‘Happenstantial’ A Novel
By: Maria Rattray
Tags: Life Hacking, Courage, Fiction Writing, Destiny, Determination

“The question now was this. Had his placing the bag on the bench been a dark signal, a psychopathic sign that he’d deliberately left for her? An even more intense fear now engulfed her, making breathing difficult.

She drew her knees up to her chest, afraid and lonely, one frightened woman in a foreign country. Why hadn’t she recognized him for the stalker he was? All those coincidental happenings were more than likely, nothing to do with coincidence — the chat on the plane, the serendipitous meeting on Cockatoo Island, the kiss when she wanted to leave…and now…

Kathryn shivered in fear. She’d read about people like Max, watched movies about them, handsome, charismatic, successful, powerful, highly-intelligent figures whose bent is to attract women easily, charm them, delve into their souls, to reach and respond to their every thought and whim…..ultimately seducing them when their defenses are down.

Could this possibly be the same Max, the Max who only last night she had felt could become her soul-mate? Could he…was it just possible that he was none other than a psychopath, a snake, a lying, cheating, a potentially abusive death adder, masquerading as a writer?

Psychopaths have a dark, manipulative side, she knew that. But that darkness is always carefully secreted from their prey, until the person falls victim that is, and they are no more. Psychopaths are without conscience, intent on power, playing a game, manipulating, all with an emotional disconnect that is hidden by their staged persona. Worse still, after the event, they are always able to justify their crime.”

Chapter One: One Door Closes

The gentle, soothing sound of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, was her wake-up call. Gina opened her eyes, stretched, and gazed intently at the ceiling, taking in, for the last time, the unique pressed-metal detail and the ornate cornicing surrounding it, some of the features that had attracted her to the house in the first place. Created in an era where tradesmen took pride in craftsmanship, she had never tired of the intricacy and perfection of the design. It was something she would miss.

Reluctantly she rolled out of bed and onto the rich, perfectly-polished floor, the wood much older than the house itself. It had lost nothing of its beauty over the years, the recent resurfacing now highlight its natural russet and gold shades.

A stream of early-morning light entered the room and filled her with an excitement that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Mornings were God’s way of saying something like…look how much I do for you! Now up you get and enjoy it.’

Except she never had, not until today!

The trouble with mornings is they always seem to arrive at such inconvenient times. For Gina, those were the times when her body cried out for just another few minutes’ sleep, and even given the gift that each day was, she had never really appreciated the morning parts.

Oh the joy of being financially independent, never ever having to work again, of being able to make the simplest of choices about when and where to greet the day, and to spend her time as she saw fit.

Being financially comfortable…more than comfortable if she were to be honest, had given her incredible options and strength to do the unthinkable.

This was her day. It had finally arrived without fanfare, without ostentation, but it HAD arrived.

She hugged herself reassuringly, hardly able to control her excitement. Like a child looking forward to a birthday, Gina couldn’t wait to put her plan into action, the one she’d orchestrated, so covertly and exactingly.

Over time she had prepared mentally for it, given birth to it as she strove to bring together, ideas that were both exciting and terrifying.

How could it be otherwise? How can anyone be totally prepared for something over which there is no absolute control?

Planning is the easy part. The execution is a whole other beast. She closed her mind to the possibility of unforeseen terrors and tsunamis whose monumental impacts could potentially have devastating consequences.

Gina dismissed any negative thinking from her mind. She had already dealt with as much of that as was necessary, and negatives no longer had a place in her life. From today onward she would take her place at the forefront of the world’s risk takers, and rise above the narrow confines of the life she had, by default, accepted…up until now.

Breakfast was a deliberately leisurely one. From today onward, she would never be controlled by a clock. No better time to start than now. And so, with the last cup of coffee, made in her prized DeLonghi machine, in one hand, and a deliciously-warm, generously-buttered croissant in the other, she took a last sentimental stroll through the garden.

The classic French doors that opened directly to the verandah had been a sound afterthought when renovating. In keeping with the style of the house, they served to offset the rambling paths leading to various parts of her substantial garden, and to provide immediate access to the outdoor space that had become her sanctuary of late.

The revamp had been worth the expense, as had the weekly garden maintenance she had paid for in recent times. Spring was the optimal time to sell, according to her gardener, and now she could see why, for everywhere she looked, miraculous spills of color, a veritable symphony, bold and striking here, diminutive and teasing elsewhere, delighted her.

Every part of the makeover had turned out to be the work of art promised. In some places the garden was wide and welcoming with beautifully-manicured, weed-free lawns offset with ground-hugging, tightly-rounded shrubs on the periphery.

Other parts were more private, affording shelter and sanctity, a place to escape to, somewhere to read, and be, and think; a sanctuary that had allowed her on many occasions, to offload the cares of the day.

For those areas Gina had splashed out on some very trendy seating arrangements, a couple of elegant French provincial wrought-iron armchairs she had located online, (a wonderful find!) and a shabby chic refectory table that so far, seemed to be standing up to the vagaries of the weather.

She had been lucky enough to buy a set of six ornately detailed vintage chairs from a friend who was moving overseas. A little too fussy for her taste, they nonetheless complemented the style of the old table. Cushions that reflected much of the garden’s color had been sourced from a smart little French boutique nearby. The new owner was delighted with the furniture and couldn’t believe her luck when Gina offered the package to her as a gift.

With pots and statues strategically placed here and there, each area now had a unique personality, one that sang, not just with the myriad of birds that had made their home in it, but also with shape and form, with the contrasting shades of green, and the ongoing bursts of flowers throughout.

It was the garden that had sold her house. She knew that now. There was poetry in it, which is just as well, given what it had cost.

“A garden’s not just an addition to your home,” the gardener had explained to her. “It’s a home in itself, and in many ways it’s like a landscape painting. You have to design it so it draws you in. It should be so intriguing and irresistible that people are hooked, challenged to go beyond, to turn corners and prepare to be delighted. But, it must also be a place where you can find peace and harmony, to be by yourself, and to appreciate Nature if that is your wont. It has to be as daringly beautiful as you can imagine, but tranquil in places too. Ah yes, a garden is all of that, as yours will be. Trust me. You’ll see.”

And see she had. Gina had grown to love the makeover, the way the pathways bent and twisted and teased so that you were compelled to turn corners and look further, into yet another room whose design and usage would have purposefully changed.

She delighted in the gentle, filtered shade provided by the Japanese maples and pistachio trees, but she knew their true beauty would be revealed by their glorious red and orange tinges in autumn, a splendid farewell as they prepared to drop their leaves to rest and draw strength throughout the winter months.

Placed strategically by the French doors was a Michelia, the port wine magnolia whose flowers, though nondescript, held an evening scent that more than made up for its diminished floral beauty. Right then, its perfume was enough to have her decide that it was a perfect spot to have breakfast.

Gina sat down to take in the last of her masterpiece. It would be so hard to leave it, but then, just as easy to forget it, if all her future plans came to fruition.

She had choked back tears of emotion on the day the house sold, for the reality was that it had become so much part of her, a place that she had established and improved on, a place where she could find comfort and peace from her turbulent life. Her tearful response to the sale had hit her with a force that she could never have been prepared for, but determinedly she’d brushed aside all feelings of regret. It was part of the grand plan. There was no looking back.

One last sip of coffee, one long, final, wistful look, and she left the garden locking the French doors for the very last time. The cleaner would tend to the last-minute organization. A substantial incentive had bought both her discretion and assurance of attention to detail. The house would be cleaned perfectly for its new owner!

Back in her bedroom, she dressed with more than her usual attention to detail, the need to look her best foremost in her mind. Being remembered for her elegance and sense of fashion, as well as her cunning, was important -– black, elegant, well-cut pants that defined the long legs that Nature had kindly bestowed on her, a low-cut contrasting camisole deliberately alluring, showing just a hint of her still well-defined breasts, and a crimson wool jacket she had bought in a tiny store in Paris — far too expensive at the time, but she had known it would pay for itself in time. Now it was about to!

With her long dark hair elegantly swept into a knot at the nape of her neck, and her makeup checked with care, she knew she looked a million dollars…..maybe two, at a push! She smiled at her reflection. The elegance was in the detail. A smile of pure and utter polish was returned. She was ready! Time to go, wherever go might be!