Windsong

By Eric Scott

Windsong is a novel of the supernatural and suspense, with well-drawn characters, deep emotion and heart-stopping action. When final year school student Kirsty’s young sister Karen, dies in an accident, she blames herself and is inconsolable. She falls into depression after a suicides attempt and is under psychiatric care. But then she discovers that the ghost of her sister is hovering around the place she met her death. Kirsty find a precarious kind of peace and makes regular visits to her sister and is determined to join her. Another girl, Erika, who is on a visit the town to see her boyfriend Josh, makes a psychic connection with Kirsty and Karen. Through the physical and mental links Erika has a week to battle Kirsty’s demons and her nemesis, a boy she once rejected, against the backdrop of a small university town.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AUK Authors
• Release date: Jun 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781783331734

Eric Scott

Eric Scott is a published novelist with adult, teenage and primary school books to his name as well as two editions of one-act Plays for teenagers. Most of his plays have been performed in amateur and professional venues. He does a regular theatre review and preview spot on the Spectrum arts program on radio 4EB, 98.1 FM, at noon each Friday and runs his own entertainment web page at www.absolutetheatre.com.au He is also an actor and director with more than 50 productions under his belt.

Book preview

damages.

Friday, July 19

In the main street of Dalton Kirsty McCallister frowned as she walked hurriedly down the street. She had worries, big worries, and her mind was somewhere else completely.

Josh Holland, who was walking close behind Kirsty, had a huge smile on his face. He had no worries, but his mind was somewhere else too. On Erika van Gelder, who was making here first visit to his new home town.

Suddenly, without any warning, Kirsty came to a dead stop and a strange, rapt smile lit up her pale elfin face. The halt was too fast for Josh. The first year university student cannoned into the girl before he could stop himself.

Kirsten staggered from the impact. She was bemused, her concentration disturbed. But she quickly took control of her thoughts and the boy came into focus. He was tall and had sun bleached hair. He wore jeans of course - and a T shirt and the compulsory sports shoes. His face was creased with concern as he stared at the girl.

Kirsty? the boy asked eventually. He was shocked to see such a change in the girl he had only just recognised as a one-time fellow high school student. Are you okay? You just stopped ...

Sorry, I ... Kirsty’s face creased into a frown and then a strange fire came into her eyes. Mind your own business. Leave me alone, she said. Her voice was low and angry. Then she turned abruptly and hurried on, her head down and her eyes staring at the ground.

She reminded Josh of an ill-treated foal, long-legged and skinny, awkward and afraid.

He felt a surge of pity for her. He rubbed his aching shoulder. Bad attitude, he muttered, as he stared down the road after her retreating figure. No wonder they call her crazy Kirsty. Then he smiled again and set off for the bus station. He couldn’t wait to see Erika.

***

Erika van Gelder stretched her legs and twisted the cricks out of her neck. She ran her fingers through her thick golden hair. It needed a brush. Badly. She hoped Josh wouldn’t notice. She was half terrified of how she looked after a 20 hour bus journey through the night. Her bright blue eyes switched to the scenery which flashed past the bus window. Sydney was left long behind and the vista was filled with different countryside. Green market gardens, golden winter wheat, bare branched stone fruit trees, straggling grape vines dormant in the sun. She sighed. Then she smiled. She looked at her watch. Ten minutes to go before the bus arrived in Dalton. Soon she’d be wrapped in the arms of the guy she was madly in love with.

She saw the bus toilet light show vacant, so she sat upright and fished in her back pack for her makeup bag, and then made her way, swaying down the aisle. She was determined to look her best. After all it had been three months since she’s last seen him, and three months was a long time to be separated - for a guy.

In the toilet she gazed into the mirror and grimaced. How could anyone love a face like that, she thought.

***

Josh hurried into the bus station. He saw the bus had stopped and the driver had unlocked the luggage compartment. He was already unloading the baggage when the bus doors swung open and the passengers began to climb stiffly down the stairs. He walked along the side of the bus, staring in the windows until he spotted Erica.

She was half way down the bus, so he had to wait until the sundry passengers alighted. Then Erika the golden girl clambered down the steps.

She stepped into the full morning sun. It was bright and clear, shining in unpolluted air.

Josh stood for a minute looking her. She was wearing denim jeans that clung to her long legs, and a short-sleeved top that displayed her mid-riff. A leather jacket hung over her arm. Josh waved to her. She waved back and a huge smile spread across her pretty, sun-tanned face.

Josh walked towards her and had to fight back the urge to into her arms. He had the impression that it would happen in a slow motion. A picture flashed embarrassingly through his mind, like a scene from a bad movie.

So he played it cool. He waited until she reached him. When she did he opened his mouth to pour out his so long-prepared speech and declaration of undying love, but all that came out was: Hi. You look really cute.

There was a short silence that seemed like an hour to Josh as his thoughts tumbled and jumbled around in his head refusing stubbornly to come out of his mouth.

So, said Erika, aware of his discomfort, positive of the reasons for it and elated by her knowledge. You look pretty cute yourself.

Josh laughed, the tension was broken, and his silly head began to return to some semblance of order and sanity.

I’ll get your bags, he said.

Bag, said Erika. I only brought one. I’m here for a week, remember? I’m travelling light. She shivered. It’s cold.

Of course it’s cold, it’s July. Only here we call it cool. He helped her into her jacket and she snuggled gratefully into it. It gets really cold when the westerlies come in from the desert. continued Josh, moving along to join the people still searching for their luggage.

I‘ll try to miss that part of the season, said Erika.

It doesn’t get really bad until the middle of August, said Josh. You’ll be fine. Where’s your ticket?

Erika handed him her baggage claim. It’s the blue case, she said, the one with the stickers on it.

Josh nodded and his eyes searched the pile of bags, suitcases and parcels that piled up by the side of the bus. He spotted the sticker-riddled blue case, handed over the baggage check, and grasped the handle. As he expected it was heavy, but he showed no sign of difficulty as he lifted it from the ground, strolled easily back to Erika and plonked it on the ground in front of her.

If this is travelling light, I’d hate to see you pack for a world cruise, he said.

Erika’s face took on a look of mock anger. I had to be prepared, she said. You didn’t tell me what you had planned. You didn’t even tell me what the climate was like and I didn’t want to suffer culture shock. For all I knew you might be planning to take me to some debutante ball in a freezing barn!

Dalton isn’t that backwards, protested Josh. It’s a small town, but there’s always plenty happening - and none of it formal.

Oh dear, said Erika in mock sorrow. Then I’ll have to leave all my ball gowns in the suitcase.

Josh was examining the case. You’ve been busy, he said. You never told me you were an experienced world traveller. Los Angeles, London, Singapore... Kathmandu? There are stickers from everywhere.

You idiot, said Erika. It’s my dad’s suitcase. You don’t think I’d be so uncool as to stick silly labels all over my suitcase do just to show off do you?

I’m not sure what you’d do, said Josh. I just know I’m glad you’re here.

A sideways glance had told him that the bus passengers had all but disappeared, so he plucked up his courage and put out his arms. "I am very glad you’re here," he said. Erika moved straight into his arms and gave him a hard, body-length hug. Then she leaned back from the waist and smiled wickedly at him.

I was beginning to think you’d gone off me, she said.

Josh was astonished. How could she possibly imagine that: the girl of his dreams? The girl he was so insanely in love with. You’re crazy, he said.

So, are we going to stay here all week? I didn’t expect to camp out in a bus depot.

Josh gathered his wits. Of course not, he said. He picked up the bag. We’ll take a taxi. Mum‘s still at work, so we‘ll have a bit of time on our own.

Really? Erika’s eyebrows arched suggestively enough to make Josh blush.

The one thing Josh didn’t like about Erica was her ability to make him turn that sickly crimson colour. It embarrassed him out of sight.

She’s got the guest room all set up for you. I‘m sure you’ll be very comfortable. The words tumbled out over-quickly and Erika could only just suppress the smile that was about to take over her face.

I‘m sure I will, she said sweetly, with a demure drop of her eye lashes.

To cover his embarrassment Josh began to march towards the taxi rank. Come on, he commanded. I’ve got heaps to show you.

***

In town Kirsty McCallister stood outside the medical complex gathering her wits. It was a cheaply built, modern, three-storey concrete and glass Lego-square building. Inside the space was divided into plaster-board cubicles, but the people who rented space still referred to them as rooms.

It was where Dr Collier, her unsuspecting psychiatrist, held his consultations.

Kirsty knew she had an attitude problem but there was not much she could do about it. She was 17 years old and a murderer and that gave her attitude with a capital A. They said it was all in her head, which was why she was there for the weekly appointment with her shrink. For the past year she had been seeing Dr Collier. It wasn’t a problem, no way. It didn’t make the slightest difference to how she felt. No-one was ever going to change that. Never in a million years

She had a problem getting there however, because she had to go through town. She hated being on the streets. Close contact with strangers tightened her stomach until sometimes she thought would throw up. And she knew she was being watched. There was always the hovering fear that someone would find out about Karen. Dear sweet, darling Karen.

Her appearance helped to flesh out the legend of crazy Kirsty. She was tall and painfully stress-thin. Her clothes were baggy and hung on her frame like ancient sacks on a barbed wire fence. Her hair was red, but dull and spoiled by hand-cropping to a punkish shortness. Her eyes were sunk in her face and ringed with darkness, but they gleamed with a bright blue and glowed with the intense light of obsession.

After her brush with Josh Holland, Kirsty had realised she was walking too fast. Her heart beat was high, which was not good, so she had slowed down her pace and had taken slow, deep breaths to calm her down.

She checked her watch. It was time to put thoughts of her sister from her mind, and concentrate on the bright and cheerful things that made the shrink happy. Then maybe, if there was time, she could see Karen. If not, there was always tomorrow.

Saturday was a good day for the long, therapeutic walks the doctors recommended.

She took one last deep breath to calm her emerging fears, and then closed her eyes to do the brief yoga exercises that brought her spiritual turmoil under control.

Almost instantly her eyes lost their obsessive fire and her stooped shoulders straightened. She looked at her reflection in the glass double doors that led into the building and saw a girl who looked as normal as anyone else in Dalton. After another deep breath she pushed open the doors and walked straight to Dr Collier’s consulting room.

The receptionist smiled and looked up from the papers she was studying. How are you today? she asked.

Kirsty smiled back. Good, she answered.

The receptionist smiled again.

Doctor won’t be long, she said, If you’d like to take a seat. Then she went back to her paperwork.

Kirsty didn’t trust the receptionist. But she knew that her mistrust would be put down to paranoia if she mentioned it, so she didn’t. But she still worried about the tales she might tell about the patients who visited Dr Collier; particularly well known ones like Kirsty McCallister, whose personal tragedy had featured strongly in the local newspaper.

The memories came flooding back. The counsellor; the psychiatrist; her parents. You must pull yourself together. Get on with your life. Put the past behind you. Platitudes. Excuses. Ignorance.

At first she had fought against them, but they gave her pills which left her brain numb and she didn’t like that. She preferred her mind to be sharp, even with the pain. She could accept the pain. It was her punishment. It was fair that she should suffer.

So she listened and learned ... learned to say the right things to the right people and how to smile at the right time, until finally they stopped giving her the pills. Everyone said then what great progress she had made. The psychiatrist positively beamed at his success and Kirsty’s parents’ eyes shone with relief. But no-one was more elated than Kirsty. And why shouldn’t she be? She had fooled them all.

Kirsty settled down in one of the chairs next to the coffee table, and thought smugly how clever she was to disguise her feelings the way she had. Her eyes scanned over the display of magazines by her side. She always arrived ten minutes late because the psychiatrist always ran overtime.

The few minutes of saved waiting