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In the middle of the night, a memory wakes me. I’m dreaming about old newspapers, jumbled headlines that don’t make sense scrolling past. Then one word jumps out: Rosemary. The name on the drawing in the bottle is creeping around in my subconscious, but did I see it somewhere else? A headline? Or one of the names dropped in the gossip columns about the Elvis visit?
As I sit up in bed, light from the street leaks around the old venetian blinds, making a stripy pattern across the wall above Wanda’s bed and illuminating the nails on Doris’s chest. I try to remember the context for the name but it’s no good. Telling myself it’s probably a dream-induced coincidence, I drop back into a fitful sleep.
Over breakfast I send Derek a text, remembering he probably won’t check his phone until late morning. But he calls me straight back.
“I think I saw it somewhere in the newspapers,” I say. “But it could be inspired by Sage and her herbs.”
“I trust your intuition, even if you don’t.”
“Why?”
“Momi knows a kindred spirit when she sees one. Especially since her mind has drifted.”
“Don’t put too much faith in me, DD. I’m a woman on an emotional roller-coaster. Reliable is one thing I’m not.”
“Can you spare an hour this morning to check the newspapers again? I’ll bring coffees and help you with your seminar descriptions. There’s a new coffee cart in the mall. The barista has just come out of rehab and I want to support him.”
“Schmoozer.”
*
Derek meets me at the office with two coffees and a frown.
“Gracie has just phoned. Sage has had a meltdown. She was guarding this old bottle until someone found it and put it in the dumpster. Now she’s discovered it’s missing, she won’t be pacified until she gets it back.”
“Did Sage put the drawing in the bottle? Does she want the drawing back too?”
“Gracie didn’t say. She’s a mess herself. I think we need to return it exactly as we found it.”
“I agree. Poor Sage. First Noodles, now this. It’s probably a special treasure, especially if she found this old drawing in the house and used the bottle as a hiding place.”
I’ve already pulled out my phone to take a photo of the drawing. In the sunlight streaming through Derek’s window, I see it’s some kind of animal. Not a rabbit, I hope. That would be too creepy.
That’s when I see the text message. From Lolana.
Can we meet, Selkie? For a fruit juice at 2.30 today? My flight from Maui should be in by then. Name a place downtown.
Surprised, I write back: Hi Lolana. OK to meet. See you at the Lava Flow bar on Fort Street Mall. Selkie
Should I ask her if Derek can come too? We might need him, so I ask him to hang around when I’m meeting her. The Lava Flow is a just five-minute walk from here.
I roll up the drawing, slip it back into the bottle, and hand it to Derek. He grabs his coffee and leaves on his mercy dash to Waipunalani. Even though I’m sure I could help Sage to feel better about what’s happened, I’m not going with him. When I was her age, I hid things in bottles. These secret places are special and when they’re exposed or dismissed by adults, it crushes a child’s spirit. But these coincidences with my childhood have taken on a bitter taint.
Is Lolana going to wear her doctor’s hat and warn me off too?
*
Derek calls me on his way back. “Sage wanted to know why you weren’t with me. I wondered if the whole thing was a stunt to get you to visit, but then she saw the bottle and didn’t wait for my answer. I’ve never seen a child caress an empty bottle with such affection. Creepy.”
“Not empty, DD. Did she mention the drawing?”
“Gracie rushed me out so there wasn’t time. I think I might be persona non grata too. But I noticed they’ve emptied the dumpster, so if we hadn’t rescued the bottle it would be gone forever.”
“Shooting the messenger is understandable. They’re under a lot of strain. I wonder if all this drama is of their own making.”
“Time will tell,” he says. “See you back at the office.”
*
I’m already seated at the Lava Flow when Lolana arrives. Judging by her casual slacks and top and the overnight bag in her hand, she’s come straight from the airport. Her silvering curls remind me of a younger version of Momi. How old would she be? Fifty?
She suggests Blue Hawaiian mocktails so I order one for each of us.
“A medical emergency,” she explains about her trip. “There’s a shortage of doctors on the other islands so we all pitch in with outreach services. I flew out on Sunday. Patient stabilised, thank heavens.”
“That’s good to hear. You didn’t get much of a weekend after flying in from Sydney.” Was it only last week?
“That trip was pleasure. I had a good rest.”
She doesn’t elaborate, but gets straight to the point of this meeting. It’s not the casual drink she suggested when she gave me her business card.
“I have an unusual request,” she begins. “After you left the Coopers on Saturday, I spent time with Sage and her mom. It was clear that Sage has formed a strong attachment to you. She said she knows someone who changed her name so she’s going to change her name too. To Selkie.”
“Really?” I chuckle, hoping she doesn’t think I’ve encouraged this. “I don’t recommend it. No-one can spell it.”
She smiles. “The move and the renovations have put pressure on Sage. She’s been mixed up and lonely enough to create an invisible friend.”
“Sage mentioned her friend. Roxie. She seems to have helped Sage cope with the death of Noodles.”
“I agree, and choosing you as a new real friend is a healthy development, but she needs someone reliable. I’m wondering if you’re prepared to stick around for a while, as a friend that Sage and Gracie can count on. I know you’re also a malihini in town and you’re in the process of settling down yourself, so if you don’t need this extra commitment, it would be a good time to withdraw.”
“Gracie has made up my mind for me, Lolana. She’s told me not to visit them again.”
“Oh, I haven’t caught up with this. I understand her decision but ... she’s jumped in before I could talk to you. Given this development, my comments are out of line. I’m sorry, Selkie.”
“You’re just looking out for all of us, me included.”
I knew Lolana was that kind of person in the taxi queue. Then she made a house call to Hudson on a Saturday.
“I can’t say any more about Sage,” she says. “I’ve told you too much already. You understand.”
“Of course.”
She changes the subject. “So how are you settling in?”
“Things are falling into place. I’ve found somewhere to live and a supportive flatmate. Derek rents an office in the building where I’ve rented mine. I think of them both as friends.”
“Hawaiians are welcoming like that. They’re good judges of character too. And ... the text messages?”
I admire her diplomacy. “Still coming. Still obnoxious. But they’re being drummed out by my new life. Even researching the history of the Coopers’ house has helped.”
“We can probably talk about the house,” she says. “Up until the Coopers bought it.”
I update her on our search for a past tragedy and what we’ve found so far. It’s surprisingly little, given the time we’ve spent on it.
“And if you find a tragedy, what then?”
It’s a good question. “Derek thought that recent events might mean the house is haunted. But we’ve found no evidence of a past tragedy so far. We both sense a cloud hanging over the place, but it could just be the stress of the present.”
“If you’re psychic,” she says, “you’re in good company around here.”
“It’s just a feeling – and Derek loves a good spooky mystery.”
“I noticed that. His website is very addictive.”
So she’s checked it out. Since Saturday? Or was she already a fan?
Without mentioning Sage’s meltdown, I tell her about the drawing labelled Rosemary. Then my newspaper dream.
“You think a child called Rosemary lived in the house? How would that help?”
“If I also saw the name in the old newspapers, it might be the clue to a past event. Perhaps not a tragedy, but something newsworthy linked to the house. Anyway, it’s giving me something to think about. Besides myself.”
We finish our drinks and part company at the door. I suspect we won’t have a reason to meet again but she surprises me.
“If you find anything in the history that might be relevant to the current owners, you’ll let me know?”
I promise her I will.
*
A newspaper search on the floor of Derek’s office takes the whole afternoon but we find it.
Girl, 5, Drowns in Family Pool.
KAILUA, March 11 – Five-year-old Rosemary Davis was found in the pool of a ten-acre property.
The stepdaughter of tennis coach, Everett Turner, who owns the Maunawili property, was found floating face-down at about 10.30 am by tennis star, Ralph Akina. He applied first-aid but she couldn’t be revived. Twenty-year-old Akina is an apprentice carpenter with Shoreline Constructions, undertaking renovations at the Turner house, Waipunalani, named after the folksong with the same name. Turner’s wife and the mother of the child, Audrey Davis Turner, is under sedation and could not be interviewed. Everett Turner, who was absent at the time of the tragedy, has asked for privacy.
“Shit, Selkie,” Derek says. “She has to be the Rosemary who did the drawing. If you hadn’t had that dream and been so certain you’d seen her name, we probably would have missed this. Look, the lead-line gives the location as Kailua, not Maunawili. It’s the tragedy we’ve been searching for.” He looks at me. “Why have you gone so pale? It’s sad but it was a long time ago.”
“She was five, DD, like Sage.”
“I know what you’re thinking but it’s OK. There’s no pool there anymore.”
“No, but Hudson told us there’s a spring. I saw the pool in an old photo on the Coopers’ wall. One of those natural pools. It must have been fed by the spring that gives the house its name. And now they’re damming the same spring to make a pond.”
“Sage is too old to drown in a pond. That’s only a threat for toddlers.”
My own near-drowning as a toddler has made it my greatest fear as an adult. Every puddle threatens my peace of mind.
“But if Rosemary could swim a little,” he continues, “she might have been over-confident and swum out into the middle where she couldn’t hang onto the side – and no-one heard her cries for help.”
“Maybe her mother was distracted by something.”
“Ralph Akina was very distracting,” Derek says. “Keep breathing, ladies.”
I’m not interested in newspaper gossip. The anguish of Audrey Turner, losing her daughter like that, is almost too much to imagine. Because of my phobia, Andrew got a kick out of dragging me along every pool party. More than once a child who couldn’t swim ended up in the water, but with all the drinking and laughter, the adults often didn’t notice until it was almost too late.
Getting my own fears under control, I focus on the mystery. “Rhett said he knew someone who worked for Shoreline Constructions. If that was Ralph Akina, this is the tragic accident he doesn’t want us to find out about.”
“Why not just tell us? And we don’t know it was an accident.”
“Ralph could have blamed himself for not being able to revive her. If that haunted him, it might have ended his career. Maybe the teenage Rhett looked up to him and watched him crumble. It makes sense he wouldn’t want to talk about it.”
“I’ll have to consult the online newspaper archives,” Derek says. “I’ve put it off long enough. At least we have a date. There must have been an inquest. The whole story about who was where and why the child wasn’t supervised would have come out.” Now Derek turns to the nub of our search – the implications of a tragic death on the Coopers’ property. “Is Rosemary our lost spirit?”
“That’s a horrible thought, DD. She was just a child. Let her rest in peace.”
After a silence he says, “Is she Sage’s invisible friend?”
“What? Invisible friends are not ghosts. You obviously never had one.”
“OK already. Their names aren’t the same anyway. But it’s not a crazy idea. Sage has Rosemary’s drawing in that bottle and there’s something spooky going on in that house. You felt it yourself.”
“I know. Sorry to bite your head off. I keep seeing that little girl face-down in the pool.” Which means Rosemary is now haunting me.
How am I going to sleep tonight?
*
After staying back to catch up on my own work, I get a late bus and find Wanda at home. She’s already stocked the wine-rack, so over several glasses, I bring her up to date on a few things.
She gets a laugh out of Meg’s photo of Andrew’s curtained window. “Don’t tell me you never closed your bedroom curtains with Meddling Meg on spy patrol across the road?”
“Always. The window faces east and the sun woke us way too early on the weekend.”
“So he could be hiding behind the drapes all by himself – or with an obedient blow-up mannequin.” She turns to Doris. “Sorry old girl, no slur against the morals of all dummies intended.”
Doris accepts the apology.
Next, we move onto the Coopers and the death of Rosemary Davis.
Out of the blue she asks, “Is Sage Hudson’s daughter?”
“I assume so. Why?”
“If he’s her stepfather, it might explain a few things. Like why Gracie’s parents are so down on their move to Hawaii. After being a single parent and relying on them, she found a new man and took off – and now things are falling apart, she’s being overprotective of her daughter.”
Needles of dread prickle my whole body. I’ve wondered about Hudson, if he’s keeping the lid on something. “If Sage’s situation is the same as Rosemary’s – living in the same house with a mother and a step-father – would that put her in danger of a copycat tragedy? Like ... history repeating itself?”
“Weird things like that happen around here, Selkie. Just sayin’ because you’re a malihini. And so are her parents.”
“Derek’s been here for a while.”
“But he’s more literal than intuitive, from what you’ve told me. You don’t want to miss the signs when a child’s life could be in danger.”
She’s right. Is this what I’m missing? Or something else?
And if I find out, what do I do about it?