Razorhurst (43 page)

The automobile sped through the city, not stopping at intersections, not slowing for corners. Kelpie kept being thrown up against Darcy and then Dymphna, sliding through the ghost of Annie Darling. She worried she was going to be sick.

The sirens receded behind them. It didn’t surprise Kelpie that Mr. Davidson could afford a motor-car that was faster than the cops’. Davidson looked like he had all the money in the world.

“This is not going to end well,” Palmer said.

“It never does, my love,” Annie Darling said. “The trick is to have fun while you can.”

Kelpie wanted to tell Palmer that Snowy wouldn’t let Mr. Davidson do anything to her, but now that she was in the fast-moving motor-car and none of them was saying anything, she wasn’t certain. Snowy hadn’t looked at her since he got in, and now she knew that Mr. Davidson had already killed someone in this motor-car.

Wedged between Dymphna and Darcy, it was hard to see out the window. Not that she would know where she was if she could see. It was dark, and they’d probably already left the Hills far behind.

Dymphna’s hands were in her lap and her knees were pressed together. Darcy’s arms were crossed over his chest. He didn’t shake, but Kelpie could tell he was scared. They were all scared.

Mr. Davidson and Snowy sat at either end of their seat. Snowy stared out the window. Mr. Davidson stared at Dymphna. Kelpie didn’t know how Dymphna could sit there calmly as if no one was looking at her.

“You’d have been better off with the cops,” Palmer told Kelpie. “Men like Davidson don’t care that you’re still a kid. You could be a baby in your crib, and he’d kill you just the same.”

“You are aware that none of them can hear you, possum?” Annie Darling said with a laugh. “You’re dead, they’re still alive, and never the twain shall meet.”

“She can hear us.” Palmer nodded at Kelpie. “She won’t show it in front of that lot. But she can see us and hear us.”

“Really?” Annie did not sound like she believed Palmer. She waved her hand in front of Kelpie’s eyes. Kelpie tried hard not to
blink. She focused on the carpeted floor and on the smells of this fancy automobile, of the leather and wood. They were different from the smells of cigarettes and stale beer in the taxi. It didn’t help. She blinked and wondered how Dymphna managed not to.

Annie waved her gloved hand again, even closer. Despite concentrating as hard as she could, Kelpie blinked again.

“Well,” Annie said. “That is interesting. I’ve been in this motor-car I don’t know how long—”

“Three years, maybe,” Palmer said. “You disappeared at least two years ago.”

Annie gasped. “That long? I thought perhaps a few weeks, maybe months. Well.” She paused. “Three years?”

Palmer nodded.

“Not one of them has seen me or heard me. The only dead people I’ve seen have been outside the car. I thought that they couldn’t come inside because I was here. But now here’s Jimmy Palmer, larger than death.”

She reached forward to touch Palmer’s shoulder. Her hand went straight through. “There goes that forlorn hope.” She sighed. “No sex ever again. Well, at least we can talk. You’re the first person I’ve spoken to in three years. Three years! How do you move around? I have tried to leave this car—a thousand times—more—but here I stay.”

“I wish I could tell you, love,” Palmer said.

Kelpie closed her eyes, trying not to hear Annie and Palmer talking. She was tired enough that soon their words slipped past her. She leaned on Dymphna’s shoulder, almost falling asleep. She would have nodded off, but she needed to pee. She was thirsty and hungry too. But she was used to those feelings. It grew darker and darker outside. Fewer and fewer lights.

The roads were bumpy now, and she began to smell dust. Kelpie had never been outside the city before. She’d barely left the Hills. The idea made her even more nervous than she already was.

How would she ever get back?

After what seemed like
hours, the motor-car came to a stop. Snowy slid out first, holding open the door for Mr. Davidson and then the three of them.

“Can’t you stay?” Annie Darling said as Palmer got out of the motor-car behind Dymphna. “Your girl will be dead soon.”

Kelpie didn’t hear his reply. She was staring at the darkness. It stretched forever. There was nothing but the stars and a faint sliver of the moon for light. She’d never seen anything like it. It made her feel tiny and even colder. She hugged herself.

“You are my guests,” Mr. Davidson said. “Terry, see to the fire.” One of the men who had been in the front seat hurried away. Mr. Davidson followed. Kelpie had to stare to make out their silhouettes.

“Follow,” Snowy said.

Dymphna went first, then Darcy. Kelpie looked at Snowy, who nodded. He’d promised everything would be okay. Whatever Mr. Davidson wanted from Dymphna all the way out here, maybe it wasn’t so terrible. Maybe Annie Darling was wrong.

By the motor-car the driver lit a cigarette. The red glow illuminated his face briefly, then he headed after the others.

Snowy reached down to give Kelpie a hug. He’d never done that before. Instead of feeling comforted, Kelpie felt scared.

“What does he want?”

“It doesn’t matter what he wants,” Snowy said quietly. “He’s not going to get it. Come on.” He led her into the darkness, which became less dark as her eyes adjusted. Then lights came on. She saw steps. They climbed them to a broad verandah and then into an enormous house.

Snowy led her into a room where Mr. Davidson was sitting on a large leather couch, one leg crossed over the other, his arms stretched out along the back. Dymphna sat opposite on a similar couch, hugging herself. Darcy sat in a large cushioned chair. Kelpie sat beside Dymphna.

The room was very cold. Terry crouched over the fireplace, stacking paper and kindling.

On the table in front of them was a gas lantern. The chandelier was also gas. Kelpie didn’t wonder at there not being electricity. Most of the Hills was without, so why would they have it here so far from the city?

There was a whoosh as the fire caught. Terry stood up, wiped his hands, nodded at Mr. Davidson, then left the room.

“I’ll see to some food,” Snowy said, leaving them.

“How cosy, just the four of us,” Mr. Davidson said. He patted his pocket. “I do have a gun, which I am reluctant to use. But I thought it best you know of its presence. Once the fire’s going, it warms up quickly in here.”

Palmer sat beside him. “He’s telling the truth about the gun. It’s loaded. It has a gold-plated handle, and his name’s engraved on it. Very showy. Doesn’t stop it working, though.”

“Can I pee?” Kelpie asked.

Mr. Davidson smiled. “Of course, my dear. You’ll find the water closet just past the stairs. Do make sure to wash your hands before you rejoin us.”

Kelpie scarpered. On the other side of an enormous set of polished wooden stairs, she opened the door on the fanciest toilet she had ever seen. Fancier even than Dymphna’s. This one gleamed. The chain above it looked like it was made of gold.

It didn’t change the experience of emptying her bladder. She was no more relieved than she would have been if she’d been peeing in a gutter in the Hills.

The house seemed old, but she hadn’t seen any ghosts yet. Other than Palmer. That didn’t feel right.

She washed her hands. Not because Mr. Davidson had requested it but because Dymphna would have approved. Dymphna liked clean things and was always clean herself, except on days like today—when she’d had to run, climb fences, and hide. Kelpie didn’t think Dymphna had endured too many days like today.

She wiped her hands on the towel, then closed the lid of the toilet and sat on it for a moment. She knew she couldn’t run. She didn’t know where she was, and outside the house she couldn’t see much further than her outstretched hands. She didn’t know anything about the bush. Except that there were giant goannas. At least if Darcy’s stories were true.

She couldn’t leave Dymphna or Darcy behind. Or Snowy for that matter.

She wished she knew what Mr. Davidson wanted. They could give it to him and go.

She heard someone speaking loudly. Darcy, she thought.

She could hear Mr. Davidson’s voice. Dymphna’s also. She braced herself, hoping that she was not going to hear that gun going off.

If Darcy and Dymphna died here, it would be her fault for taking Dymphna to hide in Darcy’s home. Had that copper died because of her too?

Would things have gone differently if she’d run away from Dymphna the minute she’d seen her? Or if she hadn’t been tempted by Tommy to go in search of those nonexistent apples in the first place?

She would never eat an apple again.

Darcy wasn’t yelling anymore.

Kelpie walked back into the living room. The fire was roaring now. Darcy was leaning back in the chair. His chin was up. He looked defiant.

Snowy wasn’t back, but the other man, Terry, was sitting by the fire.

“I imagine you would also like to make use of the …” Mr. Davidson trailed off.

Dymphna rose. She squeezed Kelpie’s upper arm as she walked by.

“You are quite the mystery, young lady,” Mr. Davidson said as Kelpie sat next to where Dymphna had been.

Kelpie didn’t feel mysterious.

“How is that you are acquainted with the lovely Dymphna Campbell?”

“She’s my aunt,” Kelpie said because that’s what Dymphna kept saying.

“Is she? Where is your family?”

“Dead.”

“How interesting. Where are you both from?”

“The North Shore,” Kelpie said because that’s what Palmer had said.

“Whereabouts on the North Shore?”

Kelpie had no idea. She wasn’t entirely clear on where the North Shore was.

“Mosman,” Palmer said. “Her family is from Mosman.”

“Mosman,” Kelpie said.

“Mosman? Quite a nice area. I have always suspected that our Dymphna came from quality stock. She has a certain air about her. Is your family still there? Yours and hers?”

“Dead,” Palmer said. “They’re all dead.”

Kelpie shook her head. “There’s only me and Dymphna left.”

“Dymphna and I,” Mr. Davidson corrected as Miss Lee would have. “I see that you did not have quite the same educational opportunities as your aunt.”

Kelpie decided she didn’t have to answer that.

“Your aunt is very beautiful. I’ve seen very few people with hair that colour. Does it run in your family?”

Kelpie nodded.

“But you weren’t lucky.”

“I got me mum’s hair. Brown like a mouse.”

Mr. Davidson did not laugh. “Not silver blonde like an angel. I’ve seen women spend a fortune trying to dye their hair that exact shade. All they get is a head full of straw.”

Kelpie wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say to that. She’d never seen a woman with straw hair.

“She seems fond of you, your aunt. Yet she never sought you out before today?”

Kelpie wasn’t sure what to say.

“Tell him she was looking,” Palmer said. “But she only found you today.”

Kelpie repeated Palmer’s words.

“Where were you?”

“On the streets. Didn’t have no one looking after me. Had to look after meself.”

“Ah,” Mr. Davidson said. “Poor mite. You must have been mightily relieved to be found by your aunt.”

“I was. She says she’s going to look after me from now on. That I won’t be hungry no more.” Kelpie spoke the way she used to. The way that used to annoy Miss Lee.

“
Any
more. Does she? You are lucky.”

“She says she loves me like I was her own.”

“Laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think?” Palmer said. “He knows you only just met Dymphna. I see what you’re trying to do. You’re hoping he won’t shoot you. Wouldn’t hold my breath on that, little one. He doesn’t care much who lives or who dies. Not like Glory. This one’s a lot colder.”

“I do,” Dymphna said, sitting beside Kelpie and hugging her. “Kelpie here is all I have left.”

Unhappy Endings

None of Neal Darcy’s stories set in Surry Hills had happy endings. They ended with despair or death. Because that’s what the Hills did to people. The bush was where hope lay, birth and renewal, happy endings. Neal Darcy longed to live the rest of his life out bush with his own small farm, enough livestock and fruit and veg to feed his family, the money coming from his stories, and Dymphna there too.