Chapter 4 - Christmas Alone
Susan sat in her cell. The outside light was fading. Christmas Day was almost over and it had a surreal empty feeling. No presents, no visitors, no singing or laughing; just her and the crocodile stone for company.
Prison was a strange place, she overheard the warders talking about how overcrowded it was, but she had a cell to herself and it seemed to be a bit separate from the other cells, so there was no one next door to talk to. She was in the remand section, awaiting trial. At this stage it seemed that, despite there being lots of men on remand, that she was the only woman in the maximum security section facing a serious charge. So it was just her in a block of several cells with its own visitors’ room. She rarely saw or heard anyone, other than in the far distance.
It was often hot and steamy with no fans or other cooling here, even though the visitor’s room was lovely and cool with its air conditioned comfort. At night she would pull a sheet over her head to keep the buzzing mosquitos away from her face. Last night, late at night, there had been a huge storm with endless flashes of lightning and rain banging down and, for a while afterwards, the air was cool. But today there was an airless, hot steamy feel to the atmosphere, both inside and out of her cell.
Normally she did not mind the solitude, she really did not want to talk to others about what she had done and yet this was the question they invariably wanted to ask. But solitude on Christmas day felt wrong, where had all the laughter in her life gone?
Today she had tried to pass the time by reading a cheap and trashy romance novel that she had been able to take from the visitors’ room bookshelf. But now she was bored with it, it was not much of a story. Still she persevered trying to read, just to pass the time, sitting with her legs crossed, on her bunk, with the crocodile stone in her lap.
A few times she had put the stone aside and tried to pretend it was just superstition, not really influencing what was happening inside her head. But each time, within a few minutes, she could feel the fog return, the malevolent crocodile spirit was insinuating itself back into her mind. Then, as her hand returned to touch the stone, clarity would return.
She felt grateful for the visit yesterday of her family; Mum, Dad and Tim, along with Anne and David. They had brought brightness into her life for a couple hours. David had flown back to Sydney last night for a family Christmas. She knew he wanted Anne to go with him; she could feel the spark there and was glad – if something happened between them she would feel a bit less guilty for her own part to messing up his life.
She had not formally broken off the engagement but it was time. She would delay and spare the ructions this would cause for another week or two. But, as soon as the New Year passed, she would act. She suspected that both David and his family would be relieved.
Susan sensed that Anne was better for David than she was. Both she and David were impulse driven, Anne was steadier and would balance that part of David in a way she could not. But that was all speculation, not based on anything more than a hunch. Still she was glad it might happen, she did not feel jealous, just a little envious of the freedom they both enjoyed. She wanted something good like this for them both; they were both friends she cared for. Of course it may be imagination on her part.
She was also glad that her mind had been clear enough to talk to her own parents properly yesterday; it had been so hard with the fog filling her head. But, even though they did not have any deep and meaningful conversations, she sensed something approaching relief in them both that their daughter’s mind had returned.
She was not really free of the crocodile spirit but at least she now had a way to keep it back. Thanks to the new clearness that the stone gave her mind, along with the way Vic confronted her about what she had really done, it had come to her yesterday that she needed to plead guilty. She must stop this farce of pretence, saying that she would neither confirm nor deny what she had done.
So, as soon as the New Year came, she would tell of her killing Mark, hitting him on the head then dragging his body to the water; that part matched the evidence they already had, so it would be believed. But that was all she would tell.
Anything more would lead down a path which destroyed Mark’s reputation. Once done her child would have to live with that, once done there was no going back. It was better that this story remained untold – nothing could undo the past harm done. Nothing was gained by opening up the cesspit of Mark’s bad actions.
She was determined that the good memories of him held by her and his friends, not be destroyed through a revelation by her, leading others to spill out a different Mark story across the airwaves.
That story would travel down the generations, guilt by association. Always, after, people would ask whether the child of a psychopath would become like the father, turn into a monster. She had come to understand the two sides to Mark; she was prepared to live with this dual person, to love and honour the memory of the good part.
She wished he had been open to having a life with her after she knew; they could have had months or even years together, sharing their child. It was not much, but compared to the nothing she had now, she believed it would have been enough. God she hated the lost chance.
She wondered if she had done the right thing in giving the memory card with his story to Vic. But a promise was a promise and she must honour the one given by Mark, even if it caused more harm. Vic must shoulder responsibility for what he did with that knowledge.
Overall she felt relieved that she had shared this burden. Now Vic could agonise over it like she had. She had found herself more alive in Vic’s presence than she had been for months, even if it was only to rise to the challenge of being slapped.
It was good that Vic cared about Mark and what happened to him, cared enough to rage at her causing in his loss. She touched her face where a tender spot remained from his hand, smiling at the memory. It was the most alive thing that happened since she returned to Australia.
So now she wanted to get the trial over with. She knew she would end up spending years in prison if she pled guilty. So she would have to make arrangements for when her child was born. She would ask her parents to adopt the child. That way she could see him, at least now and then, when they visited. She did not know why but she was sure that the child would be a boy. But she was sure, and she had decided that Marco would be his middle name too, a continuity of life and memory passing from father to son.
This imagined future was not much of a life to look forward to; maybe prison for twenty years until her child was grown. But it was justice for the life she took away and it would bring closure to what had happened. She must find useful things to keep herself sane in prison and then make a new life when it was done.
She felt that, with the visits by the old man Charlie and Vic, some clarity had come back into her life. Now she was able to think and plan again. It was so much better than sitting trapped in a fog all day. She hoped they would both visit her again soon. Their visits had lifted her out of despair. She sensed she would need more help from them both and then more help still, to stay sane in this place.
The one thought that really terrified her now was that she would go back into that trapped place in her mind, where it was only her and that awful crocodile spirit for company. She thought she would eventually kill herself if she stayed there. There was a certain allure to escaping that way, Mark was in that place. But she would not dwell on that thought before her child was born.
In the meantime perhaps Charlie and Vic could help her put that bad place behind her, at least she hoped so. There was steel in Vic and he would know what to do. He could help her find a place beyond this place here, a place where her torment would cease. He would honour Mark’s memory but he would help her too, that she knew.
So she would ask the prison officials, as soon as the Christmas New Year period was over, ask them to put her in touch with the lawyers for the public prosecutor so she could make an early guilty plea.
T
hen all these people, who were hanging around in hope of a miracle, would get on with their own lives and she could get on with her life too, wherever it led. She felt a sliver of satisfaction that she could now see a way forward.
Now, with her mind clear and the crocodile stone in her lap, she would read more of this book to pass the rest of this day. She had had her fill and more of Christmas alone and wanted tomorrow to come.