Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Seven

Kabramatta, A Month Before

Aislen found the regular yoga sessions not only helpful in maintaining a level of physical fitness to combat the stationary nature of her art, but also in enforcing a regular meditation to help strengthen the bubbles that protected her from the onslaught of mental noise that came with living in a busy city. That Bianca was the yogi was a bonus, as it meant she could combine exercise, meditation, and a catch up with her friend.

Aislen lingered behind as the class ended and the room gradually emptied.

She watched as Bianca flirted with a pony-tailed, curvaceous blonde woman, the sparks flying between them as they exchanged numbers. The blonde woman cast a smile over her shoulder as she left.

“You have a type,” Aislen drawled as she joined Bianca. “Blonde, curvy, and bubbly.”

“So do you - six inches, chubby and made of silicone,” Bianca snorted. “When are you going to give a flesh and blood person a go? I bumped into Jordan Daniels the other day at a gallery. He’s in Kabramatta now, for six months for a project, and asked about you.”

Aislen used her towel to blot sweat off her face and chest. “I’m not a relationship type of person, and Jordan...” She shrugged. "Is."

“Well, he gave me his number to give to you, anyway,” Bianca replied looking down at her phone. “And I just forwarded it to you. You’re welcome.”

“It’s better if I don’t,” Aislen took her phone out of her bag and deleted the message. “I’d just be leading him on. I’ve already wasted two years of his time. He’s not for me. Maybe no one is. And that’s okay. I have everything I need – I have my work, my apartment, and a house plant that’s survived three months now, so yay me.”

“Well, are you hungry? I could kill a buddha bowl,” Bianca knew when she was fighting a losing battle.

“Yeah,” Aislen slung her towel over her shoulder. “Sure, I guess I should eat something before getting back to work.” As they made their way out of the studio, through the reception, and onto the busy street, she added: “My mum called last night. She thinks she might be getting remarried soon.”

“Oh?” Bianca was intrigued. In the five years they had known each other, Aislen had heard from her mother three times – when her parents got divorced, when her mother moved to Trayrock, and now - and only seen her once - with her new man, Vince, at Aislen’s graduation from The Rideten School of Art, two years prior.

“Yeah, she’s been with him for over two years now,” Aislen replied. “She says that she’s pretty sure he brought her a ring.”

“Are you going to go back for the wedding?” Bianca asked as they queued at their favourite café.

Aislen thought about it. She still dreamed of the Triquetra if she didn’t silence the dreams with a sleeping tablet, and occasionally would see someone in the distance and freeze, thinking that it was one of them. If she went back to Trayrock, would she be able to resist the temptation to go to Havermouth? If she saw them, would it be the same, or would that sexual energy between them have evaporated with time?

“I don’t know,” she told Bianca. “I guess I’ll wait for it to happen, or not, and decide then.”

After lunch she returned home. She had bought the apartment the year before, after Bianca had decided to move out on her own, and as Aislen’s publisher had expanded her contract because her comic had taken off, giving her the resources to finally get out of renting.

The apartment wasn’t much, but it was hers. One bedroom, one bathroom, and a living area with windows on two sides that flooded the area with light. The kitchen was tiny, but Aislen preferred not to cook, and the living room was dominated by her workspace – the art desk and the computer station with her drawing tablet and laptop.

There was only just enough space left for an armchair and small tv, but she wasn’t much for entertaining people.

The selling point of the apartment, besides the light, was access to a little balcony so she could sit outside and have her morning coffee looking out over the city street.

She was happy, she told herself later that afternoon as she finished work for the day and poured herself a glass of wine. She had just enough that she didn’t need anything more. She had a career that she loved and that made her just enough money, an apartment that had just enough space for her, and a lifestyle that gave her just enough social contact that she couldn’t say she was lonely...

She leaned on the balcony railing and sipped her wine as the sun set. In a way, she thought as she looked down, the street reminded her of the river, with the cars catching the sunlight like running water. This was her river house.

Her phone rang and she returned inside, locating it on her work desk. The number was unfamiliar.

“Hello?”

“Is this Aislen Carter?”

The name was a shock. Even Bianca called her Morgana. She had not heard Aislen Carter spoken out aloud in almost two years. She swallowed hard. “I guess. Who is calling?”

“Ms. Carter, my name is Tony, I’m from Zeus Forest Works,” the man said.

“Oh?” Aislen was confused. “What can I do for you, Tony?”

“I am very sorry to be the one to tell you, Ms. Carter, but your father was involved in an accident last night on the job.”

“Oh,” her lungs emptied of air. “Is he okay?”

“I’m very sorry, Ms. Carter,” he repeated. “The accident… Your father was deceased when he was discovered.”

Aislen sat down heavily into her chair. “Dead?” She repeated. She felt as if someone had thrown cold water over her. “No, that’s… That’s just not possible. He’s… Look, you must be mistaken. That’s just…”

“I’m really sorry, Ms. Carter,” Tony repeated. “And I assure you, we have performed all the right checks, the police have been out, and the body has been identified as Patrick Carter.”

“You’re serious,” she whispered. “Dad’s dead?”

She heard him swallow on the other side, as if fighting his own emotions. “I’m really sorry,” he said again. “Patrick’s being held at the local morgue whilst his lawyers make the arrangements for his funeral, as per his instructions to them. They will have the paperwork, and the possessions that were on him at his time of death, held in their office… I’ll give you their number. As his next of kin, you’ll have to talk to them about the funeral, his house, and his possessions.”

“Okay,” she was numb. “What’s their number?” She wrote it down.

“Ms. Carter, on behalf of Zeus Forest Works, we extend our very great sympathies for your loss.”

“Umm, thanks.”

“Will you be alright?” He asked in concern.

“Yes,” she looked around the darkening apartment. “Yes, I’ll be fine.”

After he disconnected, she dialled the lawyer’s office and answered their questions without really hearing them, writing down the instructions. She called Tiffany and listened to her mother wail and rant down the phone until Vince got home and Tiffany had fresh ears to hear her woes.

By that time, the apartment was so dark that the glow from the screen of Aislen’s phone was the only light within it, and it was cold from the night air blowing in through the open balcony door. Aislen rose to her feet and found her legs shaky. How long had she been sitting there, her wine untouched, on the phone, she wondered, glancing at the time. Three hours. It seemed as if no time had passed at all.

She walked over to the balcony door and closed it, before turning on the lights in the living area, and called Bianca.

“Hey, M?” Bianca was well drunk. “Whassup? I’m out with some girls, having drinks, if you’re looking for company?”

“My dad died,” Aislen told her. “Would you be able to watch my apartment for me, for a couple of weeks? I’m going to have to drive to fucking Havermouth for the funeral, and everything. I don’t know how long that’s going to take.”

Fuck, she thought, could she possibly get into and out of Havermouth without seeing the Triquetra?

Did she want to?