Up for Air

Kelly’s a petite blonde, but she seems smaller, more fragile today. She swings away abruptly, brushes blonde hair off her cheek and straightens her shoulders. Cath is a classic beauty with a long silver ponytail tied high on her head. She used to be called… Swany! That was it. Once I’d met the ‘ugly duckling sisters’, the old nick name made sense.

‘Chin up, girl.’ I nestle Kelly’s other arm in mine. Cath’s dark suit is worlds away from her usual flamboyant style. We’re all somberly dressed today and deep in thought as we traipse to the car.

My mind wanders, back to that weird night… gathering debris…

… ‘Augh,’ an agonizing wail strangles out. My head jerks off the pillow. I peer into the black and wonder if it is one of my guests. I listen. Palm fronds rustle and the sweet scent of star jasmine wafts through the window of my bayside cottage. I stretch my restless legs out and roll onto my side.

‘Augh,’… another raw cry is cut short by the silence. My hand springs up towards the light switch but recoils in pain.

‘No matter,’ I utter. I often navigate the pitch black to nick to the bathroom or grab a glass of water. I slide out of my bed and wade through the dark house easily, until I smack into Cath.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.’ Cath inhales a sob.

My eyes adjust. Moonlight filters through the kitchen window. My finger lurks, hovering near the light switch.

‘M…me?’ I stutter. ‘What are you blubbering about?’ Cath’s eyes gleam out from under long strands of wild silvery hair. Her determined fingers are pressing her temples. ‘Why are you squeezing your head like a mad thing?’

‘To stop my brain exploding…. Sophie… I think… I’ve made a terrible mistake.’ She groans at me.

‘What?’

‘I should never have agreed to waive the cooling off period on the house.’

‘We warned you not to buy in Tasmania… so far away from everyone.’

‘I know... really… I’m an idiot. What have I done?’

‘What has changed? Earlier this evening… you were happy, weren’t you? I mean, we had misgivings, but you were celebrating buying on Bruny Island...’

‘It’s cold and it’s not insulated…. It’s a tiny island off the arse of Tasmania. And the bloody house is too small. It’s a match box. None of my furniture will fit inside...’

Bright radiance floods the kitchen. Cath and I jump and our heads almost bump. I blink rapidly and squint at the light.

‘Why the hell are you two cowering in the dark?’ But Kelly’s too agitated.

‘God, I can’t sleep. Bloody Phil’s texting me all night. My brother says that he’s finished. He’s had enough, he’s going to end it all.’ Kelly squawks at us, her hands flying up to illustrate her frustration and then with a loud sigh, both arms drop and her shoulders droop.

‘You know, Phil said his ex- boyfriend, Ray, works for the F.B.I. Apparently Ray has kept a dossier on Phil’s drug habit and his fling with a younger guy… that sort of thing.’

‘But he beat poor Phil up… And weren’t they on a break when he had that fling?’ I narrow my eyes.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ Cath agrees. ‘And doesn’t Phil have that photo of Ray smoking a crack pipe? Surely that can’t be a good look for an agent.’ She grimaces. ‘Can’t he just threaten the bastard back?’

‘Yes, but Ray’s a master of manipulation. He is a lot like my gas-lighter ex-husband. That bastard bled me dry.’ Kelly mutters, ‘Anyhow, Phil needs some sort of therapy.’

‘Exactly,’ I sigh and Cath nods too.

‘Hmm… it’s just all… it’s such an ugly mess. He keeps saying, “it’s all over…I want to die.” I’m trying to talk him into admitting himself. Other-wise, he’ll be dragged off to the psych wing kicking and screaming.’ Kelly swallows in distress.

Moments pass with all of us reflecting on Phil’s desperate state of mind, before suspicion sparks in Kelly’s bright blue eyes. She focuses on Cath and then on me and then back on Cath.

‘Anyway. It’s two o’clock in the morning. Why the hell are you pair up?’ She demands.

‘Cath’s upset about the new house.’ I hesitate. ‘She thinks… she thinks she’s made a huge mistake.’

‘Really? Well, you did everything I told you not to do. You paid your deposit. There’s money in play now.’ Concern, laced with frustration, creases Kelly’s brow. ‘Why on earth would you do such a daft thing?’

Cath sniffs and clasps her hands together. ‘The real estate woman said it was okay. She vouched for the vendor’s integrity, but she’s a lying cow. The walls and roof aren’t insulated, and there’s no heating in the floor. The building inspection states clearly; there’s nothings there.’

‘Get written quotes on insulation costs. It’ll be your leverage out of the contract. Either that or she’ll have to honor the agreement…. I think.’ Kelly’s baffled. ‘I don’t understand you, Cath… Why?’

‘I guess… I got carried away. Bruny Island’s unique… there’s white wallabies and little dead seahorses wash up on the beach…’ Cath’s attempt to explain falls flat.

‘Don’t snow white boomer me.’ Kelly hiccups a laugh. ‘If I hear one more word about little horsey corpses washing up, I’ll scream.’

Cath wipes sweat off her forehead with a serviette. ‘At least it’s cool.’ She mumbles. Then, slyly nods towards me. She’s aware my inability to say no, grates on Kelly’s nerves.

In a thinly veiled diversion tactic she points out, ‘Sophie’s been overdoing it, can’t lift her arm up over her shoulder… or even wash her own hair. I caught her wobbling around on the step ladder in a desperate effort to peg clothes on the line. Washing… shemozzle! When will Sophie learn not to offer assistance to people moving house or painting?’

Mouth open, I glare at Cath.

‘I don’t offer. People, ask…’

No one even acknowledges my lie.

‘Oh. God… life’s a circus.’ Kelly scowls.

‘And the boat house is sinking.’ I squawk. It’s totally out of the blue but true. The yellow boathouse, that had drawn me to buy here so long ago, was going for a dip in the Bay.

‘And… there’s Kelly’s ninety-nine-year plan. You’ll be ankle deep in the grave before you can retire.’ Cath laughs at her.

Kelly shrugs. ‘You…you’ve just bought a house, on an island, off an island, in the coldest state in Australia. My fifty-year-old gay brother is suicidal after breaking up from a relationship imbued in domestic violence. Sophie is physically falling apart… and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. This is a house of trauma….’ Kelly states emphatically.

We stare at each other… Cath the councilor, Kelly the lawyer and Sophie the Artist. ‘Life really ought to be much easier in our golden girl years?’ I grumble in disgust.

‘We’re all cracking up.’ Cath complains.

Kelly’s laugh is more manic squeal, bordering on hysteria but before long all three of us are staggering around, clutching our bellies, with tears trailing down our cheeks.

It’s the house of bloody trauma, thing. Every time one of us gains a modicum of control, we look at each other and erupt all over again. A volcanic burst of weeping, hysterical laughter.

I remember that night so clearly because, not long afterwards, everything went to hell.

After a costly legal battle, Cath finally wriggled out of the Bruny Island contract. She ended up buying a far more suitable place, closer to her family and friends.

And sadly, Phil ended up committing suicide. Despite Kelly admitting him to hospital, her interfering older sister helped Phil discharge himself. She’s a barrister and didn’t want the social standing of the family tainted. Kelly’s sister dropped Phil back at his home and, later that night, he hung himself in his work shed.

Cath swings into the driveway of her new home at Lake Conjola Park. It’s a bungalow on the crest of a hill, boasting views of the lake.

I’m jerked back to reality.

‘Isn’t the house lovely. Only one street back from the water.’ I enthuse and Kelly agrees. Proud as punch, Cath does the tour.

‘God. I need a drink.’ Kell opens the fridge. The champagne pops with a satisfying fizz.

‘Grab the ice bucket and let’s drink in the view too.’ Cath leads the way out to the verandah. Dry lightning flashes on the horizon. A hot wind billows the shade sail above us.

‘I think my brother’s funeral went well today.’ Kelly blurts out, as she sinks onto colorful cushions.

Cath and I sneak a glance at each other and our eyebrows raise in unison. It was awful, a horrid day and a relief to whisk Kelly away from the cast of accusing eyes, everyone wanting to assign blame on one and other. It was such a cold, sterile atmosphere, almost unnatural.

Kelly riffles through her bag. ‘Hang on. You know Jeff? The tall Kiwi? He was more Ray’s friend, actually. Well… he slipped me an envelope at the service. He just said to me “I hope this helps.” And that it was wrong what happened to Phil.’

‘Oh, let’s see.’ I’m curious. She opens the envelope and slides out the contents.

‘It’s a little black book. I bet it’s Ray’s dossier on Phil.’ Kelly holds it out for us to read.

Our heads are bent over the small moleskin black book. We’re captivated, studying the illicit contents.

The book is obviously old and worn, and some of the pages are turned over at the edge. The newest pages show Ray’s name and occupation are circled in red.

‘Funny FBI Agent… Ray’s a fraud. He’s nothing more than an airport security guard.' Cath snorts a thin spray of champagne. ‘It’s not just about Phil. Ray’s done this before.’

‘Look here; there’s seven other guys’ names and addresses. Four in the UK and three here. Phil’s name is on the bottom of the list with two million dollars crossed out and four million dollars is underlined next to it.’ I feel like throwing up.

‘I think this is his little black book… of how much he’s inherited from these men.’ Cath spits out angrily.

‘Hey, Phil’s name and the one before him, number three on the list, are both circled. It looks like number three died too. See, it’s the same thing. He got the full amount. Ray intimidates, bullies and blackmails. The poor buggers think they don’t stand a chance in hell because he works for the FBI.’ Kelly gasps.

‘Now we have his little black book. Good luck to him fleecing Phil’s estate!’ Cath barks.

‘What a nightmare.’ Kell raises her glass. ‘Here’s to darling Phil. And only one more day and we say bye- bye to the year from hell.’

‘Yes, it’s been one thing after another. Hurry up, 2020. We are going to have the best year ever.’ I vow.

I think, at least with that bastard, Ray, out of the picture, Kelly’s financial woes will be solved. She’ll inherit two million dollars and, despite her grief over losing Phil, our mood remains determinedly optimistic. We toast to happier days and maintain a bright anticipation for the new year before retiring to bed.

I often have difficulty sleeping in strange houses, but I fall into a deep sleep and wake the next morning. I cough and clear my sore throat, bleary eyes peer through a thin haze. Oh no. Am I coming down with the something? Holy cow, I smell smoke. I lurch out of bed and dart outside. Cath and Kelly are there already, gaping up at the sky. A grey cloak with an orange sheen, the air is thick with smoke and white ash flowers cover the lawn.