From: Celia Beasley CeeceeB@gmail.com
Saturday 11 June 4:11 PM
Man, did you see the news today? Apparently the police found some isolated shack near Bendigo belonging to their prime suspect, but when they got there the whole house had been totally stripped and cleaned. There was no furniture, no curtains, no bedding and no carpet – even the underlay had been removed, like the guy didn’t want to leave one single shred of evidence except a wedge of – get this – CHEESE! Tossed out the back door. I’ve left the TV on for updates. Jaime said that if it turns out he’s from Ashbourne, she’s going back to Evelyn and doesn’t care if they don’t have a school harp.
While we’ve had the TV on, Grandma and I have been working on the quilt and it’s starting to look, well, like a quilt – 17 squares sewn. Grandma’s actually pretty great for somebody who watches reruns of Burke’s Backyard and stinks of eau de cologne.
CCB x
From: Alice King Alicekingofthejungle@gmail.com
Saturday 11 June 5:37 PM
Hey CC – Tess told me about the Bendigo thing. Sounds like the freak’s lair, all right. But still no arrest. I hope Hallie’s ok.
I think you need some good news for a change! Something heartwarming and hopeful. Or maybe it’s just that I feel suddenly so hopeful, like I’m not carrying around such a huge burden anymore. I spoke to Dad and it’s pretty much official that Mum is better, or better enough. She’s even taking visitors now and saying she wants to come home – asking about us!!!! Her alive kids who still need her!!!!! So, if you’re still up for the Cambi market, keep that Sunday free and hopefully that creep will be locked up by then too and we can walk to the cinema and get you a beige honeycomb choc top after too.
Alice x
From: Celia Beasley CeeceeB@gmail.com
Sunday 12 June 8.48 AM
I love that! Mrs Carmichael is tops. Next Sunday for Cambi market is perfect. I’d better get working on more stanzas.
Ooo, I’m cold – even though the heating’s on, it’s so chilly. It’s the kind of dark morning when you need a brownie with your hot chocolate – what would Mum say?!
Will email again later,
xCCB
PS Stanza for another dress?
Four girls walk,
arms linked,
a paper chain,
and in their wake, a siren screams:
cry blue murder.
From: Celia Beasley CeeceeB@gmail.com
Sunday 12 June 7:45 PM
Oh Alice, things are out of control here.
I was working on the quilt in Cleo’s room, and just as I was knotting a thread, Andrew and Cleo came in holding out a chemist envelope of photos. Andrew asked me whether I’d taken them, which I hadn’t – why would I take photos when my sister’s practically a pro photo-journalist? Anyway, Andrew told me they were from Grandpa’s SLR and that he got them processed for Cleo at the chemist. Most of them were standard Cleo stuff: random close-ups of doorknobs, socks and battered autumn leaves. Then I got to a group of pictures and Cleo made a sick noise I hadn’t heard before – like a dog vomiting. The first photo was of two lumps, but when I looked closer I saw it was Cleo and me. Asleep. Someone had taken a photo of us, Alice, of Cleo and me – curled up in our doonas, FAST ASLEEP. I started breathing fast and Cleo started crying, but I had to check the other pictures and there were six of them. Three of Cleo and me, two close-ups of Cleo, and one of me, all taken through Cleo’s bedroom window, and all asleep. I was just trying to figure out how this could have happened and who might have done it, when I looked up. The light outside was stormy and yellow, but there on the glass were two greasy handprints.
I shrieked and Cleo looked up and groaned. Andrew started swearing and said he’d kill the guy and went straight to the credenza, and got one of Dad’s guns. Then Mum walked in and asked why the hell Andrew had a gun. Andrew said it was deactivated and explained the whole story but Mum told him to put the gun away, man-up and call the cops.
When the police finally arrived, their car had no siren, only flashing lights, and the street was kind of eerie without a siren wail. With everything lit blue it really felt like the world was holding its breath. And all I could think about, Alice, was that at some stage somebody had been staring through the window, through Cleo’s bedroom window, somebody with my Grandpa’s camera in their greasy mitts. And I just stood there wondering why I didn’t call the police as soon as I saw the chalk – just like you said. And wondering whether the killer is actually after our Cleo, because the girls are getting younger again, Alice, and if he ever took her, we’d never hear her scream.
A policeman with big boots and a pad asked Mum questions and made lots of notes. It turns out that Grandma’s been leaving Cleo’s backpack outside because it always stinks of rotten banana. The camera was in it. The policeman said we were very brave and that he’d get back to us in the next few days.
After the police left, I didn’t want to stay at home, because it felt all dirty, and it didn’t feel like ours anymore – like when you find someone else’s hair on your soap. But Mum turned up the heating and squeezed OJ and kept saying ‘Oh, my babies, oh my poor babies’, over and over again. Then we rang Dad and Andrew’s going to move in with us till Dad gets home and Mum’s going to ‘fix Cleo’s blinds, for Pete’s sake’, and Dad asked us not to tell Grandma about the handprints and photos because of her heart.
I know it should have all felt normal again then, but it didn’t. Tonight I opened the door of Mum’s bathroom and Mum was crying in the shower, quietly, with her back to the door, but I could see her shoulders shaking through the steam and she looked so collapsed and so beaten.
Alice, I don’t know what’s going on, but I just want Dad home and the killer caught and everything back the way it was. I want to be able to run outside and see the sky and play four-square in the street and just do all the things we used to do.
I’m tired, Alice. I want this to be over.
xCCB and weary
From: Alice King Alicekingofthejungle@gmail.com
on Sunday 12 June 10:43 PM
Oh my LORD, CC. I just don’t know what to say, other than OMG. You and Cleo must be totally shaken. Are you absolutely sure the handprints don’t belong to your dad, though, or is that just a totally dumb question? God, it’s so creepy to have photos of yourself asleep and not know who the hell took them. I’m in shock. Don’t know what to say, other than PLEASE BE CAREFUL.
Alice xx
From: Celia Beasley CeeceeB@gmail.com on Monday 13 June 7:13 PM
Hi Alice
The police called by this morning and spoke to Mum. They took more photos and poked around the garden.
I ended up going to school, we all did. Since we found the photos, home doesn’t feel safe – like the doors and windows are all just walk-right-in open. Anyway, it turns out Bella has a cousin at Barrington in Hallie’s class. Lotta (Bella’s cousin) said that Hallie’s still not at school and she’s now back in hospital as she went mental when they took her to that house near Bendigo. She can’t do anything like feed herself or brush her own hair or even answer questions and she’ll almost definitely have to repeat. Apparently she’s really weak and she keeps having all these nightmares, and she wakes screaming and screaming although she’s sedated. Nobody’s allowed anywhere near her – not even the police anymore.
Tonight, Mum was so tense she drank too much wine and fell asleep on the couch so Grandma let us get pizza for dinner and, then she helped me with my patchwork. We’ve now sewn 46 squares and even Jaime had to be impressed (although she looked really closely at all the squares and said things like, ‘Isn’t that my favourite jumper?’ And I said, ‘As if’, because as if I would ever make that mistake, especially when the jumper she’s talking about looks like a dead muppet.
We called Dad again tonight. He said his conference was ‘perfectly satisfactory’ which in Dad talk means his speech was amazing and hopefully there’ll be some new business. He sounded more relaxed than he’s been for years and he’s coming home on Wednesday. So there are some nice things . . .
xxx
From: Alice King Alicekingofthejungle@gmail.com
Monday 13 June 9:28 PM
Hey, CC,
Well, it’s officially the second week of winter and I’m hoping those damn crows will take off somewhere because they woke me again at five in the morning and all I could think about was someone lurking around taking photos through the window. Not that they could get me on the second floor, but still. Crows are creepy and they make you think creepy things. Hopefully they’ll migrate. I’m SO looking forward to coming down on the weekend, even if Dad has invited a bunch of rellies over for lunch on Saturday. Maybe Tess will pull her finger out and actually do something useful for a change, like help.
Mum and Dad are insisting on going to eight o’clock mass on Sunday morning before the market. So, given that I’ve managed to get out of going myself, do you mind if the ol’ parentals pick you up about 9am? Your place is right near their church. Then you can all swing by here and I promise to be waiting outside. We can go straight on to the market and head for the donut van! That’s my plan, CC. That and other things, like hopefully finding lots of cool fabric for your poems. I’ve already got patterns and Mum’s got a whole room set up with an iron and pro gear and all. Hey, if you need my mum (or dad) to talk to your parents, I can get one of them to call – Dad’s one of those parents who like to call, unfortunately.
Got to fly.
Let me know if 9am Sunday is okay for you.
Love Alice xx
From: Celia Beasley CeeceeB@gmail.com
Tuesday 14 June 7:02 PM
Hey Alice
Well, Sunday’s all organised! Your dad called and spoke to Grandma and she said, ‘He’s such a charming man’, Grandma said she wants to meet you so you can tell her what a boarding house looks like these days. I think she thinks you sleep in funny old-fashioned brass beds, 12 to a row, like she did.
It’s so wintery here and the kitchen windows are foggy enough to play hangman. They make me feel damp, like it’s sleeting inside. Last night, rain-fingers were knocking and knocking on Cleo’s window and the wind roared and all I could think of were those greasy hands. I know we’re safe, Alice, but I still feel hunted. Hot donuts and poetry-dresses should do the trick – make life look, well, a little more Frankie.
See you soon, Alice. I can type ‘soon’ now and mean it. Really soon. Five days soon.
xCCB