Missing in never never l.., p.4
Missing in Never Never Land, page 4
She herself, no longer Susan but Emily, tried to keep separate from the Mark memories. But Mark had been a part of her life too; Vic would not be here without him. She needed to find a way to allow Vic to keep alive the good memories of his friend and for her to also find a way to think about him without it threatening her fragile peace of mind.
So she said. “I am not ready for you tell me stories about Mark yet. I know he was your friend and he was much more than that for Susan.
But I must keep myself in another place from that time, a place with only you, and not him. There is a danger for me in even thinking about him so I think it is better if I do not think or talk about him, perhaps one day I will be able to do so with affection and nothing more.”
Vic nodded; it was true, this story told of danger in his friend, a spirit which neither he nor others could control. He wished he had not spoken lest this man had the power to harm his Emily-Susan still.
On the first day together, the day after the trial, Emily made Vic show her his leg. She had examined it, doctor like, feeling the lump in the bone where healing was happening. She looked closely at the bend where the bones joined.
She said, in her best no nonsense manner, “Vic, tomorrow you must go to the hospital and make arrangements for that to be reset straight. Talk to Sandy, she knows people there and will ensure you get someone good to fix it.”
She could see Vic wanting to procrastinate. “I will, I just don’t want to stop being with you any time soon. Surely it can wait for a couple weeks.”
Emily shook her head, “No, the healing of the bone is well advanced. Each day it gets stronger and it will do more damage to reset. It needs to happen next week, sooner is better. You are too important to me to be left with a crippled leg. Please do it for me if you won’t do it for yourself.”
So, the next day, the Friday, Vic went to the hospital and met with the best orthopaedic surgeon. There was a gap in his surgery list for Monday so he was booked in. He would need to stay in hospital for two or three days after the surgery until they were happy that the incision site was not getting infected and would heal well. Then he would have to spend about a month on crutches until the reset bones, which would be joined with a metal plate, began to knit. But, if he followed directions fully, the surgeon said he was confident that, within three months, Vic’s leg would be as good as new.
Vic had never had an operation and felt nervous, but both Emily and Sandy, who had come along too, assured him it would seem like next to nothing for a man who had walked on a broken leg for hundreds of miles. In the end he held up his hands in surrender and it was all agreed.
So they had their four nights and the days in between them. It was too precious to waste. A couple times it was on the tip of Vic’s tongue to propose marriage; he loved this girl so totally.
But he decided he would get his leg fixed first. Then, once he could run and jump, he would bring her to stand next to the ocean and pick her up and carry her across the sand and into the milky sea. Then he would ask her the question.
Emily delighted in and returned his love. In her own mind their future together was sealed, she felt she had made this pact with God for his safe return, it had been her unspoken prayer for a month in her cell until the debris of his helicopter was found floating in the sea. Now, as he had been brought back to her, so must she give of herself and there was no trace of regret in the giving.
She had a vague awareness of something else, a Mark with a crocodile face, swirling through her darkest hour dreams. But the dreams would fade each new day and she was filled with delight as the sight of this man sharing her bed each morning when she awoke.
Chapter 6 - Hospital
All too soon Monday came around. They were told to go together to the hospital between eight and nine o’clock in the morning. Vic was ravenous when he woke, he had been eating double over the weekend and she could feel the hollowness of him refilling. However the doctor’s orders were clear, “nil by mouth” on this day.
So she played the policeman, enforcing the rule while he grimaced, pleading, “So Hungry.”
She returned her sweetest smile, “Tough, can’t the man who lived on lizards and frogs for months survive a few hours without breakfast of bacon and eggs. Don’t worry; I’ll have a double burger waiting when you wake.”
“So long as it is you holding it, I guess I can last that long,” he said.
All too soon the taxi was waiting downstairs. They packed light, a change of clothes in an overnight bag they found in the cupboard along with toothpaste and shampoo, and a couple novels from the bookshelf.
The hospital was familiar from her pregnancy visits and several of the nurses knew her by sight, now a minor celebrity. They waved and smiled. She was due for her own check up on Wednesday and hoped that would be the day that Vic was discharged. After filling in lots of forms they were taken to a private room and Vic was shown his bed. They settled in, both sitting on the bed, side by side.
The morning passed in a steady stream of visitors, Buck and Julie popped in to give best wishes, half an hour later it was Vic’s mother and sister, followed by her own parents and cousin, Ruth, who had stayed over the weekend and was flying back to Sydney tonight. Anne sent apologies; she, David, Sandy and Alan were tied up. So for half an hour she had a nice chat with her Mum, Dad and Ruth. She liked the way they had accepted Vic into her life, sensing this man’s importance to her.Then it was just them again. She could tell Vic was anxious, she thought it must be about the operation. She asked, “What is the matter? Are you scared about what they are going to do today?”
He shook his head, “No, not really, I just have this bad and anxious feeling in the back of my mind, as if everything since I came back and they let you out of prison is too good to be true. I wish I did not have to leave you, even for a few hours.”
She hugged herself to him, “Well I am here now and all is fine. So let us just keep enjoying what we have, one day at a time. I will stay here today until you wake up after the operation and I will come back each day until they let you out.”
A knock on the door came. It was a nurse with a sedative, saying it was now half an hour until he was taken to be prepped for surgery. Then they were left alone for the last half hour. Vic became dreamy and started to doze in bed. Susan sat next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder, willing all to go well. It seemed only a few minutes until the orderlies arrived with a trolley to take him to the theatre.
Susan walked alongside, holding his hand until the surgical theatre doors where she had to leave him. She gave him a last wave, and watched until the trolley turned the corner out of sight. She knew she needed more clothes, almost nothing she had fit her anymore. Last Friday her father had given her an envelope holding $1000 cash with this in mind. So for the next couple hours, while the surgery proceeded, she decided she would go to Casuarina Shopping Centre and buy a couple loose fitting dresses, that gave space for her babies, and some other bits and pieces, nothing too much, as in a month her shape would change back and her ordinary clothes would fit once again.
Outside a taxi was waiting and it brought her to the shops. She bought a cheap overnight bag and a selection of loose fitting things, two shapeless dresses with a floral pattern and a couple of tracksuits and T shirts for comfort, along with a pair of runners and some undies and socks. Then she indulged in a large ice cream. In sympathy for Vic she had skipped her own breakfast too. Now, with the babies taking a huge share, her blood sugar had fallen away and she was really hungry.
It was time to get back to the hospital; another taxi had her there in no time. Vic was in the theatre and they indicated it would be at least another hour before he was out and awake, but all was proceeding fine.
Emily went to the café and bought a plate of hot food and ate it, while she istracted herself with flicking through magazines to pass the time. They were all old editions. She was pleased, not wanting to take the chance of stumbling across herself in the pages.
She returned to the waiting room outside the theatre. Vic had just come into the recovery ward, the operation completed. It would be another half hour before he was recovered enough to come back to the ward and she could see him. The time passed with excruciating slowness but at last his trolley came out and she walked alongside his barely awake form. He would open his eyes and try and look around then drift back to sleep. She took his hand and held it and, when he looked her way, she gave him a reassuring smile.
In the room the nurse fussed around, checking his observations and saying, “As he comes to his leg is going to painful. I have a shot of fentanyl to give him for pain relief but it will keep him groggy for a few hours.
Vic opened his eyes. “You’re right, it does hurt big time, but at least this time I have a pretty girl to hold my hand and another to give me a jab to make it all float away. Last time it was just me and a huge crocodile for company, so this is definitely an improvement.”
They all laughed.
Then the nurse asked. “Ready for your jab now?”
Vic nodded, “You bet, anything to kill the pain. Christ my leg hurts.”
Soon it was done and the nurse left. At last it was just them. She took his hand, held it and stroked it. “I am so glad it is done and now I have you all to myself,” she said.
“Me too,” he said, fixing her with a boyish grin.
They sat for a while. Vic’s eyes kept closing, as he drifted off, but each time he would pull himself back, and look at her. Finally he said, “I need to keep looking at you, over and over, to convince myself you are real. Did I tell you I love you?”
She smiled back at him, “I think it is the first time but I guessed it, and I love you too.”
Then he said, “I think I would really like to be married to you.”
“Me too,” she said, “but I want you to ask me when you are properly awake, and not full of drugs, before I say yes.”
He nodded. Now it was as if he had set his mind to rest. He drifted off into a deep sleep.
Chapter 7 – No Escape from Evil
Emily sat there watching Vic sleep for a long time, her mind in a dreamy state of happiness. He was OK, he had asked her to marry him and even though it was in a befuddled state, she knew it was real. And she had as good as said yes, loving the idea of linking her life to this man, who made her smile inside every time he turned his warm brown eyes her way.
Finally she roused herself from the reverie. The outside light was fading. Vic would sleep for hours yet. She needed to go home, fix dinner and sleep herself.
It was her first night on her own, when not in prison, for longer than she could remember. She was happy it was so; she could go and have a meal with her parents, or Anne and David, or even Alan, Sandy, Buck or Julie. All were her friends; all had invited her and would be delighted to hear she was available. But, nice as that thought was, this was a night for her and her alone, the first tiny step towards getting on with her own life outside. She needed to face that world again, not as Susan but as Emily. She must face it with her head held high in her new-old identity.
She walked through the foyer, passing alongside the café. She saw newspapers for sale. She could not remember how long it was since she had sat and read a newspaper or watched the TV news – months and months. On impulse she picked one up, not even looking at the cover. She passed the money over to the man at the counter before putting the newspaper into her overnight bag.
She felt tired as she sat into the taxi, feeling in her shoulders the tension which she must have held inside herself on Vic’s account. The babies were getting heavy and pressing down and she could feel her ankles were puffy.
Soon she was inside the flat on her own. She put on the kettle and made some toast, feeling suddenly flat, tired and very alone. Part of her wished she had gone somewhere for dinner, someone else to fill the empty space with conversation would have been nice along with a hot ready cooked meal. She knew she could still ring and do it; someone would call round to collect her. But her back was aching, there was a headache at the edge of her consciousness and overall she was really tired from an unaccustomed day of walking around.
No, she would just have her tea and toast, stretch out on the couch, read the paper and maybe watch a bit of TV as she fell asleep. Tomorrow was a new day. She could get organised then.
She pulled out the paper to read, placed a cushion at one end of the couch for her head, lay down and stretched out. She picked the paper up but she could not keep eyes open. She fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
She woke up thirsty. The clock on the mantel said the time was after eleven at night. She had slept for four hours. The room felt oppressive. She had not turned the air conditioner on. It was hot and stuffy. But it was more than that, there was some portent of doom pushing into her mind, like the crocodile spirit was seeking to return.
She went to the sink and filled a glass of tepid water, sipping it with distaste. She was filled with anxiety, source unknown. She picked up the paper, thinking reading may distract her. The front page was some boring story of a prime minister’s announcement, pure poly speak.
She turned to page three. Her face jumped out at her. She looked at the caption. It read “Two Faces of Susan Emily McDonald.”
Below were two photos, one of a bookish looking school girl in uniform, captioned “Emily”. It must have been a final year high school photo when she was studying hard to get good grades. The second, “Susan” was a typical party girl photo, her in a skimpy bikini, on a holiday, drink in hand, flaunting her body and exuding sex appeal, one of those half drunken snaps on a friend’s camera, taken up close and showing way too much body with almost nothing to cover it.
Off to the side of those photos was one taken on the day she walked from court, was it only last week, her face sedate but dazed looking – she remembered that numb relief feeling.
The story continued. “Who is the real Susan Emily McDonald? Is she studious and serious Emily, the model pupil with butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth manners? Or is she the wild and raunchy party girl, Susan, known to give it out to many men in wild parties?
“We don’t know all their names as she cut swathes through the social circles of London and Sydney. But there was Edward, budding business entrepreneur, son of a powerful stockbroker, dumped when she got bored. Then there was Mark, aka Vincent Mark Bassingham, the NT man from nowhere, who she fed to the crocodiles when he tried it on. Then there was David, son of the squattocracy, old Sydney town money with an impressive stable of sports cars. And last, but not least, is Vic, helicopter pilot from Alice Springs. Rumour has it she is currently holed up with him in a sleazy Darwin apartment. She won’t talk to us but she has plenty of words and more to share with her succession of boyfriends. Will Vic share the same fate as the others when the wheel turns?
“So we ask again, who is this real person? Who is Susan Emily McDonald? Rumour has it that she is trying to say she is the victim of a crazy psychopath. Could it be that she is the real dangerous one who, like the spider, weaves her web and, when she has captured her prey and sucked out all its juices, she discards what is left like an empty husk. Rumour also has it she is possessed by a crocodile spirit and uses a psychic power to lure, stalk, ambush and consume her victims like the fabled salt water crocodiles. We think this is one dangerous schizophrenic person; the two faces of Susan and Emily are but two faces of evil no matter which is their name.”
She put down the paper, her hands were shaking. She was so shocked she could think of nothing to say in her own defence. Perhaps it was really true. Perhaps she had been infected by evil and the evil had consumed her soul and she could never escape it. Pretending to be Emily was pointless. Emily was every bit as contaminated as Susan was!
Emily found herself walking around the flat in endless and pointless pacing. Her mind was in turmoil. She found herself reverting to the Susan persona, the actor, the person of endless self control, the one who had survived all alone for months in jail.
Perhaps it was just one nasty journalist who was running this line. She remembered the wave of support that she had felt from the crowd in the court that afternoon. Was that only five days ago?
A new lifetime seemed to have begun now, she was with Vic, and the past world had a surreal and unreal feel. As she calmed she realised that running away in any form was pointless. She just had to know the truth and face up to it.
Nothing could be that bad if you were secure inside yourself. She had Vic who knew her and what she had done and yet still loved her, he had asked her to marry him, after all. He would help give her strength to deal with this. And there were a mass of family and friends in her corner who knew the truth, or at least part of it and they had not condemned her: Anne, David, Alan, Sandy, Buck, and of course her Mum and Dad and Sydney cousins. But another part of her hated drawing them all back into this, this place of endless rumour mongering and dredging up muck. Her friends had stuck to her through everything, but this was really unfair to them, what she had done was wrecking all their lives.
She could feel her mind flip flopping back and forwards between exultation and despair.
She saw a computer sitting on a desk in the corner of the room. She had never noticed it before, though it had obviously always been there.
The thought flashed into her mind to get a wider perspective, see what others were saying. Surely this vicious story was just an isolated outlier of something much more balanced as people began to understand the facts. But then, of course, the judge had suppressed all the facts. What was out there for others to know was only gossip and speculation.
Still she was better off to know what was being said. She walked over to the desk and pressed a key on the keyboard. The screen came to life. It showed a log in screen, two user accounts: Alan and Sandy, then a third guest account. She clicked on the guest account, no login was required. It opened Internet Explorer and Google. She typed in her name and started to look down the page list.
