Hailstone (3 page)

“Kat!” Magda screamed. She saw her new friend trip, fall and be caught by a knot of dancers who’d gathered to watch the scene. Then John and Zack clamped in on either side of her and all but dragged her out of the club. Their other two companions pushed open the door to let them into the dingy hall.

Magda elbowed Zack and tried to pull away from John. “Let go of me!” she yelled. “I want to stay here!”

Zack stopped, still gripping her arm. John got in her face with a big, meaty index finger. “Don’t you think you’ve upset Preacher enough already?”

A cold dart of fear shot through her stomach. She felt sick. The alcohol that had given her false courage now made her dull and confused. She’d been avoiding this moment all day. Back to reality. She dropped her head and let them walk her out onto the street.

The night air hit her like a slap in the face. It had got cold while she’d been in the club, and she was barely dressed. John’s car was parked right at the front. He opened the back door; Zack hustled her in. Magda shot him a dirty look before he closed the door.

John got into the driver’s seat, started the car and pulled away. Magda watched Zack stand outside the club watching them leave until they turned the corner. Now she had a reason to hate him as much as she hated John and even Preacher. She’d get back at him. She’d find a way.

She put her head in her hands, groaned and tried to will away the dizziness and the throbbing.

“The devil is paying you back for your indulgence,” John said.

Magda clenched a fist. “When did you get back?”

“Not nearly in time.” John kept his eyes on the road. He drove at the exact speed limit. “When Preacher called me I took the first flight back. I don’t understand why you’re doing this. You’re driving a good man to distraction. Do I have to watch you every minute of the day now? Can I not trust you on your own? I could hardly believe it when I was told you’d been seen going into that den of sin.”

Magda’s stomach rebelled. “Let me out!” she yelled.

“I don’t-” John glanced back at her mid-refusal and evidently changed his mind. He pulled off the highway.

Magda opened the door, stumbled out of the car and emptied the contents of her stomach onto the side of the highway. That felt a lot better. She took a deep breath of cold night air, looked up and down the road and thought about running. If she could get over that embankment, he’d never catch her.

“Get back in the car Magdalene,” John said.

Magda sighed and got back in the car. She wiped her mouth and watched the streetlights slide by. She watched John in the rear view. She wondered how old he really was. She’d never cared enough to ask; he just kept looking fifty-odd, face a little more lined, beard a little longer whenever she saw him. She suspected he was trying to look like Moses or something with all that hair, but it just didn’t work on a face like a greyhound. She sometimes wondered what it would take to corrupt the incorruptible man of God.

Damn it, she’d left her bag at the club.

John pulled off the highway and within a few minutes, passed the Church and pulled into Preacher’s driveway.

“Can’t we just go home?” Magda asked. The drive had helped her zone out, but now her head throbbed again. Her hands shook on the seatbelt.

“I want you to face Preacher with your behaviour,” John said. “It’s the only course left open to you if you want to seek forgiveness. You have to accept the consequences of your actions.”

Magda pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle an inappropriate giggle, but it was too late. Apparently she was still drunk enough to suddenly find the whole horrible situation hopelessly, insanely amusing. She’d managed to get the seatbelt off, but now she shook with uncontrollable laughter.

John wrenched open the door. Magda slid out of the car and lay on the ground at his feet. She laughed helplessly.

“In the name of all the disciples, what are you laughing at, woman?” he roared.

Her cheeks hurt. So did her stomach. Too much laughing could injure a woman. “You! Treating me like a fourteen year old! You and Preacher, you’re as bad as each other!” Her voice rose with each word. She didn’t care. “Neither of you seems to notice or care I’m well over the legal age to drink, dance, swear and do as I goddamn well please!”

John hauled her to her feet. Magda bit off the rest of the tirade when she saw Preacher in front of her.

John let her go and turned away. Preacher’s hand cracked across her face and sent her sprawling into the car. She slid back to the ground and buried her head in her arms in case there was any more.

“A wife is ruled by her husband, not the law,” Preacher said. “You are out of control, Magdalene. I’m giving you one chance and one chance only. Repent. Return to God.”

She lowered her hands and looked up. Preacher stood over her like an avenging demon. The floodlight from the house made a halo in his grey hair and cast the rest of his face in blackness. “Or what?” she whispered.

“Or I will be forced to call an exorcism. Again. You shame me.” He walked away.

Magda felt stone cold sober. She hardly noticed John pick her up and push her back into the car. They drove the short distance home. Only then did she fend him off; taking the tattered shreds of her dignity in hand, she walked inside on her own, went to her bedroom and shut the door in his face. She sat on the bed and listened to him turn the key in the lock. She closed her eyes and thought about Preacher and that bible he used whenever he did an exorcism. She thought about taking her gun, putting it to that bible and shooting him through it.

Tuesday

Magda woke up feeling like hell. Her head hurt, her face hurt, her back hurt. Worse yet, she remembered every single thing about last night. Why the hell couldn’t she be the type to just black out?

She rolled out of bed, stumbled to the door and found it unlocked. John was home, then. She hurried to the bathroom and threw up in the sink. She felt better after that; she cleaned down the sink and drank water out of the tap. Then she went back into her room and changed, since she’d slept in Adam’s dress. She hid the dress and the boots in the back of her closet and put on a nice conservative skirt and blouse that would make Preacher happy. She searched through a box hidden in the very back of the closet until she found a zip-lock bag with three pills left in it. She took one back to the bathroom and swallowed it with water from the tap. Then she brushed her hair, washed the last traces of makeup off and composed her face into a suitably penitent expression. She rubbed at the new bruise Preacher had left as though she could make it disappear.

Who was she kidding? She was too hungover to care either way. She needed coffee, and if John was home, then she didn’t dare get out her secret stash of the stuff.

Magda sighed and made her way out to the kitchen. She paused at the door. John and Preacher stopped in their conversation and looked at her.

Magda took a deep breath. “Good morning Preacher, good morning John,” she said. She put the kettle on and prepared all three of them cups of chamomile tea, the only hot drink Preacher sanctioned.

Neither responded to her greeting. Rude bastards. They just watched her prepare the tea. Only when she set the cups before them and sat at the table did Preacher speak.

“Well Magdalene, you’re very lucky. Amanda waited for you all evening, and was a little upset when you didn’t keep your appointment. But I’ve managed to convince her to come back, since you are so desperately in need of her guidance.”

“Amanda?” Magda looked at him blankly.

“We spoke about this yesterday.” Preacher’s tone was impatient, but Magda was so used to that she barely noticed. “Amanda does
counselling work with young people who have problems with alcohol and drugs. And don’t you dare to argue with me this time, after last night’s performance.”

Magda wrapped her fingers around her hot cup and kept her eyes on the steam. “Yes Preacher.”

“Your husband and I have business to attend to. We’ll leave you with Amanda.”

“She’s here already?”

“She’s in the lounge room. She wanted time to pray before you woke.” Preacher leaned across the table and eyeballed her. It wasn’t a pretty sight this early in the morning, especially when she was this hungover. His eyes were pale brown and bloodshot. His breath smelled sour. “You do exactly as she tells you. If I have anything but a glowing report from her at the end of the day, there’ll be a punishment.”

Magda curled her fists under the table.

“Understand?”

“I understand, Preacher,” she said through
clenched teeth and a fake smile.

“I don’t think you do, but I have every confidence Amanda will straighten you out.” Preacher got out of his chair. “John. Time to go.”

Magda watched them go. John didn’t as much as look at her. Some husband he’d turned out to be.

When the door closed, she dropped their tea cups into the sink. Then she went into the pantry and reached to the back of the highest shelf for the coffee. She made it strong and added a dash of the vodka she kept hidden in a bottle with a very innocent label claiming to be rosewater. She wondered if she should tell Adam she was Hells Bells Vodka’s best customer. If she ever saw him again.

By the time her coffee cup was empty, she felt ready to face Amanda. She wondered how she was going to get rid of her; she couldn’t stomach pretending to cooperate, not today.

She crossed the hall and opened the lounge room door a crack to look in. Amanda was younger than she’d expected, maybe even her own age. She had a fringe and dusty blonde pigtails.
Pigtails.
No wonder Preacher liked her. He liked to infantilise women. She was sitting in an easy chair, wearing a mid-calf length green skirt and a white shirt with a big collar, just like women in the Congregation were supposed to. She had a cross around her neck. She didn’t compare favourably with Kat at all.

Magda pushed open the door and stood in the entrance.

“Well, good
mor
ning!” Amanda stood up and came over to her. “I’m so thrilled to meet you at last, Magdalene. Please, come in and sit down.” She took her hand and shook it feverishly.

Oh God. She was perky.

Magda reclaimed her hand. She went and sat on the couch and studied her nails.

Amanda returned to her seat. “We’re going to have
so
much fun together today, Magdalene. You’ll see it’s possible to be happy without alcohol in your life, and together we’ll
learn
some things as well!”

“Please, call me Magda.” Magda settled back into the couch.

Amanda looked surprised. “Magdalene is such a beautiful name, why would you want to shorten it?”

Magda didn’t answer her. She maintained her
skeptical stare; Amanda squirmed.

Preacher wouldn’t be back all day. Maybe Amanda was right. Maybe they could have some fun.

“Amanda would you like a coffee?” she asked.

“Coffee is a drug, Magdalene
.” Amanda looked earnest. “Caffeine does terrible things to the body, and it is my belief that Jesus does not want us to harm the bodies He gave us.”

“Tea?”

Amanda shook her head and pursed her lips. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

“Doing what?” Magda summoned up her most innocent look. “Chamomile tea?”

“That would be lovely.” Amanda looked relieved.

“Great.” Magda pulled a cigarette out of the pocket of her skirt and lit it up.

Amanda stared. “Uh-”

Magda exhaled into the closed room and ashed on a pot plant. “I’ll be right back with your chamomile tea. Just wait here. Don’t touch anything, I just cleaned last week.” She wandered out of the room and locked herself in the kitchen. Yes, she was definitely starting to feel better.

She boiled the kettle and made herself a second coffee, and Amanda a chamomile tea. She poured a liberal dose of vodka into both cups and took a large swig from the bottle as she went.

She had another stash of pills hidden in the back of the cutlery draw
er. She crushed one into powder using the back of a knife and sprinkled that into Amanda’s drink for good measure. That would loosen her up some. All of Preacher’s friends were so uptight.

Magda hummed to herself, took another swig of vodka and replaced the bottle in the pantry. Then she put out her cigarette, hid the butt in the bin, opened the windows to let the smell out and sprayed some air freshener in the room. She’d deal with the lounge later. She took the two cups back out to rejoin Amanda.

Amanda looked discomforted and sad. She’d opened the windows to let the smell of Magda’s cigarette out. “I’ve been praying for you while you were gone,” she said.

“Gosh, thank you
.” Magda set Amanda’s cup down and settled back on the lounge with her coffee.

Amanda’s voice quivered. “Magdalene I honestly believe your situation is already far worse than even Preacher imagines.”

“Damn straight.” Magda sipped her coffee.

“You cursed!” Amanda looked like she was going to cry
.

“It was only a little one. It’s not like I said fuck.”

Amanda’s face turned bright red. “You’re winding me up.”

“Shouldn’t you be used to that, doing what you do?”

Amanda took a sip of her tea. “Gosh, that’s a nice tea.”

Magda smiled.

Amanda set the tea down and came over to her. She knelt on the floor and grasped Magda’s hands. “Magdalene, God is telling me we need to cut straight to the heart of your problems. No more games. You have to face the fact you are
addicted.
”

“God talks to you?” Magda moved away from her. “What does he say?”

Amanda closed her eyes. “God is telling me you are hurting and you desperately need help.”

“Wow, that’s pretty accurate.” Magda took a sip of her coffee. “Is God telling you I wouldn’t need to drink if Preacher would stop hitting me?”

Amanda opened her eyes. “Now Magda, why would you say that? Preacher is a lovely man. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“What do you think this is?” Magda pointed to the
bruise on her face.

“He said you fell over last night because you were so drunk. Please Magdalene, we need to be honest with each other if we’re going to get anywhere.” A tear slid down Amanda’s cheek. “It hurts me you would lie to get my sympathy.”

Magda clenched her coffee cup hard. She took a large swallow to keep herself from punching Amanda. The liquid burned her throat. She spoke through clenched teeth. “Do sit down, Amanda, and drink your tea. You’ll strain something getting so upset. Besides, I’m absolutely dying to see how you’re going to cure me.”

Amanda retreated to the opposite corner of the room. “Dying is just one part of what could happen to you,” she said. She opened her bag and withdrew a large folder. “I’d like you to have a look at some facts and figures, Magdalene. You might be shocked to see to just what extent cigarettes and alcohol are damaging you, the environment, the world and most of all God’s ministry. But first, let’s pray together.” She took a sip of her tea. Then she took several more. She bowed her head and closed her eyes.

Magda watched her moisten her lips and spout off a stream of nonsense that she’d probably heard Preacher say in church last week. God damn. Despite her best efforts, things just kept getting boring with Amanda.

Five minutes later, with Amanda still praying, Magda left the room. She locked herself in the kitchen again and sat in the middle of the table nursing her vodka bottle and a cigarette. A good deal of vodka disappeared in the short time before Amanda knocked at the door, but that was okay, because she had another bottle under the sink. Surely Amanda should be feeling the effects of the valium by now.

“Magdalene? Are you okay in there? Are you smoking?”

Magda drained the bottle. She swung her legs off the table, swayed a little and put the bottle in the sink. Then she went to unlock the door and let Amanda in.

Amanda gave her a sad, albeit slightly glazed look. “Magda sweetheart, your father is paying me for today and he wants a full report. Don’t make me tell him you wouldn’t...ah...” she blinked. “What was I saying?”

Magda took her by the hand, pulled her into the room and locked the door behind her. “I honestly couldn’t give a damn, so long as you’ve finished praying.”

Amanda flushed. “You really are very difficult.”

“And you’re pretty when you’re angry. Come sit with me.” Magda returned to her perch on the kitchen table.

Amanda looked confused. “I feel weird.”

“Come sit here. I’ll make you feel better.” Magda patted the table in front of her.

“We shouldn’t be doing it like this.” Amanda climbed onto the table and sat in front of her, cross-legged. Their knees almost touched.

“Is there a better way?” Magda leaned forward. “Do you want to know why I really smoke and drink?”

“Yes I do. Tell me.” Amanda leaned forward too. Her eyes went wide like she thought she was finally about to make a breakthrough.

Magda grinned at the view. “Well now you’re just trying to distract me.”

“What?” Amanda followed her gaze down to her own cleavage. Aghast, she pulled her top up higher. With admirable dignity, she got back on track. “Why do you smoke and drink?”

“Because I can.” Magda bit the last word off so close to Amanda’s mouth she could smell the alcohol on the other woman’s breath. “It’s my choice, Amanda. Do you know what that word means, choice? To do something of your own free will? Did you ever think about trying cigarettes or alcohol?”

Amanda pursed her lips. “Jesus wouldn’t want that for me.”

“Do you honestly think Jesus would get that upset if you smoked one cigarette? Just to find out what it is exactly you’re helping people like me to fight? Do you have the guts to do that?”

A slick of sweat gleamed on Amanda’s face. “My, it’s hot in here.” She fanned herself with one hand. “I do feel odd.”

Magda took a cigarette from her packet. “Do you feel a little dizzy?”

“Well, yes.”

“Smoke this with me. It’ll make you feel better. Honestly it will. I won’t tell a soul, it’ll be our secret. And you’ll walk away today with another weapon in your Godly arsenal, that of knowing your enemy.” Magda lit the cigarette and put it in Amanda’s mouth. “There we are. Breathe it in. Not too much, or you’ll cough. There we go.”

Amanda made a face. “That’s disgusting.”

“Of course it is, you’re not used to it. Here, have another drag. God won’t let you get addicted, I promise.”

“Okay.” Amanda looked dubious. She took a second drag. “Gosh, my head is spinning, but in a good way.”