Frankie Fey - 24. Confessions, Plot and Counterplot

After the evening meal everyone sat on comfortable chairs in a large circle in the lounge, faces almost in shadow because Prudence had dimmed the lights to lessen feelings of embarrassment at revealing a bits of themselves.

‘I was a fat little girl,’ Columbine sighed, ‘bullied and abused at school and at home, which I left the day I turned sixteen. I decided to be strong, accept my fate and not be intimidated by the beautiful people. To celebrate my decision I bought a thong bikini and went to an aquatic theme park. When standing in a queue at a kiosk waiting for ice cream, a slender and graceful young woman in an identical thong to mine said loudly, “Fuck you’re fat! Do you really think anyone wants to see your flabby carcass and ginormous arse?”

‘I felt ten years old again; seething with hatred, determined on revenge. So I followed them around, ending up in the Big Slide, where, to avoid overcrowding at the top, people have to wait in a cage at the bottom of the stairs until the gate opens and lets about a dozen up. The doors closed just before they got to the stairs. The bitch and I were the only females in a cage full of drunken males on some sort of stag do. Gagging on beer fumes I pushed through until I was directly behind the evil cow who was trying to swallow her boyfriend’s tongue.

‘Two sharp tugs was all it took to snap the fastenings on bra and thong and drag them both off. Before she could react I barged my way out, binned her bikini then stood outside the cage and watched. It was at least ten minutes before attendants arrived, stopped the fracas then carried two bruised and naked bodies out onto the grass. The boyfriend bleeding, she screaming “Rape!”. A wall of smart phones recording every detail to post on social media completed my revenge.’

‘You exaggerate your size,’ Frankie said politely.

‘She is pretty fat,’ Harley sniffed.

‘Retribution is one of life’s greatest pleasures,’ Empirika nodded.

‘She deserved it,’ Massimo added.

‘But you're still sensitive about your shape and size, aren't you, Columbine?’ Prudence asked sweetly. ‘Your turn, Harley.’

Columbine shot her a glare of distilled dislike.

‘My defining moment?’ Harley stared unsmiling at Massimo and Empirika, who stared right back. ‘At fourteen my mother disappeared because my father was a shiftless gambler in debt to a man who was threatening to cut off his ears and eyelids. The night after she left, our door was smashed in and a couple of heavies dragged us out of bed, put hoods over our heads, shoved us in the boot of a car and took us to a large house in the country, where a smooth, wealthy prick was standing in front of a fire. He asked if Dad had the money. Dad shook his head. One of his heavies stripped me, felt my arms and legs, made me bend over, looked in my mouth and arse, then told the smooth man I was clean and healthy.

“We’ll take your kid as payment.” “In full?” Dad asked. “Yes.” “I’ll need a receipt.” The man nodded, took a pad from a drawer and wrote something. Dad checked it, grinned and held out his hand to seal the deal. “Fuck off,” one of the heavies said, so he did, and that was the first happy day of my life. From that day on I was well housed, fed, clothed, secure, had regular health checks and a generous allowance to do as I liked when I had no clients. It was a form of slavery, I suppose, but give me that over low wages and having to house, feed, and clothe myself with no free time and no money left over for fun.’ Harley looked around belligerently, daring anyone to disagree. ‘Servicing men is no different from a mechanic servicing cars or a doctor servicing patients. I was a happy slave, and still am.’ He looked at Columbine who didn’t smile.

‘That explains why you were not a good provider for your family,’ Empirika sneered. ‘Having been taken care of your whole life, and still doing it.’

‘But your point is interesting,’ Prudence said kindly. ‘Studies have shown that throughout history domestic slaves with benevolent masters have usually led better lives that those of the grindingly poor. It is arguable that the majority of today’s homeless poor would be delighted to be slaves with a master who housed, fed, treated them decently and took care of them. Instead, we are creating a vast underclass of working poor with none of the advantages slaves enjoy, because that is the cheaper option. The consequences, though, will be horrific. Hordes of diseased, filthy starving beggars and criminals making cities dangerous for the wealthy minority, who then impose horrible punishments on those they’ve maltreated, for the slightest misdemeanour.’ She turned to Massimo. ‘Ready?’

Massimo nodded and scratched his head. ‘While working on a shoot in Melbourne I boarded with a family in a nondescript suburb. When I arrived the family were sitting goggle-eyed in front of a two-metre TV. My host, a middle-aged, flabby nonentity in singlet and shorts, paused the video, thrust out a clammy, soft hand and barked, “I’m Randy and the wife’s Darlene.” I wanted to wash my hand but first had to waggle Darlene’s claw, averting my eyes from the bright pink housecoat that flapped open to reveal sagging tits. Sixteen year-old Lusa and fourteen year-old Sherrin didn’t even look up from the frozen picture on the screen.

‘I was told to squeeze between the girls on the settee while they finished watching the DVD, in which a girl who looked the same age as Sherrin was kneeling on the shag-pile sucking on the erection of a pumped up gym freak, while a powerful hairy chest was screwing her from behind. “Spit roast” Sherrin giggled and every one laughed. I couldn’t join in. Afterwards, Randy made a show of adjusting his genitals while asking if I was going to seduce his daughters. More laughs. When I said I wasn’t, he ranted about not wanting queers in his house, because they were decent God fearing people!

‘Sherrin asked if I’d liked the video. I asked if she’d like to have that done to her. “In your dreams!” she sneered, missing the point. After cocoa and a biscuit, Randy showed me to my room and the bathroom. Ten minutes later I was showered and lying on top of the bed wondering whether to wank when the Darlene sidled in, closed the door and dropped her dressing gown to reveal a scrawny, heavily perfumed, almost tit-free body. ‘Fuck you look old,’ I said. She wrapped herself and stomped out, leaving the door wide for Randy who sauntered in and sat on the bed staring at my groin. He asked if I’d ever screwed a man. I said I hadn't. He said I could board for free if I’d fuck him. I said I’d sooner chop my cock off, so he shrugged, said it had been worth a try and sauntered out.’

Massimo sat back in his chair with an uncertain smile. ‘Until then I’d thought I was normal and would fuck a hole in a tree if I was randy, but it was a relief to realise I had some standards and would prefer no sex than to touch those sorts.’

‘Very sensible of you,’ Prudence stated sweetly. ‘It’s a relief to know you’re a man with high moral standards.’

Empirika snorted.

‘Amen to that,’ Frankie whispered.

Prudence caught his eye and smiled, then turned to Empirika and nodded.

After a contemptuous sniff to prove she thought it a stupid idea, Empirika sprawled back in her chair and spoke in a bored drawl. ‘Ten years ago I took care of an aunt who’d broken her hip. The road behind her place winds up a steep hill past a lookout. It’s a nice view over farmland, but most people just drive on. I used to walk up for the exercise, fresh air and the view when I felt like murdering my snappy old aunt. At the edge of a parking area there’s a parapet in front of a nearly vertical drop of about twenty metres to a stony stream. I considered leaping off more than once.

‘One day I was sitting with my back to a rock out of the wind when I heard a vehicle pull in, a car door slam, and screaming. Keeping out of sight behind my rock, I turned and watched a woman run across to the parapet shouting, “You have to marry me! You said you loved me so I told everyone at work and all my family that I was getting married! You're a user, an abuser, a rapist, a creepy crawling worm of a man and useless in bed.…” How she expected him to want her after that, beats me. When that didn’t work, she collapsed to the ground, shuddered, and filled the air with fake sobs.

‘The bloke apparently thought the tears were real so said he was sorry, but he had always thought they were just friends, good friends, and he wanted to remain friends, but he was not the marrying kind. She started howling again and I was on the point of warning him not to believe her when he surprised me by sticking to his guns. “Cry as much as you like, Louise, I can’t marry you. We would be at each other’s throats in weeks.” “I don’t care,’ she screamed. “I don’t give a fuck if we're happy or not, I want to get married! If you don’t marry me I’m going to jump off this wall.” She clambered onto the parapet and stood facing him. He took a step forward. “Keep away from me!” she wailed with more fake sobs. “If you won’t marry me I'm better off dead. I've invited everyone at work to the wedding. I will not be made a fool of!”

‘The boyfriend, who was plain but pleasant, slightly overweight, fair and freckled, tried once more to calm her. I could see the stupid man was going to capitulate so said loudly, ‘She’s faking. She won’t jump.’ They got such a fright, both took a step backwards. That was Ok for him, but Louise had no more steps to take. In silence she swayed, arms flailing fruitlessly and then the silence ended as she disappeared into the void accompanied by an unearthly howl.

‘We both froze for a second, then raced forward and peered over the edge. Louise was lying in an impossible position. ‘She’s dead.’ I stated, wondering why I was pleased. All he said was “Fuck”. Now you're free, I added. “Fuck,” he said again.

‘The cops are going to think you pushed her,’ I said calmly.

“But… but I didn’t. You know I didn’t.”

I was feeling bitchy so said, ‘In a way you did. You refused to marry her even after she warned you she’d jump.’

I let him sweat for a few seconds then suggested we go down so it looked as if we cared, and then call the cops. If they didn’t take too long I’d stay and tell them what happened.

We sat on rocks beside the blessedly silent woman whose face was buried in gravel. I told him he was better off without her. He nodded and we discussed what to tell the cops.

‘When they arrived they asked us to re-enacted what had happened, so we stood side by side enjoying the view. The guy asked me to marry him. I said a gleeful ‘Yes!’ and leaped onto the parapet saying, ‘take my photo up here! I'm so happy!’ Then while he was going back to the car to get his camera, I pretended to stumble, flailed my arms, and made the cops shout to be careful and insist I come down before I also fell over. We made statements, went to the cop shop the next day to sign them and I never saw him again.’

‘Did you feel pity for her?’ Frankie asked.

‘Of course not! Stupid bitch. She should have pretended to be the sort of girl he wanted to marry, and made herself indispensible. Serves her right for letting him see what a silly cow she was before tying the knot.’

‘That's very interesting,’ Prudence said quietly, ‘You have hidden depths, Rikka.’

Empirika’s face closed up. ‘Thank you, Prudence.’

Prudence turned to Frankie. ‘What revealing tale have you in store for us, Frankie?’

While mulling over his life, Frankie had discovered he was a very private person, unwilling to reveal anything important. He also didn’t trust the Kwins. It had been a fun few days but it was time to go. Empirika was not going to make a sculpture of him, he realised with relief, there would be no series of videos, and nothing would come of these stories, which he was certain were all lies. Possibly therapeutic for the Kwins, but Frankie Fey was not in need of therapy. He had no problems, wasn’t dissatisfied with life or anything else. He loved and was loved by Ingenio and Constantine and that was all that mattered. Certainly none of the events that had shaped him were for public gaze. But there was one thing he wanted to clear up and this was his chance to do it.

‘Since my first day at school,’ he said seriously, ‘I’ve had girls chasing me, trying to kiss me, wanting me to kiss them. Teachers laughed when I complained, saying I should enjoy it while it lasted. So I kissed an unwilling girl and was punished for sexual harassment. When I was eleven a soft, unhealthy boy who hated exercise, tried to kiss me. He was as unwelcome as the females. For self protection I became arrogantly dismissive towards all females and wimpish males who even smiled at me. Then at university I met a female with a brain, outlook, values and mindset that attracted me. But by habit and fear of inviting trouble, I avoided friendship by keeping our association strictly professional. Too late I discovered that my barriers had been unnecessary. We could have enjoyed three years of mental pleasure and friendly companionship. I doubt if I will again find such an intellectual soul mate, but if I do, I won’t make the same mistake.’

‘Why didn’t you discuss the situation with the woman instead of assuming the worst?’

‘Experience, Harley. Having never met a similar female, I was totally unprepared. Discretion is the better part of valour, and all that.’

‘She was probably a slag,’ Massimo grunted. ‘Men are always attributing noble qualities to women they don’t really know. Wishful thinking at its stupidest. You're better off without her.’

‘Or she’s better off without such a narrow minded bigoted male!’ Columbine muttered audibly.

‘Thanks Frankie.’ Prudence smiled sweetly. ‘I guess it’s now my turn to explain why I'm strange.’ She looked down at her feet, pulled a wry face then sat up straight and gazed into the space above her listeners’ heads as if recalling a faded memory. ‘My father is a pastor of the Exclusive Sect of the Sacrificial Lamb. There are perhaps a million adherents worldwide and they are not evangelical. They believe they have been chosen by the God of the Torah, Bible and Koran to live a life of total purity in order that they may drift like fluffy sheets of heavenly toilet paper among the devil’s disciples, soaking up all the shit of the world. Sex with people outside the sect is forbidden, but compulsory within, so we can increase in number without diluting the essence of our God-given exceptionality.

‘My rational, logical, highly intelligent brain, although seriously affronted by the idiocy of these beliefs, was persuaded by the fear of physical torture to remain silent. Despite my efforts to remain pure, at high school I fell in love with a teacher, Agnes Fortune. I was sixteen, she twenty-seven. At first it was her brain and mathematical genius that attracted my admiration, and then her ability to excite every part of my body with fingers, tongue and lips that made me her willing partner in every aspect of love, lust and desire.

‘Naturally, rumours about our carnal transgressions in the mathematics store room were soon flitting around School social media sites like “Chatter”, ‘Babble” and “Blabber”. Eventually, the Headmistress called us in, castigated us for not being more discreet, and asked Agnes if she wanted to continue teaching. To her shame and my mortification, she said she did, and accepted a transfer to our sister school in Western Australia, leaving me to endure jibes about being the jilted Sacrificial Lamb of Miss Fortune’s lusts.

‘My parents were equally furious that I had drawn attention to their sect, and withdrew me from school. For three Holy Days in a row I stood naked before the congregation, lambasted for my transgressions. On the fourth day I was returned to the loving fold of the community by rubbing holy oil on the naked body of the Supreme High Moderator, who then fucked me without a condom on the high altar, to the affectionate cheers and loving applause of the entire gang of doting idiots.

‘As for my studies. I finished them under the brilliant tuition of an Under Pastor by the name of Eion Shaft, with whom I lived as a sex slave for the next eighteen months, after which I was considered cured and permitted to attend the Rationalist University, where I met Frankie, who enabled me to make my final rupture with that insane sect by inviting my parents to see me dance. I gave them the impression it was to be a work of graceful beauty that would so enrapture the audience it would soak up every immoral, base, villainous, and dishonourable vibration in the theatre. Instead, they saw me cavorting naked and being rudely fucked by a pagan satyr. Unfortunately, the shock didn’t trigger terminal heart attacks, but it did sever the connection between us forever. So now I am blessedly free.’

Prudence smiled softly and sank back in her chair.

‘Brilliant!’ Frankie laughed.

‘Yes, an amusing pack of lies,’ Columbine sniffed. ‘Your specialty, I think.’

Frankie caught Prudence’s sly wink, so he relaxed. She did not need defending.

‘Yeah, good one Prudence,’ Empirika yawned. ‘But I'm so stuffed I'm off to bed.’

‘I think I’ll take a stroll outside,’ Harley announced. ‘I don’t feel tired and it’s a beautiful night. Nearly full moon.’

‘I’ve been sitting so long I'm ceasing up, so I’ll join you,’ Massimo yawned following his father.

‘Was any of your story true?’ Frankie asked Prudence.

‘Only one thing.’

‘That you met me.’

‘Precisely.’ After checking they were alone, she whispered, ‘Be a dear and follow Harley and Massimo. But take great care not to be seen!’ After a friendly pat on his cheek, she joined Empirika in her bedroom and Frankie wandered casually out into the shadows, following muffled voices along dark leafy paths towards the river.

There was enough moonlight to see shadows and shapes as they followed an overgrown path that led to a sagging corrugated iron shed full of old tyres and spider webs. Frankie had been there before but not entered, being wary of snakes. Knowing where they were heading, he increased the gap between them in case he trod on a stick or broke a branch. The scraping of the sagging door as it was dragged open, suggested they were entering, so he waited three minutes to make sure they weren’t just picking something up and continuing their walk, then slowly crept forward. The old shed, deep black in the moonlight, looked like a flurry of fireflies. Electricity wasn’t connected so they must be using a battery lamp and the light was escaping through rust holes in the walls and along the edge of the roof.

He crept to the partially open door. A patch in the middle of the earthen floor had been cleared for a mattress. Both men were naked; Harley on his back with his legs in the air, his son between them silently pumping. Harley’s eyes were closed and a smile softened his normally critical expression. Massimo climaxed, held it for several seconds, then slowly withdrew.

‘Fuck I needed that,’ Harley said with feeling. ‘Thinking of you with that creepy Frankie every night made me so horny I even fucked Columbine. And then I had to sit through the bitch’s bloody video of you two fucking. How much longer do we have to put up with those two fuckwits?’

‘Empirika says she’ll have everything she needs in a couple of days. So relax. Do you want to fuck?’

‘Of course.’

Massimo withdrew, rolled over and was getting onto his hands and knees when he glanced at the door.

Frankie pulled back. Heart pounding.

‘I thought I heard something.’

‘Bandicoots, echidnas, rats, possums, snakes, lizards… of course you heard something.’

Frankie remained frozen until the sound of rutting males covered his retreat.

Back at the house he wondered if he should wake Prudence, but decided against it. They couldn’t do anything tonight, and as Empirika was involved in whatever was afoot it would be stupid to do anything unusual.

Massimo showered and crawled into bed half an hour later. Frankie pretended to be asleep while increasingly grisly scenarios tumbled through his head. It wouldn’t be possible to talk to Prudence alone anywhere on the property without attracting suspicion. So where? And how to arrange it?

The following morning just before dawn Frankie suddenly howled and clutched in agony at his belly. ‘Sorry, Massimo,’ he gasped, panting, eyes wide, face contorted in a spasm of suffering. ‘I couldn’t stop myself.’ Another agonised groan sent Massimo to fetch Prudence who pressed here and there on belly and chest, eliciting yowls of torment and a secret wink. She took his temperature and said it was hovering on forty. An emergency! It was still only half past six, too early for doctors, and an ambulance would take ages, if it didn’t get lost, so she decided to take Frankie to outpatients at the nearest hospital. Massimo helped him to dress and Columbine made a thermos of tea and a few sandwiches while Prudence dressed and brought her car around. Empirika remained in bed complaining about the noise.

‘Have you got your wallet and car keys?’ she whispered as she settled him in the passenger seat. He nodded and they were away, zipping down the drive, along the road and into the city, stopping at the first park to drink their tea and eat the sandwiches. Frankie described the previous night’s scene and conversation. Prudence remained silent for several minutes, concentrating.

‘I guessed about Harley and Massimo. Harley’s been visibly jealous of you sleeping and wrestling with him. And I'm sure Columbine knows, which is why she made the video of you two wrestling and fucking and made sure Harley had to sit through it. And Massimo would have loved making his father crazy with jealousy. They're a weird bunch. Massimo’s a con man, but he’s not a cameraman, hasn’t the faintest idea. Didn’t you notice, when he was filming you and the sculpture that is never going to be finished? As for Rika, did you see how angry she got when you suggested she use a 3D printer? That's because it’s how the sculpture of me was made. She’s competent, but not that good. She only asked you to stay because she thought that would annoy me, but then realised her mistake and now hates you being here, keeps suggesting I should get rid of you.’ She laughed. ‘That, of course, only made me determined that you stay. So she did me a favour because I'm really pleased you’re here.’

‘So am I’

‘Good. And there's something very odd about Columbine’s relationship to Harley. What woman would marry a man who’s screwing his son? She’s Rika’s mother all right, but not Massimo’s. I think Rika’s story about causing the death of that jilted woman was a warning. Am I paranoid in thinking they want to get rid of us?’

‘No. Sensible. Yesterday Massimo told me he wasn’t Columbine’s son. He dislikes them all, he reckons. How long have you known the Kwins?’

‘Just on two years. In my second year at University I met Rika at an insignificant art gallery in the city where she was exhibiting small sculptures. She was sexy so I bought a couple of pieces and we swapped phone numbers. A week later she rang, I invited her out, and she’s been here ever since. She’s useful and good in bed. The other three came and stayed for a week in their campervan. The next time they stayed for a month, in the house. They're like gypsies. Always on the move. Always big plans and nothing to show for it. I've never seen any of their educational videos or anything else they say they’ve done. I just thought they were harmless layabouts living on their wits and the dole. Now it seems they aren't harmless and I'm worried. What can we do?’

‘We, Prudence?’ Frankie asked with a smile.

She blanched. ‘Sorry. I know I seem cool and strange, but I've always considered you a good friend. Actually, it’s embarrassing to admit, but you're the only person I know that I’d trust or confide in. And after your confession last night I was hoping you were…’

‘I was.’

‘What?’

‘Referring to us. I want to be your friend and I'm going to help.’

‘Thanks, Frankie. What do you suggest we do?’

‘We write down everything we know, what we suspect and what we need to know, then I’ll send the information to Ingenio, and if there’s any information about them on the Internet he’ll find it and report back.’

‘How long will it take?’

‘An hour or so.’ Frankie laughed. ‘When Rika introduced me to her family I assumed they were stage names, Harley Kwin, Empirika, Columbine, Massimo. Seriously, who has names like that?’

‘You mean they ought to have normal names like Virtue and Ingenio?’

‘Touché. Still, we’ll ask Ingenio to check if they're fakes. Now, where's an Internet café when you need one?’

‘What if he’s not home?’

‘I've a code that triggers an alarm no matter where he is.’

‘I’d like to meet your father.’

Frankie grinned. ‘Who knows what might happen.’

It took them ten minutes to compose and send the email. Half a minute later Ingenio responded, assuring them he’d get onto it immediately and asking for the make of the Kwin’s campervan thing. And could they come to “85” and stay overnight in case there were further questions?

Frankie turned to Prudence. ‘Can we? Do you trust those four alone at your place?’

‘You’ve the keys to your car so they can’t use that, and your wallet. There’s nothing I value that they can harm, and if they do other damage I can call the cops and I've a feeling they might not like that. So yes.’

‘Do you know the make of their vehicle?’

‘As it happens, I do. I was struck by the absurd name and it’s stuck in my head, it’s a… a Faylabago.’ She spelled it. Goodness knows how the manufacturers came up with a name like that.’

Prudence left a message on Empirika’s phone that Frankie’s condition probably wasn’t serious, but he was being kept in hospital overnight for observation, so she’d find a motel and they weren't to worry about her.

Frankie emailed the make of the van and said they’d be home in a few hours. Three hours later they were back at “85” where Prudence was welcomed with tea and Madeira cake.

‘After the show we wanted to tell you how much we enjoyed your portrayal of a nymph,’ Constantine said, ‘but you disappeared.’

‘In case I got stoned to death.’

They laughed, enjoyed the tea and cake, then settled in front of Ingenio’s computer to see what had been learned.

‘I started with the sculptress,’ Ingenio said with a frown. ‘There was no sculptor called Empirika Kwin, but the exhibition you mentioned had her listed as Empirika Swyndill. No luck with Columbine Kwin, but here’s a mug shot of Colleen Swyndill from Empirika’s social network page, is this the woman?’

It was.

‘You're extraordinarily ingenious, Ingenio,’ Prudence declared. ‘I’d never have thought sideways like that. I always think in lines. You deserve the name.’

‘Thanks. Now to Harley Kwin. No luck with Kwin, Quin, Harvey Kwin, or any logical combination that sounds similar, so I tried Massimo, Wrestler, and found a video of a short, handsome, powerful guy wrestling in a North Sydney competition. Does that sound like him?’

‘To a T. Can you get a surname?’

‘I scanned old programmes from National Wrestling Competitions and found one from five years ago announcing a new member of the team, Massimo, formerly Martin Harley, a twenty-year old from Queensland. So I checked Harley Harley, Harvey Harley and similar combinations and found nothing. Then I scanned the Queensland Vehicle Registration records for the Faylabaygo Campervan. There are only a couple of hundred in the country, and one is registered to Jeremy Harley.’

‘How interesting, we’ve been living with Jeremy and Martin Harley, and Colleen and Empirika Swyndill. All we have to discover now, is what they’re planning.’

‘First, a meal,’ Ingenio laughed. ‘When Karmai and Sylvan heard you were coming back they invited us to dinner. Karmai found a monitor lizard road-kill on the road and is preparing a traditional delicacy.’

‘Can’t wait.’

‘They won’t mind if I come?’

‘They’ll be as pleased to have the chance to congratulate you on your dancing as we were,’ Constantine told her.

‘Gosh. Fame for the only thing I'm no good at.’

‘You're too modest, Prudence, Ingenio smiled. ‘Constantine and I need to freshen up, so Frankie will show you to your room and the bathroom. Back here in about twenty minutes?’

Only the lizard’s head had been squashed, the meat was white, tender and sweetly tasty, and the vegetables succulent and delicious. Prudence discovered to her astonishment that no one seemed to think she was strange, cold, clinical or aloof, so she relaxed and enjoyed herself. After discussing their quandary for an hour, during which Karmai warned them that conmen and women were seldom harmless so they should expect physical nastiness, and Sylvan offered his brawn if it was needed, they returned to the large house.

Frankie was pleased to be back in his own bed, alone, and Prudence loved the guest room, especially the view in the morning across treetops to distant hills.

*****

‘How on earth did the cops get evidence against criminals before the internet?’ Frankie was checking through some of the previous day’s printouts.

‘It just took a lot longer and used up more manpower, and was therefore difficult to coordinate. It’s amazing how well they did. It’s funny and sad,’ Constantine mused, watching Ingenio at work, ‘that we’re all so grateful that our governments provide equipment and wireless bands and allow free, instant transmission of ideas and information around the globe, not realising that the primary reason is to have instant access to every citizen’s details, thoughts, plans, finances and everything else. It’s Big Brother multiplied. They're never going to restrict emails or anything else because that might interfere with their surveillance. That’s why I like to keep a low profile. But even that's fraught with risk. There’s a giant computer doing nothing but trolling for little-used names and sending alarm signals to check up why Frankie Fey isn't a regular user of his main account. What is he hiding? Search deeper. He’s obviously a terrorist!’

‘Sadly, Constantine, you are not exaggerating,’ Prudence agreed. ‘I’m so glad Frankie taught me to be financially independent. I do not want to work for a society that is becoming ever more invasive, repressive and unequal. I’d opt out if there was anywhere to opt out to.’

‘Yeah. The planet has shrunk to a single, open backyard devoid of trees but filled with pointless games.’

‘Con, I need your expertise,’ Ingenio interrupted. ‘I’m checking court records, but which courts? And I want police charge sheets, what do I ask for?’

While the two men searched, noted, saved and compiled, Frankie took Prudence for a walk down to the swimming hole and to the boundary with the National park where he’d shot the foxes and hares. She was impressed and wished she had more of a view from her place.

‘I love my house, but it’s beginning to feel polluted. I might sell it once I've rid myself of the Swyndill woman, and get something a bit like this where I'm not going to be cut off every time there's a flood, especially as floods are becoming more common.’

It was too cold for a swim, so they climbed to the high lookout, which had Prudence in raptures. Ingenio and Constantine greeted them on their return with satisfied smiles.

‘We’ve got them,’ Constantine announced gleefully. ‘Colleen Swyndill, who is fifty-one, used to be a home-care nurse for aged and senile men and women whose children weren't interested until they realised the money they expected to inherit was filling the pockets of a nurse who had hacked into their parents’ credit card accounts. She spent eighteen months in prison and lost her entire savings due to fines and reparation.’

‘The nasty old bitch!’

‘She was also accused of maltreatment of her clients, although no charges were laid. Her defacto, Jeremy Harley is forty-six, has a criminal record and has served several prison sentences for accepting deposits to paint houses, then not turning up. Also for stealing cars, and posing as a meter reader to gain entry to houses to steal jewellery.’

‘It’s lucky I’ve no jewellery to speak of, and my debit card is linked to only one account. The others are all secret and require passwords and electronic tokens, which I have with me.’

‘Very wise because your friend Empirika Swyndill, is twenty-seven and a clever woman. Have you made out An Enduring Power of Attorney or a Will, Prudence?’

‘No. Neither. I don’t trust anyone enough to give them control over my affairs. I suppose I ought to make a Will, but I'm waiting until I meet someone I want to leave my stuff too. Why?’

‘Because according to the Public Trustees office, they have on file an Enduring Power of Attorney signed by Prudence Prodijee naming Empirika Swyndill as the executor of her estate should Prudence Prodijee lose her ability to conduct her affairs. They also have a copy of a legally signed Will in which the same Empirika Swyndill is named as sole beneficiary.’

‘But… how? The bitch must have copied my signature! I’ll bet Colomb… Colleen pretended she was me and… surely this isn't possible?’

‘No government department or Internet website is safe. They are shockingly understaffed and underpaid so have to employ incompetents, and this is the result. A competent hacker could easily create a false document and insert it into the appropriate government departmental file.’

‘But… but this is terrible!’

‘It certainly is, because those people will benefit from your death. And if Frankie gets in the way I don’t think they'd worry about eliminating him. Karmai’s warning last night was apropos.’

‘What about Massimo?’ Frankie asked.

Martin Harley has served several short prison sentences; the first aged fourteen for causing grievous bodily harm to a young man who disturbed him stealing his cars. The others also for aggravated aggression. He is currently wanted by the Queensland Police in connection with the disappearance four weeks ago of Shareen Murdok.’

‘He said she had driven him to your place, Prudence, the day they arrived, but whoever was driving took off before anyone could check if it was Shareen. It could have been one of his mates getting him away from the scene!’

‘Ingenio and Constantine, I am in total awe of you both,’ Prudence stated, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘In a few hours you’ve given me cause to be very concerned, but also prepared. But how do I prepare? And for what, exactly?’

‘First question, do you want the cops at your place?’

‘Not if I can avoid it. I don’t trust them. If even once in the last hundred years they had admitted fault or had said that what they had done was not right, then I might trust them, but they have murdered hundreds of prisoners, mostly indigenous, been totally corrupt with prostitutes, drugs, real estate, hand in glove with developers, and even when courts declare that they hadn't acted according to the rules, they deny all fault. And if compensation is offered to families torn apart by police harassment, violence and murder, they vociferously oppose paying any compensation because that might be taken as acceptance they were wrong. There may be some good cops, but their union is evil and I’ll avoid them if possible.’

‘Fair enough. Actually, all you have to do is threaten them with the police.’

‘How? By sitting down and telling them we know all their naughtiness and we will tell the cops if they don’t go?’

‘Not a good idea because you’ll be discovered at the bottom of your swimming hole before you got near a cop.’

‘Then how?’

‘I suggest we print off an official Police notice warning that they are hiding in their area. They are dangerous, so citizens should avoid all contact and report any sighting immediately to the police. Do you have a mail service?’

‘No, I have a Post Office Box in the nearest suburb.’

‘Could you get one of the Swyndills or Harleys to collect the mail for you?’

‘Yes, Rika also uses that mailbox and takes my car every second day to check it.’

Constantine and Ingenio shared a grin. ‘Then you’ve got them.’

The notice was printed on a perfect replica of the NSW Police Department letter heading. Even the colour of the ink was correct. The message was simple and direct.

“Notice to Residents of Molloi’s Pocket and Surrounding Areas.

The New South Wales Police Force is interested in contacting the following people: Jeremy and Martin Harley, and Colleen and Empirika Swyndill, to assist them with certain matters of public interest. It is believed they drive a Faylabago campervan and are camping or renting accommodation in your area. Please contact the police if you have any information regarding their whereabouts.”

Underneath was a contact name, phone number, email address, and fax details.

‘How many should we print?’

‘Just this one. You don’t want the locals complaining because the phone and email addresses don’t work. Empirika won’t know that yours is the only box to receive the notice. So, off you go, place this in your mailbox as you go past, checking first that your house guests aren't nearby having come into town for a pizza or something. Then drive home and be your usual, sunny selves, all cured of your bellyache.’

‘Actually, Rika would normally have collected the mail today, but unless they drove their campervan she wouldn’t have been able to. Massimo told Harley she was waiting for a certain letter before they could do whatever they were planning, so that's why she’s been so keen to check. I’m such a fool to trust strangers.’

‘No, you're a pleasant young woman and we are very pleased to have met you at last, and equally pleased that you and Frankie have realised you're friends. Come and see us again when he returns from India. Which begs the question, Frankie. When are you going?

‘As soon as we’re rid of those people. What're you going to do when they’ve gone, Prudence?’

‘There's a month-long mathematics symposium I want to attend in Melbourne. I just have time to register. That'll give me time to sort my head out.’

It was late afternoon by the time they drove around the block checking to see if any Harleys or Swyndills were shopping nearby. They weren't, so Prudence opened the box, removed all the mail, and replaced it with the notice, folded with the police logo on the outside.

They then drove to a park where Prudence tore open the letter addressed to E Swyndill. She scanned it and handed it to Frankie who read it aloud, ‘Dear Miss Swyndill, this is to confirm that The Mental Disability Certificate you faxed to us allows you to use your Power of Attorney to access the accounts of Miss Prudence Prodijee, and to dispose of any assets belonging to her on condition it is to her benefit. In the event of her death, then her latest Will and Testament will be your guide. Sincerely, Tchiet, Robb and Skumm, Solicitors.

The Harley-Swyndills were sitting in the kitchen when they arrived home, barely able to conceal their disappointment that Frankie hadn't died from his bellyache. They offered a cup of tea, but didn’t ask how he was or where Prudence stayed the night or how she filled in her time.

‘Did you check for mail?’ Rika asked abruptly.

‘Oh, stupid me, I never even thought about it because I never get any. You can go tomorrow.’

‘Would you mind if I went now?’ Rika asked in conciliatory tones’

‘Of course not! Go for it. Although I'm beginning to wonder if you're getting love letters from a secret admirer.’ She laughed to show she wasn’t serious, then she and Frankie went for showers while Columbine and Massimo made supper.

They had just sat down to eat when Prudence’s car drove roughly in and they heard Rika enter, go to the bedroom and use the toilet before joining them, Her face determinedly serious.

What’s the matter?’ Harley sounded annoyed.

‘I’ve just received a note from Ruby,’ she turned to Prudence and explained, ‘she’s storing all our extra stuff in her garage. Well, her house has finally been sold, she's been waiting three years so we thought she would never sell, and she wants us to clear the basement as soon as possible.’

‘That’s ridiculous. Where’s her letter,’ Harley snapped.

‘No need to snap! It’s in my handbag in the bedroom. Come and look at it if you're so impatient.’ She stamped out, followed by Harley. They returned a minute later. Harley shrugged defeat.

‘Rika’s right. The silly cow forgot to tell us. She’s moving out in two days. If we don’t get there by tomorrow the basement will be cleared. We have to go tonight.’

‘What? Now?’ Massimo sounded genuinely annoyed.

‘Yes, now!’ Harley turned to Prudence who was looking convincingly confused. ‘I’m sorry, Prudence, but this is urgent. We have some very expensive equipment in that basement, so we really have to go. But as soon as we’ve found somewhere else to store the stuff, we’ll be in contact and come back and finish our filming.’

Prudence turned to Empirika. ‘Surely you don’t have to go?’

‘I'm afraid I do, Prudence, some of my best stuff I've been saving for an exhibition is there. But we’ll be back.’

Prudence and Frankie exchanged suitably astonished looks, then cleared away the meal and did the dishes, remaining in the kitchen while the Harley-Swyndills gathered all their possessions and stuffed them haphazardly in the van.

Hearing the vehicle start up, Frankie and Prudence walked through to the front just in time to watch their visitors motor sedately down the drive.

‘They didn’t even have time to say goodbye, thank goodness. I couldn’t have stopped myself saying something offensive.’

‘I’ve awoken from a nightmare,’ Prudence said softly. ‘It was so easy! Ingenio is a total genius!’

They waited until the sound of the engine died away, then wandered through the house.

‘We’ve been lucky,’ Prudence laughed from her bedroom, ‘Rika’s taken that antique clock, the gilt candlestick, and my silver bracelet.’

‘And you’ve lost a futon and just about everything from the bathroom, including the scales and mirror.’

They subsided onto seats in the courtyard in a fit of nervous giggles.

‘Thank goodness! Now they're proven thieves they’ll never be back.’

Frankie stayed another two nights to keep Prudence company while she organised her trip to Melbourne. After arranging for a security firm to make occasional checks of the house, they visited the relevant Government offices to ensure the Will and Enduring Power of Attorney were nullified and expunged from all records. After assuring each other of their friendship, they promised to keep in touch and drove their separate ways; Prudence’s brain immersed in higher mathematical conundrums; Frankie’s envisaging enlightenment in a remote, mysterious, romantic and picturesque mountain-top Buddhist monastery.