Wild Orchids: Chapter Twelve
By Denise Main and Ian Chisholm
Previous Episodes
Archie waited until George left the Bridge with spade at the ready to complete his ablutions. Then he pulled out his wallet and emptied it onto his cupped hand, a two-dollar coin, eighty cents in twenty cent coins and a few straggly five cent pieces. Doesn’t amount to much these days, he thought grimly.
‘I’ll have to go to my stash,’ he muttered under his breath. The precious stash was an amount of money he kept hidden and drew on for his share of their daily needs.
When he left his family and escaped from the Blessed People he took six thousand dollars, all his; he never took what wasn’t his or hadn’t earned honestly, nor did he touch the shared bank account. He had deposited the six thousand dollars into his personal account used for receiving the age pension. He withdrew, using his card, only enough to replenish his secret stash which he guarded as if it was the mint itself. The bank account was his lifeline. It protected him from abject poverty, or having to beg on the streets and seriously scrounge. He was determined to maintain his dignity and moral compass despite living rough, and as a missing person.
All done. I’m ready to leave, are you?’ George announced as he returned to collect his things.
‘You go on ahead George; I’m going to the public toilets before I go into town.’ He hated using the shovel.
‘Right you are then, see you tonight.’
Archie waited until the sounds of George’s footsteps disappeared and went to the rice cannister tucked well down at the bottom of a cardboard box which held his few clean clothes. He trusted George up to a point, but not with his stash; not yet anyway. He lifted the lid and scooped the top layer of rice away to reveal the yellow tips of the fifty-dollar notes. He withdrew one, covered the others, and replaced the lid.
His first stop was the supermarket where he knew he could easily cash the fifty-dollar note without attracting attention. He searched for discounted items and dropped cans of spaghetti and Irish stew into his basket.
‘Morning sir how are you today?’ the cheery checkout girl chirped. Archie enjoyed the elevated status. ‘It is a lovely morning young lady, and I am indeed very well.’ Sir indeed.!!! he thought and smiled as he handed over his note and received the change.
With money in his wallet, he planned to splash out and buy a vegie pasty from the local bakery. He only afforded this luxury when he had cashed a precious fifty-dollar note. With the hot pasty and a cardboard holder of coffee in one hand, pulling the shopper in the other, he carefully went along the street to find a bench in the sun.
The main street of Fingal Sound was busier than usual. The sun, weary of being shut out, had broken through a gap in the clouds and sent defiant rays of sunshine for the first time in days.
Sharp voices had him turn around. He let out a long hiss of alarm and stood stock still, his eyes in a fixed stare until he collected himself and scurried away. The shopper bounced on its wheels behind him. Panting, he turned into a quiet walkway and leant heavily against the brick wall. He let out a groan of despair.
‘God help me,’ he muttered. ‘Thought I was free from them all. I pray they’re just visiting. Thought I was safe here, far away from their long reach. Could they have tracked me down?’
Gulping down the cooled coffee he steeled himself ready to return to the busy street. Like a frightened rabbit he crept around the corner and scanned those walking by and others gathered in groups, chatting. No sign of the women, whose presence had sent shafts of anxiety through him. There was no mistaking them in the dresses required by the Blessed People; the drab, shapeless, floral dresses, solid conventional shoes and peasant styled scarfs covering their long uncut hair. The two girls also wore the plain head scarfs over their long plaits.
The chance sighting of them brought back a flood of memories laced with feelings he wanted to forget. His stomach clenched, knotted and robbed him of his appetite. He shoved the bagged pasty deep into his pocket, and with a moan, lowered himself on a nearby step to calm his thoughts.
Over the last weeks, he had managed to quell the crippling surges of guilt and panic. But seeing those Blessed People punctured that bubble. His mind flooded with memories.
A haunting vision of Sophia Rose, his beautiful dark eyed daughter, swam in his mind’s eye. Disillusioned and afraid, she attempted to leave but was persuaded to stay by the Elders. Sophia stayed because she loved and needed her family. But the Elders demanded she be punished for sinning against the order.
Against Archie’s protestations, Sophia Rose was isolated, locked in her room with food left outside the door as part of her punishment. The Elders instructed complete isolation with no visitors except for them, who came to pray and hear her repentances. Lurid accusations of her sinfulness were made, which she hysterically denied. Having no understanding of what they were talking about, she was terrified, as to what was to become of her.
A demoralised Archie, unable to protect his daughter, had suffered overwhelming feelings of powerlessness and shame. Against strict orders, he whispered his love to Sophia through the locked door and urged her to be brave and that one day soon, he would help her to get away. Despite his years of indoctrination and cowed by their accusations of being a Devil’s slave and a disgrace to the Blessed People, he had railed and protested to the elders about her unjust punishment; all to no avail. His wife’s blind determination to follow the demands of the Elders and not lift a finger to defend her own daughter created a deep angst in him and hardened his decision to leave his family, the sect of the Blessed People, and take Sophia Rose with him.
A cold sea breeze whipped up the leaf litter and noisily sent it swirling, bringing his thoughts back to the present. His head sank to his chest, he sobbed his regrets and the love for his lost, dark eyed daughter, whom he hadn’t seen since they had left, her to a safe house and him to the road.
