Feeling vaguely sophisticated, Janelle sipped her chilled Chablis in Sydney Airport’s business lounge.
Life is good. Basically it’s just a series of decisions… and consistently making the right ones, she mused, recalling the roller coaster of the last six years.
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It had been very kind of him to take us in during a raging snowstorm on Christmas Eve, but I wish Joel would shut up about it. We’d been travelling along the edges of Białowieża Forest, trying desperately to get home to see family, when the car had broken down.
There was no mobile signal, of course, so we’d sat in the car, after the inevitable argument, shivering. Then, like the light of the Angel Gabriel, twin beams of a 4×4 had sliced through the blizzard, and Joel had been out in the road, waving his arms, trying to get a lift. Fortunately, the driver had stopped.
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Omar Tamer was near the top of the rise, looking down across the Ein-Gedi Valley, with its red boulders and tufted bushes. The goats were still grouped in a herd, grazing the succulent hackberry leaves near the old ruins. His thirst nagged, but he had to eke out his supplies for a bit more, so he just pressed his lips to his bottle and let the tepid water soak them for a few seconds.
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You know there’s something seriously wrong when the police arrive at your door past midnight. I guessed what it was at once. He had finally done it.
I’d moved out of the family home when I was seventeen, and haven’t put a foot inside it since. After years of wanting my father’s attention, I finally had it once I reached puberty. It was the wrong sort of course, “our little secret” he used to call it.
Poor Mum, the things she had to put up with over the years. She didn’t deserve any of it. She’d never told anybody of the mental and physical abuse she had been subjected to from ‘HIM.’ Even now I can’t call him ‘Dad’, he’s such a despicable human being. Why she stood by him all these years I will never understand.
Continue readingI was on my way home at last, I’d been counting down the days to my return flight since I arrived. The ‘Call of the Wild’ was overexaggerated as far as I was concerned. I just could not wait for that blissful moment of sleeping in my own bed. As it turned out, Africa had different plans for me.
The airport tannoy crackled into life.
“The flight to Nairobi has been delayed.”
There was a groan from all the passengers.
“More information will follow.”
I looked down at my dust-encrusted attire, I really needed a shower; even I could smell how disgusting I was. I just hoped that we would be aboard the turbo prop soon.
“Today’s flight has been cancelled.”
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Wrapped up, Charlie heaved the basket out of the car. Staggering under the weight, he made his way to the castle gates. With a heavy heart, he placed the basket down, placing a note on top. Whispering a farewell to his beloved birds, he walked away.
Charlie had found the birds after a storm had blown their nest out the trees. Taking them home, he had hand-reared them. Attila became his favourite, such an intelligent bird. It was he who started bringing him bits of coloured glass for which he was rewarded with his favourite treat.
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After a long journey by train, standing on the platform, looking up into the blue
sky, I decided to walk to the farm. A bit of a trek but I was wanting to tune back into the countryside, the winding lane and all its treasures.
Hedges bristling with new growth, smelling wonderful after years of living in the city. Breezes gently caressing my face, a smile appeared, my shoulders dropped, all tensions fading away. Birds chirping as they flitted about in their endless search for insects, animals grazing in the meadows bleating and lowing.
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