Lost Girls (6 page)

“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 the 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 an endless and pointless pacing.
Her mind was in turmoil. She found herself reverting to the Susan
persona, the actor and 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.

Innumerable
articles had been written, the page count ran to thousands. Some
were main media sites like the Guardian and Times in her home town,
and the Australian and Sydney Morning Herald here. But far and away
the most common, including those with the highest ratings, were
blogs and chat rooms. She knew she should not look at them but
found herself powerless to stop.

It was like a
vortex was sucking her down and it was appalling. What these people
wrote made the newspaper she had read tonight sound tame. “Kill the
bitch, cut her babies out and feed them to the crocodiles before
they breed,” was a pretty typical variant. But the ones that upset
her most were the ones about Vic, speculating that the whole thing
was a hatched up plot between him and her. They had got the last
obstacle out of the way, she was out of jail and away free to cash
in with him. His helicopter crash was just a fabrication. In fact
he had just hidden away until the time was right, so as not to
arouse suspicion. Now he and his witch girlfriend would collect
Mark’s riches. It was speculated that Vincent Bassingham had
multiple flats and other property bought with cash. Gossip from the
outback also told about him having a big stash of cash and jewels.
So Witch Susan and this evil man, Vic, who was her partner in crime
were now about to cash in the bonanza.

But God help
Vic, he was probably just another one caught in her evil spell. In
a year of two he would get his comeuppance too, with no reward from
her for his help in doing the foul deed.

She put her
hands to her eyes in horror. It was all too unbelievably vicious,
how could anyone say these things about this dear kind man who she
loved and who had saved her life. But perhaps they were half right,
she really was evil and the evil within her would fall on him and
harm him too. That was an idea too awful to contemplate. She wished
she could tear her soul out and give it to the crocodiles if that
would stop the madness. Better that than to harm him further.

She got up and
started her restless pacing again; now opening and shutting
cupboards in some sort of pointless ritual, looking for something,
she knew not what.

In a high
cupboard she saw a square bottle of brown liquid with the words
“Bundaberg Rum” on the label. She remembered the happiness shared
with Mark as they drank together from a bottle like this in the
desert when she first came to Alice Springs. She lifted the bottle
down, uncapped the lid and smelt the contents. The remembered smell
burst into her brain. She wished she could go back to that time
when life was simple and she was happy.

She found a
glass and splashed some into it, then added a dash of water the way
she had been shown. She swallowed a mouthful; she could feel it
burning her insides. She knew it was bad for her babies but she was
unable to care. She thought if she drank the bottle maybe it would
all be over, like she had planned in the hospital. Her babies would
feel nothing, they would go to sleep forever along with her and
hopefully wake in the better place that their father was calling
them all to go to.

She poured a
second glass, and forced herself to drink it. She felt dizzy,
feeling the alcohol flooding her brain. She went and sat down on
the lounge, carrying the bottle to continue with her drinking. She
would just lay her head back for a minute before she poured another
glass.

Susan opened
her eyes. She was floating in a pool of water, looking up at high
trees and clear blue sky in their middle. The sun was warm and she
felt happy. She was lying there in the centre of the pool, it had a
circular form.

She felt
something brush her arm. She turned her head to the side. There was
Mark. He had come back for her. He reached for her hand and brought
her to him. She looked down at her body. She was wearing her blue
bikini, the one the men in her life had loved. Her belly was flat
and smooth. She wondered where her babies had gone. She turned
again to Mark. She saw that her babies were swimming with him, one
holding each hand. They were smiling up at her.

She sensed
movement at the periphery of her vision and looked to the side.
Then she looked to the other side, feeling growing amazement at the
sight.

Circling around
them, maybe five metres out, was a school of crocodiles, all big,
following each other, nose to tail, cruising in an effortless flow.
Now coming past her was the mother of all crocodiles, looking just
like the one she had seen that day on the Mary River. It passed her
by and went behind her. Then drifting into her view came an even
longer one, she recognised it as the one that she and Mark has seen
that day on the Victoria River, perhaps it was also the one which
Mark had sent to help Vic on the Fitzmaurice River.

Of course it
all made sense. They were family, her new family. They were
welcoming her and Mark and her children. They were saying, “At last
you have come to be with us, to swim amongst us. Welcome, welcome
from us your totem brothers and sisters.”

The huge big
crocodiles came nuzzling up to Mark, like friendly puppies. He
lifted his children and placed them on the back of the biggest one.
Then he reached for and lifted Susan, placing her alongside. Lastly
he pulled himself from the water and sat behind her on the
creature’s broad back. She could feel his arms around her, holding
her and her babies in safety. She felt so happy. They cruised off
and joined the circle in its endless procession.

Her dream
faded, but as it left her she had an overwhelming desire to return
to Mark; her and her babies together. They would be minded and safe
there with their crocodile family.

She found
herself waking in the flat, roused like a dream waker to a new and
altered state of consciousness. She could see what she should do.
She should pack up her few things and make her way back to Mark, to
the place where she had left him and would find him again.

Emily found
herself awake and lying on the lounge. The light was still on and
the three quarters full bottle of rum sat on the coffee table
beside her. She felt disgusted at what she had done; indulging in
this self pitying binge, trying to wash away reality with the
contents of a bottle. The dream was startling and clear. But she
knew it now for what it was, just a dream, a lovely dream which she
ached to re-enter, but still just a dream.

She must pull
herself together. She loved Vic; he needed her and she needed him.
She could not let this crazy stuff in her mind take her away from
that. But lurking in her subconscious was this incredibly strong
pull, the desire to run away from it all and rejoin the crocodile
world, just to know the joy of seeing Mark one more time.

She stood up
and rinsed her face under the tap in the kitchen, trying to clear
her head from the sleep and alcohol daze. She should take herself
off to bed now. Maybe, if she lay in the place where she and Vic
had shared these last nights, there would be enough of his smell
and presence to keep the other demons at bay.

She got up and
picked up her overnight bag, carrying it with her to the bedroom.
She saw the strappy sandals which Anne had lent her, pale pink with
silver buckles, lying on the floor. They were cooler and more
comfortable for Darwin weather than her own shoes, giving space for
her swollen feet. She picked them up and brought them with her,
turning off the light as she left the living room.

In the dark of
the flat she could make out the faint outline of the bed in the
bedroom, the sheets rumpled from this morning, she had forgotten to
make it with their early departure. She crawled onto the bed,
hugging Vic’s pillow to her face, drawing comfort from his smell.
She pulled a sheet over her shoulders and lay on her side, slowly
inhaling and exhaling the odour of the man. She felt herself calm.
Despite the awful vindictiveness of all that was out there Vic
would help her through. She felt herself sliding down into sleep
again, not quite happy but safer for now.

As she slid
deeper into oblivion she felt the crocodiles reforming in the pool
around her. Now they were clawing at her, pulling at her, nudging
her back towards them. She screwed her eyes tightly closed, wishing
for peace and to be left alone. Was there no end to this?

As the Emily
part of her mind asked the question, the Susan part of her mind
replied.
Why do you keep trying to push me out? We are two parts
of the same person. I will not be sent away by you. Mark wants me
back and I am going to him. You can do what you like; go with your
new man, Vic, if you want. But I belong to Mark, my children are
his children and I will return to him. Stop me if you can, but I am
in charge now.

Emily watched
in horror as Susan climbed out of bed. There was something glowing
softly on the mantel piece, its light reflected softly in the
mirror above. Emily watched as Susan walked over to it and took it
in her hand. The light coming from it grew brighter as if it
responded to her touch. Susan held it up, cupping it in the palm of
her hand, brought it to her face. As it came close Emily realised
it was Mark’s crocodile totem, the one he had shown her on their
helicopter trip in the Gulf, that day long ago. Emily was puzzled
at how it came to be here.

But Susan had
no uncertainty. She brought it right to her face and touched it to
her lips. As she did the totem connected. Now she was only Susan
again; Emily was pushed away to furthest recesses.

Emily watched
from an outside place. Her Susan self picked up the sandals and
strapped them to her feet. Then Susan picked up the overnight bag
of clothes, her travel pack. Lastly she put the crocodile totem
into an empty plastic shopping bag, lying on the floor from her
visit to Casuarina.

With her
overnight bag in one hand and the shopping bag with the crocodile
in the other, Susan walked out the door, down the steps and out
onto the street. Emily was powerless, she must follow her. She saw
that everything was deserted, not a person or a car was in
sight.

She realised
that Susan was going somewhere, in her Susan mind she knew she was
returning to Mark and the crocodile pool, to bring her babies to
the safety of her crocodile family. She did not know how Susan
would get there but Susan knew the way; down the highway for twenty
miles then turn left and follow the sign for Kakadu until just
after the Mary River when she would head north, following the road
to the billabong.