Circle of Nine: Circle of Nine Trilogy 1 by Josephine Pennicott Page A

urgent, and less prosaic. As I sat there listening to the policeman go through the motions I suddenly noticed that the mural had changed again.
    There were two small figures that hadn’t been there previously. They were roughly sketched in, and stood near each other in the foreground of the picture.
    Disbelieving, I rubbed my finger over them in awe. Had I missed them previously? But no, I had scrutinised every detail of this mural when I first noticed that the zebras were moving. A thought struck me: was I working on this mural in my sleep? Perhaps all the stress and trauma of the last couple of months had caught up with me, and I was sneaking downstairs trying to finish an incomplete artwork of my aunt’s. Perhaps I believed that if I finished what she had begun, it would form some mystical type of reconciliation between us. Then, an even creepier thought.
    What if Johanna herself was finishing it?
    That did it. I started walking around the house turning lights on wherever I went. It was only late afternoon, but I couldn’t bear the thought of the coming night.
    A longing for my familiar life back in Sydney came to me. I wanted to sit down in front of the television watching ‘The Simpsons’ or ‘The X-Files’, anything. A desire to get back in touch with Effie came to me. Our fight over me moving here was so stupid and petty, it should never have happened. We had been friends for so long that it was pathetic that I was now carrying a grudge against her. I shouldn’t have expected her to attend Johanna’s funeral service, it wasn’t as if she had known her. With a small grimace, I remembered Effie’s reaction to the murder.
    ‘You damn lucky dog!’ Effie exclaimed when she first heard the news. ‘Why couldn’t someone murder one of my relatives?’
    She had changed tack quickly upon noticing my expression. ‘Well, it’s not as if you were close to her. Think of all the money you’ll make when you sell the house.’
    For a second I had been reminded of my mother. The same pink, greedy mouth. The pretty, self-centred face. The manicured nails. I hastily brushed the image aside as I sat among her fluffy cushions and soft toys. The Kinks played softly on the Greatest Hits radio station as Effie prepared to go out. I watched her, half-irritated and half-amused by her comments.
    ‘You have to admit it,’ she said as she curled her eyelashes. ‘Maybe a hundred years ago you were fond of the old dear, but it’s really the most amazing stroke of luck. Do you know how much real estate is worth in the mountains? I mean, Jesus, look at you, Em! You’re stone broke all the time working in that bloody bookshop. And your art won’t bring you any real money. Now you can sell this house in the mountains and hopefully have enough for a down payment on a nice unit in Sydney.’
    She buttoned a blue satin blouse over her uplift bra, nodding to herself as if that was the final word on the matter.
    ‘Maybe I won’t sell it. I could relocate and live there.’
    I had been teasing, of course, but even as I said the words I felt a spark ignite inside me. I realised that was exactly what I wanted to do. Effie spun around to face me, blue eyes wide in shock.
    ‘Don’t be mad, Em! You’re not serious! You’ve got to be in the city to promote your work! You know, go around art galleries and attend exhibitions,’ she finished lamely.
    ‘And pay my share of the rent for you and Geoff, too, you mean,’ I teased.
    ‘Well, that too,’ Effie conceded with a grin. ‘No, Em, don’t even think of it! You can’t bury yourself in the mountains! You’re introverted enough now! I mean, it’s just not normal to go for so long without a good fuck the way you do! All right,’ she said, noticing the strained expression on my face. ‘I know that bastard Ben hurt you by running off with Lisa, but that was a couple of years ago. You have to let go of it some time! There’s lots of men who are interested in you, but you freeze them