Jacaranda Avenue - Play on Words Challenge

Written a little belatedly for White Ribbon Day. Say no to violence against women.

 

Jacaranda Avenue

The tranquil gardens that circled the little cottage at the end of Jacaranda Avenue was the only place that Fran felt at peace. She felt transported to another time as she sat on the love seat near the bed of hydrangeas and geraniums, breathing in the sweet fragrance of the frangipani trees.

The green grass of spring was carpeted with the purple bell-shaped blooms of the many jacarandas surrounding her that had given the street its name. The birds in their branches sang together in a soothing soprano that calmed the mind.

'You're supposed to be running errands,' a harsh voice called out from the verandah.

Turning slowly, she looked up at her tyrant of a husband, 'I've been.'

'Get my cranberry juice?'

'You didn't ask for cranberry juice, you asked for orange juice.'

Fran felt like shrinking into the ground as his face darkened, his protuberant eyes bulging even wider. He was constantly haranguing Fran about something trivial. It rankled at her in the early days of their marriage, but over the years she'd decided that she must have warranted his abuse. Something she'd done was the reason he drank too much, teetered between grandiose delusions and paranoia, and transformed into this tyrant at the drop of a hat.

No amount of self-aggrandisement could dig up the cause however. Now she sat meekly, tolerantly listening as he ranted on and on about her apparent ignorance, threatening to strangle some sense into her.

When he'd run out of words, he pranced back into the house, spitting out a few random curses as he went. Fran sat as still as a statue, as though in a trance, tears rolling down her cheeks.

'I can help you transcend this hell.'

Without surprise, Fran turned her eyes to the transparent woman who sat beside her. The smell of frankincense had already alerted her to the woman's presence. These paranormal experiences were commonplace for Fran. She transfixed the woman with a stare and shook her head.

'He's just having difficulty at work,' Fran said, 'Couple of bad business transactions have him on edge, that's all.'

'Rubbish!' the transparent woman exclaimed, 'That holiday ranch of his is doing very well, and once he's ransacked all of your accounts, he'll leave you stranded high and dry, or worse.'

Fran knew what this was about, they'd been through it before, and she didn't want to hear it again. 'No, he wouldn't do that,' Fran insisted.

'Then why did he transfer all of your savings into his accounts, Fran? Why has he taken out a huge life insurance policy on you? Say the word and all his grand plans will come to nothing. I guarantee that I can arrange things so he'll never find you. Then you can be the happy, vibrant young woman you were meant to be.'

'No, I can't.'

'Why?'

'Life without him would be...strange. Besides, I love him.'

Fran turned away from the ghost who sighed dejectedly.

'And I love you!'

'I know, Mum.'

© Alison Pearce 2008