I had always found the sea healing; the rhythmic waves and tides never failed to exert a soothing influence on my soul. Today was no exception. In spite of the terrible events of the morning, as I watched the white flecks of foam and swooping seagulls, I couldn’t help feeling that I could trust in providence to bring to me the good fortune I had long craved. There would be love for me in the future, a man who cared and my own home. And this man would not be Victor. We were never destined to be together and I no longer desired him. I could finally face the truth: my foolish brain had used Victor as a substitute for the man I truly hungered for. The man I wanted, never believing it was possible for us to come together. But at that moment, I felt an epiphany as I listened to the message the sea carried. Anything was possible, and the impossible was on its way. And in that ordinary moment by the sea – so precious when I look back upon it – I felt with certainty that everything would be alright. Life would reward me for being a devoted daughter, a faithful friend. Somehow on that terrible day of Teddy’s death, the sea whispered that promise to me. There would be companionship, laughter and passion. A new dawn, after so many grey years.
I closed my eyes and I saw Maxwell’s face in my mind, smiling with great tenderness. I think it was at that exact moment that I knew Pearl was going to die. I knew it as surely as I knew we would have banana custard after our egg and bacon pie that evening. It was simple, as orderly as the tide crashing on the beach and the night following the day.
Pearl was going to die and Maxwell would be mine.
The Bindi-eye warning
On the morning of Teddy’s funeral I woke to the welcome sound of rain. I lay in the still-dark room thinking over the nightmare that clung to me. I had dreamed of the Bindi-eye Man, Pearl’s dark creation. He was walking along Shelley Beach, a large menacing figure, his extended arms and legs a shadowy slap pressed against the brilliant blue sky. I sensed doom was coming to Pencubitt. His measured slow gait induced a crushing sensation in my chest. His large, flexing fingers clicked as they stretched towards me in a fan shape. He was terrible enough to swallow the sun. I could smell him; the odour of human waste, of nightmare. As he approached, I saw he was wearing Teddy’s clothes. Hoofprint shapes trailed behind him in the sand.
Save yourself. His voice boomed. I cried out in the dream. Crabs and fish hung from his rotten body. All was decay. All was lies and untruths; I saw all the lies in his smile.
Now he was within touching distance. His long, black, bony fingers pointed towards Bradley’s Cave. Save yourself. He smiled. He had Pearl’s eyes, and wore a necklace of shark teeth. He was crowned with rotten flesh and flies. I awoke, crying out, as he kept up his terrible gait in my mind.
Downstairs Mother was banging pots, although it was still dark. She slept poorly and had taken to roaming the house late at night. She grew more disoriented as time went on and I was often terrified she would set fire to the place with her candle. Father Kelly might have provided her with company and spiritual consolation, but he hadn’t improved her mental balance.
I knew she was looking forward to the funeral. Reading obituary notices was one of the small pleasures she allowed herself. Perhaps she felt consoled in the knowledge that the deceased was free of life’s shackles and could now rest forever with the divine creator, or maybe it was just morbidity. We had not had a funeral in our long-lived town for about six months, but there had been too many of them after the Great War, and I fear Mother had become addicted. I was dreading it.
Who else was to die? Who amongst us had blood covering their hands? The questions and fear simmering since the night of that dreadful party had intensified with Teddy’s death. I felt I needed to seek comfort with Father Kelly. It was illogical and silly but I wanted the church’s protection. I needed to absolve myself before God. I felt terribly afraid, but there was no time. Father would be busy with the Stephenses and the funeral. My confession would have to wait.
Church bells sounded as we walked through the streets. Most of the locals came by foot, although a few carts passed us bringing out-of-towners. The town had a sombre air: men wore black armbands and ill-fitting suits, and locals nodded to each other with curt expressions. I was thankful for the rain, which allowed me to carry a black umbrella to hide my face from curious passers-by.
The congregation was larger than normal. The Stephenses’ relatives had arrived by train from other parts of the state, ensuring the small church was nearly full. The Stephens family sat in the front row, Mrs Stephens sobbing on the shoulder of a woman I didn’t recognise. Mr Stephens sat with bowed head; not once did he look up. In contrast, Arthur kept glancing around the congregation as if looking for somebody. I knew who he was looking for. I had been terrified Pearl would be there but there was no sign of her. No doubt that would be commented upon. There was no pleasing the town: whether Pearl attended or not, they would have criticised her either way.
I barely listened to a word of Father Kelly’s sermon. All I could hear was the medium’s voice.
The school choir sang a hymn and a fisherman who had been on the Siren’s Tresses spoke about Teddy and his jovial manner on that fateful journey. ‘He loved the ocean. He felt more at home there than on land,’ the fisherman said, and a ripple of agreement passed through the church. The sea may have stolen a young man of the town but the sea was what Pencubitt depended upon. We knew in our hearts there was no taming the wind, the tides and the ocean’s whims. Nobody mentioned that Teddy had been drinking.
Another young fisherman spoke in a shaking voice. He had been friends with Teddy since they were small children. It was as he was talking that Pearl made her entrance, followed by Maxwell, Thomasina and Marguerite. They were all dressed in black, even the girls. Pearl, defiantly beautiful in a black dress and fur-trimmed jacket, wore pearls in her ears and around her neck. Her steely eyes challenged the crowd. Maxwell’s pale face looked puzzled, as if he no longer recognised his neighbours. Was it my imagination, or did his face soften when his eyes fell upon me, as if relieved to see a friendly face? Both the girls looked surly and tired; I guessed neither of them had wanted to attend. Pearl pushed them into a half-empty back pew. A ripple of anger went through the crowd. Mother’s lips moved in a whispered prayer, her head shaking in disapproval. Arthur shot a furious look at the back of the church; he had spotted the latecomers. His mother placed a warning hand on his arm to keep him in his seat.
The rest of the service was a blur as I tried to imagine what was going through Pearl’s mind. Any other woman would have had the decency to remain at home to mourn, instead of dragging her husband and children to a lover’s funeral, but Pearl wouldn’t have thought or cared about anyone else’s feelings, even Teddy’s mother’s.
We buried Teddy in the cemetery overlooking the sea where he had felt most at home. It was still raining. We stood with umbrellas and coats flapping in the breeze as Teddy’s casket was lowered into the earth. I had been expecting drama – that Pearl would throw herself into the open grave, or Arthur would release his pent-up fury at Pearl – but she remained huddled against Maxwell, eyes closed, while Arthur stayed close to his mother.
Earth was thrown onto the coffin. Thud! I saw Jean’s face as she made her fatal pronouncements. Thud! Teddy watching Pearl with eyes of love. Thud! There was a small cry from Mrs Stephens as her son disappeared under the earth. The sea wind picked up and whipped around us, turning our umbrellas inside out.
Afterwards, following village custom, we gathered at the town hall where trestle tables were laden with enough pies, sandwiches and cakes to feed an army. Neighbour caught up with neighbour and conversation became more relaxed as people mingled. All except Maxwell and his family, who stood by themselves in a corner of the room.
Mother and I were standing with Father Kelly when Mother suddenly bristled like a cat.
‘Hello Eva, Father Kelly, Birdie.’ Pearl stood before us. Behind her, looking furious, Maxwell held the girls’ hands. ‘I’ve just come to say ta-ta, Tricky. We’re of
f. Maxwell’s terribly grumpy about me being here.’
Mother sniffed her disapproval, while Maxwell’s face reddened. I felt sorry for him, being humiliated so publicly.
‘Come on, Pearl,’ he said. ‘This isn’t the time and place.’
‘No,’ Pearl said. ‘That was a fine sermon, Father Kelly, or at least the bit we caught. Teddy said I’d be late for my own funeral. He’d be amused I was late for his. You did him proud.’
‘Well, really!’ Mother began, but Pearl spoke over the top of her.
‘I loved him so much,’ she said.
‘Pearl!’ Maxwell said more sharply.
‘Mummy, come away!’ Thomasina called, but Pearl stared as if she didn’t know her.
She leant towards me and said, ‘You think he was under that dirt today, don’t you, Tricky? He wasn’t! He was standing next to me the whole time, laughing. He wasn’t under there! He’s alive. That’s a great joke he’s played on us all.
A peachy jape. He’s even more tricky than Tricky!’ She winked, fingering the pearls around her throat. ‘He’s here now, enjoying the turnout for him. Everybody thinks he’s dead! It’s too, too amusing!’
We watched as Maxwell led her out of the hall. I gave silent thanks nobody else had witnessed the conversation.
‘A most unhinged young woman,’ Father Kelly said.
Mother nodded, tapping her head. ‘She’ll be sent down south to the asylum if she keeps up that sort of talk! I’m sure she drinks.’
The day had more disturbing surprises in store. As I lay on my bed later on that rainy afternoon, trying to read, Mother came in, puffed up with excitement, to announce a visitor in our tiny dining room: Violet Bydrenbaugh. I got up and went out, then stood staring at her, feeling ashamed of our small, shabby house and curious as to what had brought her here uninvited. She looked out of place surrounded by Mother’s religious paraphernalia, sitting on our uncomfortable overstuffed sofa, swinging her feet in their camel-coloured Mary Janes.
As Mother hovered in the kitchen, obviously eavesdropping, Violet told me that Maxwell had phoned her, begging her to come and help at the house. He said Pearl had taken a turn for the worse. Violet hadn’t been able to resist calling on me first to discover if I knew what was up. I felt a stab of jealousy that Maxwell hadn’t asked me to help. How could he prefer spoilt, simpering Violet over my practical good sense? But perhaps Pearl had dictated I not be summoned; who knew what paranoid thoughts had taken hold in her head?
Disguising my hurt, I told Violet that I didn’t know what was happening at Poet’s Cottage. She merely shrugged and then nattered on in her little-girl voice about the funeral. Her mother had banned her from attending such a ‘vulgar’ spectacle.
‘She’s in a foul temper,’ Violet said with a snorting giggle. ‘Ever since the bones were found in the chapel and the workmen refused to work she’s been a total grumbly bore.’
I barely listened to her nonsense. I was still trying to understand why Maxwell would turn to Violet. What had happened at Poet’s Cottage?
When Violet asked, I told her a little of the funeral news, leaving out Pearl’s odd behaviour. I found her curiosity about the funeral prurient, and changed the subject. We chatted briefly about the latest leopard-fur coat she hankered after and some silly new movie, Top Hat, which she had read about. More to fill in space in the conversation than anything else, I brought up the secret tunnels. I was unprepared for her reaction. She flushed red.
‘I’ve never heard of such a foolish tale! It sounds like some sort of yarn from a boys’ adventure annual. I think Maxwell has more than enough on his plate without you bringing up such a story. If you have any sense at all, or sensitivity, you’ll drop it.’
I was offended and puzzled by her response, and the remaining ten minutes of conversation were strained. I was relieved when she gathered her gloves and stood up to go.
I watched her leave the house, putting up her parasol. Her cornflower-blue frock was a bright contrast to her blonde curls. As I thought about her strangely angry reaction to my mention of the tunnels, I had the irrational feeling that she was afraid. But what would Violet Bydrenbaugh possibly have to fear? For a second, I saw the Bindi-eye Man of my dream as I watched the colour of her dress. His voice echoed in my head as I saw again the seaweed, crabs and dead fish encrusted on his body. I heard his imperious, deep, clawing, pincer, salt-filled, nightmare voice. Save yourself.
Ghosts
Pencubitt, present day
Sadie kissed Jackie on the cheek before turning to Jack. As relieved as she was that they were leaving, it was hard to say goodbye.
Betty clung to her father and Jack himself was close to tears. ‘Visit us in your next break, pumpkin,’ he said. ‘I’ll send you a ticket. If you want to bring that friend of yours, I’ll pay for her too. And her brother.’ Betty squealed with excitement as Sadie shot him a look. She didn’t want Jack making promises he had no intention of honouring. And he hadn’t bothered to check with her first about Betty going to Sydney.
Sadie had been surprised when Jack turned up at Poet’s Cottage on Sunday announcing that he and Jackie were leaving the following morning. At first he said they were heading back because Jackie needed to return for work, but then he admitted that Jackie was too afraid to stay in Pencubitt.
‘I know it’s ridiculous,’ he said. ‘The bloody old gramophone starting up freaked her out. She reckons the place is haunted and the “energy” wants us all out. Sadie, I think there’s something weird about this house, don’t you? Maybe not haunted, just something not right.’
‘Jack, I think you need to take a break and go on your cruise,’ Sadie teased. ‘Next, you’ll be consulting a psychic.’ Although Sadie shared his trepidation, there was no way she wanted Jack to change his mind about taking Betty back to Sydney.
‘Anyway, you’re doing a great job as always, Sadie. Betty looks so well. I was worried when she first contacted me but I can see she has settled into Tasmanian life. I just hope we didn’t disrupt you too much. Promise me that if you need me for anything, you’ll get in touch. I mean it, promise?’ He glanced at the house as he spoke and Sadie felt a twinge of anxiety at the concern in his eyes.
‘Don’t worry, Jack,’ she said with more confidence than she felt. ‘I promise we’ll contact you, and don’t forget that Thomasina is living out the back. It’s good for Betty to get to know her relatives.’ Even if that relative is a bit loopy, she felt like adding.
Jack’s expression plainly said that Thomasina was one of the things he was concerned about, but he only said, ‘It’s a beautiful house. I can see why you like it, though I still say there’s something creepy about it.’
‘Jack, you have got to stop watching those old horror films,’ Sadie teased him, trying to lighten the mood.
As she watched Jack and Jackie drive off, Sadie almost thought the house sighed with relief. Was she losing her mind, thinking her house had emotions? Betty stood beside Sadie with her head bowed before announcing she was going to see Thomasina. Sadie’s heart sank as she watched Betty walk down the side of the house, her shoulders stooped. The separation hadn’t been easy for anybody but Betty had suffered most of all. To discover your beloved parents still loved each other but didn’t want to live together anymore was a complex thing to deal with. Sadie wasn’t sure she could even understand it herself. Despite everything, a large part of her heart belonged to Jack. Yes, he had betrayed her with Jackie, but he was the father of her child. He had been with her through financial struggle, writing success and failure, medical problems and buying their first house. He would always be a part of her – most importantly, because he had been the first person to witness Betty’s arrival into the world, as Sadie had been too drowsy from the pain relief to comprehend what was happening.
Sadie wasn’t sure how she felt about her daughter’s burgeoning relationship with her aunt. Thomasina seemed so crazy, and it had been disconcerting for Sadie to hear that she herself wasn’t welcome at the
tiny house. ‘She’s only invited me,’ Betty made a point of saying. However, Sadie didn’t feel she could discourage their friendship; she’d always wished Betty had more relatives. Jack was an only child with elderly parents, while due to Marguerite’s reticence Sadie knew virtually nothing about her family. She should have been delighted about Betty’s new bond with Thomasina, but found herself hoping her daughter had the sense to listen to her instincts and not take the old woman’s ravings too seriously. Thomasina was obviously still traumatised by what she had witnessed as a child, and mental instability had flowered in the family tree. Sadie didn’t like to think too much in that direction.
It was going to be a scorcher. Bushfire warnings sounded all morning over the radio. She would keep herself as busy as possible to avoid mulling over Jack’s unexpected exit. She was juggling two articles, both near deadline, and resolved to spend the morning finishing them. Deciding she needed some added motivation to get them done by midday, she phoned Maria to see if she was available for a girls’ lunch. ‘Nothing fancy, but I can throw some fish and salad together.’
‘Sounds good.’ Maria was as enthusiastic as ever. ‘I’ll bring the wine and get some of that divine homemade pistachio ice-cream from the Silver Starfish. You go and finish those articles now so we can really relax!’
As a peace offering, Sadie then rang Gracie. Getting her voicemail, she left an invitation and then hung up, wondering if Gracie would come. She really did seem to have overreacted to Gary’s rejection. Surely she knew he wasn’t interested in her? He already had a girlfriend and Gracie wasn’t his type. Besides, after what Sadie had recently discovered about Gary she felt Gracie was better off without him. Sadie had enjoyed the flamboyant Gracie’s company. If only she could make Gracie listen to reason and stop her jealous, twisted thinking about her and Gary.
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