Tomorrows Child (20 page)

The stories
continued until almost dark, it was still difficult to gauge the
time because a thick cloud blanket remained, hiding all signs of
the sun and sky. Listening to the storytellers and their tales did
little to boost my energy, and as the families began to return
home, my attention was drawn to the bed that awaited me, the sleep
that called me and the dreams that would haunt me.

It had been
weeks since the storm and we struggled to make the gardens healthy
and productive. Today, I offered to clean our neglected house while
Libby spent the day tending the herbs. Some herbs, like black
cohosh, were planted in the forest because it was closer to their
natural environment and where it grew best. Libby was there now,
tending the rainforest herbs.

Talk of magick
had all but vanished. It was still important, but it wasn’t a
priority compared to food and medicine. The prophecy still played
in my mind, but at the end of the day, I was too tired to ask about
it and both Libby and I fell asleep almost as soon as the sun
set.

Even my time
with Phoenix had been limited. The only chance we had to be
together was when he was rostered on to protect us. Ruben had gone
all out with security since Basil’s murder, which would have been
enough to cause the increased security. But combined with the
hellhounds and the deaths in town, Ruben was obsessed.

The only
positive side to his obsession was teaching me to shoot a rifle. I
couldn’t hit anything, but at least, I didn’t shoot myself. This
also worked well for Navarre, who spent a lot of time teaching
everyone how to use a bow and arrow.

Today I was on
house duty. The two of us made very little mess so cleaning wasn’t
really a chore, it was more like a day off. Restocking the pantry
was my main concern, as food from the gardens had been limited
since the storm and we’d consumed much more of our stores than
anticipated.

The pantry was
divided into two sections. The front area was small and opened into
the kitchen, where we stored a couple of weeks’ supply of everyday
food. The rear section of the pantry was the size of a large
bedroom and basically hidden from sight. This was the real pantry.
It had access via a small door hidden behind a wardrobe in my room.
Originally, there had been an entrance through the front pantry; in
fact, it had once been a single room, but now it was boarded up to
create a secure and separate food storage room.

Shelves lined
the walls, stacked with food in tins and jars and vacuum-sealed
bags. It was one of the first Darnell secrets I learned and
probably the most important. Everything was labelled and dated,
with “Eat First” signs stuck to some things. That’s what I was
doing today, shopping for Eat First items.

Our gardens had
been sustaining us until the storm, which damaged most of the food
ready for harvest. The unexpected snow had caused more damage than
any frost was capable of. Then, as the winter progressed, the
gardens simply refused to grow. Our tropical fruits and vegetables
suffered the most. Fortunately, as bad as it seemed, many plants
looked capable of recovery when spring returned.

Without fresh
fruits and vegetables from the garden, it felt like a famine, but
it was important that we still had nutritional variety and that’s
where our stored food supplemented us. It had taken years of
planning to get the balance right and find foods that would store
for a long time and supply good nutrition. Thankfully, I did not
have to wander the wastelands to search for food and we still
hadn’t experienced real hunger.

I took seeds
for sprouting – alfalfa, mung bean and pea; then bags of chickpeas,
lentils, rice and wheat; and some dried herbs we stored during
summer. I marked these things off my list, but there were other
things I wanted to take, like tin peaches, coffee, and chocolate.
Libby was hoarding chocolate! Well, maybe not hoarding, but there
were dozens of blocks of chocolate and bags of cocoa and cocoa
beans sucked tight in vacuum-sealed bags. Nevertheless, I had a
list and knew the rules – “take only what we need.”

There was more
than just food in the pantry. First aid supplies in boxes were
stacked high and medicines sat on the high shelves, real medicine,
not herbal concoctions. There were cartridges for the shotgun and
bullets for a rifle I’d never seen. And then there were unusual
things, like pencils and writing pads, bottles of ink and tubes of
artist paint and dry good essentials like toilet paper and
toothpaste.

As I stood
amongst the “stuff,” I realised that most of what I saw was
irreplaceable. Substitute or go without; I understood this now. So
many things we once took for granted could never be replaced and
much of it could never be substituted for a simpler,
non-manufactured local product. I would never see another box of
breakfast cereal or drink a cold soft drink. The closest thing to
fast food now was a banana. I’m not sure that it’s a bad thing, but
this solitary trip to the pantry made me realise how much life had
changed.

I pulled the
cupboard back into position, secured the door and hid the real
pantry when I heard a knock on the door. Someone is knocking on the
door! People never knocked anymore. Most of the time, they would
just yell and come right in. Standing at the door now was a tall,
thin, ugly man. He wasn’t anyone from our neighbourhood and if I
had run into him in the city, I would probably have turned and run
the other way.

“Hello, you
must be Psyche.” The man might have been a stranger to me, but he
knew exactly who I was. That alone was downright creepy, but the
fact that he looked liked a strung-out drug dealer made it even
worse.

“Yes, I’m
Psyche, but…”

“Of course, you
don’t know me, but I have been a friend of the family for many
years. You are the spitting image of your mother, you know.” This
was completely untrue, most people told me I looked like I’d been
adopted. Where Mum had golden honey-coloured hair with gentle
waves; mine was straight, kinda brown, and unruly. Not curly, just
crazy out of control and always messy. Mum was also petite, while I
was sturdy and tall. Mum was beautiful.

“So how is
Celeste?”

I told the
stranger about Mum, though I felt I should have told him something
else, but my mouth opened and the truth flowed. He seemed
thoughtful for a moment, but shook away any concern almost
instantly.

“Forgive me,
Psyche, my name is Mason Johnstone. May I come in?” I invited him
in and he sat in the seat at the head of the table. “I was hoping
to catch up with your mother while I was in town. Not sure how long
I will be here, just passin’ through… headin’ nowhere.”

“So tell me
what you and Celeste have been doing all these years. We lost track
of each other after she moved away when you were born, and we
haven’t been fortunate to run into each other again. Guess we move
in different circles.” Without even knowing this man, I knew that
to be true. We would never hang around with someone like Mason
Johnstone.

“So tell me,
Psyche, do you live here with Libby? Or are you on your own
now?”

“No, Libby’s
here, she should be back soon. She’s tending the garden; we had a
huge storm and it caused a lot of damage.”

“You look
pretty well set up though,” Mason looked around the house and out
into the garden, Libby wasn’t there. “Where did you say she
was?”

“In the
garden?” He looked around again, “You know a young girl shouldn’t
be alone. These are dangerous days, Psyche, I suspect adult
supervision is necessary and something you should consider.”

Libby came in
through the back door “What the hell are you doing here?” She was
not happy.

Mason smiled
with the left half of his mouth “Just thought since I was back in
town I would call in and see how you were keepin’. You know how I
care about this family.”

Libby just
huffed.

“You can’t keep
me away,” he sneered, “and you know that. Especially not now.”

Libby raised an
eyebrow and held each side of the table until her knuckles went
white. I had never seen her this way. I thought I made her angry at
times; I was wrong, very wrong.

“Mason, you
made your choice many years ago, there’s no taking that back now.
You didn’t care then, so I doubt anything has changed. So… why are
you really here?”

“You know. I
heard what happened and just wanted to do the right thing. Come to
get what’s rightfully mine.”

“Get out,
Mason! You get out this instant!”

“No, Libby, not
until she knows who I am.”

Libby was
quiet; the colour drained from her face but only for a second. I
thought she was about to vomit.

“Psyche, Mason
Johnstone is your father.”

Holy crap! This
was totally unexpected. Now I wanted to vomit. I couldn’t have
guessed where the conversation was going and I had never seen Libby
so angry. He said he had come for what was his. Had he come for me?
Or was I an afterthought now that he knew Mum was gone?

Mason sat,
relaxed, with his leg stretched out and his arms folded behind his
head, as if he were holding his head upright. He looked at me with
that same sneer he had used to expose his intentions to Libby.
Libby still clutched the edge of the table, maybe she would punch
Mason. It sure looked as if she were about to do just that.

“Damn girl,
shut your mouth before you start catching flies!” He seemed to get
some joy from embarrassing me, but I was still in shock and unable
to speak. What could I say? We hadn’t spoken about my father in
years; I knew there was no point asking Libby because Mum had
refused to say anything.

Here sat a man
that was as much a part of me as Celeste was, but there was nothing
familiar. I didn’t share his thin face or pointed nose, I didn’t
have small brown eyes or thin lips. What on earth was I supposed to
do with this information?

I often
imagined my father, once upon a time… He was supposed to look like
Patrick Dempsey or Johnny Depp, not like some strung-out waste of
space. This can’t be true.

Mason was about
to start talking, but as he opened his mouth, Libby cut him off.
“So now leave. We don’t need your kind of trouble around here.”

“I’ll leave now
Libby… but I will be back. I’ll give the girl some time to think
about it all and make plans. I do intend to get to know my
daughter.”

“Over my dead
body.”

“If that’s what
it takes.” He turned from Libby “Psyche, I’ll be seein’ you… soon.”
And Mason walked out.

Libby and I sat
in silence. There were no real thoughts in my head, just swirling
masses of truth and lies. Libby looked ashen and the fear I saw in
her eyes was real. I figured the threat from Mason was far greater
than any wild beast attacking me.

“I’m sorry,
Psyche, I never expected we would ever see him again and it wasn’t
my place to tell you about your father. I presumed you had talked
it out with your mother.”

“Mum always
said there was nothing to tell. I stopped asking about my father
years ago.” It was true I was never very interested and hadn’t
thought about him for years. “But he is horrible; I can’t believe
he’s my father. Tell me it’s a mistake. Tell me Mum had a secret
lover so I can forget all about that man.”

“Psyche,
apparently Mason was the secret boyfriend.” Libby considered her
next statement. “I guess it is time to tell you what I know.”

Libby spoke as
she prepared coffee beans and filled the boiling jug. “He was
actually quite good looking, your father, tall and handsome. He
came to town in a whirlwind of controversy and claimed to be the
grandson of a wealthy woman who’d just died, Maisy Johnstone. No
one had ever heard of him, but there was no will and she had no
other family. So Mason claimed it all.

“Your mother
was very young and looking for a way to escape. There’s this thing
about small towns and teenage girls – their dreams take them away.
Mason’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect. He preyed on her
naiveté and promised to give her the world, and I guess in a way he
did. He gave her you; and trust me, Psyche, it is the only good
thing that man has ever done.

“He drank most
of the money and who knows what else. It was a dark time in town in
those days. Scum came from everywhere and Mason fit right in. The
relationship only lasted a short time; in fact, I never knew
anything about it until much later. Celeste was no longer with him
when she found out she was pregnant. So, we decided to keep it a
secret.” I must have looked horrified because her next words
surprised me.

“I know, I
know. It was wrong, but secrets are our legacy; it’s a hard habit
to break. At the time it seemed like the right thing to do to
protect you both.

“Anyway, Mason
showed up one day and wanted to borrow money from your mum. Guess
he’d spent the entire fortune. Celeste came out because he was
yelling like a banshee and wouldn’t leave. She was only a few days
away from giving birth so there was no hiding it. Funny thing is,
she never said you were his baby. He just screamed that she was a
liar, called her all types of bad names and left; that is the last
time we saw him.”

“Mum never said
he was my father?” I was confused.

“Well, no, but
she never said he wasn’t; and after his outburst, I guess I just
assumed.”

“And today is
the very first time he ever met me, not even when I was a baby? He
knew who I was right away.”

“He was
bluffing, but it wouldn’t take a genius. My guess is he expected to
see your mother.”

I found it hard
to believe any of Libby’s story about my father. There was no
connection, no similarities, nothing. I expected something!