Poet's Cottage

by Josephine Pennicott

  She took the copy of Dumas’s The Three Musketeers from me. ‘It looks boring,’ she said. ‘I think all books are boring. Don’t you agree, Mr Stephens?’

  ‘Pretty much, Miss Violet,’ Teddy muttered. He looked like he was about to doff his hat to her at any minute. ‘I know things I’d rather be doing than sitting with my nose in a book. Ruins your eyesight, my ma always says. We never bothered with reading much in our house. I’d rather be on the boat!’

  ‘Very sensible of you, Teddy. It’s good to know we have something else in common.’ She snorted again and I amused myself by imagining bashing her over the head with the book until her skull cracked. The girl was such a ninny. I had no idea why Pearl would cultivate her friendship.

  ‘Fancy some cold lemonade?’ Maxwell crossed to the icebox, whistling. ‘The iceman’s just been. It’s a stinker out there.’ He began crushing the ice.

  ‘Have you been to see the stranded whales, Birdie? Hundreds of them! I don’t think Pencubitt’s seen that many before from memory. How many would you say, Teddy?’

  ‘About three hundred,’ replied Teddy. ‘It’ll bring bad luck to the town. Not to mention the stink as they rot. One big fella has to be ninety foot.’

  I had rarely heard Teddy utter so many sentences at once and I was interested to discover more about the stranding but Violet, disliking the loss of attention, cut him off.

  ‘Angel made the lemonade,’ Violet said. ‘Such a capable girl, isn’t she? There doesn’t appear to be anything she can’t do!’ Her eyes went to Maxwell and she smiled her sly smile. ‘I suppose she has to be useful when her mother has so many children at home. The poor things must sleep piled up on top of each other like puppies.’ Above her snorting laughter came the sounds of the children outside, playing with Angel. I imagined the three of them swirling like magical sprites amidst the dappled light of the garden. With the assistance of a couple of men from the village, Pearl had made her garden a magical place. An enchanted tangle of fairy lights and her hand-made fairy houses, it ran wild with sculptures from her books and myriad plants and flowers.

  Listening to his daughters’ laughter I watched Maxwell and wondered if the jealousy that gripped my ribs like a python would ever cease its crushing coils. How easily I’d fallen from grace, and I didn’t even know why. Before Angel, I had been the favoured one. I had ignored recent invitations to Poet’s Cottage and I felt Pearl no longer hankered after our friendship. Everything had changed. I wondered how quickly I could make my escape. I would not linger where I wasn’t wanted. It felt unhealthy, the way we all sat as if in some lethargic stupor, waiting for Empress Pearl to awaken us from the enchantment she’d cast.

  ‘I say,’ Violet said suddenly. ‘Do any of you ever think about what that stupid fortune teller said?’ A slight flush appeared on her cheeks as she crushed out her cigarette. ‘I know it was all just for a hoot and Mother said she was an old charlatan, but it’s been preying on my mind. What if she was right?’

  ‘For heaven’s sakes, Violet! You’re not still going on about that, are you?’ Our heads all swivelled to where Pearl had appeared in the doorway. She was barefoot and wearing a white frock. Her hair was piled on her head and, as so often, she looked pale and tetchy. ‘I can’t work properly when Angel is being so noisy outside; she’s worse than the children. Spider, go and tell her to take the brats to the beach or something.’

  Maxwell disappeared and Pearl started looking for her cigarettes. ‘You still here, Teddy? And Tricky as well?’ She exhaled a puff of smoke. ‘It’s like Grand Central Station. No wonder I can’t write. I can feel one of my heads coming on. It’s this stinking heat.’

  Teddy stood up, his face flushed with anger. I noticed his trousers were stained with fish guts. ‘You invited me here, Pearl, then disappeared upstairs like the rude bitch you are. Well, I’ll be off. I’d rather be on my boat than sit around like some lap dog waiting for you to give me a pat. A trevally has better manners.’ He walked out of the kitchen. We sat stunned; Violet’s mouth literally hung open. I’d never heard a man speak in such a fashion to a woman before.

  Pearl burst out laughing. ‘What a temper that fisherman has,’ she said. ‘I’d best go and try to soothe the savage beast.’ His outburst appeared to have restored her good humour and she hummed happily as she hurried after Teddy.

  Violet still looked lost in her own worries, no doubt fretting over Jean’s prophecy and whether she would be the one to be murdered. I smiled to myself, secretly pleased to see her rattled. Her patronising manner made it difficult for me to have any compassion for her.

  Getting up, I crossed to the back door. Outside, Maxwell leant on his cricket bat, talking to Angel. The girls were pulling on his arm, demanding he play with them, but the pair ignored the children, engrossed in their conversation. The ever-present noise of cicadas filled the summer day. A great sadness mingled with the anger inside me. Maxwell knew I was in the kitchen, yet he elected to talk in such an intimate manner with an ignorant fool like Angel. It was as if the Maxwell I knew had become a stranger – defiled in some manner. Was Angel a gypsy who had woven a charm over him? Meanwhile, there was Pearl, running after a fisherman, his clothes reeking of fish guts. None of it made any sense to me and I felt no good could come from any of it. It felt like an ominous brew, simmering inside Poet’s Cottage.

  Pearl returned then and put her arm around me. She gave a deep sigh. ‘Spider confuses sex with love,’ she said. ‘He should have been a woman. She’ll have to leave after Christmas, I’m afraid, Tricky. I’d throw her out now but I can’t possibly manage Christmas on my own. It’s such a bore that things turned out like this. She was impertinent the other night. I had to slap her. Why can’t they be more reasonable?’ I thought I detected a note of sadness in her voice.

  I pressed my head against hers and smelled the odour of lemons on her damp skin. We stood, hip to hip, perspiration blending us together through our cotton frocks as we watched Angel flirt with Maxwell.

  The cry of blood

  Pencubitt, present day

  Sadie thought her pre-Christmas shopping stress must have brought on a vivid hallucination. Strolling along High Street towards her were her ex-husband Jack and his girlfriend Jackie, both dressed in white and wearing identical sheepish grins. Jack wore a fedora hat as if he thought he was Humphrey Bogart. Jackie had artfully draped silky material around her long blonde hair and wore her usual plethora of crystal charm necklaces.

  When Jackie saw Sadie, she ran towards her, kissing her on both cheeks as if she were a long-lost friend, rather than the woman whose husband she’d stolen. ‘Surprise!’ she screeched. Several curious locals stopped to watch.

  ‘Surprise, alright! What the hell are you two doing here?’ Sadie hoped her voice sounded more welcoming than she felt. A ripple of nausea gripped her. How could this be happening? ‘Have you come to see Betty?’ she said to Jack.

  He shrugged and glanced at Jackie, who stepped back with a puzzled expression. Negative vibes weren’t part of Jackie’s consciousness.

  ‘Sadie?’ she said questioningly. ‘I thought you’d be pleased to see us. Maria said you were going to the local beauty salon to get your hair done for the dance. We thought we’d give you a surprise.’ She sounded like a two-year-old. Then her words broke fully into Sadie’s consciousness. Maria? They’d met Maria?

  ‘Why have you followed me here?’ she demanded.

  ‘Will you lay off the drama queen stuff?’ Jack said. ‘You’re attracting attention, Madam Paranoia. Betty wrote to me about a week ago, asking me to take her back to Sydney.’

  ‘She what? She wrote to you?’ The world seemed to tip on its axis. Sadie put her hands to her face, her breath shortening. How could Betty betray her? Was Jack lying? But it wasn’t his style to lie. Not about Betty, anyway.

  ‘Sadie, we’d best get off the street. Can we go for a coffee? Do they have coffee here? And please, not that café with the lobster draped over the roof.’ He looked around, hopeless
ly out of place away from the city.

  Sadie gulped in air and forced herself to calm down. She looked around for a place to go and decided to take them into the Silver Starfish. Birdie Pinkerton was inside, sharing a pot of tea with another white-haired lady. She nodded at Sadie, glancing at the newcomers with avid curiosity.

  ‘What a divine café! It’s so retro,’ Jackie said, eyeing off the local history displays on the wall. ‘I’d love to start something like this in Bondi.’ Sadie went to say something cutting but held her tongue when she saw Jackie’s face and realised she was serious.

  They ordered drinks and Jack showed Sadie Betty’s email on his phone. ‘Didn’t I tell you?’ he said. ‘I warned you it wasn’t fair on Bets to drag her down here. You weren’t in your right mind because of Marguerite. I blame myself, Sadie. I should have put my foot down. You’d already been through enough with me leaving and then Marguerite dying six months later. You weren’t capable of making a decision like that for our daughter.’ He spooned sugar into his coffee; Jackie frowned at him. He’s upset, Sadie thought. Jack always craved sweet things when he was emotional. Meanwhile she felt as if she could either tip the sugar bowl over his head or eat the entire contents of it herself. What had Betty been up to behind her back?

  ‘Jack’s right,’ Jackie piped up. ‘Your heart chakra is blown to pieces, Sadie. I could reiki you later if you like. If we get the blockages altered you’ll be able to think clearer. You’ll be able to release the psychic cords between you and Marguerite.’

  Sadie looked at Jack. ‘You told her about Marguerite?’ It was another blow, a double betrayal in less than twenty minutes.

  Jack looked guilty. ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘Not the full story anyway.’ He added another spoonful before Jackie moved the sugar bowl away. He held up his hand. ‘Just a tiny bit of what you thought you saw.’

  Sadie examined the email again, two sentences branding her mind: She’s not thinking of me and my future. I should be at St Catherine’s, not stuck in the middle of nowhere! Tears came to her eyes and she felt mortified at her lack of control. Crying in front of her ex-husband and his new girlfriend!

  ‘Oh, Betty,’ she whispered. ‘What have I done to you?’ If there was one thing in life Sadie prided herself on, it was being a good mother. To read an email where her beloved daughter described her as selfish was heart-wrenching.

  Jackie was standing in front of her, hands raised. ‘Take deep breaths. Draw the energy in, Sadie.’ She began rummaging around in her oversized canvas bag. ‘I have some Rescue Remedy and rose quartz in here somewhere.’

  ‘I don’t want your crystals!’ Sadie almost shouted the words, and heads turned towards them. ‘I just want you two to leave us in peace! You put her up to it, didn’t you, Jack? Don’t lie to me. You just can’t bear the thought of us making a go of it elsewhere. Well, you should have thought of that before you walked out on Betty!’

  ‘Jackie, for God’s sake sit down!’ Jack said. ‘Sadie, please don’t cry. I’m sorry, love. I feel like a total bastard. You’ve been through so much, old girl.’

  ‘I’m not crying and I don’t need your pity,’ Sadie said. She grabbed a napkin and began blowing her nose. ‘Stop calling me old girl, Jack, or I’ll give you a fistful of fives.’

  ‘Is everything alright?’ Birdie Pinkerton stood over them. Her steely eyes offered some strength and sympathy to Sadie.

  ‘Y-yes, thank you,’ Sadie said. ‘Just family dramas.’ She blew her nose again loudly. Birdie continued to stare. ‘I’m just realising I may have made a terrible mistake in bringing Betty to Pencubitt.’ Sadie felt she had to fill the silence that had fallen on the table.

  Birdie’s gaze went from Sadie to Jack. ‘The last time I saw your daughter she was looking healthy and happy,’ she said crisply. ‘Whatever mistake you believe you’ve made, I think you’re overreacting.’ She held out her hand to Jackie. ‘Pleased to meet you. My name is Birdie Pinkerton. I’m a friend of Sadie’s.’

  Sadie could see that Jack registered immediately who Birdie was. The elderly woman had real backbone. Even being in her proximity was giving new strength to Sadie.

  ‘I can’t believe she’s still alive!’ Jack whispered to Sadie when Birdie returned to her table. ‘She looks amazing!’

  Jackie, busily examining a large lapis lazuli ring on her finger, only displayed interest when Sadie described how she had encountered Birdie soon after their arrival. ‘It’s synchronicity.’ She nodded. ‘The universe put her in your path for a reason. There are no accidents, Sadie.’

  Jack snorted and Sadie smiled to herself. Serve Jack right, she thought. Let him listen to New Age philosophy twenty-four hours a day. Her amusement faded when Jack explained that they had booked into the Pirates Nest. He told her they would stay in Pencubitt until they worked out what Betty wanted to do, remain in Tasmania or return to Sydney. Sadie’s heart sank: the new start she had hoped for in Pencubitt seemed to be disappearing quickly.

  Realising the time, Sadie excused herself and ran down the road to Venus. Arriving ten minutes late for her appointment, she rushed into the perfumed salon – noting in dismay the leopard-print wallpaper – to see Kristie standing at the counter chatting on the phone. As at the Silver Seahorse, the woman was wearing another hot-pink animal-print top, her hair was piled up in a striking beehive and her eyes were heavily lined with liquid eyeliner. She nodded curtly to Sadie before continuing her conversation. Could this day get any worse? Sadie wondered. She wished she’d organised a trip to Launceston for her trim, and even began to long for the familiar surroundings of her trendy Sydney salon.

  ‘Hi, Mrs Jeffreys,’ Kristie finally said, covering the receiver. ‘I’ll be right with you.’ She spoke into the phone again. ‘I’ve gotta go, darling. There’s a client waiting.’ She hung up, forcing a smile as she shook out a pink plastic cape to wrap around Sadie’s neck. Then, positioning Sadie in the tiger-print chair – animal print was obviously a huge influence in her life – she examined her from all angles. ‘What can I do for you today?’ she said, her tone suggesting that whatever she did was probably a lost cause.

  ‘Just a bit shorter,’ Sadie said, feeling reckless. She was still inwardly shaking from running into Jack and hearing Betty was so unhappy, and she felt as if she needed a new image, a new life. To avoid having to make small talk or look at Kristie in the mirror, Sadie acted engrossed in a stack of women’s magazines. Diet tips, catwalk influences, horoscopes; any banality to distract herself from the shock of running into Jack. Finally tiring of the glossy images, she sat with her eyes closed, visualising she was by the seaside, the water lapping gently near her.

  An hour later Sadie stared in the mirror, dismay flooding her body. Yes, the day had just got dramatically worse. Kristie waved the mirror quickly around her head, as if hoping Sadie wouldn’t catch the back view.

  ‘It’s not what I wanted,’ Sadie said, desperately trying to keep her voice even. When no reply was forthcoming she added, ‘It’s too short.’

  ‘It’s not that short!’ Kristie defended her work. ‘Look, you can see by the hair on the floor I hardly took anything off.’ She scuffed longer pieces of hair under the trolley.

  ‘It’s too short,’ Sadie repeated. She felt like bursting into tears at her cropped reflection. ‘Any shorter and it would be a crew cut!’

  ‘I seriously think it suits you.’ No way was Kristie going to back down. She put her hands on her hips, her face going red. ‘It shows off your eyes. Short bobbed hair is hot at the moment. All the celebs are wearing it – Victoria Beckham, Audrey Tautou. After a certain age it’s better to keep your hair short, otherwise it drags the face down. The long bob you had didn’t flatter your age, if you want my honest, professional opinion.’

  This was the spark that lit the dynamite. ‘To be honest with you, Kristie, in my professional opinion it’s the worst haircut I’ve ever had. I refuse to pay a cent for it.’ Sadie struggled with the cape. ‘You haven’t even bothered to apologise.
I said a bit shorter, not hack it to pieces!’

  Kristie’s eyes seemed to boggle out of her head. ‘I don’t want your money anyway, you stuck-up snob. You can get stuffed – get out of my Venus!’

  Walking along the street, Sadie caught sight of herself in a shop window and groaned aloud. She looked hideous. And just when she had Jackie floating around in an ethereal twirl of girlish, hippy beauty to rub it in that she couldn’t keep her husband, now she looked like some older, fatter version of Mia Farrow.

  She couldn’t face going home. What was there to go back to? Betty was at school. Jack and Jackie were no doubt exploring the town and shaking their well-coiffured heads, sniggering about what a dump Sadie had dragged Betty to. Even though she knew it was unreasonable, Sadie even felt irritated at Maria for taking them in as lodgers.

  With nowhere to go, she strolled along the beach. It was warm enough for short sleeves but not for bathing. Carloads of tourists were picnicking and taking photographs. It hurt to see happy family groups when she felt so isolated. She kept walking until she reached Bradley’s Cave. This was where Birdie’s manuscript implied Pearl had had an assignation with her lover, while Birdie minded Thomasina on the beach. Intrigued, Sadie walked up to the cave’s entrance. Stumbling a little over large seaweed-encrusted rocks, she pushed aside the brambles and blackberry bushes covering the mouth of the cave, all the while warily checking for snakes. Only a few sheep by the cliff were there to witness her entrance.

  Bradley’s Cave was obviously still used by locals as a hangout. Discarded beer bottles, cigarette butts and used condoms were scattered beside the charred remains of a bonfire. Graffiti scrawled over the walls provided the telephone numbers of ‘town bikes’. A layer of stone made a natural ledge running along the top of the cave. It was a disconcerting feeling to see the beach and ocean from the cave’s entrance, knowing this was exactly where Pearl had stood watching Birdie in 1935. Did Pearl really meet her lover in the cave, as Birdie believed? If so, was it Teddy? Victor? Or somebody else? There were so many unanswered questions!