‘I know.’ The older Jed grinned. ‘Take a good look. This is only going to last a few more seconds, if I remember. And, no,’ to the Jed of now, ‘I’m not telling you a single thing about your future. Except you can probably guess it’s going to be a long one.’
‘And more crammed than a generation ship to Mars,’ said older Carol.
‘You mean we’ll go to Mars?’ Jed began excitedly.
‘Great-Grandma?’ The yell came from outside. ‘Where did you put my —?’
The three older women smiled at her. And vanished.
Jed put the mugs down, shaking only slightly. She was still sitting at the table when Carol’s car pulled up.
Carol gazed at her from the door. ‘Jed! Are you all right?’
‘Yes. I’ve . . .’ What? she thought. Seen a ghost? ‘I’ve just had a vision of the two of us and another friend, at this table, in maybe sixty years’ time. And you aren’t going to believe me, because I saw that too. Or you’re not going to believe me till you sit here then, and see the me of 1975 right in front of you.’
‘Yes. Well, I’m glad I don’t have to say, “You’re joking,” then,’ said Carol ironically. She put a plastic-covered plate, the spinach triangles’ steam condensing, in front of Jed, with a small container of melting moments, then slid three more large plastic containers into the fridge. ‘Eat,’ she said. ‘You are obviously suffering from a lack of food.’
‘No, I’m not. Well, yes, I am. But that’s not why I saw us in the future. I just see things, sometimes. Or used to.’
‘It’s okay. Scarlett told me and Leafsong about . . .’ Carol hesitated.
‘My visions or hallucinations?’ Jed grinned and attacked a spinach triangle. Just the right amount of feta. ‘By the way, one of the three of us is going to have a great-grandchild.’
‘Only one of us? And one great-grandchild?’
Jed laughed, joy filling her at the glimpse of happiness and friendship in the future. It was good to know that when she was old there would be two friends, at least, who remembered these extraordinary years. ‘I heard a kid call out “Great-Grandma”. A girl, I think. She could have been speaking to any of us. We might all have fifty great-grandkids. Maybe by then they will be hatched in test tubes. I never see enough to really know much about the future.’
‘A useless sibyl then. Can you tell me the winning lottery numbers for next week?’
‘Nope.’ It really was a superb spinach triangle, flaky outside and soft within.
‘How about “Will Malcolm Fraser pass Supply?”’
‘Of course he will. He has to. But I didn’t get that from a vision. Nicholas told me they’ve persuaded two opposition members to cross the floor. What did you have to tell me?’
‘This is going to be easier to explain to a woman who believes she can see the future. The investigator has been keeping an eye on probate registrations. There’s been another one for a Ra Zacharia, also known as Dennis O’Lachlan. The money was left to him by an Australian this time: Mr Angus McHenry.’
‘Ah,’ said Jed. ‘One of the Chosen, I presume. How much this time?’
‘A house in Sydney worth twenty-six thousand dollars, and just over three thousand in cash. But his son is contesting the will on behalf of his mother. His son claims that Mr McHenry left the community of the Chosen last year, but due to his illness and the need to arrange for his care his will was never changed. They have a good case,’ she added. ‘If I were Ra Zacharia, I wouldn’t bother fighting them.’
‘Is he going to?’
‘No idea. I’ll let you know.’ She hesitated. ‘The investigator rang Mrs McHenry. He didn’t pester her — he’s an okay bloke. He was open about who he was and who was employing him, and asked if she’d like to talk about Ra Zacharia. He said she was very, very happy to. In fact he said she really needed to talk.’
Jed tried to imagine a grieving widow, knowing that her gullibility, and her husband’s, might have meant his early death. ‘Go on.’
‘I went with him. Jed, it was impossible not to feel sorry for the poor woman, losing her husband, knowing she could be kicked out of her house any day. She can’t forgive herself. She can’t forgive Zacharia either. “He promised us,” she kept saying. “He promised us Angus was cured.”’
‘So it is all a con,’ said Jed flatly.
‘I . . . I don’t know.’ Carol shook her head. ‘I was sure it was a complete con before I saw her. But Mrs McHenry was very clear — her husband was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer over five years ago. The doctors gave him three months to live, six at the most. But he lived for almost another five years, and for a lot of them was pain free.’
‘The power of belief?’
‘I just don’t know. But there’s more. It’s not all just being at one with the universe out there. The green drinks you described?’
‘The wheatgrass juice?’ Jed felt the memory of the cud-like stuff slithering down her throat, then threatening to slither up again.
‘Not everyone gets wheatgrass. They’re given herbal teas all through the day. Mrs McHenry’s son is a chemist. He knows a fair bit about herbal remedies too. He believes the people in the community are being drugged. There are herbs that can stop you feeling pain — mostly illegal ones, and if you take too much they can kill you too. And there are others that make you feel as if the pain is a long way away and the whole world is bright, or so carefree you’ll do pretty much what you are told.’ Carol smiled wryly. ‘Most of those are illegal too.’
Jed thought of the herb gardens out at the Chosen of the Universe compound, the long greenhouses. Thank goodness Scarlett had agreed not to go out to the community again, and that studying for her exams had left her with little time to see Mark. ‘Has the drug squad ever been out to the community?’
‘Not that I know of. I have a feeling that Ra Zacharia is too clever to grow anything obvious like marijuana or opium poppies, and those are probably the only ones the drug squad recognises. They’re cops, not botanists.’
‘I’m not even going to ask what the other herbs might be,’ said Jed.
Carol grinned. ‘Let’s just say I did too much . . . experimentation . . . at uni. I was lucky,’ she added. ‘One of the blokes I knew ended up swimming in the harbour naked and arriving at the breakfast table of two old ladies who have a waterfront cottage. He was in the asylum up at Goulburn for months.’
Jed shuddered, and picked up the last crumbs of pastry with her finger. ‘So, Ra Zacharia drugs his acolytes, and at least two of them have left everything they own to him. But is he breaking the law?’
‘It depends on his motivation,’ said Carol slowly. ‘That’s what matters in law. Is he deliberately trying to unduly influence people who he knows will die within a few years, leaving him all they have? Or does he really think he can heal them, and keeping them happy and pain free is a way to help that?’
‘What do you think?’
Carol shrugged. ‘I have no idea. Two other bits of information though. The McHenrys aren’t the only ones who have left the Chosen. Over half of the believers had left by the time they realised Mr McHenry needed proper medical help, and quite a few others were beginning to lose faith too. And you know those aliens he talks about?’
‘The ones sending out Morse code signals conveniently in English?’ Jed blinked. ‘I’d forgotten — they’re supposed to be arriving soon.’
Carol gave a crooked smile. ‘On 11 November.’ She reached for a melting moment. ‘It’s even better than Nostradamus and the northern hemisphere blowing up. All our lives will change on 11 November!’
‘Or the community of the Chosen is going to collapse completely in a fortnight.’ If members were leaving now, surely none would stay after the aliens failed to show up. Suddenly she felt deeply sorry for Mark. She had to help him. And surely Scarlett would want her to, just as she’d asked her to help Leafsong. He’d need a place to live, something to give him a feeling of being needed.
And, just possibl
y, she had the solution.
Chapter 76
Gibber’s Creek Gazette, 10 November 1975
Stockpile of Unpassed Bills May Mean Double Dissolution
The twenty-one bills the Senate has twice refused to pass may be the basis for another double dissolution at the next election in two years’ time, according to local Labor Party president, Mr Bill Hutchins, or even another election this year. ‘Every law the Senate refuses to pass is a slap in the face for the people who voted in the Whitlam government in two elections in two years. This leaves the way open for the prime minister to announce a double dissolution election, with another joint sitting of both Houses so the legislation can be passed.’
SCARLETT
Scarlett hauled herself out of Nancy’s car, dragged out her wheelchair and whizzed up the drive then along the Dribble veranda, almost mowing over the old cane lounge chair. The last exam done!
Free! Free not just from school, but free of all the confines of her old life. Never again would anyone tell her what she had to wear, how she must spend most of each day. She could choose her life from now on!
The world stretched around her. University, and friends there who loved playing with information and ideas too. New subjects, lecturers who WANTED you to know more than them. She could LIVE . . .
‘Finished!’ she yelled as Jed opened the front door. ‘No more exams! No more school. No more uniforms. Ever. No more Barbie or barbarians. Do you KNOW what Barbie said this morning? She plans to get engaged on her birthday next year.’
‘Who to?’
‘To whom,’ corrected Scarlett with dignity. ‘Don’t forget I did my English exam a fortnight ago. BRILLIANTLY.’ She grinned. ‘That’s just it. Barbie has no idea who she’s going to marry. But that’s the extent of her life plan. Can we go down to the river so I can throw my school uniform into it?’
‘Always happy to go down to the river. But how about donating it to St Vinnies instead?’
Scarlett wrinkled her nose. ‘Not as dramatic. But okay.’ She wheeled her way into the kitchen. Jed followed as Scarlett peered into the fridge. ‘Have you heard from Sam?’ Sam had made a lightning trip to California to see solar panel producers there.
Jed nodded. ‘He’ll be glad to be home tomorrow. But he’s also glad he went. He says there’s an incredible difference between what manufacturers say the panels will produce and what they actually do. But the ones he’s ordering really do deliver what they promise. I put out an ad for welders too. Each panel will need a different-sized frame to fit on each roof.’ Jed grinned. ‘We get the factory on 15 December. The Whole Australia Catalogue starts on 1 January.’
Scarlett wrinkled her nose again. ‘I still don’t like the name.’
‘Me either. I wanted something about Willing Wombat Workers, but Sam pointed out we need to sell to large companies, not just ordinary households. He says whole factories can be run on solar or wind power.’
Scarlett turned from the fridge, a wedge of asparagus quiche in her hand. ‘How about the Total Power Company?’
‘Maybe. We have three weeks before we need to register a name and start printing letterheads and business cards. And hire a manager,’ she added.
‘Lovely to be able to just pay money so you don’t need to do the boring bits.’ That’d been another Barbie barb this afternoon: ‘SOME of us have to work from now on. It must be nice to be able to do nothing till uni starts.’ There’d been enough truth in that to hurt. Scarlett WOULD just enjoy herself till uni began. But another truth had hurt even more. If she’d had to work at a holiday job, who would employ her? Leafsong, from friendship? Because an able-bodied waitress could work ten times faster than she could. Filing at River View? She couldn’t even reach the top filing cabinet without help. Most workplaces weren’t even designed for her wheelchair to reach them, much less get a job there.
She was free. Except Jed would pay for her freedom.
Jed eyed her, surprised. ‘Yes, it is. How about we celebrate with glasses of milk out on the veranda? There are some walnut slices too.’
‘Sounds good.’ Scarlett tried to put her unease away. This was a time to be happy, not bothering about blithering Barbie . . .
Jed carried out the milk and walnut slices. She sat on a beanbag next to Scarlett’s wheelchair and gazed out at the river, slumbering today, dappled with cloud and blue. ‘You know, I’ve been thinking.’
‘This is a newsflash?’
‘Don’t be rude to your elders, brat. No, seriously, I’ve been thinking about next year.’
‘So have I.’ Scarlett stretched her legs out luxuriously. Luxury to be able to stretch her legs. They might never bear her weight, but they were hers, at last, moving at her will . . . She suddenly realised what Jed was saying. ‘What was that?’
‘I said,’ repeated Jed, ‘that I’ve looked through the Sydney Morning Herald property section. There’s a three-bedroom, ground-floor home unit only about fifteen minutes from Sydney Uni that might be perfect for you. There’s a paved footpath all the way to the campus, though we’ll need to check there’s somewhere you can get up the kerbs.’
Scarlett stared at her. A home unit? She could just hear Barbie’s voice: ‘And they’ve bought her a HOME UNIT now.’ ‘I thought I’d stay at the Women’s College. That way I’d be right at uni.’
‘Sure, but there’d be no one to help you do things at college, and we’d still have to arrange to have a room and bathroom that are wheelchair accessible. So I was wondering . . . how about asking Mark if he’d like to share the unit with you? Just as a friend, of course.’
‘Mark?’ Scarlett stared at Jed with a flash of guilt. It had been AGES since she’d even seen him. But she’d been so flat-out the last few months, and after all, he had a whole community to look after him, even if some of their ideas were a bit nutty. ‘I haven’t even seen him since way before the exams. I decided to put some space between us, remember?’
‘I’m sure he understands how you feel now.’
‘Maybe. But why would I want him to live with me? Or why would he want to leave the Chosen to come to Sydney?’
‘I’ve heard that people are leaving the Chosen of the Universe.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘Oh, just someone,’ said Jed evasively.
Scarlett stared at her suspiciously. She had become very, very good at seeing when Jed was being just a little too innocent. ‘You’ve had the Chosen investigated.’
‘A bit.’
‘What exactly does “a bit” mean?’
‘It means that I wanted to find out if Ra Zacharia was a con man, or if he was genuine.’
Scarlett bit down her anger. ‘And what did you find out?’
‘Nothing conclusive. He does seem to believe in all the stuff he’s peddling. But the important thing is that he thinks his aliens are due to arrive tomorrow.’
Scarlett tried to shove her anger away. ‘I could have told you that. I DID tell you that. Though I’d forgotten the date. Did you employ a private investigator? Did you have him follow me and Mark too?’
‘Of course I didn’t have an investigator follow you and Mark.’
Which meant Jed HAD hired an investigator, who probably HAD investigated Mark too. How dare she have her friends investigated! ‘You might have trusted me. At least TOLD me.’
‘I do trust you.’
But obviously not to make important decisions, thought Scarlett, her rage growing. A private investigator!
‘When the aliens don’t arrive tomorrow, Mark might be very glad of a place to stay,’ Jed continued, not even SEEING that she’d been wrong, that Scarlett was having to bite back fury. ‘And you’ll need someone with you next year.’
‘No, I won’t,’ said Scarlett, trying to sound calm. ‘Jed, I don’t want to live with Mark. I like him. He’s a friend, even if I’ve neglected him. But don’t you even REALISE what Mark might think if I asked him to live with me? He’d think I liked him. Which I do, but not like that. I don�
��t want to live with ANYONE. This is what I’ve been working for. To live my life by myself. Finally be independent.’
Jed frowned. ‘But what if you fall?’
‘What if ANYONE falls? I’ll yell for help. Or crawl to a phone and call an ambulance.’
‘Don’t be silly. But you’re right — sorry, having Mark help is a dumb idea. I’ll stay with you for the first few weeks. Or maybe you could stay with Jim’s family, just till you get settled and learn your way around the uni. You don’t want to manage uni and living by yourself all in one go.’
Scarlett swallowed. ‘Other people do.’
Jed too obviously bit back, ‘Other people are not in a wheelchair.’ ‘Brat, don’t be silly. You’ve never even lived in a city, much less on your own.’
‘I know. That’s why I want to do it. Starting at college, like you did.’
‘We could advertise for someone to share the flat with you.’
‘Aren’t you listening? I don’t WANT a flat! I don’t want you to stay with me for the first few weeks either.’ Didn’t Jed understand? This was her next great leap. True independence.
‘Have you any idea how small rooms are in a college? There’ll be even less room with a wheelchair. And you won’t have your own bathroom. What if a wheelchair won’t fit in the shower cubicle?’
‘I’ll find a way to manage. My own way.’
‘A flat is the obvious solution. And someone to help you. Free rent in exchange for buying groceries and other things you need.’
Rage filled her, hot as boiling tomato soup. Later, she would analyse it: see humiliation, jealousy, despair. She would be sorry. See the love in Jed’s actions. But for now: ‘No! You are not going to buy me a flat. I don’t WANT more help!’
‘But you need help.’
Its very truth stabbed her. ‘So you’re going to buy me a friend?’
‘What?’
‘Buy a friend for me. Buying what you want? Like Matilda?’
‘She hasn’t bought anything that matters,’ said Jed quietly.
‘River View. A house for you.’
If Blood Should Stain the Wattle Page 43
