CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Michaela leaned over the basin and scrubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She hadn’t slept well. Too many dreams about little girls drowning and lights and laughter out of place in a nightmare forest. She examined her reflection in the mirror and pulled a face. She needed a hair cut.
Trisha was in the kitchen, holding up an empty bread bag.
‘We need food,’ she said. ‘We’re all out.’
‘Bugger,’ Michaela replied. ‘Forgot about that with all the excitement yesterday. Why don’t you go and get some stuff while I clean up here? Won’t take so much time that way.’
Trisha was shaking her head. ‘Can’t drive,’ she said. She saw Michaela’s look and defended herself. ‘Hey, I grew up in the city, okay? Wasn’t any need or money for a car.’
Michaels held her hands up. ‘I keep forgetting things are different here. At home, every kid learns to drive as soon as they hit fifteen.’ She kissed Trisha. ‘Remind me to teach you when we have time.’ She wrapped her arms around Trisha’s slim body. ‘We’ll both go get some food, what do you say? Then we’ll see if Mrs. Gardener is up for visitors.’
Trisha returned the embrace. ‘You’re a nice person aren’t you?’
Michaela laughed. ‘You don’t have to sound so damned surprised about it.’ She gave her another kiss and let go. ‘Now where are my boots, woman?’
It felt like a year since Michaela had stopped in at the store on her way to Allison’s cabin on the lake. But the same girl was snapping gum behind the counter and looking bored. She cast a glance in Michaela’s direction and flicked one at Trisha. Smirked. Michaela looked away. She was used to it. With her short hair, androgynous clothes, she was aware most people picked her for a lesbian. It was just a little disconcerting in a place like this, where the lurking menace of small-town bigotry practically sat on the shelves next to the Heinz baked beans.
She shook off the thought. Overreacting like usual. She trailed after Trisha, who turned and thrust the wire basket into her hands.
‘You’re in charge of food,’ she said. I’ll get the beer and meet you at the check out.’
There was no chance to reply. Michaela rolled her eyes and cruised the aisles. She was hungry. Shoving a packet of doughnuts in the basket she tried to keep the rest of her purchases sensible.
In aisle three- sugar, flour, and pre-made stuffing mix, two extra well-stuffed women were gossiping. Michaela went to turn back rather than excuse herself and push past, but then she caught some of their conversations.
The younger one was talking, leaning over her trolley and gripping a box of pancake mix. ‘You know her son’s really worried about her. He’s such a nice man, that Mr. Gardener.’
The older one was nodding her head, setting peroxide blond curls bobbing. ‘Oh yes, it’s so good of him to come down here and look after her while her house is being fixed. Isn’t it terrible what happened - her boiler blowing like that? She’s so lucky to have got out unharmed.’
They were both nodding now, a pair of fat hens in the farmyard. Michaela took a packet of cake mix off the shelf and pretended to read the instructions.
‘So what does Doc Harper think is wrong?’ This was the older.
‘I really shouldn’t be saying you know, patient privacy and all that, but since it’s you, well what harm can come? He says she’s showing signs of dementia, poor old thing. Keeps talking about stuff that doesn’t make any sense.’
Michaela’s ears were burning. She put the cake mix back on the shelf and chose another at random.
‘What sort of stuff?’
‘I don’t know. Doc just said she was rambling and it was such a shame to see a strong woman brought so low.’ The woman looked up and caught Michaela's eavesdropping. She nudged her friend and they pushed their trolleys away.
Michaela stayed where she was, thinking. It was a cunning plan, she thought. Pretty much foolproof. Scare the old woman, get her raving about nonsense, play doting son, get the doctor on your side. She shook her head. Diabolical. That’s what it was.
Trisha appeared at her side. ‘What’s taking so long?’ she hissed. That silly cow at the checkout keeps staring at me. I gave her a wink and my best smile and now I think she’s about to call the police.’
Michaela groaned. ‘Jeeze Trisha, ever heard of keeping a low profile?’ Trisha grinned. ‘Not in my genetic make-up, babe. Sorry. Can we get out of here now?’
Michaela dropped the box of cookie dough into the basket and walked with Trisha towards the checkout. The girl scanned and packed their groceries without taking her eyes off Trisha, as though she expected her to climb over the counter and force herself on her. Michaela pulled her wallet out of her pocket. Trisha was playing up to it, she had to admit, standing there, hip cocked provocatively, a tip of a tongue tracing her lips. Michaela paid for the food and shoved Trisha out the door.
‘Are you always this much trouble?’ she asked as they dumped the bags in the back seat of the car.
Trisha laughed. ‘Oh come on, how am I supposed to resist? She was starting to look scared.’ She was cackling now. ‘She deserved it. Confronting her prejudices and all that jazz.’
‘Sure, except that girl in there is never going to see it like that. All you achieved is making her feel justified in thinking different equal dangerous.’
Trisha stuck out her lip and sulked. ‘It was just a bit of fun. I get sick of being treated like a freak.’ She looked over at Michaela. ‘And I don’t even particularly look gay. How do you cope with it?’
Michaela shrugged. ‘I avoid places like this,’ she said. ‘And when I’m in places like this, I keep a low profile.’
Trisha was shaking her head. ‘It’s the twenty-first century. People gotta learn.’ ‘Sure, but right here, right now, they don’t gotta learn on us.’ Michaela scanned the shops along the main street. Yes, there was a hardware store, a little mom and pop outfit. She sighed. Turned back to Trisha.
‘I’m going to the hardware shop for a minute. Grab us that packet of doughnuts, will you? I’m starving. Won’t belong.’
She found two nice, solid torches (flashlights ), hefting them in her hand. Perfect. Light, and if it came to it, protection. God, she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. She’d heard how those women had spoken of Joseph Gardener. They’d practically creamed their pants just thinking about him. She went looking for a pair of binoculars.
Paying for the gear, she headed back to the car. She’d fill Trisha in as she drove.