Chapter 24
Miss Gwendolyn Barton had long since abandoned Sunday School classes for the girls as, even to her, the hypocrisy of her actions stuck like spines in her throat. Consequently the girls were free to play for a few hours on a Sunday morning. Miss Barton stared out at them through the window. She couldn’t wait to be rid of that red head. She added up her column of figures again and scribbled incriminating notes in the margins outlining every vile event that had transpired between Nelly and her master. It was almost worth sending that girl straight away, she thought, trained or not. But if she couldn’t even scrub a potato she could damage her reputation amongst other potential clients. More importantly, it was her spirit that needed breaking. It would do no good to send such a wilful child into such an environment. And, of course, the longer this business operated successfully, the greater the repercussions for you know who. She tried to wipe her smile away with the end of her pen. Yes, only the finest workers. And the most compliant. That’s how you could ask the highest price. That’s how you ran a successful child slave trade. “And that, Dear Gentlemen of the Board, dearest Mister Marshfield Junior and Senior, was how your lives would be made a living hell,” she smirked, underlining the grand total.
She glared out the window again. The girls were grouped together outside and she didn’t like it. They were down on their knees, their hands in prayer. Her throat constricted and she swallowed a wad of bile.
The girls gathered together at the edge of the playground dangerously close to the bush.
“Can’t we just sit ‘ere, Elanora? I don’t want to get too close to...that,” said Olive, nodding at the trees. In their beds late at night they whispered stories of goblins that grabbed naughty children. Long fingered, skinny legged half men who licked clean their bones and hung their skins to dry by billabongs. Their fears had worsened since Nelly’s death, so much so that they didn’t dare set foot on any undergrowth.
“Of course you can,” said Elanora. “But there’s nothing really to be afraid of.” As long as the beasts don’t come, she thought.
Elanora chose the base of the gum tree as a suitable place for Nelly’s memorial as it was in the same place the Strangler had been. Where the gum ended up was a question that hovered in her mind, but she concentrated on the events at hand.
Kind words were spoken and prayers were said, then the ribbon and the flowers were placed in a small hole followed by the fig fruit Elanora had already poured her love into. Merrylamb and Edward had a front row seat on a gum tree root and watched the solemn proceedings. Elanora looked at the girls and smiled before taking a long stick and drawing a triangle set inside a circle. Inside were the three gifts for Nelly.
Three circles, Elanora thought, contemplating the coincidence.
The rest of the girls knelt in respect.
“Stop it girls, get out of the dirt!” shouted Miss Barton hurtling towards them.
The girls jumped up, brushing the dust from their pinafores.
“What is this?” she demanded.
“It’s just a hole, Miss Barton. We’re throwing some things in it. It’s a game,” said Elanora.
“A game?” she squinted suspiciously at the girls who hid their eyes under the brim of their hats. “Then what were you praying for?”
“We weren’t prayin’ for no-one, Miss Barton,” said Olive with wet eyes.
Barton picked up a scent and set her jaws. Nelly was dead in the old shed and the coincidence didn’t pass her by.
“This is what I say about your game!” she shouted, snatching the contents of the hole and flinging them high into the air. “And your prayers!” She scuffed dirt into the hole as the gifts rained down on her head. She shook her fist hysterically. “Olive Pendleton, into my office. It’s the cane for you for having such a filthy apron.” She stormed off with a frightened Olive trailing behind.
Elanora searched frantically for the fig fruit but if it fell to the ground she couldn’t find it. “The fig, the fig,” she repeated numbly, blood draining from her face.
All the girls helped scour the ground for it. Nothing. The ribbon, the flowers, all landed at the base of the gum. The fruit was probably swooped upon by a bird. It definitely wasn’t in the soil. She clutched for her plait. It too was gone. Everything gone. The girls mumbled apologies and hurried back to the dormitory before further punishments were doled out.
Alone. Stuck again.
She lay down in the dirt, tucked Merrylamb under her arm and closed her eyes.
“No just leave me here.”
“You’ve been lying there all day and Miss Barton is going to come back for sure. I’ve seen her watching you from the window. Just come back to the room. Please.”
“No.”
“It’s almost dark, Elanora. You’ve missed supper, now do come on.”
Elanora sat up, “I’m not going back to my room.”
Sallyanne raised her eyebrows. It had been a long day and all she could think of was sleep.
“I’ll come back later.”
“You’re not going away are you?” Sallyanne asked, suddenly afraid.
Elanora ran her fingers through her cropped hair, “Not tonight.” The smile she gave Sallyanne was taken as mild reassurance and she headed back to the dormitory.
The curved rim of the moon pressed into the sky like the halo of a sleeping angel on a vast velvet blanket. Elanora lay at the base of the gum gazing up through its leafy tips when a deeper shadow appeared, rising up from the dirt. A corseted shadow. Sinister and cruel.
“What sort of a thick headed creature are you that cannot learn even one simple lesson?”
Elanora closed her eyes. She imagined the fig, swelling and sprouting. She opened her heart with love for the plump seed pot, stroking it in her mind’s eye, speaking softly to it, caressing it. Perhaps she could connect with it, find it, grow it.
“You stir up nothing but trouble here and lead my girls astray with your lax manners and insolent attitude. You are no better than a lowlife animal and it is time to break you in.” Miss Barton brandished her caning rod, running it through her hands. “Or break you, in trying.”
Elanora shut out the noise focussing only on the seed. She loved that seed for all the hope it offered. For its life which was so cherished. So desperately sought. She smelt the sweetness of its fruit, felt the cool of its shade, the smooth trunk with its curves and folds. Her blood began to stir.
“At least you’ve learnt to hold your tongue. I should never have taken you in, you ungrateful vermin,” she said almost choking on her thick tongue. “A job with Mr Farner will be just what you deserve. And I’ll tell him not to bother sending you back. He can toss you to the crows.”
She sliced the cane through the air whacking it onto Elanora’s shoulder. Pain racked her but Elanora’s eyes remained firmly shut.
Please little fig, live. If I can give you a soul, let it be so.
Miss Barton coughed. Her raised arm wavered. She coughed again. Her head tightened as if the pins were poking into her scalp. She swallowed hard at the obstruction in her throat, but nothing passed. She gagged and doubled over, leaning her weight on the cane. She reached her fingers into her mound of hair and probed her scalp, feeling a round pellet under her fingertips that she couldn’t shift. Brown tendrils peeped out from her puffy bun.
She put her hand to her throat trying to dislodge a clot. Her mouth opened and closed and she stamped the cane into the dirt. Brown tendrils searched like worms down her face. Eyeless. Purpose driven. Down they descended, smoothly now and swelling. She clawed at them with her hands, releasing the cane, making no sound as the tendrils grew into limbs then into trunks that pinned her to the ground. Her eyes closed and her body disappeared inside the consuming flow of bark.
Elanora’s eyes remained shut as she went deeper into a trance. Her blood was on fire and if she moved it would have seared her organs and skin. All she could do was be still and send her love out into the fig.
The expanding t
ree flowed around her body in a tender embrace sending its shoots skyward. Not one seedling, but a fruit full of seeds vying for life and growth. As they grew they used the eucalypt as a ladder to climb higher and higher into the night. From the summit they sent down more trunks, securing their bulk, hungrily devouring the gum before they stopped. Unified by purpose and design the many trees became one. Its leaves shook once, twice, then settled into stillness.
Elanora’s eyes flickered open. She gazed up at the thick leaves swaying gently in front of the angelic moon and its starry companions. The roots of the fig made a perfect V around her body. She breathed deeply and tasted the fresh night air.
How kind of Miss Barton to bring back her fig.