Life's Seasons - A Collection of Short Stories

Life’s Seasons

A Collection of Short Stories

Mala Naidoo

About the Author

Mala Naidoo is an Australian author. She was born in South Africa during the apartheid era which is the impetus for her imaginative stories that take on a life of their own when the creative muse beckons. Mala believes that literature speaks through the values and culture of characters, situations and choices, instilling understanding through connections to a moment in time, an event or conversation that brings clarity to daily existence.

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Also by Mala Naidoo

Across Time and Space

Vindication across Time

Souls of Her Daughters

Chosen Lives

What Change May Come

The Rain — A Collection of Short Stories (ebook)

For Billy, lovingly remembered with eternal

gratitude for the wisdom and inspiration shared

Part I

Life’s Seasons

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower

—Albert Camus

Contents

About the Author

Also by Mala Naidoo

I. Life’s Seasons

On The Beach

Cradle Promise

Stilled Heart

Adrift

Moving On

Wandering The Earth

Oceans Away

Final View

The Call of the Outback

Those Were The Days

II. The Rain

The Rain

Penelope

Ghost Town

Divided Sky

Cruel-Kind Heart

Winding Footpath

Toby

Raining Soul

Desert Quest

Romantic Recreation

Quote

Did you enjoy the stories?

On The Beach

Fear hides the truth from yourself

~~~

It was the summer of 1979. A yearly planned holiday after Christmas was here again. Beth packed the land-rover with more food than clothes for an indulgent beach holiday at Pontoon Bay Beach, nestled between two mountains. Except this year Vronegg was reluctant to go, leaving her mother annoyed and confused.

‘I don’t feel well this morning,’ she said, looking at her mother with her big brown, pleading eyes. 'May I please stay with grandma, I don’t want to ruin the getaway, Candace and Hazel are keen to have a good time.'

Beth Obrist knew that leaving her daughter with her mother was out of the question — her advancing Alzheimer's would have Vronegg doing as she pleased. She saw it as Neggi’s ploy for solitude which she retreated to often this past year. She hated her name and more so hated the multitude of names her mother heaped upon her on a whim, Neggie — Roni — Vroni — and the list went on.

‘I’m not feeling well, and please stop calling me 'Neggi,’ I will be seventeen next year, and that name sounds like one you would give your pet. Once I can do so, I’m changing my name, why am I ‘Vronegg’ when I could be Veronica or any other reasonable name?’

‘Your father wanted you to have a Swiss name, and I honored his request.’

‘What about my request — I never knew him, so what honor does he deserve?’

Beth met Vronegg’s father in Switzerland eighteen years ago when she was on a writing research trip. After a whirlwind romance, they married and separated before Vronegg was born. She returned to Australia alone, pregnant and penniless. Meeting Jemima Gutterson was a win for her. They had co-written many books and had a good working relationship. Their friendship strengthened when Jemima’s daughters, Candace and Hazel accepted Vronegg more like a sister than friend. This year Beth was going to the beach house alone with the girls, Jemima would join them later in the week.

‘I’m sorry, you’re not feeling well, take a painkiller and I promise you’ll be heaps better before we get to the bay. You can’t expect me to go away with Candace and Hazel without you.’

Vronegg shook her head and gave in, her mother had a way of making her feel guilty for being sick or unable to do as she expected. With Beth’s writing career, she grew accustomed to being alone when her mother locked herself away from the world, punching out words on her next book. Writing was her obsession. Most of her co-written books were under her own name but a few penned under a different name gave her the anonymity necessary for the sensitivity of her subject matter. Her success as a writer had earned them a comfortable living — the beach house in Pontoon Bay was a luxury they enjoyed. Part of her obsession stemmed from the guilt she carried that Vronegg never knew her father. She would do everything possible to ensure her daughter had a good life.

‘Please promise you will stop calling me, Neggi, it’s becoming embarrassing around people I meet for the first time. Candace and Hazel call me Negg which makes me seem like someone with no identity or some fantastical creation! I’m older now and some of those names are ridiculous!’

‘Okay, I get it, now get in the car, I’ve had three calls from the girls saying they will wait out on the street for us. Let’s go!’

Vronegg was striking, her porcelain-white skin and light hair quite opposite to her ruddy-complexioned, dark-haired mother. She looked every bit like her father — the father she never knew and who had since passed away. Her mother reminded her a hundred times over to ensure she had enough sunscreen to protect her pale skin under the harsh sun at Pontoon Bay Beach. They spent most of their days in the water and on the shore, soaking up all they could before they returned to the country with its rolling farmlands, and the nearest neighbor almost five kilometres away. Beth ran her smallholding with four regal stallions, one of them a prime racehorse. The tranquil location gave her the space she needed for uninterrupted writing.

Memory of their getaway last year at Pontoon Bay Beach made Vronegg sick to the stomach. She loved Candace and Hazel, but 1978 was a strange summer — one she wanted to forget.

She had blocked recollection of that night out on the beach house balcony, now it was back to claim her peace as the land-rover approached Pontoon Bay. Candace and Hazel were chirpy as ever and dubious about Vronegg being unwell. Fifteen-year-old Hazel leaned across and whispered.

‘Are you sick, or lovesick, huh! We heard you and Jaydon have grown close.’

Vronegg would not have her mother on her back about this, she shut her eyes and pretended she was asleep. Eighteen-year-old Candace sat in the front with Beth. She was keen to drive part of the way, but Beth said it was not a good idea with the heavy holiday traffic on the freeway.

‘What’s made you ill?’ Candace asked.

‘I’m not sure, but my tummy hurts a lot.’

‘Stay away from the corn stand this year, okay!’ she laughed.

Vronegg stuck out her tongue in irritation.

All she wanted was to be alone.

The Pontoon Bay Beach house was an impressive building set in the middle of a cul-de-sac. Five bedrooms, three upstairs overlooking the beach from a large balcony gave the girls a private space while their mothers occupied the bedrooms downstairs. The gap between houses was wide enough to leave curtains and blinds undrawn with no fear of peeking perverts. Rolling sand dunes, a cerulean sky, saltwater air, and waking up to the aroma of bacon and eggs cooking made the break at the bay perfect, except that something had unsettled Vronegg.

1978 started out as a great year, Vronegg was selected to the state basketball team and Beth’s horse won the Melbourne Cup making the getaway that summer a special celebration, until one restless night when she went to bed early with tummy cramps, feeling prickly, damp, and queasy. Her mother had cautioned her not to purchase cooked food from random beach vendors. She was pedantic about festering food-bacteria in the Australian summer heat when vendors sold cooked food from an overpacked portable esky on forty degree days.

‘I’ve told you to stay away from the corn stand, those kids don't understand anything about hygiene! Now you’ve picked up a bug and if it gets worse, I will have to drive you to the hospital! Bacteria breeds in heat and humidity.’

She had heard that mantra many times over the years.

‘I’ll be fine, I just need to sleep it off.’

Vronegg tossed and turned for most of the night until around midnight — a dreadful burning sensation in her throat forced her to jump up for a drink of chilled water.

Down in the kitchen everything was tidy, whisper-stillness shrouded the cottage. A faint sound of music played somewhere in the distance, the neighbor might have forgotten to turn it off or was awake at that hour.

She was light-headed and in need of air. A breeze blew over from the beach, she stepped out onto the balcony to feel the coolness of the night against her damp skin. She leaned over the balcony to get some blood to her head to stop the dizziness. Across the beach, a low fire was aglow, three figures stood around it. A cover of clouds hid half the moon. Her foggy eyes and darkness made it difficult to discern the age or gender of the figures on the beach. She blinked a few times when one figure stepped away, spun around and lunged at the figure on the same side of the low fire. Two figures rolled on the ground, either in playful or aggressive banter. The figure standing up stepped towards the two on the ground and stepped back in a restless dancing motion, then bent over as if saying something. The constant waltz suggested agitation. Vronegg squinted and squeezed her eyes together to clear her vision. The two stood up and walked away leaving the lone figure circling the low fire. Her tummy churned, she hurried to the bathroom. She returned to the balcony five minutes later — everything was still on the beach. The lone figure was no longer there, the fire was out. All she could see was inky blackness above white, foamy waves crashing on the shore. The urge to walk across to the beach to investigate ended when another bout of nausea hit her. She went back to bed for a few restless hours of sleep, dreaming of the melt-in-your-mouth buttery corn for just a dollar, served by the handsome young man who turned up at the beach in the last three days of their stay. She refused to accept that the delicious barbecued corn had made her unwell. All she could stomach for dinner were a few strawberries, the chops and sausages that her mother had grilled, her favourite, was the last thing she wanted to eat.

Sun streamed through the fluttering blinds, the French doors creaked with the heavy winds blowing up to the cottage from the shore. An eruption of police sirens shattered the peacefulness of first light. Candace and Hazel rushed into Vronegg’s room.

‘There’s some commotion out there,’ Candace announced.

‘Someone left the French doors, open? Who was it?’ Hazel looked at Vronegg with accusing eyes.

Candace was quick in denying responsibility. A little voice in Vronegg’s head cautioned her to avoid saying anything about last night, ‘It must have been the wind, it was gusty in the early hours of the morning.’

They heard Beth call out from downstairs, ‘Don’t go out on the balcony! Get down here, girls!’

All three stomped down the stairs clad in their flimsy nightwear eager to know what the commotion was.

‘So much for a peaceful break with all this rude awakening this early in the day,’ Hazel groaned.

Beth’s crinkled brow suggested the matter was serious enough for them to pay attention.

‘The police have advised that nobody goes down to the beach today. Sorry, ladies we must stay indoors, so find things to entertain yourselves. We have to sit tight until we get further news.’

‘What!’ Hazel and Candace cried in unison.

Vronegg was silent.

‘Why? It’s a beautiful day, what’s so awful that we can’t have a swim this morning?’ Hazel peered out the lounge window.

‘Get away from the window!’ Beth lost her nerve when Hazel lifted the curtain for a better view of the beach. She had taken on the responsibility of coming out to Pontoon Bay with the girls and now she felt an uninvited weight bearing down on her. She had sketchy details on why they could not go down to the beach, but it was enough to exercise caution. Jemima was keen for Hazel and Candace to enjoy their time at the beach this summer without the cloud of her health matters ruining it for them. She never remarried after her husband died. Writing consumed most of her life, and her friendship with Beth was perfect for their little family.

‘All I’m appealing for is that we abide by the police’s request to remain indoors. It is for our safety.’

‘Safety from what? I want to know.’ Hazel begged.

Dread claimed the pit of Vronegg’s stomach, churning in recollection of what she saw on the beach. She wanted to tell her mother what she had seen that night but thoughts of being questioned by the police halted her. Hazel flicked on the television before Beth could stop her. Breaking news headlines flashed across the screen. Too late, the girl’s curiosity, and Beth's growing anxiety could not prevent them hearing what she wanted to keep veiled for now.

‘Turn it off, Hazel. We need the truth not sensationalism.’

‘We have to know what’s going on,’ Candace insisted.

At 6 am today a jogger at Pontoon Bay Beach made a gruesome discovery. The mutilated body of what appears to be a young woman, yet to be identified was lying among the sand dunes on the east side of the beach. Anybody with information is asked to contact police immediately. The person or persons responsible are still at large and residents and holiday makers are advised to stay off the beach and the area around the beach until further notice.

Vronegg wanted to throw up. Mutilated? How? Who? Why? Eastside of the beach? Her head hurt with the horror of the scene she saw the night before. The drumming of was it the same three, left her weak.

‘I feel sick. Mum, I need to lie down.’ Beth spun around in time to hold her up before she blacked out.

She opened her eyes to Beth and Candace fanning her and swabbing her forehead with a cool cloth. Hazel stood by with a glass of water, anxious and worried. She had never witnessed someone faint before.

‘How are you doing Neggie?’ Beth uttered one forbidden, endearing version of Vronegg’s name in her concern for her daughter.

‘I’m okay, I need to go upstairs.’

All three assisted her upstairs and gave her some quiet space.

‘It’s that bloody corn I warned her about, it will be another day before her tummy settles.’

‘It would be a mix of everything, yeah the corn, and this shocking news that there was a murder happening here while we slept.’ Candace offered in Vronegg’s defence.

Vronegg lay face-down on the bed, trying to shut out everything that had happened since last night. Beth came in and sat on her bed.

‘Has that news disturbed you? Candace thinks it might have.’

‘Disturbed? Aren’t we all? Why would it only affect me? Stop talking about me when I’m not there!’

‘Calm down, Roni, we all care about you, that’s all.’

‘Stop with the silly names mum!’

‘Okay, sorry, it will take some time for me to stop my loving derivatives of your name. I will let you sleep and will check in on you in an hour.’

She turned away and faced the wall.

Beth understood Vronegg’s sensitivity to the pain of others. She recalled Vronegg’s week of tears when their neighbor’s fox-terrier was killed by a careless driver. A mild sedative calmed her then.

Hazel and Candace watched a movie after breakfast. Police cordoned off the beach from the end of the cul-de-sac all the way down to the east side where the body was found.

Officer Venter popped over on his