Kakadu Dreaming

Kakadu Dreaming

A NOVEL

BY HARRY DODGSON

Kakadu Dreaming is the second edition of

The Rainbow Serpent, with 5 added chapters

Copyright 2013 by Harry Dodgson

Published at Smashwords

The author asserts the moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher.

Author’s note

The dreamtime, or dreaming of the indigenous Australian Aborigine, refers not the dreams we all have when we sleep, but to the time of creation. Before the earth had form, before people, plants or animals existed, every human being was asleep in the dreamtime. For a reason no one knows, the spirits woke and the dreamtime ended. The trees and plants grew, the animals and people awoke.

When a pregnant woman feels the unborn child move for the first time, this is the sign that a spirit of the land has entered the child. When born, the child is then a special custodian of that spirit, and is taught of the stories and song lines of the spirit. Hence a person's dreaming may be the snake, turtle, tree, or any other living thing.

The meaning and significance of all places and creatures originated in the dreamtime. The dreamtime regulates every aspect of the life of the aboriginal people; their social life, behaviour, laws and culture. The dreamtime rules all things.

When a person, animal or plant dies, the spirit returns to the dreamtime, to be re-born at some future time. Every person, animal and plant, exists eternally in the dreamtime, and will continue to exist after death.

Chapter 1

You’re a very lucky woman, Patricia.

The woman who had spoken to her was Darlene, the wife of the company CEO. A very inquisitive woman; Patricia had never liked her. She was always prying into their life, ever asking personal questions. The way the remark was couched made Patricia wonder if she was harbouring romantic thoughts about him. If so, she was very welcome to him, Patricia thought bitterly. She would soon regret it if she got involved with him.

Why do you say that? she asked, although she knew what Darlene was about to say. Many times in the past few months she’d heard quite a few people say something similar.

You have such a good husband. He’s very charming, and you’re so in love, Darlene gushed. It’s nice to see in these days of quick marriage and divorce.

Patricia didn’t reply. She was thinking of the time not so very long ago when she would have agreed with Darlene. She had never before believed that love could turn to hate so quickly. However, very soon after their marriage, she found out the hard way just how such a thing can happen.

Sensing someone moving to her side, she realized her husband stood next to her. He was impeccably turned out, as usual. His sandy coloured hair was without a strand out of place, his tie tied perfectly, his rimless glasses shining, his mirthless smile on display-as always when he was in public view.

That’s right, isn’t it, darling? he said, taking hold of her upper arm. His fingers dug hard into her muscles and his cold eyes warned her not to contradict him.

Yes, she said, wincing at the pain. It was no use saying anything else. Not that anyone one would believe her, and it would invite a beating later.

The evening shadows were lengthening as he drove them home. The dull sky and the black wet pavements seemed to mirror her thoughts. Patricia was silent in the car, going over the events that led her to this situation.

When her mother was taken ill, Patricia had left her job to look after her. It was over two years before her mother recovered enough to look after herself. Then, when Patricia tried to resume her life, she found it had disappeared. All of her friends had married or moved away. Subsequently, Patricia became rather lonely. When she met the handsome, polite business executive, she was flattered that such a man would pay attention to her. It wasn’t long after their marriage that he changed radically. Early in the marriage he became extremely fussy, to the smallest detail, on the way the house was run, all the furniture had to be located precisely in its place. Even to the way soap and towels were laid out in the bathroom. At first when he spotted any infringement, he became angry and shouted at her, but it wasn’t long before the beatings started. She knew she couldn’t take it any longer; she had to get out of this nightmare somehow.

You’re quiet tonight, he said as he unlocked the door, then led the way into the house.

Patricia didn’t reply immediately. Yes, she said, screwing up her courage to take the next step. As she followed him into the sitting room, Patricia came to a decision. She had to take the bull by the horns sometime, so it might as well be now. She clenched her fists as she took a deep breath.

Frank. She paused. Her voice trembled slightly as she faced him. I want a divorce.

For a moment he stood still in surprise and disbelief. Then his head swivelled around to look at her. He took two steps forward until their faces were inches apart.

What did you say? He spoke in a very calm, expressionless voice. Patricia did her best to hide her fear and keep her voice normal. She noticed the long scar above his right eye twitching, a sure indication of his building anger.

I want a divorce.

The next thing she knew her senses reeled. She was face down on the floor with a sharp, stinging sensation in her face. He stood over her, his rigid finger pointing only inches from her face. He shook with anger.

How many times do I have to tell you? You’re mine, and there will be no divorce until I decide otherwise. Don’t ever forget that, he hissed at her through clenched teeth.

She got unsteadily to her feet. I’ve had enough of your bullying ways, she yelled. That’s the last time you’ll hit me.

He moved nearer to her.

What do you think you can do about it? he asked calmly.

You have to sleep sometime, Patricia sobbed.

You haven’t the nerve. Anyway, where the hell do you think you’ll go to hide? Run to your mom? he sneered. His face was so close she saw the small hairs on his cheek he had missed when he had shaved and the spittle on his lips.

I’m leaving.

You’re not leaving yet. You’ll go when I tell you to, not before. If you do, I’ll find you wherever you run or hide, I’ll kill you. His forefinger stabbed hard at her chest, forcing her to step back.

Patricia didn’t see the blow coming. The fist into her abdomen drove the breath out of her. As she lay on the floor, he leant over her. His large hand grasped her shoulder, his thumb pressing hard into her muscle. She screamed with pain.

Don’t even think of leaving. I’ll kill you before I let anybody else have you.

She didn’t know how long she lay there, unable to move and barely able to breathe. Eventually, with her hands pressed to her stomach, she rose to her feet, walking to the door. As she left the room, she looked at him. He had calmly walked back to the settee, picking up a book he had been reading earlier that day. It was as though nothing untoward had happened.

Each step an agony, she went up the stairs into the bedroom where she collapsed into a chair. It was some time before the pain subsided enough for her move, to prepare for bed. She carefully put on her nightgown. She couldn’t hear a sound from him. Presumably he was still downstairs, reading and drinking. Eventually the pain subsided enough to enable her to fall into a broken sleep.

It was dawn when the first of the sun’s rays shining through the slats of the venetian blinds woke her. She lay on the bed, listening. The house was silent. The only sound was the plop of a dripping tap in the bathroom. He hadn’t slept in the bed; she thought he had most likely fallen asleep drunk on the settee-it would be most unusual if he had gone to work this early. The office would be empty at this hour.

In the bathroom, she looked in the mirror. Her arms were unmarked, but her face was bright pink where he had hit her. In the past, he’d always made sure that any bruises he had caused were where it wouldn’t show.

She remembered the blows to her face and stomach and his grip on her shoulder, but couldn’t recall if he had hit her again after that. A couple of weeks ago, he had beaten her at least four times. In addition to the bruises on her back from the last time, now yellowing as they healed, there was a large black bruise across her stomach, with another on her shoulder.

It took her a while to dress, as her stomach and shoulder were painful to the touch. Carefully she applied makeup to hide the bruise on her cheek. She hoped it wouldn’t get any worse.

She expected to find him sitting in the lounge room reading the morning paper, waiting for his breakfast before leaving for work. He never got his own meals. Cooking was women’s work. She looked through every room in the house, but there was no sign of him; she was alone.

She made herself some coffee, then picked up the phone. When the operator answered, she asked for a collect call to her brother in New York City.

Henry, this is Patricia. How are you?

I’m fine. More to the point, how are you? Haven’t you left him yet?

Not yet, Henry. He hit me again last night. This cannot go on. I intend to go tomorrow. I’ll manage somehow, Patricia said. I need to go a long way from here to escape him, but I can’t go far with the small amount of cash I have. I will need to find somewhere to live, and pay rent. Also, I will need money to live on until I get a job and start earning. I’m at my wit’s end. Can you help me, please?

Haven’t you managed to get any money at all?

I’ve got some, but not enough. I manage to keep some from the housekeeping each week without him knowing, but it takes time. He’s so mean, Patricia said. If only you and Mom weren’t so far away-I don’t know a soul in Buffalo. I feel so lonely.

Don’t you know anyone that will help you? Is there no place you can go to get away from him? Henry said.

You mean a women’s shelter? I suppose there is, but that’s the first place he would look. It wouldn’t take him long.

Are there any friends that will help?

Not one. I haven’t been able to make friends here. He doesn’t like me going out without him except for shopping. And that means I only meet either his drinking buddies or colleagues from his office. When I do go out on my own for shopping or something, as soon as I get back he quizzes me about every minute I’ve been out.

I’d like to help you, Patricia, but at this time I’m very short of cash myself. I know Mom hasn’t much; she’s on a pension, after all. But in less than two months, it’s more than likely I will be in a much better financial position where I certainly will help you.

Two months! I can’t wait that long. Frankly, I believe that if I stay I may not live that long.

When do you think you’ll leave? Henry said. Have you decided that yet?

I have my small savings, and yesterday he gave me the housekeeping money. I have enough to buy a plane ticket. So unless something happens to stop me, I’m planning to go tomorrow. I’ll get a cab to the airport and take the midday flight out. At first, I’ll come to New York. I’ll stay with my friends for a few days whilst I make up my mind where to live more permanently.

You could stay with me and Elizabeth, Henry said. The apartment isn’t very big, but we’d make room for you. You’d be very welcome.

Thanks, Henry. But that’s probably the first place he would come looking for me. Not only is Frank a big man, but he is also mean and very bad tempered. He learned how to hurt people, even killed when he was in the Army. If he thought you weren’t telling him what he wanted to know, who knows what he might do? Better I’m not there and you don’t know where I’m staying.

Mom and I look forward to seeing you again, Patricia, Henry said. Just before your flight is due to leave, give me a quick collect call from the airport confirming your flight number. I’ll pick you up when you arrive, and take you to your friend’s place. It will save you the cab fare. I don’t know at the moment how much money I’ll be able to help you with, but whatever it is, I’ll give it to you when you arrive. Bye.

That evening she waited for Frank to arrive home. She had a meal half prepared that she could finish within minutes of his arrival. It was almost midnight when she decided he wasn’t coming home, so she went to bed.

The following morning, again he hadn’t slept in the bed, nor was he anywhere else in the house. He hadn’t told her he was going away, but this wasn’t the first time he’d gone somewhere overnight. He never warned her when he would be away.

It was almost ten. She packed a suitcase and was about to call a cab when the phone rang.

She hoped desperately it wasn’t him on the phone to tell her he would be home soon; if it was she would have to unpack before he arrived.

She picked up the phone. Hello, she said, expecting to hear his voice.

Mr.s. Patricia Davidson? a female voice enquired.

Yes.

My name is Danielle Atworth. I am a lawyer representing your husband.

Patricia sat bolt upright. She couldn’t believe her ears. Was he going to divorce her after all? She could hardly trust herself to speak.

Yes, what can I do for you? she asked. It was with difficulty that she kept her voice normal.

I’m sorry to inform you that your husband has been arrested. He wants you to bring him some personal items, clean clothes, etc; before his court appearance later this morning. I have a list of what he wants. It’s quite short.

Arrested. What for? What happened? What did he do?

I don’t want to go into details over the phone; I’ll tell you more when I see you. At present he is in the holding cells at the courthouse, Danielle said. I’ll be seeing him shortly, so if you bring those items to my office by taxi, that would be ideal. I’ll see that he gets them in time.

I don’t have enough money for a taxi. Patricia was so stunned by the news that she had to think for a moment. She didn’t want to tell a stranger her personal problems.

He forgot to leave me any, she lied.

That’s no problem, Danielle said. Can you bring them by taxi to my office? I’ll join you in the cab and pay the fare. On my way to court, I can take you back home in the cab, or if you want to go to the court, we can travel there together. Will you do this for him?

Yes. I’ll get on with it immediately; it won’t take me long, Patricia said. Please give me your address and read the list to me.

When her taxi arrived at the lawyer’s building, Patricia saw a dark haired, stout, well dressed woman, possibly in her late thirties, come out of the doorway and walk across the pavement to the cab.

Hi, you must be Mr.s. Davidson, she said as she got into the cab. I’m Danielle Atworth. Call me Danielle.

Patricia introduced herself. Can you tell me what happened? Patricia asked as the cab pulled away. Why is he in jail? What did he do?

I haven’t spoken to him yet, so I can only go by the police report I received by email this morning. It stated that your husband was drinking in a bar where he met a couple he knew. After they had been drinking for a while, the couple decided to go home and, it appears that they invited your husband to go with them. Sometime later, an argument started which developed into a fight, during which your husband pushed or hit the man, causing him to fall. Apparently he hit his head on something. Your husband then attempted to force his attentions on the woman. She says he tried to rape her but I don’t think the police will pursue that charge. She wasn’t as drunk as he was so she was able to lock herself in another room from where she called the police. When they arrived, they found the man dead. Your husband was still there. He made a statement to the police. He was arrested for murder and attempted rape.

What happens now?

According to the law, Danielle said. An arrested person has to be arraigned in court within forty eight hours of arrest. Witnesses are not normally called at this stage. The case is briefly outlined for the benefit of the judge, who will decide whether to grant bail or hold the accused on remand to await trial. Usually there is some farther investigation to be done by the police. Perhaps there is more evidence has to be gathered. The District Attorney then has to look at the evidence and come to a decision about it. All of this takes time. When this is complete, the trial can begin.

If he’s convicted, what sort of sentence will he get? Patricia asked. She couldn’t help hoping he would go to jail, if only for a short time. That would enable her to get away safely.

The evidence against him is fairly strong on the killing. He was there and he admitted hitting the man and knocking him down, Danielle said. I’m sure the murder charge will be reduced to manslaughter. The evidence for the attempted rape is unsupported. I don’t think the court will proceed with that charge. As for the sentence, that depends on the evidence and the judge. If convicted, he could get anything from probation to several years in prison.

They were both silent for a while. Would you like to speak to your husband in private before he goes into court? I can easily arrange it. Danielle said.

Patricia shook her head. She had nothing to say to him. No, I don’t think so.

Patricia was silent as the taxi navigated through the city streets. She was almost afraid to ask the question uppermost in her mind.

Will he get bail?

If he was in custody for a short time, it would allow her to get far away unmolested. She knew if he was granted bail he would be home later that day, most likely in a foul mood. It was now too late in the day for her to leave for the airport. She had to stay until she knew what was going to happen to him.

That’s up to the judge, as I said. But yes, it’s quite likely- that is, if he can raise the surety. You can watch the proceedings if you want, but you’ll have to sit in the public area, Danielle told her, I won’t be calling you as a character witness at this stage, but I almost certainly will at the actual trial.

Patricia didn’t reply. If she was called to give evidence her husband wouldn’t like anything she would want to say in court.

***

Patricia had been sitting outside the court for over an hour when Danielle came to speak to her.

Your husband and I had a preliminary meeting with the District Attorney, she said. We’ve arranged another meeting for next week, when I think the District Attorney will almost certainly offer a plea bargain. At this first hearing today, your husband will plead not guilty and will ask for bail. He’ll be in court very soon. You can go into the courtroom now if you want to watch the proceedings.

Patricia entered the court with Danielle, taking a seat two rows behind the table where Danielle sat waiting for the appearance of her client.

Patricia was in the courtroom for only a few minutes when a side door opened and her husband, handcuffed and with a court official on one side and a police officer on the other, walked into the room wearing the clothes she had brought to the court. Whatever condition he had been in when he was arrested, he now looked to be the handsome, well dressed man she fell in love with just a few short months ago.

With a set face staring straight ahead, he strode to the table where Danielle waited for him. He turned to face the judge, staring expressionless ahead whilst the charges were read out and the handcuffs removed. Before sitting, he looked all around the courtroom. He stared directly at Patricia for a few seconds, but his face didn’t alter. He showed no emotion. He didn’t speak, or even acknowledge her.

When the judge asked how he pleaded he replied, Not guilty.

Danielle stood. We request bail, your Honour.

The judge glanced in the direction of the prosecutor. What does the prosecution say about bail?

The prosecutor, an attractive-looking woman about thirty, wearing blue-tinted glasses and with shoulder length blonde hair, got to her feet. Picking up some documents from the table in front of her, she made a show of consulting them.

The public request remand, your Honour, she said. In a drunken rage, the defendant attacked and killed a man. Then he tried to force his attentions on the dead man’s wife. We consider the defendant is definitely a flight risk. He is under investigation for embezzlement from a previous employer and is known to have made frequent visits to the Cayman Islands for reasons the police have been unable to ascertain. Those islands are a well known haven for illicit funds. It is believed he may have substantial undeclared assets there.

The judge banged his gavel. Bail is set at one million dollars, cash or bond. The defendant will surrender his passport.

Frank half rose to his feet, then collapsed back into the chair, his face white with disbelief and shock. He visibly shook as he turned to Danielle.

You said I’d get bail. I can’t raise a million dollars, he whispered hoarsely. I don’t belong in jail.

He twisted his body to look wildly around the room. Then he stood, looking directly at Patricia sitting two rows away.

Help me, Patti, he cried out in a loud voice.

His jaw dropped as he saw the expression on her face. She wasn’t aware of the smile on her face. A bolt of fear shot through her as she saw the look of hatred that flashed across his face when he saw her smiling. She sat transfixed as he was handcuffed, then led from the court. She couldn’t move until some time after the door slammed shut behind him. Throughout the proceedings, Patricia had sat on the edge of her seat as if mesmerised, willing the judge to sentence him to prison. It was quite a shock when it did happen.

She was deep in thought as she left the courtroom, walking along the corridor to the exit. She didn’t hear Danielle coming up behind her until she was walking by her side.

Patricia. I am going your way. Would you like a ride home? I would like to talk with you concerning the forthcoming trial. We can talk in the cab.

Yes, please. Otherwise I have to go by bus, Patricia said, As I told you, he forgot to leave me any money.

In the cab, Patricia noticed that Danielle kept glancing at her. I need to plan your husband’s defence when the trial comes up. It may be necessary to ask you some personal questions, Danielle said. First, I need to find out more or his character-what sort of person he is. It is important I have a good knowledge of your life together. This could well be an important part of the forthcoming trial. I have spoken to your husband. He told me how happy he is to be with you. Now I’d like to hear what you have to say.

He is a selfish brutal, control freak who has no hesitation to hit women.

Danielle’s head spun round, her eyes wide. She didn’t speak for some seconds.

I find that difficult to believe, she said. I had a long talk with him before we went into the court. I have a clear impression he is a sensitive, kind person. He told me how much he loved you and how you loved him.

Glancing at the cab driver to be certain that he couldn’t see what she was doing, Patricia lifted her blouse high enough for Danielle to see the bruise on her stomach. Then she leant forward so that Danielle saw the bruises on her back and side.

This is how much he loves me, she said. There’s also this. She pointed to her cheek. Danielle had noticed the large mark under the makeup, but thought it was probably a birthmark.

Danielle didn’t speak for some time but occasionally glanced at Patricia. I am sorry to hear that, she said. "But I am