The Unspoken

by Don Zelma

Chapter Forty-one

  The clouds in the west had turned orange in the afternoon light and the air was almost still. The conditions were right for a fire and every farm would be burning. Dan shielded his eyes, peered across the open field, and saw Ned Col in the distance leaning against a water cart. He had last seen him in May; it was now October. He started unrolling a packet of tobacco on his paunch, seemingly a little heavier and his hair longer. Behind him, a boy played in the seat of a dusty tractor.

  Dan took Ruth’s hand, feeling it soft and unblemished, and they started strolling towards him. The field had been recently harvested and rows of cane stumps now jutted from the soil. They pulled up a few metres from Ned and quietly waited.

  ‘Hello, lad,’ Dan said.

  Ned looked up with a cigarette in his mouth. ‘G’day, Danny,’ he mumbled. He reached back and slipped the tobacco into his pocket. ‘I haven’t seen ya in ages.’ He cupped his hands and lit his cigarette. Dan recalled his desperate grip on the trunk; it was good Ruth didn’t know how weird things got.

  ‘Ned,’ he said. ‘This is my wife, Ruth.’

  ‘Hello, Ned,’ Ruth said softly. ‘Thank you for inviting us.’

  Ned nodded respectfully. He waited then it fell quiet between them.

  ‘So, Ned,’ Dan said. ‘What’s new?’

  He calmly drew on his cigarette and Dan smelt the smoke in the light breeze.

  ‘This is me boy, Tommy,’ he said, pointing behind him. The child, hiding since they had arrived, slowly rose from behind the seat. ‘Sit up, buster,’ Ned said bluntly. ‘Say, hello to the visitors.’

  The boy sat up completely. He had a grubby face but was a good-looking kid.

  ‘Hello, Tommy,’ Ruth said. She loved children – a trait which had only grown more intense since Jay. ‘I’ve got a fantastic fruit cake in the car. Would you like some?’

  Tommy glanced at his father, as if it might bring trouble. Ned nodded and the boy climbed down from the tractor. Ruth took his hand and the two headed away across the furrows.

  Dan crossed the last few rows towards Ned. He felt a little cold and put his hands into his cardigan. He looked back at the car and saw Ruth and the boy were halfway there, chatting like old friends. The kid needed a change of clothes.

  ‘Where’s Edith?’ he asked.

  Ned drew on his cigarette and nodded towards town. ‘At her mother’s,’ he said. ‘It’s me turn with the boy.’ He looked down and lightly kicked the wheel of the cart. He grimaced and Dan saw the wrinkles fan out from his eyes. He was dirty and stank of diesel.

  Dan glanced back at the last block of cane in the field and heard the breeze gently hissing through the green-top. The noise came and went, sounding like surf, wave after gentle wave. It made you want to close your eyes and just listen. He looked at the car and saw Tommy take a seat on an irrigation pipe, nursing a slice of cake against his chest.

  A tractor appeared silently from the distant low ground. It began trundling along a causeway, approaching them, followed by a dusty wake. Its water cart bounded over the potholes behind it and soon Dan could hear its suspension squeaking – sounding like the yelps of a distant dog.

  ‘It’s a glorious afternoon,’ he said quietly. He looked at Ned and saw he was gazing at the cane. He reached up and slowly drew on his cigarette. ‘You know what?’ Dan said. ‘You have the same look in your eyes as my son once had.’ Ned didn’t look at him and just stared at the cane. ‘I wish you would talk to me,’ he said.

  Ned waited then looked down. ‘Ah, Danny,’ he said quietly. ‘I have ta admit – things aren’t going so good, mate.’ He pouted, looking at the ground. ‘Somethin’ keeps tuggin’ at me and won’t leave me alone. I don’t know if you understand what I mean.’ He scratched his beard and a few flakes of ash fluttered out.

  Dan picked at the wool seam inside his cardigan. Since the night he had followed him into the figs beside the river, he had guessed the worst was not over. There was a swell of distant tractor noise in the wind.

  ‘Yeah… it seems every man’s gotta dream,’ Ned mumbled, ‘and he’s gotta keep chasing it or he just becomes nothin’.’ His cigarette bounded up and down as he talked. ‘Edith’s had enough and moved out.’ He slowly exhaled. ‘I need time to stop and catch up.’

  Over dramatic? He seemed dead genuine.

  ‘But I’ll be OK,’ he said. ‘I’m so close, Danny. I’m writing every day – just one more year. I reckon my story will solve everything.’

  Dan stared at him. Ned Col didn’t have a chance at writing a novel.

  The tractor was now in earshot and Ned picked up his broad-brimmed hat from the wheel arch and put it on. His hair was out of its tail and he looked liked a scarecrow. The tractor trundled along and Dan stared at it for almost a minute until it finally pulled up near the cane. Ted Henry stood up in the seat, his face covered in dust, looking like he worked in a flour mill. Dan turned to the distant highway behind them and gazed at the traffic coasting along it. The setting sun was sinking behind the perfectly straight horizon.

  ‘Hey, Danny?’ Ned said.

  He turned and saw Ned’s face in the low light. The sun was striking the back of his hat.

  ‘Maybe I was just screwed up from the beginning, you know,’ he said. ‘I always had a motivation in me. It doesn’t feel bad, it’s just the way I am.’

  Dan waited, staring.

  Ned smiled pensively. ‘But, if ya don’t have a dream… what’s the point of living?’

  Dan felt his hair rise up along his arms.

  ‘See, Danny, you have your God and a way to peace. But you don’t understand a lot of people.’

  Dan heard a distant engine and looked towards the highway. A sports utility was approaching across the farm. It became perfectly silhouetted in front of the sun, looking like a black cardboard cut-out. He turned to Ned. ‘I’ve invited someone,’ he said. ‘I hope that’s alright.’

  Ned looked up and over his shoulder. He seemed OK. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘I have something to tell you both,’ Dan said.

  A minute passed then a male silhouette began striding towards them. Ned watched the figure a long time before finally recognising the visitor’s height and build.

  ‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ he whispered. Joe Judd looked up from watching his boots and slowly stopped. He waited, staring at them. He recognised Ned Col then looked up at the sky and guffawed. Dan had taken a chance inviting him and there was nothing more to do now.

  ‘Judd!’ Ned called.

  Joe looked up. ‘How long have you known Dan Amos?’

  Joe didn’t answer. The truth is – neither wanted to know the other’s story.

  Joe put his hands in his pockets and looked back at his car. Something was on his mind and it wasn’t the men.

  ‘Excuse me a second,’ Dan whispered. He started towards him, taking long strides across the furrows. The clouds in the western sky had turned bright pink all the way to the horizon.

  Joe removed his baseball cap and held it down near his belt. Dan slowly pulled up beside him.

  ‘Hey,’ Joe said. His eyes were red like he’d been crying. Things had gotten worse since the yard.

  Dan glanced at his utility. ‘Where’s Lola?’ he asked. ‘Ned has plans for a cane fire and she would love to see this.’

  He waited, shrugged then put his hat back on. ‘Ah…’ he said, glancing behind him. ‘I broke it off.’

  Dan swallowed. He hadn’t expected this. ‘What on earth? Why?’

  Joe remained silent a long time. He put his hands behind his head and slowly stretched. ‘Ah… things just didn’t feel right between us, you know.’ He dropped his hands and seemed OK. ‘I went over to her house this morning and offered the best excuse I could.’

  Dan saw a single ripple of peristalsis run down his throat.

  ‘It really knocked her socks off,’ he said. ‘She doesn’t understand. I don’t blame her, after everything I said.’

  Dan look
ed down. He just didn’t understand it. ‘But Joe,’ he said. ‘I believe you had it right. After the tearoom you were walking around tall and straight.’

  Joe shrugged. ‘There’s nothing you can say, Danny,’ he said. ‘It just had to be done.’

  It was all a lie, but even putting a gun to his head wouldn’t make him talk. His motive would remain his secret forever.

  Joe chuckled and shook his head. ‘I saw her eyes before she closed the door,’ he said. ‘I don’t think she’ll never trust a person again.’

  Dan was silent.

  Joe reached up, removed his hat and ran his fingernails across his scalp.

  ‘Joe,’ Dan said, ‘you must try saving something so extraordinary.’

  He replaced the cap. ‘Put it this way,’ he said: ‘I came home alone one afternoon after a day at the beach with her. She had looked so beautiful. I walked into my room and put a pillow over my head so the neighbours would not hear.’

  Dan looked up. He stared at the dimming sky.

  ‘I can’t control how I feel,’ he said. ‘For the first time, I understand why a person would do something to themselves.’ He cleared his throat. ‘She did nothing wrong and I haven’t told her the truth. I’ve got the feeling I’ve now started a journey and it’s one I must take on my own.’

  Dan pondered, but once again did not understand.

  Joe looked up at Ned far away. It was twilight and his face was dim. ‘The talk in your yard helped,’ he said. ‘But what can I do? I can’t tell her.’ On the highway, the headlights of a passing truck flicked on. ‘I’ve broken up with someone I am absolutely in love with,’ he said, ‘and I can’t stop crying.’

  Dan turned and looked at the cart. Ned was watching them.

  ‘Yes, I believe you love her,’ Dan said. ‘I saw the look in your eyes.’

  Joe sniffed. ‘Yeah, well… That’s all in the past, now,’ he said. ‘What’s done is done.’ He wiped the snot away from his nose.

  ‘Come on,’ Dan said. ‘Clean yourself up. Come over and say hello to Ned.’

  Joe rubbed his eyes and seconds later seemed OK.

  Dan and Joe slowly walked towards the cart, eventually pulling up beside Ned. The three men said nothing. Tommy walked past in the dimness and drew in beside his father. Ruth’s bright dress seemed to float in alongside Dan. He gently took her hand and they faced the cane.

  Dan knew his relationship with Ned and Joe was over. Ruth hadn’t liked it from the beginning and it was time to honour her request. During this whole story she had been the most sensible and down-to-earth. Her reasoning was brutal but, quite frankly, she was right.

  Far away, Ted’s silhouette slowly disappeared into the shadows. Then, just metres away, right beside the group, a small flame appeared then Dan saw a metal drip torch in the dark. It looked like a silver watering can, its nozzle alight with a kind of napalm, dripping to the ground.

  Obese Ned, barely discernible, set off with the drip torch into the night. The block of cane, a hundred metres long, looked like a short, flat-roofed warehouse in the dark. A thin dotted line spat out from his torch and Dan could see his dusty boots moving along the block. The wind blew and the undergrowth crackled. Ned disappeared into the smoke, heading towards the back and soon his handiwork began licking up over the end of the cane.

  Dan felt the first gentle movement of the air then heard a quiet gentle roar like an approaching jet. The two flanks of flames slowly merged and the block began to burn furiously. The surrounding farm appeared from the dark as if lit by a giant lantern. Dan glanced down, saw Ruth’s hand and remembered their long life together and what he had now agreed to do. He squeezed her hand in acknowledgement and she squeezed back.

  Their job done, the cane men started back towards the group, the block being consumed by a forest fire behind them. A gush of hot air struck Dan’s face like a splash of hot coffee and he raised his hand to protect his face.

  Suddenly, Tommy yelled and Dan saw the boy pointing at the cane. He looked and saw Ned Col walking back towards the intense glow. He stepped inside an area of unlit cane. It was absolute madness. Ned faced them and hair began beating back in the draft. He gripped two lengths of cane and let out an almighty scream, shaking the cane like jailhouse bars. His yells were blood-curdling, as if he were, himself, on fire.

  Dan squinted in the light. ‘Ned!’ he shouted. ‘Get out of there!’ But he couldn’t even hear his own voice. There was no way a person could withstand that heat. Then, just like that, Ned fell silent and walked out, smiling and showing his crooked teeth. He looked up at the sky and laughed. A fireball engulfed the remaining cane and he began crossing the sixty or so metres towards them. He laughed as he neared.

  ‘You idiot,’ Ted Henry said, chuckling to himself. Ted thought it a joke, but Dan knew of his quiet desperation.

  Out in the cane, the fire peaked and sapped the last energy from the leaves. The beautiful picture went bright white like the centre of a light bulb then, suddenly, the farm went black like someone had dimmed the lights. Dan felt the heat fall from his face and saw a cloud of embers billowing up into the night. The field went quiet and he stared at the rows of tall black stems. Cinders blinked on and off like Christmas tree lights and ash began slowly fluttering down around them.

  Ruth gripped his hand, hard. The Ned thing had really worked her up. ‘Like I said,’ she whispered, dead serious, ‘You must carry out what we have agreed.’ She let go too quickly and began walking towards the car.

  Ted Henry slowly climbed up onto his tractor in the dark. The engine kicked over, his headlights came on and he gently pulled away. Dan looked up at the night and felt the flakes lightly brushing down past his face. He heard the car door squeak open in the distance. He glanced down at Ned and saw he was smoking, staring at the block. A gentle breeze swept in, and the cane crackled like a campfire.

  ‘Ned?’ Dan said. ‘That was very unwise. We were very worried about you.’

  Ned reached up and scratched his neck.

  ‘This is no longer my concern,’ Dan thought. ‘Like the men said – Jay is dead and I will never learn his secret.’

  ‘My wife is very important to me,’ he said to them both. A cloud of smoke gently rolled in between them then quickly dissipated. ‘She says I am obsessed with Jay and opening old wounds. She has asked me to end communication with you both.’

  There was a long pause.

  Joe looked up at the falling ash. ‘You started this, Danny,’ he said, ‘a long time ago when you sought us out. Now, you wanna jump ship?’

  Dan stared at him. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It is too much for me.’

  Beyond the highway, in a distant field, another fire was starting. It grew and soon glowed like the light of a distant city. Joe put his hands in his pockets and slowly turned to leave.

  ‘Joe. Wait,’ Dan said. He sauntered over and gently touched his elbow. ‘What can I do?’ he said. ‘Ruth and I… Our souls are aching.’

  The lights of the embers were dimming and the farm was getting dark. ‘It’s OK, Danny,’ he said. He paused, studying Dan’s eyes. He reached up and adjusted his baseball cap. ‘I’ll see ya around.’ He turned and slowly lumbered away in the direction of his utility. A minute later, Dan saw his taillights moving steadily through the night. Joe Judd was slipping out of his life.

  Ned spoke up. ‘Well, that’s that!’

  Dan turned and could hardly see him. Ned flicked his cigarette to the soil and crushed it with his boot. ‘I don’t wanna cause any dramas,’ he said. He stepped forward, produced his hand and Dan felt it dry and firm. ‘I’m sorry to see you go,’ he said sincerely. ‘But, I understand. I want you to know I always enjoyed our chats.’

  There was a pause and Dan didn’t know what to say.

  Out in the dark a boy sniffed and Dan peered out into the night. He saw Tommy sitting on the ground in the dim light, rubbing his eyes.

  Ned looked at Dan. ‘Hey, look after him for a while, will ya?’ he said.

&nb
sp; Dan wasn’t sure what he meant. Ned looked down at his boots then started to walk away. Dan watched his obese figure gradually merge with the dark. And just like that, Ned Col was gone, like a tumour surgically removed.

  Dan glanced down at Tommy – a soul exposed to too much, too soon. ‘Stand up, Tommy,’ he said, and the boy did so, slowly. He looked in the direction his father had taken and Dan also gazed at that space. ‘I hope things don’t get that bad for you, young man,’ he said, ‘when your turn comes.’ The glow of yet another fire was discernible, down near the river. ‘Rejoice in your ignorance, my lad,’ he said. He looked down at the boy. ‘It is a real blessing.’

  His gut ached. He knew Ruth’s gentle touch would soon be needed, not only for the boy, but for himself.

  ‘Come on, Lad,’ he said. He reached out and gently touched his shoulder. ‘Let’s get you home to your mother.’

  BOOK TWO