek out the company of children a
nd dolls.

  Standing again, Dolly kicked the blood-stained grass with her boot. ‘Sometimes I think the world would be a safer place if we put people in slaughter yards and ate them instead of innocent animals.’

  ‘Wicked,’ Louis muttered, his eyes bulging at her comment.

  Elizabeth sneaked a glance at a horrified-looking Fleur. ‘Is it true your mother’s old cottage is still out here?’ Elizabeth dared to ask.

  Dolly nodded. ‘These days it’s a refuge for the wild creatures of the woods, which was exactly what she wished. Holly’s always at me to let you photograph it for your book. That woman has no respect. The place should be left in peace. I don’t want people going there trying to dig up some grisly rubbish they believe in to prove their ghoulish theories.’

  She glanced around the trees as she spoke; a currawong called nearby and her hand tightened on the axe handle. ‘If you’ve got any sense,’ she told Fleur, ‘I wouldn’t hang around here today, especially with your little girl. It’s not a safe place for children. Whoever skinned this poor animal might be still lurking around. And there are traps everywhere. But worse than traps, you can’t trust or reason with a loaded rifle. That’s why I always carry this.’ She raised the axe slightly. Then, looking concerned, she squatted again to examine the bloody mess on the ground.

  Elizabeth and the Amoses didn’t need any further encouragement. After returning to their abandoned picnic spot, they hastily packed up the virtually untouched food. Then Fleur began walking quickly away, urging her two children to hurry ahead of her.

  Elizabeth started to follow them, but something made her stop and turn back. Dolly now stood in the glen, watching them go, holding her axe almost lovingly; with her severe grey bob and drab clothing, she made a surreal contrast to the dramatic scenery behind her – the bush, the stone cliffs and Mermaid Glen. Damn, what a shot that would make! Elizabeth thought. She’d love to be able to return with Dolly to reproduce the moment, but was fairly sure the woman wouldn’t cooperate.