The Aftermath

Blythe spoke first. “How dare you?”

“How dare I what?” Esther asked, slightly amused and wholly bemused.

“Don’t pretend to be all Miss Innocent with me, Esther. I had someone, someone nice and decent and smart and potentially very rich, and you stole him from me. And now you have the nerve to bring him here, throwing your triumph in my face.”

“You’re talking about Gables?”

“Let me remind you, seeing as you seem to have developed selective amnesia. After our first ridiculous argument about the chocolate–”

“Which our father stole, incidentally.”

“Really?” Blythe said, seeming to lose some momentum.

“Seemed to think it was a great joke.”

“Well, anyway.” Blythe waved an uncaring hand. “I had come back to Australia to make amends with you and to visit father, etcetera, and myself and Byron, my then-boyfriend, went out for some drinks at a dingy little local pub, and–”

“And Byron saw me…”

“And Byron saw you,” Blythe repeated mockingly. “And I no longer existed! I never understood it. We’re identical twins, after all, so it can’t have been love at first sight.”

“Well it was love at first sight, and it was entirely your fault, Blythe.”

Blythe gave her twin a sharp look and cautioned her, “Careful, sister, I’m seven words away from giving you a permanent handle-bar moustache.”

Entirely unaffected by this threat, Esther shrugged and continued, “You cursed him. It was your fault he went after me in the first place.”

Blythe started at that. “Pardon?”

“One of your many petty vengeances backfired,” Esther said calmly. “A seed-curse of your own making hit your own boyfriend. Of course,” Esther continued in philosophical tones, “you never noticed, because you’re only good at making curses, not detecting them or fixing them.”

Blythe shrugged her agreement.

“So you were oblivious, thinking he’d wronged you, that I’d wronged you,” Esther continued. “But really, you did it to yourself. And you’re the only one who can get rid of it. That’s how you made the curse, after all, so I’d have to come grovelling to you for help. Now I hope you’re happy, because here I am, asking you to fix him. He’s been trying to (a) quote poetry or (b) kiss me, ever since I had the misfortune to require his help – after all that ruckus you caused at Sydney Airport.”

Blythe looked somewhere between amused and ashamed[94]. “It really was my fault… What are the odds, do you think[95]?”

“Very, very small,” Esther answered, smiling. “Now fix him before he tries to kiss me again.”

Blythe cast an incredulous look at her twin. “But what was that kiss all about – the one before? If I recall correctly, it wasn’t him that kissed you… you kind of both went for it at the same time.”

Esther’s cheeks blushed crimson in seconds and Blythe smirked triumphantly.

“We had a deal,” Esther replied, with a shake of her head, “and that’s the extent of it. This stage of his curse makes him want to kiss me, so I said if he helped me, and we managed to rescue James, then I’d kiss him. But it doesn’t really help, in the end, because he’ll always want to kiss me unless you fix him.”

Blythe could hardly believe what she was hearing. “Byron Gables is hot. Are you 100%, completely, without a single doubt in the world sure you want me to remove that curse?”

“He’s not in his right mind!” Esther exclaimed. “How can I, in good conscience, allow a thing like this to continue?”

“It might be weary on the conscience,” Blythe slyly intimated, “but not weary on anything else. He’s very good-looking, he’s rich, and (if I cursed him properly) he’s likely to be infatuated with you forever. What’s your problem?”

Esther hesitated momentarily, then shook her head. “It’s just wrong. It’s immoral.”

Blythe sighed heavily. “See, that appears to be the difference between you and me.” Then, half to herself, she murmured, “It’s probably why you’re not constantly getting crapped on by giant herons.”

“Sorry?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you some other time. It’s a long story. Let’s just say I’m beginning to see the error of my ways, as they say.”

“Oh! Good,” Esther said sincerely, and without a trace of irony.

It was the obvious sincerity and goodness in Esther’s entire person and expression (which her sister had once disdained) that Blythe now coveted most jealously. She wanted her sister’s goodness, but wondered where to start. She supposed there might be some curse that would allow her to take all her sister’s goodness away from her, but after thinking it through for more than three seconds she realised that it was about as appropriate as entering a dachshund into a greyhound race, or wearing a swastika to a bar mitzvah.

But Blythe was not, as yet, so completely reformed that she would simply help Esther when she asked it of her. She still had a little bit of ‘messing’ in mind.

“Here’s the thing, Esther,” Blythe began, frowning. “I made a pile of different seed curses, and they all go in a five-stage loop. I need to know what those five stages are. Then I’ll know which one it is, so I can… deactivate it, so to speak.”

“Can’t you take him through the stages?” Esther asked despairingly.

“Hey, I’m a married woman now,” Blythe said, trying to look serious but failing somewhat.

Esther scowled at her. “I’ll get you for this.”

“No, you won’t.” Blythe laughed. “You’re too nice.”

Esther growled at her, seemingly admitting that she was right.

Lilith regained consciousness shortly thereafter, and was so delighted with her ever-playful and ever-amusing adoptive father that she soon forgot her terrible headache. Blythe emerged from the room alone, looked to Gables and said, “You’re forgiven. And it’s your turn to go in.”

Gables moved to obey, but hesitated at the doorway.

“He’s not going to find a dead body in there, is he, Miss Pitchfork?” Domenic asked.

“Would I do that?” she said to her husband with mock-innocence. She nodded at Gables, who merely shrugged and disappeared into the room.

Blythe stopped when she saw Lilith. A look passed between them in which no words were spoken but much was communicated: their similarities, in their often misunderstood abruptness, their repressed cravings for affection, and the silent determination that together, much could be accomplished. James merely saw happiness on both faces and was satisfied that his work was done.

“Byron Gables,” Esther Mason-Smith said, slowly and deliberately, “I love you.”

Happiness suffused Gables’ face. “Really?”

“No! Of course I don’t love you, you stupid, moronic git!” Esther snapped at the bewildered pilot. “I had to say ‘Byron Gables I love you’ to get rid of that part of the curse. Oh God – what’s the next part?”

“How could you say that you love me, when you don’t?” Byron cried dramatically, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Okay,” Esther said miserably. “Stage three: bizarre depression.”

She ordered Gables to be still, and looked into his eyes once more, searching for what would take the curse into its next stage.

“Oh, I have to what?!” Esther Mason-Smith exclaimed.

James, Lilith and Blythe turned from Domenic’s time-wasting storytelling to see Esther’s head pop out from behind the doorway.

“Okay,” Esther spoke quickly, with the tone of an experienced surgeon, “I’m going to need a strawberry and a feather duster.”

Blythe collapsed into a fit of laughter, whilst the other three looked on, bewildered.

Esther scowled at her twin. “Either help me or shut up.”

“Alright, hang on.” Blythe giggled and ran into the kitchen to retrieve the items.

After feeding Byron a strawberry whilst tickling him with the feather duster, hugging him, and finally slapping him (rather hard), Esther was relieved to find that the original sonnet-spouting curse had returned. At least Blythe had not lied: it truly was an endless, five-curse loop. Which, unfortunately, only Blythe was capable of completely removing.

And yet Esther had to admit that the wanting-to-kiss-her phase of the curse was the least irritating. At least he had some measure of control over himself, and didn’t descend into the ridiculous. And right now he seemed to be working himself up to a multi-stanza sonnet. It was easily remedied, at least. All she had to do was kiss him again. She had only intended a small peck, but for some reason not consciously known to her, she did not pull away instantly.

“Told you I’m a good kisser,” he whispered.

“Oh!” Esther retreated, half angry, half embarrassed, slapping him in the process. But this action, unfortunately, by-passed the other stages and returned Gables to the sonnet-spouting stage once more.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Esther growled again[96], jaw and fists clenched, as Gables began to declare his everlasting love in iambic pentameter. She kissed him again, this time instantly pulling away, and said very quickly, “Now don’t you dare say a thing. Blythe!”

Her twin appeared in the doorway.

Esther described as best she could the five stages she had encountered.

“And what were the transitions?” Blythe asked.

“Isn’t that enough information?”

Blythe looked grim.

“Oh, alright,” Esther said, seething, and explained what had sent him into each stage of the curse.

“Ah, I see now,” Blythe said with a knowing nod. “It’s my patented Endlessly Irritating Infatuation curse.”

“I could’ve told you that!”

“And I could’ve told you that five minutes ago.” Blythe grinned. “I just wanted to mess with you a little.”

Esther could have strangled her. With great control, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Now that we have established without a doubt that it is your–” (she scowled violently) “–patented Endlessly Irritating Infatuation curse, can you please fix him?”

“Sure,” Blythe said.  She stepped over to Byron, placed her right hand over his eyes, and simply said the word ‘out’ as she pulled her hand back. Something dark and powdery-looking followed the motion of her hand. She closed her palm around the substance and it shrunk into a smooth, black, pebble-like thing, which she tossed aside. She looked to Esther and said, “Done.”

Byron Gables opened his eyes. He looked up at Blythe. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

Blythe shook her head. “We’ve already established it was my fault – and besides, I’m happily married now. So I guess it was all for the best, anyway.”

“Well.” Gables stood, his face unreadable. “I guess we’d all better head down to the police station now, right?”

Esther was surprised and somewhat hurt – then distressed that she should feel hurt – that Gables said nothing to her, and would not even meet her eye.

“Everything is sorted,” Blythe said happily as she, her twin and her former flame exited the room.

James, however, felt slightly anxious for Miss Mason-Smith. There was something discontented about her face and shoulders, which James had never seen in her before. Also, Mr Gables was not smiling or being cheeky, but looked rather dejected himself. He simply moved toward the door and said, without turning, “I’ll go and start my car – I can take four.”

James looked at Miss Mason-Smith, who was watching Byron go. He decided that distraction, which had often worked for him, might work for Esther too. He slipped his hand into hers and began to lead her outside, saying softly, “Andrew’s secret was that he had no redeeming quality. What’s a redeeming quality, Miss Mason-Smith?”

Frowning, and not entirely recalling that she was talking to a nine-year-old boy, Miss Mason-Smith said, “Something that useless men use to get women.”

“What?”

She shrugged, pointing towards Domenic, Blythe and Lilith, who had exited the house before them, and were currently heading toward the taxi waiting beside Gables’ car. “Take Domenic, for example. The man is absolutely useless in this day and age, except for the fact that he loves my sister blindly.” Miss Mason-Smith’s frown left her. She seemed almost herself when she smiled down at James, and squeezed his hand, adding, “And I suppose he’d look good in a tux. So not completely useless, after all.”

James was comforted by this thought. Well, if nothing else worked, he thought, at least he knew that he too looked good in a tux.

James himself had no further desire for vengeance; the truth was out, and his pseudo-parents were vanquished. The law, however, had much against the couple. There was hardly a council official or policeman in the immediate area who had not received a small token of Walter Winchester’s ill-gotten wealth. One huge advantage to Walter’s so-called ‘juvenility’ (in keeping evidence for all these transactions in such good order) was that it made it amazingly easy for the honest police officers to weed out those among their ranks who were evidently more loyal to their pockets than to the law.

And so Yvette and Walter Winchester, along with those who had bent the law for them, got precisely what they deserved. The estate, the money – in short, everything – was confiscated and placed in a trust fund for James, with Esther as his guardian, on paper and in practice.

James returned to class with little welcome from the majority of his classmates. Mind you, he was not hurt by this, but glad of the lack of attention. And now, in the general tone of the classroom there was one major difference – instead of sitting beside Andrew Harrison VI (whose company nobody missed), he sat beside the bright-eyed, golden-haired Lilith Palmer. And yet, James Winchester was still James Winchester: ludicrously hypochondriacal, and with a particular affection for Miss Mason-Smith. So his class-time visits to the infirmary were almost as frequent as before.

With the rather dubious excuse that they were both feeling ill from last night’s dinner, Lilith and James strolled away from class to visit said nurse. As they entered, James saw Esther deep in conversation – with thin air. But a moment later he realised it must’ve been Andrew she was talking to; James simply could not see him, as he had lost his potential.

“Alright, Andrew, the only way for you to become visible again is to return all the secrets to their rightful owners.” Esther looked in James’ vicinity. “Are you listening to me?” She ran her fingers through her hair, gesticulated exasperatedly and said, “Andrew Harrison! How many times do I have to tell you? You are invisible. Stop trying to punch James!”

James smiled. He couldn’t feel a thing. “He’s trying to punch me?” He laughed, then spun round and round, saying, “Ner-nerny-ner-ner.”

“Oh, don’t make him madder, James,” Lilith said shortly. “You mightn’t be able to hear him, but I can.”

James stopped spinning and tried to regain his balance. “What’s he saying?”

“You liar, where’s the bank, where’re the guns, I hate you, I hate you, blah, blah, blah.” Lilith shrugged. A moment later she looked relieved. “Oh good, he’s gone.”

“Miss Mason-Smith,” James said, confused, “if that was how you get rid of the curse, why didn’t you just tell me so in the first place?”

“Oh,” Esther waved an indifferent hand, smiling in a slightly wicked manner. “I have no idea if that’ll do it.”

“That’s a bit cruel, isn’t it?” James frowned.

“Andrew is a cruel sort of boy.” Esther continued to smile. “He’ll tire of his ghostliness soon enough, as they all do, and then he’ll want to get rid of the curse. It’ll take him a good few years to return all those secrets.”

“That sounds very cruel,” Lilith agreed, smiling. “I like it.”

Esther shrugged. “Andrew’s never done an honest day’s work in his life. It’ll do him good.”

“Gosh, Miss Mason-Smith,” James exclaimed. “I’m glad I’m not in your bad books! Seems like a bad place to be.”

“I’m sure you could never be in my bad books, James Winchester,” Esther said, smiling affectionately at him. “And I’m also sure that neither of you are at all sick right now. So get back to class.”

James frowned, but eventually (with great reluctance) said, “Alright, Miss Mason-Smith.”

Lilith Palmer took James’ hand and they wandered back the way they had come and out of Esther’s sight.

“Ah, young love.” The nurse chuckled to herself. “So simple.”

Now alone, she sighed, reclined and gazed at the white infirmary roof. She had felt a strange sense of loss when she had returned to the infirmary after the Larkwind confrontation of several weeks ago, not having Byron Gables ever-present to annoy her, to make her angry and want to strangle him. Perhaps she had liked the attention, she wondered, suddenly feeling very displeased with herself. It can’t have been good for her vanity, to have been the object of a baseless, never-ending infatuation. The infatuation now gone, Esther began to wonder if she had any appealing qualities at all.

She was certain that she was not ugly[97] . And she was sure that she was not, by nature, irritating[98] . She had a simple job[99] , which she liked, and never complained about[100] . She did not feel insecure enough about herself to be the jealous, controlling type.

In fact, as far as Esther could tell, there was nothing the matter with her. The nerve of the man! All that time and… and mortification, trying to help him remove that curse – to say nothing in thanks, and then not even look at her!

And yet, what did she want from him? She had seen his true character for perhaps one minute amongst the entirety of their ludicrous acquaintance. It made no sense! Why, Esther wanted to know, should she want him to like her now?

Perhaps it was for the assurance, she realised then, of knowing that a person needn’t be cursed into liking her. Certainly, she had no major character flaws. But was she, Esther Mason-Smith, at all – even just the teensiest bit – likeable?

All that time! Byron Gables was thinking, as he lay on a wheel-platform under his plane, half-covered with grease. He did that a lot lately. Thinking, that is, instead of working. All that time… that look on her face, it was disgust. Women generally thought him attractive – he knew it, and he rather liked it – so it couldn’t have been due to his appearance. More likely it was his behaviour, brought on by that awful, awful curse. He had recalled it all – every humiliating moment of it – the moment Blythe had removed it. Then he couldn’t bring himself to look at Esther, for fear he’d see that look again: that disgust, that supreme irritation.

Byron knew his only real flaw was vanity. But other than this (and perhaps despite this) he was a sensible man, rather quiet, usually more prone to observation than conversation. And Esther Mason-Smith had never looked at him with anything more than… disdain!

He was not used to being on the receiving end of such looks.

He did not like being on the receiving end of such looks.

Except, he conceded inwardly, there had been one single moment, which seemed to contradict all the others, and gave him an irrational hope. After he’d punched Walter and she’d slapped Yvette, they’d shared a look that seemed to say: ‘You and I, we are equal; we are the same’. She would look at him like that again, he was determined. Even if just once. Then his vanity would be satisfied.

But after such a start! It would be a hard task indeed.

Soon after this, Esther Mason-Smith, who was sitting at her desk mulling covetously over the simplicity of ‘young love’, was surprised.

The infirmary door crashed open to reveal Gables, causing Esther to have a bizarre and very unwelcome daydream flash; Gables looked so manly, and Esther was so shocked, that the next logical step in her mind-scene included Gables dashing across the floor, whisking Esther up into his arms and throwing her onto a horse that would somehow have appeared out of nowhere, and riding into a sunset that had broken all natural laws of astronomy, physics and motion in order to occur at half past three in the afternoon.

Esther, disgusted with herself for this momentary lapse, mentally brushed the flash aside. But what was Gables doing here? She did not know what to say or do. In fact, she was terrified. And so she fell back on the dominant manner she had used with him previously: sarcasm. She cocked her head to one side, saying, with apparent sincerity, “Please don’t tell me you need me to kiss you again, or that I’m the loveliest being on the planet, or tha’chu wanna be mah lover.”

Gables glowered at her.

She smiled. “Ah-ha! I can actually offend you now! Vunderbar!” Esther felt very good about these statements. They managed to put that daydream several miles away from her. She felt much safer now.

Gables drew in a deep breath and expelled it in a very controlled manner, loosing only the tiniest growl.

“Look,” he began, “please don’t judge me on the basis of what I was like when I was cursed. I’ve been like a – a ridiculous caricature of myself. So I like poetry.” He tried to look dignified (but ended up somewhere between that and petulant). “It’s not something I tell everybody, but it’s true. I’m sorry it all came out as ‘verbal diarrhoea’ every time I saw you. So I said I’m good-looking. Well, I am, and I’m not sorry I am. It’s just that people don’t normally say that out loud, and I had a weird confidence-surge in the wanting-to-kiss-you stage of the curse.”

He had traversed much of the distance between them, and had come to stand near her desk. His expression had lost its petulance and seemed now to be fixed with a slight amusement, as if he had learned just now to laugh at himself and his unfortunate moments. He continued:

“And, so I spiralled into a ‘bizarre depression’ after you said you loved me. Just because I know I’m good-looking, doesn’t mean I mightn’t be insecure about girls liking me for who I am, and not for other reasons. Whatever they may be. And this is about as much talking about… feelings–” he shook his head quickly, “–as I can handle in so short a time. So…” He looked up from the floor and caught her eye.

Esther cursed her frozen brain. She could not think of anything useful to say – or even anything sarcastic. There was no relief. The awkwardness of the moment simply increased. And increased.

Byron Gables realised something as he stared at the silent nurse. For all their differences of character, Esther did have something in common with Blythe – even if she did not recognise it, or even know it. Her sarcasm and bravado meant nothing. They were automatic defences. Esther Mason-Smith was not used to being attracted to someone, and Esther Mason-Smith was attracted to him. Unconsciously, Byron smiled at Esther with his alarmingly disarming smile. Her cheeks flushed but she remained mute.

“How do you feel about New Zealand?” he asked abruptly.

“Sorry?”

“One of the perks of owning your own plane is you can go anywhere in the world, at any time.”

“You mean… how do I feel about going to New Zealand… with you?”

“Just for dinner,” he added quickly.

“Just for dinner?”

“Well, it’s a bit early on for a mini-break, don’t you think?” Byron joked.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit extravagant to just, you know, pop over to a neighbouring country for a meal?” Esther asked, unsure whether she should be horrified or flattered by the proposition.

Byron laughed. “Of course it is. But I know you’ve already got a passport, and I’ve got friends at the airport over there.”

“Oh…” Esther frowned, shaking her head. After a few moment’s consideration she said, “Fine. But only if I don’t have to (a) kiss you, (b) listen to gallingly false compliments or (c) dance with you.”

“Perfect.” Gables grinned at her. “I’m rubbish at compliments and dancing anyway.” He then flashed her a look which said plainly that he certainly wasn’t rubbish at something else.

Esther rolled her eyes and shook her head, but gathered up her passport and purse and followed Gables to his car.

And this was how, bizarrely and extremely awkwardly, Esther Mason-Smith and Byron Gables began. They ‘popped over’ to New Zealand for dinner, had the pleasure of saying very little to each other, and also of feeling very uncomfortable around one another, and seeing some very nice, incredibly blue water. By the end of the day Esther was smugly satisfied that Byron Gables liked her, which might have ended it all, if Byron Gables had not been distinctly aware that she had not yet looked at him without some measure of disgust.

So even though their relationship began purely on the basis of both parties wanting to satisfy their own vanity, Esther Mason-Smith and Byron Gables quickly found each other compatible in almost every way. For Esther’s part, Byron was quite often away (Esther’s view of things was ‘What’s the point of spending so much time together? You’re only going to get sick of each other sooner’). Nor was he often given to overt, public displays of affection, and this (due to her possessing a nature that was very reserved about all things emotional) suited her perfectly. And for Byron’s part, Esther was neither clingy[101] nor given to speeches filled with eloquence and emotion, and other such icky sentimentality[102] .

But Esther could have sworn – weeks, months later, and more – that some warped remnant of Blythe’s seed curse had remained within Byron. Sometimes he would subject her to gallingly false compliments, then, like a knee-jerk reaction, she would slap him, and suddenly Byron Gables would want nothing more than to kiss her. Strange. Except these days she didn’t feel the need to pull back.

But of course, a romance between two nine-year-olds is hardly likely to last forever. This was the case with James and Lilith. They parted ways after their HSC to be further educated for their respective careers: James in medical science, followed by diagnostic pathology[103], and Lilith as Blythe’s apprentice. At that time, both felt that they would simply die from their sorrows. However, as they immersed themselves in their studies, a reasonable passage of time found them not dead at all, perhaps only increasingly myopic.

James did eventually grow up and marry, but that is another story altogether. The events of the day on which James finally asked this unnamed female out for their first date were quite amusing, but, like the story of Peter Hargraves and The Magician, would probably need to be told in the context of the previous 100 or so almost-attempts to properly express James’ happiness upon hearing two small words: ‘Well, okay’.

The fate of Lilith Palmer may only be guessed at. After finishing her apprenticeship with Blythe, Lilith changed her name (she was sick of everybody being unable to pronounce it[104]) and disappeared into the woodwork, with a professed intention to work in counter-terrorism. (Lilith was particularly fond of one story her adoptive mother used to tell her, of when she and James were about to be ‘delayed’ at the airport.)

Oh, but shall we forget the wretched Andrew Harrison VI? We might as well as not, for everyone else in the world did. Since Lilith Palmer had orchestrated a perfectly unseen escape from the Children’s Hospital, it was assumed that Andrew Harrison VI had run away. (He had made several threats to that effect to the nurses, and at a volume that seemed to indicate the strength of his determination.) An appropriate amount of time and resources was invested in the search, which inevitably turned up nothing. Even his parents, whilst consciously devastated by the loss, in the very deepest parts of their unconscious beings felt relieved by his absence. But before you go feeling sorry for Andrew Harrison VI, as I know you might, you really must recall his deepest secret and realise that the world, in subtracting a negative (by pure mathematics), ended up better off.

By the time Andrew Harrison VI tired of making mischief in stealing secrets, and then attempted to rid himself of the curse as Esther had suggested (by returning each secret to its rightful owner), mankind was halfway through a 3rd millennium Anno Domini. Remarkably enough (considering Esther in fact had no idea what she was talking about, and only told Andrew such a thing because she imagined it would take a very long time), this was how Chrysander Noble had intended the curse to be broken. So Andrew Harrison VI at last found himself visible and touchable, and the curse of the Secret Stealer came to an end. I leave it to the reader to imagine how Andrew (still in his nine-year-old body) was to fend for himself in a 26th century world…

There – have I left anything out? Well, it is perhaps against tradition to close a story with the misery of the villain rather than with the good-fortune of the hero… So I will venture to mention that the turning point in James’ pursuit of the unnamed girl – the thought that finally allowed him past all his illogical neuroses – was the same piece of unwittingly imparted advice that helped him past almost every obstacle in life. Though I’m quite sure Esther had no idea these words would be taken to heart in such a way, it was this: if nothing else worked, at least he knew he looked good in a tux.