Unhinged Read online

  Unhinged

  joy for darkness

  Unhinged, an Australian Beauty and the Beast

  Published by Rhiza Connect,

  An imprint of Rhiza Press

  PO BOX 1519

  Capalaba QLD 4157

  Australia

  © Amanda Deed, 2018

  Cover Design by Production Works

  Layout by Rhiza Press

  ISBN: 978-1-925563-25-2

  National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Unhinged

  joy for darkness

  Amanda Deed

  Dedication

  To my very own “beast.” Always and forever.

  Acknowledgements

  The journey to write Unhinged has been a long and challenging one and as such, recognition needs to be given to all my friends, family and church community who have supported me through the highs and lows of life over the past few years. No matter where I’m at, you always support and encourage me, keeping me pointed in the right direction. There are too many of you to mention, but you know who you are. Thank you!

  Thanks also Rochelle and the team at Rhiza Press for helping make Unhinged the best it can be. I love the way you believe in and get behind us Aussie authors.

  Lastly, but most importantly, thanks to Jesus, my strength in weakness, my inspiration in the desert, your mercy and grace never end. You are the air I breathe.

  1

  Serena tugged the curtains away from the window for the hundredth time that afternoon and peeked toward the street. Where was Papa? He should have been home by now. This voyage had only been a short trip up the coast, delivering a load of coal, unlike his usual lengthy visits to India.

  Serena’s stomach churned with worry. A heavy storm had rolled in from the bay, its thunder shaking foundations and rattling window panes. Had the ferocious weather delayed him? Was the schooner capsized somewhere, or smashed on the rocks? It was hard not to assume the worst.

  ‘Where is he?’

  She should focus on sweeping floors and scrubbing the stonework, but anxiety kept drawing her back to the front window. Serena dropped the curtain and turned away as Julianne strode into the small parlour. Her sisters had caught her watching for Papa several times already.

  ‘Are you worried about Papa, Serena? Do you believe he is in trouble?’

  Julianne’s chin began trembling and Serena needed to halt her sister’s fears, even though she suspected the same. ‘Papa knows how to take care of himself. Fate Lucinda was likely blown off course. It’s happened before. I surely needn’t remind you how experienced he is both as a sailor and a merchantman?’

  ‘I know. I know. I just cannot help but think. What if he were lost ...?’

  What if he were lost, indeed? Serena shook her head. ‘No, Julianne. He’ll be fine. He always is.’

  Serena should take her own advice. And yet, in this case, a sense of foreboding filled her, as though her sixth sense wanted to tell her something, but Serena refused to speak that aloud.

  ‘Where is Rachel?’

  Her sister stared at her momentarily. ‘I think she is experimenting with a new hairstyle. I can see what you’re trying to do.’

  Serena lowered her gaze to where the bristles of the broom met the wooden floor. How could Julianne not fret? They only had Papa left. If she were ever to have a life and family of her own, oh, the thought was too dreadful. He must come home. What if they soon found themselves orphans? As the oldest, Serena would become her sisters’ sole carer. It had fallen on her to raise them both, since Mama had passed. At sixteen and fourteen, they were too young to marry. If Papa didn’t return…

  Serena shuddered, and she shook her head to free it of her growing concern. A better question to ask was why she allowed her imagination to carry her so far into an unknown future? She should trust that Providence had it in hand. Serena let out a deep sigh. ‘I’m sorry, Julianne, but worrying will get us nowhere.’

  ‘Then stop peeking out the window. You’re making me nervous.’

  True enough. Her constant checking held no magic to make Papa appear. ‘Well, let’s get this house cleaned before he comes home then, shall we?’

  Julianne nodded, her eyes still wide with anxiety. ‘I’m not sure what help I will be. My stomach is quivering.’

  Serena held back a frustrated sigh. ‘Why don’t you dust the furniture and then come and help me with dinner.’

  ‘Do you remember what happened last time I tried to cook?’ Julianne twisted her hands together, drawing Serena’s eyes to the burn scars that marked them.

  ‘Can you at least peel the potatoes then?’

  Julianne nodded again, with a shrug. ‘All right. I’m not sure I can eat though. Not until Papa comes home.’

  Dinner had long gone cold before Papa’s shuffling steps were heard on the front porch. With great relief, Serena rushed to the front door, her sisters close on her heels, and flung it wide. ‘Papa, we were so worried!’ She threw herself into his arms.

  Without a word, he wrapped his thick arms around her waist and held tight. ‘Serena. My girl.’

  Serena buried her face into his coat, his familiar smell of salty brine bringing relief. Finally, he released her to embrace Julianne and Rachel, but although he seemed happy to be home, fear creased his brow.

  ‘What is it, Papa? What happened?’

  ‘Yes, Papa, do tell us.’ Rachel echoed, clinging to one of his arms.

  Papa’s gaze briefly landed on her before shifting over his shoulder. It was only then that Serena noticed another man standing in the shadows behind him. Papa fumbled with the hessian bag slung over his arm. ‘You’d better come in.’

  Serena gestured to her sisters to back away from the door. They stared in silence as the stranger stepped inside. Papa and the stranger both bore the signs of being caught in the storm—damp and bedraggled. The other man wore a dark scowl and grunted a greeting to them. Papa showed him into the parlour and asked the younger girls to prepare some tea.

  ‘Serena, come with me.’ Papa led her to his bedroom and dropped the hessian bag on his bed.

  Usually when Papa returned from a trade journey he brought home a bag bulging with goods and gifts for his girls. Today the sack was limp and empty.

  ‘What is all this about, Papa? And who is that gentleman in the parlour?’

  The weary man sighed and sat heavily upon the bed. ‘The storm blew us off course. We made it inside the heads and I thought we had escaped trouble, but we ran aground on a reef. I feared the schooner would break up and I called to abandon ship. We lowered the small boat and all eleven of us escaped. But the waves were so rough that some of us were thrown overboard.’

  Serena clutched the fabric at her throat.

  ‘How did you get to shore?’

  ‘We weren’t far from land to begin with. The waves carried me and dumped me on a beach. I knew not where I was precisely, and I was so very tired from trying to stay afloat. I still don’t know if the other men made it safely. Neither do I know how badly damaged Fate Lucinda is.’ Papa ran a hand through his sand-matted hair.

  ‘You’re safe now, that’s all that matters.’ Serena reached out and squeezed his rough and calloused hand. ‘And never mind about the ship. We’ll manage.’

  Serena mentally counted the provisions remaining in the larder, knowing
supplies were low, but she refused to allow him to see her doubt.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Papa pressed his lips into a grim line.

  She nodded at her father, hoping she looked convincing.

  Serena studied her father’s face. The deep etches of angst still lined his forehead. ‘There’s more, isn’t there, Papa? The man in the parlour is not one of your crew, is he?’

  He kept his eyes downcast, and patted the bed beside him. ‘You’d better sit, lass.’

  Swallowing back a sudden urge to panic, Serena did as he suggested. What more could there be?

  Papa cleared his throat and opened his mouth several times before he spoke. ‘I’ve been very foolish, my dear. You may never forgive me.’

  ‘Surely not too foolish Papa?’ she offered a weak smile. But the shadow on his countenance demanded seriousness. ‘Papa? What have you done?’

  ‘I don’t know where to start.’ Whatever had happened, it obviously grieved Papa.

  ‘At the beginning, Papa. That is always best.’

  With a heavy sigh, her father launched into his tale.

  ‘As I said, I was washed ashore somewhere inside South Head. I rested briefly before heading inland through thick brush. The rain was so heavy.

  ‘At last I pushed into a clearing. More than a clearing, actually. It was the grounds of a large property, in the midst of which stood a huge house. Naturally, I saw it as shelter. As I approached, I saw that the front door stood wide open. I called at the doorway but there was no answer. The noise of the storm no doubt drowned out any sound I made.

  ‘After waiting a few minutes, I decided that the residents could not take offence if I took shelter from the storm inside their entryway. I was soaked through, so I found the nearest fire and tried to warm myself. The storm continued to pound against the roof and after a while I became curious and ventured further into the house. I discovered a dining room with a fresh meal laid out. Still, not a soul appeared, even when I called.

  ‘At least fifteen minutes passed while I stood there, my stomach reminding me I had not eaten since early in the morning. I succumbed to my hunger. Do you blame me?’

  Papa stopped there and dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his face.

  Serena gaped at him. Although shocked that he had helped himself to a stranger’s table, she supposed it was understandable. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself, Papa. The owners must be very ungracious if they are so heartless as to turn away a half-starved victim of a shipwreck.’

  ‘But that’s not all,’ he mumbled through his hands.

  There was more? Serena swallowed, becoming uneasy.

  Papa lifted his head, his face filled with shame. ‘After eating, I continued to explore the house since the storm still raged outside with thunder and lightning. I found a display of beautiful miniature paintings. Not portraits of people, mind you, they were roses.’

  He paused and his Adam’s apple convulsed as he swallowed hard. Papa rushed on, blurting out his confession. ‘I remembered that you asked me to bring you a rose. You never ask for much and I wanted to give you something special. There were so many of them and I foolishly thought they wouldn’t miss one. Surely not one tiny rose among so many. I was tucking it into my coat pocket when there he was.’

  Papa’s face paled and his eyes widened as he looked at her.

  ‘Who, Papa?’

  ‘The owner of the house. Edward King.’

  Serena sucked in a deep breath, aghast. ‘Edward King, the architect? You stole from him?’

  ‘I didn’t realise it was him. Or his house. And he was unrecognisable when I saw him. He’d obviously been caught out in the storm, too. Water dripped from every part of him, leaving puddles in his wake. He was enraged, Serena. I can’t tell you ...’

  ‘What happened, Papa?’ She slipped off the chair to kneel before him and placed her hands on his knees, the coarse weave of his trousers rough beneath her fingers.

  He shook his head, his face contorted with grief. ‘He threatened to haul me before the magistrate and have me imprisoned at the penal settlement.’

  ‘No, Papa.’ The blood drained from Serena’s face and a wave of dizziness engulfed her. ‘They can’t take you away from us. We need you.’

  ‘I begged and pleaded with him, but he refused to hear me.’

  Serena’s hands fell from Papa’s knees as he stood. Her mind filled with questions that stampeded one over another in their haste for an answer. She couldn’t move. What would become of them?

  Papa leaned on the mantel over the fire, his back to her, and rested his head on his forearm. ‘I’m only here because he allowed me one small mercy—to say goodbye.’

  The words were muffled, or mumbled. Serena wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. Was that him in their parlour—Edward King? ‘Goodbye?’

  Her father did not speak for a long while and she wondered if she had mistaken him. Again, the questions crowded in her mind, competing with the crackle and spit of the fire in the grate.

  ‘He is taking me to the magistrate tonight.’ Papa raised sad eyes to meet hers. ‘His charges will likely keep me in prison for several months.’

  ‘No! But, Papa. We need you here. Who will provide for us?’ Serena searched her mind for solutions. ‘I might be able to obtain work, but surely it will not be enough. Julianne and Rachel are still so young …’

  Papa’s shoulders fell. ‘There is no other way. I have tried to reason with Mr King, but he is unbending.’

  Desperation gripped Serena’s heart. Without Papa, they would be destitute within a very short time. All their dreams and hopes, gone. Why, oh, why did he have to steal from Edward King, of all people?

  She thought back over her nineteen years. Papa had always been good to them. He had always provided for them and loved them. Even in those months of desperate grief after Mama died, his love for them hadn’t wavered. Papa was a good man and had done his best. And having made this one, small mistake, he now faced the cruellest of fates. Did he not deserve grace? Did not everyone need grace in their life? It was a pity that Edward King did not offer that mercy to her father. But if Mr King couldn’t, perhaps she could.

  ‘You said Mr King has a large house?

  Papa lifted his head in a sluggish nod. ‘But—’

  ‘I have an idea.’ Serena squeezed his hand as she moved to leave the room. This must be done now, or she might lose her nerve.

  She stormed into the parlour, pinning her eyes on the stranger whose very presence meant upheaval. Without waiting for the man to turn from where he stood, facing the mantel, she launched at him.

  ‘How can you be so merciless as to take a man from his family like this? Do you have no heart?’

  With one arm leaning on the mantel, he only half-turned towards her, showing a stern profile against the firelight.

  ‘My heart has naught to do with it. Your father broke the law, and violation of the law leads to consequences.’

  ‘His ship was stranded! Have you no compassion? Can you offer no grace?’

  He turned fully then, a deep frown marring what would otherwise be rather appealing features.

  ‘I am here, am I not? I might have taken him straight to the authorities, leaving you to wonder what became of your father.’

  His casual dismissal drove Serena to angry tears. ‘It should be you who is put in prison. You are a monster.’

  ‘Serena, what is happening?’ Rachel appeared at the doorway, colour draining from her face, Julianne hovering at her shoulder.

  Narrowing her eyes at Mr King, she answered, ‘This gentleman,’ she ground out as though the word was poison on her tongue, ‘is taking our father away to prison.’

  Their gasps shook her from her rage and she turned to face them. ‘I am sorry, my dears. I ought not to have scared you so. But it is true. Papa must go to gaol, it seems.’

/>   ‘But, what are we to do?’

  Her sister’s plaintive wail shook Serena to her core. She couldn’t let this happen.

  Papa shuffled into the parlour behind them, his head still hung low.

  ‘It is time to go.’ Mr King straightened from the fireplace and walked toward Papa, taking him by the arm.

  ‘No!’ Serena dropped to her knees and blindly clutched at his sleeve. ‘Please don’t take him. I beg of you.’

  Julianne and Rachel’s cries increased.

  Mr King looked at her hand on his coat as though it were a slug and shook her loose. ‘Your begging changes nothing. He committed a crime and must be punished.’

  Serena scrambled to her feet and grabbed at his sleeve again. ‘No. Please. Take me instead.’

  Silence swelled to fill the room, punctuated only by the odd sniffle from her sisters and a log shifting in the grate.

  ‘What?’ Several voices questioned in unison.

  Serena gazed at each in turn, at last landing on Mr King. She swallowed ‘Papa … Papa says you have a large house. Surely you need a maid somewhere. I will work off my father’s debt, for however many months he should be imprisoned. Just let him go in peace.’

  ‘Serena, no.’

  Mr King raised a hand to silence Papa’s protest, but kept his eyes on her.

  ‘You would do that? You would take his place?’ For a moment the frown was gone, replaced by an indefinable expression.

  ‘If it means he can remain here with my sisters, then yes.’

  Edward King stared at her again, his gaze only briefly shifting to her father before settling on her face. ‘Let it be done.’

  2

  Sunday 10th April, 1842

  Today began like any other day. From my bed, I could see the giant fig through the glass doors of my balcony. All day long it called to me, its branches beckoning like bony fingers, but I could not summon the strength to shift my feet from beneath the blankets. Why does my quilt seem weighed with lead? It presses on me with the heaviness of sleep.