Lizzie's Tale

by Graham Wilson

  Chapter 14 – The Past Comes to Haunt

  A couple weeks after Catherine turned six a man walked into Lizzie’s café in Broome. It was early in the morning, just after eight o’clock. Catherine started school at eight, and Lizzie had just returned from the ten minute round walk to take her there. She left Catherine at the last corner, a hundred yards from the school gate. Catherine always wanted to walk the last bit with her friends, without grown-ups.

  After coming back Lizzie made herself a cup of tea and a slice of toast. She set to finishing last night’s tidying, resetting the tables for breakfasts and morning teas. Alice was tidying in the kitchen and a new girl called Lucy was due in at nine. She had this part of the restaurant to herself though the kitchen door was open. A knock on the door came, then without waiting for an answer, a tall man walked in. At first it was hard to make him out with the light behind him.

  He clearly knew Lizzie. He said, “Well hello Lizzie, I wonder if you remember me? It is many years since I last saw you in Sydney.”

  She knew him at once, despite the years. This image was burnt into her brain. She could never forget him.

  He went on to introduce himself, even though they both knew it was unnecessary. As if from a great distance, Lizzie watched as he went through an initial ritual of politeness. He said his name was Dan Ashcroft. He now was a manager for a Mr Martin Wallis, who she also knew. Mr Wallis had a firm, Newcastle Transport, which he had started as a spinoff from his father’s shipping business. It provided transport and machinery supplies across Australia, beginning in New South Wales but in the last two years it had opened new offices across the rest of Australia, first in Melbourne and Brisbane, now here in the west, based in Perth.

  He was in Broome because their firm supplied heavy machinery to the mining companies of the Kimberley. The firm was now establishing a Broome office which he would run. He smiled a broad smile, like he felt that he was a long lost friend who she should welcome.

  He said that, before he had come to Broome, he had seen her face in a brochure that had been sent to him, when based in Sydney, as part of a package of information about other services in this town. The Department of Regional Development sent to this information to all prospective businesses who wanted to open an office here.

  He had recognised her instantly. He had also shown it to his other good friends Martin and Will to trigger their pleasant memories of having known her very closely in the distant past.

  Lizzie tried to keep her face bland and show nothing, though her insides were churning. Alice, who sensed Lizzie was busy, stayed in the kitchen and now closed the door. Seeing this some of her visitor’s politeness slid away, though a veneer of snake like charm stayed.

  He continued, “It is nice to be able to talk in private. In fact Martin and your other good friend Will are both to be in town next week and they also are looking forward, so much, to renewing this very close acquaintance with you. It is such a long time since that night at Nielsen Park when we all enjoyed your company so much, much too long ago.

  “But,” and he paused significantly, “the thing we really thought you should know, the real icing on the cake is that we have a new business partner, one Jack Mackenzie, who operates the Melbourne office of our business. He was visiting our Sydney office at the time when I showed Martin the brochure with your picture.

  “When Jack saw this picture you should have seen his face. I swear he got quite excited. He looked at your brochure and said, ‘Well I be; Little Lizzie has shown her face once more. What a delightful thing she is. I had the pleasure of knowing her in Melbourne when she was a prostitute in St Kilda; she had a little baby then, so I was obviously not the first to taste her charms, Luscious Lizzie they called her.

  ‘But then, one day, she vanished. No one knew where she had gone. Pity because Social Security had issued an order for her baby’s adoption. I thought this might give the brat half a chance of a decent life. But she was gone and no one could find her, despite best endeavours. I even wrote to Lizzie’s mother, whose address I had, outlining my concerns for her daughter and granddaughter’s welfare in a house of ill repute, but she never replied.

  ‘So now she has turned up on the other side of the country, just where we want to start our new office. How about I come along, with you all, to your Broome office’s opening next month? We will all enjoy reacquainting ourselves with Luscious Lizzie. I, for one, can’t wait.’

  Dan continued. “So, as a result of Jack knowing you too, we changed our plans. Initially it was just to be me and Martin hosting next week’s opening. Instead, now, all of four of us will come to town, particularly to meet our long lost friend. We will all come here to meet you by yourself next Tuesday, the night after the others arrive and the day before our grand office opening party.

  “I promise you, we will make it a night to remember for us all, you especially. Not only will we get the chance to sample Lizzies Luscious Luxuries but we are all looking forward, even more, to sampling Luscious Lizzie herself. I promise you will have an even better night than the one you enjoyed with us in the park all those years ago. This time it will be shared between you and four of us not three.

  “Today’s visit is just a courtesy call. I just wanted to ensure you are expecting us and are available. If you like I will make a reservation for our future pleasure. I am happy to book a table for the evening or, if you prefer, we can make a booking for your exclusive services for the whole night, if you prefer a formal arrangement. In fact, now we are all well-off business men we are happy to you pay well for these services, knowing that this is the way you now do business; money paid for services rendered. Or we can just turn up if you prefer?”

  With a parting wave, he walked out the door. Half way out he paused. “Don’t think about running away again, or trying some other lame excuse. Before I came here I called to your daughter’s school, classes were about to start. Very trusting they are here.

  “I told the teachers that I knew you from Sydney, I had just arrived and had yet to get a chance to meet you, but was seeking directions. They introduced me to your lovely daughter, such a sweet little girl, called Catherine. She told me exactly where to come. I would really hate for her and all her friends to find out about your life in Melbourne or, even worse, for something to happen to your delightful child. I hear small towns can be dangerous places.” He was gone.

  Lizzie had not opened her mouth, but she knew her carefully built life had just come apart. At first, when she recognised him, she had felt terror for her own life, along with rising shame and humiliation for what they had done to her.

  But, when he threatened her daughter, a burning rage grew alongside this. For herself she could bear this shame, but the threat made to her daughter’s life was different.

  She knew that Elena’s Alec kept a gun and she knew where it was. She had never shot a gun, but had seen others do so and it looked easy. In her mind, in a place of flaming rage, she conceived a plan to get that gun and shoot him from behind as he walked down the street, waiting until night fell and no one could see her.

  But then, as her rational brain regained control, she knew it was futile. On next week’s aeroplane came these other three men. Killing one was not enough. The others would know it was her, they knew exactly what Dan’s intentions were, not that they would admit their role or motives. So, even if she escaped their attentions or vengeance, she would end up spending her life in gaol, losing her child regardless. Then her daughter, as well, would be at the mercy of these people.

  She tried to think of other choices. Could she tell Elena or other friends? They might believe her, but for the story to make sense she would have to tell all. The telling would spread the shame to Catherine, living in this small town, her mother a whore, she a bastard.

  They all believed she had a dead husband and a legitimate child. She had often thought of inviting her mother to visit, but knew, if she did this, the lie could not be sustained. So, over her years in Broome,
while she sent her mother money and occasional letters, she refrained from giving her details of where she lived and what she did. She did this to avoid her mother making direct contact lest, in doing so, Lizzie’s secret would out.

  Now she knew, despite her attempts to keep it secret, the story of her real life in Melbourne had been passed to her mother. No wonder those occasional letters from her mother had been guarded and less than warm; she had thought the reserve came from her running away rather than trusting in her mother to help. Perhaps it was also that her mother trying to protect her.

  But until now this town had believed her to be a respectable woman, someone who could hold her head high. And now this man was promising to tell all about this other life, shout it from the rooftops, or worse still, to hurt her girl if she did not give him what he wanted. She knew she could not live with herself if she gave in to them and gave them her body, but she could not fight them either, not in this small town. All these thoughts passed through her head in a minute while she stood there, silent.

  She looked around her; the world of this quiet town was unchanged. Alice continued to bustle in the kitchen. But her own world had just crumbled, she had nowhere to go and no other choices but to run again, to get into her car and drive away, taking her small and perplexed daughter with her, ripped from security and friendship yet again.

  She could feel hopeless frustration welling up. Why did it always have to end this way? Why was she destined to have every precious friendship and every place of security torn away, what had she done to deserve this? She had fled from Sydney; she fled from Melbourne; now she must run away again, this time from here to who knows where.

  She could feel her body and mind trembling inside, shaking with fatigue from this endless fighting, raging against man, raging at god, evil or whatever it was. It was all too hard. For just a second she sat down. She laid her head against the checked tablecloth. She could feel tears in her eyes and starting to flow down her cheeks. She could not do it anymore.

  Should she just swallow her pride, accept her status as a fallen woman and let these men have their way and win? Her life would be easier. But that was no choice, not only would it destroy her from the inside, but where would it leave Catherine, living with her mother’s status demeaned, the butt of schoolyard jokes.

  So she must keep running, her only choice was to go somewhere even further away, where no one would seek her. She remembered, from a childhood story, that Jesus had gone to the desert; it was his last escape before they killed him. She sensed this was to become her last escape too.

  So now, without delay, before this man returned or his friends came too, she must leave this town and drive away, a running coward, going to the desert because there was nowhere else she could think of where she and her daughter might be safe.