Cold Deception (8 page)

Julia peered into the shop and tried to stop the rising tide of panic in her gut. Not because she was about to enter an enclosed space with lots of other people, but because for the first time in ten years she wanted to buy some clothes. Specifically the gorgeous royal blue sweater in the front window. She hadn’t been into a shop since the disaster in the newsagency a few days ago, but was determined not to let that experience cripple her need for a normal life.

Instead of downtown Katoomba, she decided to check out Leura. Prosperous and much more middle class than most areas of the upper mountains, people either loved it for its small, village atmosphere, or hated it for its chi-chi pandering to the tourist market.

Julia loved it, but had to admit that in the ten years since she’d last been there Leura had become even more prosperous. More cafes, more up-market designer shops, more out-of-towners window shopping, ready to spend their money.

The famous cherry blossoms planted down the center of the main street were winter bare, but Julia realized with a burst of delight she’d be there to see them bloom in October when they dropped their petals on the crowds at the Garden Festival.

Immediately, a terrible stab of guilt pushed its way into her mind. She knew she was lucky. Lucky to have no real money worries, no panic and fear about where her next meal would come from or where she could live. Unlike Nessa and most women who were newly released from jail, she had support. She could buy new clothes and not have to scrounge through the bargain table at the Salvos or apply for food vouchers. The worst experience she could have was rudeness and scorn, and that had already happened. She’d lived through it and would again.

Pushing away the guilt, she took in a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and opened the glass door. The woman behind the counter smiled at her and resumed reading the paper. There were a couple of other women browsing through clothes. So far so good.

She spied a range of sweaters and other knitted tops and started to go through them. The royal blue one she wanted wasn’t there. As she continued looking, a loud ringing squawk broke the serenity of the shop. The noise was coming from her bag.

In a panic, she slipped the bag off her shoulder and started fumbling through it trying to get to the cell phone. Finally she found it then stared at it in terror. She had no idea what to do next. She hadn’t owned a cell phone before she went to jail. It kept ringing in a dreadful cacophony then stopped. Her heart was beating so hard she was certain the other women in the shop could hear it.

“New phone?” said one of the women near her.

She nodded not able to speak.

“I’m the same. Every time I get a new one it takes me weeks to work out how to use it.”

As Julia stared at her, the phone bleeped once, making her jump.

“What does that mean?” she asked the woman.

“I guess you have a message,” she said, growing curiosity on her face. “Do you know how to retrieve it?”

Julia shook her head.

“Here. Let’s see if I can work it out.”

Julia handed her the phone. The woman frowned at it. “I know how to work this one. You press this to listen to your messages, and this one to answer the phone.”

She gave the phone back to Julia who wanted to hug her.

“Thanks. Technology’s not my thing.”

“Me either. I just want it to work.” The woman smiled at her and went back to browsing through the racks of clothes.

Julia’s heart settled. She could do this.

The sales assistant sidled up to her. “Can I help you with anything?”

Julia whirled around to her. “Yes. I was looking for that sweater in the window.”

The sales assistant’s eyes widened. “Sure,” she said, tripping over her words. “I’ll, um, I… think we have some out the back.”

Julia frowned. Something had spooked her. Moving over to the front counter to look at the earrings, Julia’s gaze fell on the local paper. A ten-year-old picture of her was on the front page with a screaming headline: ‘Murderer returns to the scene of her crime.’

The air whooshed out of her lungs. She hadn’t expected this, but she should have. With shaking hands she lifted the paper and read. It was bad, but not as bad as it could’ve been. The article didn’t call for her to be run out of town. A brief recitation of the facts of Father Pat’s murder and the subsequent revelation of his pedophile activities. There was a mention of Eleanor and Dee. No mention of Blossom. That was good.

She put the paper down and made for the door, aware of all eyes on her.

“Don’t go,” said the woman who helped her.

She turned to her, trying to control the shaking.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” the woman said.

The other woman in the shop averted her head and quickly left, just as the sales assistant returned.

“Sorry. The one in the window is the only one we have and I don’t think it’s your size,” she said in a rush.

“Really?” said the woman as she held up the sweater Julia wanted. “What’s this?”

“Okay, that’s fine. I’ve changed my mind,” Julia muttered and again made for the door. When she got outside, she stood still and closed her eyes only to find the helpful woman had followed her out.

“Are you okay?” she said.

Julia nodded. Opening her eyes she smiled ruefully at her. “Have to get used to it if I want to stay here. I guess it might get better.”

The woman shook her head and frowned. “That was disgraceful. I’m not going to shop there again unless that woman apologizes to you.”

Julia stared at her. She was about Julia’s age, well dressed with expensive jewelry and perfect hair.

“You know who I am?”

The woman nodded. “I recognized you as soon as you walked in.”

Julia sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t think I could’ve afforded it anyway.”

“That’s not the point. You shouldn’t be treated like that.”

Julia felt tears in her eyes. First Mel, now this unknown woman.

“Come on, let’s get some coffee. I need some after all that. I’m Larissa.”

Larissa ushered her into a nearby cafe and ordered coffee. She fixed Julia with a stern eye and frowned. “Has this happened a lot?”

Julia shrugged. “A bit. I just need to get used to it. I’m not going anywhere so it will eventually die down.”

Larissa sipped her coffee and brooded. “What are your plans?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you going to work? Study? What?”

“I’m going to fix up my mother’s house and finish my qualifications in painting and decorating. I’d like to do more in interior design.”

Larissa brightened. “You can draw? Paint? Are you any good? What am I saying? You’re Eleanor Taylor’s daughter.”

Julia laughed. “I’ve got the gene. So has my sister Blossom. She wants to design buildings while I want to design what goes in them.”

She hadn’t thought about it before in those terms, but that’s exactly how it had worked out. Even as a child Blossom mucked around building and drawing elaborate structures while she’d always created her own unique spaces. Eleanor had encouraged both of them, training them to look at the world through the eyes of an artist.

Larissa fished in her bag and drew out a card.

“When you get yourself organized, come and show me some of your work. I’m always looking for new designers.”

New Concept Designs, the card read. Julia smiled at her. “You don’t know me. You don’t know if I’m any good.”

Larissa shrugged. “If you’re not, I’ll tell you. I’m a business woman first and foremost. I don’t do charity, so make sure what you show me is your best.”

She stared levelly at Julia. There was no pity or curiosity in her eyes, just normal regard. Julia realized it was a look she hadn’t experienced from anyone in quite a few years.

“Okay. I’ll contact you. Thanks.”

She sipped her coffee and watched Larissa. Most people would see her as a typical Leura matron, well dressed to display a comfortable but not too ostentatious level of wealth. Her jewelry was gold and heavy which suited her blonde hair and gray-green eyes.

As she lifted her hand to push her glossy hair off her forehead, Julia noticed some pale scars under the wide band of her bracelet. She knew what they meant. She had some of her own.

Larissa noticed where her gaze rested and smiled ruefully. “We all have our demons,” she said as she grasped the bracelet and twisted it back and forth around her wrist.

“I’m sorry,” Julia said. “None of my business.”

Larissa shrugged. “The result of bad choices and self-delusion. I let a man get to me when I was at a low point in my life. How many times have you heard that story, eh? Boring.” She waved her hand in front of her face as if to push away her pain. “Now tell me some more about your plans for the future. That’s much more interesting.”

Julia smiled at the other woman. Demons hovered around both of them but kept away, at least for a while.

*

Julia’s encounter with Larissa energized her. All her embryonic plans, half thought out and tentative, sharpened into focus. She raced home and dragged out art books and magazines, pouring through them and making notes.

Cushion covers, wallpaper, furniture designs, everything swirled through her head as she doodled and drew, wanting to get her ideas on paper as soon as possible. She wanted rich, jewel colors for furnishings in a stark minimalist room.

Sprawled on the floor with books, paper and magazines in front of her, she dimly registered the light was fading. It was getting late and she was the only one home.

Wandering into the kitchen, she decided it was time for her to take some responsibly for cooking something for dinner instead of expecting Eleanor or Dee to wait on her. With a pang she remembered Blossom. She would be out of hospital in a few days and would need to be looked after. Still determined not to go to rehab, she would be fragile.

Julia opened the fridge and inspected the contents. She could make tuna and parsley pasta with some toasted pine nuts and a touch of lemon juice.

No lemons.

The shadows where lengthening but there was enough light for her to walk up to Leura to the supermarket. If she was lucky, there might be a lemon on someone’s tree she could nick. She snickered. No, maybe not such a good idea.

Grabbing her bag, she scribbled a hasty note telling Eleanor and Dee not to cook, that she had it under control, and headed for the door.

It was a beautiful evening. The sun still touched the top of the trees and the birds swooped in the air preparing for night. It was cold, but clear and brisk. Just how she liked it.

As she walk down Leura Mall, she tried to identify the feeling growing inside her and with a laugh realized it was happiness. One conversation with a kind person was all it took to transform her mood. Part of her, the hyper-vigilant prison inmate, told her it couldn’t last and to watch out for the next kick in the guts. But just now, at sunset with a crimson parrot swooping in front of her, she let herself dream.

She told herself later her dream state was why she didn’t notice the gray four-wheel drive slide up beside her and Randle with one of his mates bound up to her. They grabbed her by her arms and before she could even react, had her bundled into the back seat with a hood over her head. Far too late she tried to scream and struggle, only to find herself jammed tight in the space between the front and back seats.

“Don’t try anything,” the disembodied voice of Randle muttered. “We won’t hurt you if you’re a good girl. Someone just wants a word with you.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did this have to happen? She thought they understood she didn’t want anything to do with them or their fucked up ‘business interests.’

She briefly tried to struggle but stopped when Randle slapped her head. The sting was just enough to quieten her.

Soon she sensed by the change of light filtering through her hood and from the noise of the four-wheel drive they were entering an enclosed space, heading down a hill. Maybe a driveway? Underground? The car stopped. She was dragged out by Randle and hit her shin on the corner of the door. The pain slammed into her making her cry out and stumble.

“Sorry, love,” Randle said, pulling her forward. “Accidents happen.”

He pulled her forward into what felt like a narrow corridor. His mate was behind her pushing her when she stumbled again.

“Why are you doing this? I told you I don’t want anything to do with whatever O’Reardon does. I don’t care. He can sell drugs to whoever he wants. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” a deep, strangely attractive voice said. Her hood was pulled back and she found herself in a basement, probably at the bottom of the Chadbourne Hotel.

O’Reardon. He was a frequent visitor in her nightmares over the years. Always with the same charming smile and the movie star voice that would croon her into treacherous trust. Just at the point where she thought this time, maybe this time he’ll help me, he’ll get me out of here, he’d raise his fist and smash it toward her belly. She’d wake up gasping for breath, filled with white hot pain convinced he’d punched her again, just like he had that first night.

Just like he had in countless nights since then.

She stared at him trying to keep her limbs still, willing the sizzling sparks of fear racing through her blood to calm. He was a man who fed on fear. She couldn’t, wouldn’t make herself vulnerable to him again. She’d survived ten years of prison. She would survive whatever he dished up.

Without his police uniform, he was both older and more attractive. She could see why some of the women she did time with wanted not only the drugs he supplied but him as well. He was a powerful man, always an attractive trait to the powerless.

Reluctantly, she recalled a story one of her wing mates, Liz, told about him. They’d been hanging their clothes on the line. Nessa was there too. Julia had tried to shut Liz up but she didn’t get the message.

“Mate, he wanted me to give him a blowjob before he gave me any gear.”

Julia could still hear her cackling laughter, a cigarette between her lips.

“I made it the best one he ever got. Spent a great weekend holed up in the hotel of his in the mountains snorting ice and fucking. He was a bloody great ram. The bastard kicked me out on Monday morning on the dot. A prick but a great fuck. Good drugs too.”