CHAPTER 18
Outside the mother’s room at the hotel, Jason waited for Helen. Competing emotions caused his stomach to churn unpleasantly. First the good news, he thought. He’d finally met the girl he’d had a crush on for so long. He’d even rescued her from a nasty situation and so earned from her some degree of affection and gratitude. On the other hand, she came complete with a baby and he would probably be up on an assault charge. As he waited he also watched anxiously for the return of her angry boyfriend. As the minutes ticked past with no sign of Mark, he started to relax. Perhaps, against the odds, his luck would hold and no complaint would be made. After all there were no other witnesses and so the charge would be hard to prove. Jason was confident Helen would not implicate him.
In a short while Helen emerged with her baby. Chance looked sleepy and satisfied. She gave Jason a grateful smile and he thought he would burst with pride and happiness.
“How’s the little fella doing? He looks a bit happier now.”
“Doesn’t he just. I think he was as much frightened as hurt. Imagine leaving him alone in the car like that! I can’t believe it.”
An awkward silence ensued. There was the small matter of what would happen next. As if reading his thoughts Helen offered, “I can’t go home. Not tonight anyway.”
Jason nodded. A plan had already formed in his mind. He had nothing to lose.
“You and the kid could come home with me. I’m off shift in half an hour.”
Helen looked closely at Jason. His expression was hungry and intense. She’d ached for months to see that look in Mark’s eyes.
“O.K,” she said easily.
Jason could not believe his luck. Surely it wouldn’t be this simple? She didn’t even know his name.
“I’ll just go say goodbye to my friend,” said Helen, remembering Konrad.
Reentering the gaming room, she found the old man sitting once more at a machine. He raised his gaze as she approached and she saw his eyes were filled with concern.
“Are you alright, my dear?”
“I think so,” answered Helen.
“Meet Chance.” Konrad regarded the sleepy child with a delighted smile.
“He is too beautiful for words. My life is empty of children. It stirs many memories for me to see this child.”
Helen felt a welcome but unfamiliar sense of pride at hearing his words. Few people in her life responded to her and her baby with the sort of sympathy and affection displayed by Jason and Konrad. Helen was starved for acceptance and praise. It made her vulnerable.
Konrad followed her out to the cafe. He cooed over Chance until Jason emerged in his street clothes a few minutes later. Konrad looked slowly back and forth from Jason’s face to Helen’s. The truth was apparent.
“So. You and your son do not go home tonight?”
“No,” admitted Helen, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed.
“Then take care, my dear,” was all Konrad said. He failed to mention the emeralds.
Jason gathered Helen and her things together in undue haste, fearful his luck might run out. Taking Mark’s car, Jason drove them home. He wondered what the evening might hold. Helen, on the other hand, was more certain. She desired her handsome saviour as her lover. They arrived at Jason’s small, ground-floor flat. Helen carried Chance inside and by pushing two lounge chairs together quickly fashioned a makeshift cot. The tired infant fell asleep immediately. Helen turned to Jason, who was bringing in an armful of baby things. She walked up to him and put her arms around his neck.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Having this gorgeous girl so close was too much for Jason. He kissed her, tentatively at first, frightened he would scare her. Helen responded instantly to his kiss. With an enormous effort, Jason pulled away. Holding Helen’s head firmly in his two large hands, he inspected her expression for any sign of doubt, realising with a jolt how disappointed he would be if she stopped him. However Helen was not in a shy mood. She nodded and smiled, doing her best to reassure him. When he failed to respond she closed her eyes and kissed him harder.
This was all the encouragement Jason needed. Holding her close, he guided her into his bedroom, acutely aware of the unmade bed and the discarded clothes on the floor. He hoped like hell that she would keep her eyes closed until they both lay down. It surprised Jason that he worried so much about what this total stranger might think. Playfully, Helen pulled at his belt and unbuttoned his shirt. With extravagant care he undressed her. He thought her astonishingly beautiful. Her breasts, now no longer engorged with milk, were large, soft and shapely. Her flawless skin glowed golden brown, thanks to endless sessions at the solarium. Her body was slim, yet sensuously curved, well proportioned with generous hips and a narrow waist. Jason caressed her all over, kissing her tenderly, hoping against hope that this was no dream, praying that she would not change her mind or regret her actions.
Helen revelled in the moment and relished Jason’s ardour. Since Chance’s birth she had almost forgotten what this felt like. Helen wanted very much to be wanted. In some ways she defined her self-worth by the extent to which men lusted after her. Jason’s passion and powerful erection convinced her that she was, after all, a seductive and successful woman. But her faithlessness was also motivated by revenge. If Mark did not appreciate her, she could easily find someone who did. And Jason proved to be an excellent lover, considerate but forceful enough to take charge of the action. This suited Helen very well. While not an imaginative partner, she certainly was an obliging one once aroused. The frustration of the last few months added to her passion.
Jason was in heaven. Weeks of fantasy became reality. They made love time and time again, Helen responding enthusiastically to his every move. Hours later, tired and satisfied, they slept in each others arms until daylight crept in the window. Helen woke to Chance’s cry, demanding his early morning feed. A minute or two later Jason woke and reached for Helen. He was alone. For a moment or two he thought she had left and he experienced a wave of gut-wrenching disappointment. But the sounds of someone moving around in the kitchen soon calmed him. He lay, his head pillowed in his hands, and relived the events of the previous evening. Jason was in love. Not just in love. He was gripped so powerfully by the emotion that he found it hard to breathe. He ached for her, even though she was just in the next room. This was uncharted territory. The only thing he was completely sure of was that he needed to somehow keep her in his life.
He sat up and tried to gather his thoughts. A sudden fear that she was about to leave rocketed him out of bed and into the kitchen. He needn’t have worried. Helen was sitting at the kitchen table breastfeeding Chance, wearing nothing but one of Jason’s old towelling robes. He was ridiculously happy to see her. A broad grin spread over his handsome face and he felt himself again getting hard. Helen noticed his growing excitement and was delighted. She felt important, powerful and irresistibly beautiful all in the space of a breath. She thought of Mark. How dare he treat her so shabbily! She would show him. Sweet as her night of passion had been, she fully intended to return to her treacherous partner. There was unfinished business there.
“Good morning, gorgeous,” said Jason.
“Good morning. Would you be a darling and get me a cup of tea? I always get really thirsty after feeding Bub.”
Jason pulled on some shorts and busied himself in the kitchen. Helen laid Chance on the chairs and then went to shower and dress. When she emerged from the bathroom, Jason was waiting with tea and toast. The young woman sat down and sipped her tea, feeling a little awkward. After all, she barely knew this man. Jason sensed his happiness slipping away.
“You don’t need to go back, you know. You can stay here, at least for a day or two,” he urged.
“That’s wonderful of you. But I’m afraid I really do need to go home. Mark, that’s my boyfriend, and I have a lot to sort out.”
Her use of the word “boyfriend” and the mention of his rival’s name filled Jason with jealous misery.
He despised the man who could legitimately make any claim on Helen. Still, he couldn’t for the life of him think of any way to respond. Barely believing his own folly, he helped Helen gather her things and put them into the car. Before long they were driving into the hotel car park. Vainly Jason searched for something else to say, something that might change Helen’s mind. He remained blank. In the end he said nothing except, “Call me if you need me,” and pressed his phone number into her hand. Helen offered him an appreciative smile, causing his heart to jump with hope.
“What the hell, call me even if you don’t need me,” he laughed, feeling bolder.
Jason’s obvious infatuation with her flattered Helen and she realised that she would miss him. He drew her firmly towards him and passionately kissed her goodbye. Reluctant as he was to let her go, he knew it was time when she leant over to open his door.
“I really must go,” said Helen, beginning to think he would never leave. Jason chucked Chance under the chin.
“See you, kid. Look after your Mum for me.”
Helen quickly moved into the driver’s seat. With a brief nod she pulled away, leaving a dejected Jason standing forlornly in the car park, wishing like crazy that he’d done something differently. The anti-climax was almost unbearable.
Helen drove home slowly, taking stock. She felt enormously comforted by her tryst with Jason. Her self esteem soared. Like Jason, she was consumed by a new passion. Unlike Jason, it was not for her new lover. It was for revenge. Although she regarded it more as a requirement for justice. As the spurned one, she held a legitimate right to even the score. What was important to Mark? Status? Money? Beth? His children? He valued all of the above in roughly that order. It was only fair that he should lose these things. With a little planning, Helen felt confident that she could accomplish this. However right now she was exhausted and needed sleep. Maybe later, at the hotel, she could discuss it with Konrad. His advice might be useful.
CHAPTER 19
The late summer morning dawned clear and bright, like those before it and those that followed. The season was particularly dry, causing food shortages for many of the inhabitants of Beth’s garden. However this was not true for the foundress and her children. They positively thrived on the sort of hardship that defeated others and their adaptability seemed to know no bounds. Beth relied entirely on tank water. Lack of rain now led her to stop watering the garden, in order to conserve this precious resource. Colourful nectar-filled blooms withered and died on desiccated stems. Honey eaters and butterflies foraged in vain throughout the dying garden. Up until now, the wasps also relied heavily on these succulent blossoms for food. Undismayed, they demonstrated their resilience by quickly identifying an alternative source of sweet sustenance.
Dotted about the expansive lawns, grew more than a dozen conifers of various sizes and shapes. Their stately, upright growth habit, added a certain formal charm to the grassy slopes bordering the parched garden beds. Scale insects infested the trunks and branches of these trees. The tiny insects derived their name from the presence of an armoured scale that entirely covered their bodies.
Newly hatched female scale nymphs were only active for a week or two before settling down to feed. This early, brief period of freedom was the last they would ever know. While the males remained free-living, riding the winds in search of sex and food, the females were condemned to a life of confinement. Securely attaching herself to a stem by her beak, the little scale nymph became deeply and permanently embedded in the host plant. A waxy scale gradually formed over her. Beneath this protective covering, the legless female insect remained imprisoned for the rest of her life.
These tiny insects provided an unlikely food source for the nectar feeders in Beth’s garden. While feeding on plant sap, the scale insects excreted the residue through a waxy anal tube. Droplets of sugary honeydew accumulated on the ends of these tubes, and became more concentrated over time. A variety of birds, insects and reptiles included honeydew in their diet. During dry summers and cold winters, it provided an abundant, high-energy food source when few such foods were available.
This year, the European wasps entirely monopolised this valuable resource. They swarmed over the trees in large numbers. Some hovered with great precision, plucking the sweet droplets in mid flight. Others crept about the foliage, lapping at the honeydew as they went. At times they fell out of the trees and crawled about, beating their wings yet unable to take off. Such insects were temporarily intoxicated by consuming the potent fermented honeydew splashed onto the tree trunk.
Intruders were not only fiercely repelled but were often eaten. Honeydew was also a main energy source for the Honeybees. Now however, any bee risked her life if she ventured too close to the honeydew trees. Zenandra’s daughters were developing a taste for Honeybees. As prey became scarcer, the wasps became bolder and more determined. It had only taken one successful attack on one unfortunate bee, to bring this abundant new protein source to the attention of the entire colony. Now, any bee was fair game. Not only was bee meat perfect for the wasplings but the adult wasps also prized the nectar and pollen that spilled from the dying bee’s butchered bodies. Soon the wasps not only attacked bees near the honey trees, but began to actively seek them out in other parts of the garden. After all, the wasps required every ounce of energy they could muster. Their workload was soon to become more onerous.
Deep within their underground home, a renovation project had commenced. Like any house-proud human female, the worker wasps always engaged in a lot of rearranging of the nest furniture. Nest envelopes were modified to provide more space for brood cells. Old cells were torn down and building materials recycled. Sometimes whole wings of the nest were permanently walled-off, when they became inconveniently distant from the centre of colony activity. But this new renovation was by no means routine. A fresh urgency motivated the workers. The nest was abuzz with the news that the construction of the royal brood chambers was underway.
Only the most experienced architects laboured on the brood cells that were to contain their future queens. All previous offspring, although female, were sexually incomplete. This was partly due to malnutrition. When Zenandra founded her colony, she alone constructed the nest, laid the eggs, hunted and fed her young. It was therefore of no surprise that the first generation were a little undernourished. Subsequent generations however, had droves of capable older sisters to keep house and to hunt for them.
It was a distasteful fact that these common babies were kept deliberately underfed by their nursemaids. They were also deprived of nutrition in another way. The larvae produced a drop of sweet saliva whenever they were fed. This liquid was eagerly sought after by the adult wasps. Unscrupulous workers often moved over the brood combs, giving the feeding signal, accepting the larval offering, but providing no food in return. If trickery didn’t work, greedy adults sometimes even abused the helpless wasplings, in an effort to extract the prized fluid. Recalcitrant babies were seized roughly by their heads, dragged part of the way out of their beds, and then jammed hard back down until they produced a sweet droplet. This excessive milking of the larvae helped to keep them malnourished and unable to reach sexual maturity.
The queen also relished these sugary larval secretions. Taking time-out from her furious egg laying duties, Zenandra rested awhile on an area of comb filled with pupating young. Nearby, her devoted daughters laboured on the construction of the new brood cells. These were indeed cells fit for a queen. Their walls were thicker and more durable than usual. They were almost twice as large as ordinary worker cells, spacious enough to comfortably accommodate their royal occupants.
Zenandra observed the scene with satisfaction. For a wasp, she was now of a great age. Her thoughts turned to her own birth over twelve months ago. She had been lovingly reared by her sisters. Future queens enjoyed an abundance of the finest food the colony could provide. On emerging from her pupal case, the entire colony gathered to admire her great size and beauty. She preened herself, buzzed her wings
and imperiously demanded food from her deferential sisters. For several weeks, she and the other princesses idled around the nest, putting on weight and strengthening their wing muscles. Drones were also emerging. The males were slightly smaller than the queens, but were far more aggressive. They were forever scrapping with each other and sexually harassing nestmates of both sexes.
These adolescent royals were lazy liabilities to their sisters. They never hunted. They did however energetically solicit food from returning workers. As the late summer turned into early autumn, Zenandra’s mother ceased her egg laying. The colony was nearing the end of its growing season and its social life became increasingly disrupted. The old queen was dying, worn out by the enormous effort of nest building and endless egg production. Zenandra recalled seeing her mother huddled in a corner of the comb, too cold and weak to even solicit food from her daughters. Her wings hung in tatters and her once glorious colours were fading fast.
Without their queen’s wisdom and direction, a kind of madness overtook the remaining wasps. Some workers clumsily commenced to lay eggs themselves in a vain attempt to revive the colony. Their inexperience often led them to lay more than one egg in a cell, or to feed each other’s eggs to existing larvae. Occasionally these worker-laid eggs were successfully raised to maturity. But the offspring produced by these virgin mothers were inevitably male. Their efforts were useless. Upon the death of the old queen, true anarchy reigned and the wasps failed to care even for the healthy larvae that remained. Some wasplings simply starved. Some were ripped from their cells and cannibalised, their meat fed to other larvae or shared amongst the adults. Zenandra eagerly partook of this gruesome fare. Some were roughly ripped from their cradles and discarded at some distance from the nest, quickly falling prey to ants. Soon the brood consisted of nothing but a few shrivelled larvae and persistent pupae, whose metamorphosis was retarded by the cooler temperatures of autumn. Eventually the adults, including Zenandra and the other royal young, abandoned the nest completely.
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