The Siren's Song - A Reefuge Story
Well, hello!!
Haven't seen you in these parts for a while. You got time for a sit and a natter?
Push those bags aside there and take a load off. You want a drink? I could do with
a beer about now too.
No, no, just the one for me, these days. Got over that hang-over crap years ago, haha!
Sorry?
Oh, right - yeah I agree, it hasn't changed much, has it? Remember that graffitti
we painted on the town water tank that night we got drunk and broke into
Marsden's? It's still there, you know. Pretty faded now, though...
Yeah, it hasn't changed much at all.
Same old small town issues and flare ups.
I suppose you saw the picket signs outside town, on your way in?
It won't change anything but if it makes them feel better...well....
Pardon?
Doreen Miller?
Oh I SEE!!
You heard about her, huh?
We were all pretty astounded when we heard out here. That sort of thing happens in stories, haha!
Chapter 1
Haven't seen you in these parts for a while. You got time for a sit and a natter?
Push those bags aside there and take a load off. You want a drink? I could do with
a beer about now too.
No, no, just the one for me, these days. Got over that hang-over crap years ago, haha!
Sorry?
Oh, right - yeah I agree, it hasn't changed much, has it? Remember that graffitti
we painted on the town water tank that night we got drunk and broke into
Marsden's? It's still there, you know. Pretty faded now, though...
Yeah, it hasn't changed much at all.
Same old small town issues and flare ups.
I suppose you saw the picket signs outside town, on your way in?
It won't change anything but if it makes them feel better...well....
Pardon?
Doreen Miller?
Oh I SEE!!
You heard about her, huh?
We were all pretty astounded when we heard out here. That sort of thing happens in stories, haha!
Chapter 1
By the time Doreen Miller was 16 years old, she had made two definite decisions about her future.
Number One: as soon as she could, she would change her name by deed poll and
Number two: she would find herself a man who would keep her in the manner to which she intended to become accustomed.
By the time she was 17 and had scornfully observed as class mates got pregnant, dropped out of school to work
in the local chip shop or become pot-heads, Doreen had added "leave this dive" in capital letters to her mental
list. In fact, as the days ticked by to graduation, Number Three rocketed all the way up to Number One.
With a population of 4,310 - make that 311 since Jackie Walters announced at the school formal that she's having
another brat - Daleton hardly held any opportunities for an ambitious girl like Doreen Miller. There was a dingey cafe that
aspired to Bistro status. There was a surplus of mechanical equipment and farm machinery supply shops. The big local
event was the yearly Agriculutural show and if you didn't like farm animals and couldn't care less whether
a Massey could dig a dam faster than a Deere, then you were going to be bored indeed. Doreen was often bored so spent
a lot of time planning what she wanted for herself and how to get it and it didn't take her long to conclude that
most of her plans hinged on a supply of money. Lots of it. In generous - no, lavish - portions.
All through grade 12, Doreen dreamed and buffed her nails in home ec. class and imagined how nice it would be when someone
was slaving over her nails for her.
Mrs Johnson, the home ec. teacher, regularly scolded Doreen on her lack of kitchen skills and thought privately that she was a prissy little cow.
Doreen knew very well what Mrs Johnson thought - she could read it in her thinly pressed lips and narrowed eyes but she
didn't care all that much. She would be hiring a chef as well.
Even the town name was bland and tasteless, like the water and the dusty air. The town could suit itself but she would certainly do something about her own
boring name and the day after her 18th birthday, Stephanae ("no, n A e" she had snapped impatiently) Delgado stepped out into the world.
Two weeks later, Stephanae had landed herself a modest little admin job with a Sydney fashion house and a rather
acceptable apartment right in Bondi, no less. She walked the 3 blocks to work each day and had fresh-ground coffee with her co-workers
at Icebergs every Friday. Time passed satisfactorily and Stephanae found she even liked her job.
For her 19th birthday, Stephanae relaxed on her suede lounge suite and drank a glass of Penfold's Grange Bin 95 to celebrate
She had a promising job which had so far paid for all her increasing needs and a small circle of select friends who admired her taste and style.
Unfortunately, that small circle had not widened to include a man who suited her needs.
Stephanae tapped a professionally manicured nail thoughtfully against her wine glass and considered what to do.
This was all very nice, of course. Certainly a far cry from the border-line poverty she had grown up in. A memory of her mother buying underpants from
the Salvos flicked through her mind and she banished it quickly with a shudder.
She was not Doreen anymore. She was Stephanae Delgado and she could have anything she wanted. Including which ever man she chose.
Where to find the sort of man she was looking for, though...
Stephanae took another sip and stared out the french doors into the city night for a while, considering, then a smile curved across her lips.
She had an idea.
Number One: as soon as she could, she would change her name by deed poll and
Number two: she would find herself a man who would keep her in the manner to which she intended to become accustomed.
By the time she was 17 and had scornfully observed as class mates got pregnant, dropped out of school to work
in the local chip shop or become pot-heads, Doreen had added "leave this dive" in capital letters to her mental
list. In fact, as the days ticked by to graduation, Number Three rocketed all the way up to Number One.
With a population of 4,310 - make that 311 since Jackie Walters announced at the school formal that she's having
another brat - Daleton hardly held any opportunities for an ambitious girl like Doreen Miller. There was a dingey cafe that
aspired to Bistro status. There was a surplus of mechanical equipment and farm machinery supply shops. The big local
event was the yearly Agriculutural show and if you didn't like farm animals and couldn't care less whether
a Massey could dig a dam faster than a Deere, then you were going to be bored indeed. Doreen was often bored so spent
a lot of time planning what she wanted for herself and how to get it and it didn't take her long to conclude that
most of her plans hinged on a supply of money. Lots of it. In generous - no, lavish - portions.
All through grade 12, Doreen dreamed and buffed her nails in home ec. class and imagined how nice it would be when someone
was slaving over her nails for her.
Mrs Johnson, the home ec. teacher, regularly scolded Doreen on her lack of kitchen skills and thought privately that she was a prissy little cow.
Doreen knew very well what Mrs Johnson thought - she could read it in her thinly pressed lips and narrowed eyes but she
didn't care all that much. She would be hiring a chef as well.
Even the town name was bland and tasteless, like the water and the dusty air. The town could suit itself but she would certainly do something about her own
boring name and the day after her 18th birthday, Stephanae ("no, n A e" she had snapped impatiently) Delgado stepped out into the world.
Two weeks later, Stephanae had landed herself a modest little admin job with a Sydney fashion house and a rather
acceptable apartment right in Bondi, no less. She walked the 3 blocks to work each day and had fresh-ground coffee with her co-workers
at Icebergs every Friday. Time passed satisfactorily and Stephanae found she even liked her job.
For her 19th birthday, Stephanae relaxed on her suede lounge suite and drank a glass of Penfold's Grange Bin 95 to celebrate
She had a promising job which had so far paid for all her increasing needs and a small circle of select friends who admired her taste and style.
Unfortunately, that small circle had not widened to include a man who suited her needs.
Stephanae tapped a professionally manicured nail thoughtfully against her wine glass and considered what to do.
This was all very nice, of course. Certainly a far cry from the border-line poverty she had grown up in. A memory of her mother buying underpants from
the Salvos flicked through her mind and she banished it quickly with a shudder.
She was not Doreen anymore. She was Stephanae Delgado and she could have anything she wanted. Including which ever man she chose.
Where to find the sort of man she was looking for, though...
Stephanae took another sip and stared out the french doors into the city night for a while, considering, then a smile curved across her lips.
She had an idea.