Summer

by Michelle Zoetemeyer

  “Are you writing this down?” Chrissy asked Raelene.

  Raelene nodded her head but never said a word.

  The planchette stopped at the letter S and circled the board once more before stopping for the second time on the letter S. We waited for the next move, but it never came. The planchette sat like a harmless piece of plastic. Tom reached over and snatched the paper from Raelene. “What does that mean?”

  He spelled out the word, G-E-S-S.

  “Who’s Gess?” asked Ed.

  Trevor dismissed us with a wave of his hand. “That’s bullshit, someone was moving the pointer.”

  I ignored Trevor and tried hard to think of someone named Gess or Jess. Just as I was running through the names of the kids in my school, I had an idea. “I know, maybe it’s telling us to guess who it is.”

  “Don’t be a twit,” Trevor argued, “why would it do that?”

  I had to admit that it seemed like a long shot. But, then again, it would be just like Shortie to pull a prank like that. Tom agreed with me. “I reckon Jenny’s right. Maybe we should guess who it is and see if we get it right.”

  We all put our fingers back on the planchette while I asked the spirit if his name was Shortie. Once again, the planchette slid across the board at a speed and steadiness that seemed impossible to fake. It stopped under the word no.

  Raelene wrote the word no on the sheet of paper.

  “It’s not even on the word,” Trevor said when he saw that she’d written it down. “It stopped underneath it.”

  Tom ignored Trevor. “Ask it if his name is Darren.”

  As soon as Chrissy asked the question the planchette took off to the other side of the board. This time, it stopped right on top of the word yes.

  “Holy crap, he’s here.” Tom sounded as though he hadn’t really expected it to work all along.

  Trevor scoffed at us. “You guys are a bunch of idiots, I saw Chrissy moving the pointer.”

  “I did not.”

  “I bet if you ask it if its name’s Maude it’ll say yes too,” he argued.

  “Go on then smarty-pants, ask it?” Ed dared him.

  “Okay.” Trevor put his finger back on the planchette and asked the spirit if its name was Maude.

  The planchette moved to the word yes and stopped.

  Chrissy protested. “You pushed it, I could tell.”

  Trevor laughed, but didn’t deny Chrissy’s accusation. “Here,” she put her finger on the planchette next to Trevor’s, “now ask it again.”

  Trevor rolled his eyes and looked skyward. “Hello spirit, is your name Maude?”

  The planchette flew out from under their fingers and landed on the floor of the tent, almost taking a candle out with it. This time there were no jokes from Trevor. “Bloody hell, did you see that?”

  Chrissy gasped out loud. For someone who claimed she believed the planchette was moving unaided the whole time, she looked pretty surprised by what had just happened. “I definitely did not do that,” she insisted.

  What did she mean, she definitely didn’t do that? Does that mean she had been moving the planchette before?

  “Now what?” Raelene asked calmly. “Should we try again?”

  I answered her before anyone could say no. “Absolutely!” I wanted to find out once and for all if Shortie was really with us. “Let’s ask him what his middle name is, just to be sure.”

  Chrissy looked around nervously before switching to her soothing parent voice again and asking the spirit for its middle name. After a short pause, the planchette moved to the letter L where it paused again and slid across to the letter O. It stopped for quite a while before sliding down the board and back up to the letter K. Once again, everyone looked around to see if they could spot who was pushing the planchette. Unfortunately, it was too difficult to tell with five fingers resting on it.

  After stopping on the letter K the planchette circled the entire board before coming back to where it started. “Nah, that’s not a K,” Tom corrected when he saw Raelene write it down, “it’s an L. See, it’s more on the L than the K.”

  Everyone leaned forward to see where the planchette had landed. We all agreed it was on the L, not the K.

  “You’re just saying that because you know his middle name’s Lachlan.” Trevor accused.

  Chrissy became defensive. “I didn’t even know that was his middle name, so there.”

  Everyone looked at me suspiciously. “What? I didn’t push it.”

  “But you knew what his middle name was,” Trevor said.

  “Yeah, so what, so did you.”

  Tom came to my rescue. “So did I.”

  “Me too,” Ed agreed.

  Trevor looked around the table and shrugged. “Well it wasn’t me.”

  I knew that Shortie's middle name was spelled L-A-C-H-L-A-N, but I deliberately didn’t say anything. I figured the incorrect spelling might be a clue as to who was pushing the planchette.

  “Here’s an idea,” said Chrissy sarcastically, “maybe it was Shortie pushing it.”

  I had my doubts. I don’t think Shortie would misspell his own name, but I still thought the planchette’s movements were too fast and smooth to not be real.

  “What should we ask next,” Raelene enquired. “Maybe we can ask a question that not everyone knows the answer to.”

  “I know,” I jumped in, “since me and Tom were his best friends, we probably know the most about him. Maybe we can ask something that only me or Tom know the answer to.”

  True to his nature, Trevor protested. “But how will we know you’re not pushing the pointer?”

  “Tom and I won’t push this time. Raelene can take my place and we’ll just watch.”

  It was Ed’s turn to be doubtful. “How will we know you’re not making up the answer?”

  I was starting to lose my patience. “God! You lot are unbelievable.”

  “Hey, who did that?” Ed was the only one still with his finger on the planchette when it started to move. It flew off the table for the second time that night. It narrowly missed Trevor and landed on the ground.

  “Watch it,” Trevor warned, “that nearly got me.”

  “I didn’t do it,” Ed protested, “it did it all by itself.”

  “Sure, and all pigs are fuelled and ready to fly!”

  “Maybe it’s trying to tell us something,” Raelene proposed. “Quick, put it back on the board and let see what it says.” Tom reached down and picked up the planchette. Raelene put her hand out for it. “You and Jenny just watch like you said,” she instructed.

  “Yeah,” said Trevor, “I don’t trust Simmo, I reckon he’s the one moving it.”

  “Jesus H Christ, you sound like an old woman,” said Tom, “first you think it’s Chrissy, and then you accuse me. Make up your mind mate.”

  I stood next to Tom so that Raelene could move into the middle of the seat. She put the planchette in the centre of the board so that the others could place their fingers on it. The startled looks on everyone’s faces suggested they were unprepared for such certain and deliberate movements. With more speed than previously, the planchette slid around the board. It stopped and started without warning until it had spelled the letters F-I-R-E. Then, it came to rest as suddenly as it had started above the letter E.

  Tom looked stunned. I quickly leant down and whispered in his ear not to say anything about the fire that only he, Shortie and me knew about. Shortie was no longer around to get into trouble for it, but Tom and I still were. Trevor looked at us as though we held the secret of the universe. “Well? What does that mean?”

  I shrugged noncommittally. “Dunno.” I looked down at Tom, “What about you? Does it mean anything to you?”

  “Nah.”

  “See,” Trevor said smugly, “I told you it was a load of bullshit.”

  Chapter 61

  Tuesday, 17 December 1968

  The car purred, just like oily Bruce said it would, but given Peter was told he would have to tak
e it easy for the first thousand miles or so, he tried his hardest to do just that. Although he was smitten with his new car, Peter also tried hard to focus on his meeting with Maggie. Like an idiot, he busied himself rehearsing what he was going to say over and over while he drove. He got the occasional odd look from passers-by, but he ignored them. In the end, he decided against a prepared speech and settled on taking things as they came. That had always been Maggie’s motto; to take each day as it came and not waste precious energy worrying about the things she could not change. Except, in this case, Peter knew that he had the power to change what had happened between them, and thought of ways to make it so.

  It had been three days since Maggie had driven off and left him to his misery. A wretched three days they had been too. He’d hardly eaten a bite the whole time, and he could have sworn his few grey hairs had been joined by a bunch of new ones. He had rung the Kildey’s before leaving Newtown, but there had been no message from Maggie. Peter had no other way of letting her know that he was coming and hoped that she would call into Kildey’s sometime that day. He didn’t want to turn up unannounced, but he was too impatient to wait a second longer than necessary to see her. He knew that in all likelihood, she would still be angry with him, but he no longer cared.

  The sooner he saw her, the sooner he could get started on making amends.

  Peter was nervous. For someone who had been in a very open and comfortable relationship with his wife until now, he realised that he no longer knew what to expect. He hoped she had calmed down a little over the past couple of days. He knew it was too much to expect that she might have forgiven him yet, but if they could just talk without her getting too upset, then their relationship might stand a chance.

  With the upcoming reunion playing over and over in his head, the drive took far less time than Peter had anticipated. He called in at the Kildey’s to see if Maggie had been in since his last call. She hadn’t. Peter bought a packet of cigarettes, a loaf of fresh bread and some milk to take with him; no doubt Maggie would have been in no mood for shopping, and she might even appreciate his thoughtfulness.

  He listened with pride as his car roared back into action. He couldn’t wait for Maggie to see it. She had known how badly he’d wanted the new car. In fact, it had been Maggie that had talked him into handing over the extra dollars on the more expensive model. He had known that he wouldn’t have spent the money without her insistence, and was thankful for it. He didn’t doubt that he would have liked the lesser model well enough, but a GTS 327, now there was something that would take a lot to beat.

  As he hit the dirt road, he slowed the car to a leisurely crawl. He didn’t want any stone chips spoiling the duco. The dust was unavoidable, but at least it would wash off. He eventually came to a stop at the entrance to the driveway. He slowly turned into the yard and pulled up in front of the cottage. Expecting to see Maggie’s old Morrie in the driveway, he approached the house with a fair degree of apprehension.

  “Hello!” he called through the front door before anxiously crossing the threshold. The cottage was not very big. The lounge room, dining room and kitchen were all contained in the same space. Everything looked normal enough inside, but there was no sign of Maggie. Peter approached the bedroom more quietly. She might have parked her car out the back and could have been sleeping.

  The bedroom was empty too, Peter walked out onto the back veranda, but apart from a Magpie eying him suspiciously through the flyscreen, it was also empty. He surveyed the back yard. Her car was not there. Peter searched the house for her handbag and car keys and when he came up blank, he concluded that she was out.

  ***

  After getting filthy looks from the milk bar owner for loitering so long after eating, the pair agreed to join forces and hit the shops together. At the time, Maggie had not been surprised by Mike’s request to join her, not after his earlier forthright comments, but she had been surprised to hear herself agreeing to his suggestion. Now, after having spent an easy hour or so together, she was even more surprised by how comfortable it felt to have him around while she shopped. Peter had always been good company while shopping, a fact for which she had considered herself fortunate. Most of her female colleagues complained that their husbands hated shopping and the men always complained that their wives shopped too much. Of the two of them, Peter actually enjoyed shopping more, which Maggie took as a good thing.

  She tried to push all thoughts of Peter from her mind. they seemed inappropriate under the circumstances. Mike was holding up a psychedelic looking shirt, “What do you think?” he asked. “Think my old man would wear this?”

  Maggie laughed, “Not if he’s like Peter's old man, he won’t.” She didn’t mean to mention Peter's name, it’s just that his was the only father she had. Mike didn’t seem to notice the use of her husband’s name, or if he did, he let it slide. “I should get it for him, you know, as pay back for all the horrible things he made me wear as a kid.”

  The two of them spent a few minutes laughing about the cruel things parents did to their children. Mike told Maggie about a boy whose mother sent him to school every spring with a biscuit tin on his head, with two big eyes drawn on top to scare away the Magpies. They laughed so loudly that everyone in the store turned to look at them. Feeling like a pair of rebel teenagers, they fled the premises without making a purchase. Once outside, they continued to laugh so much they had to sit down.

  Mike took Maggie’s hand and led her to a nearby bench. The touch of his hand against hers sent an electric shock up her arm, and she wondered if he felt it too. Expecting him to let go of her hand as soon as they sat down, Maggie was acutely aware that he continued to hold it firmly in his. Mindful that passers-by could have easily mistaken them for lovers, she disentangled her hand from his with the excuse of lighting a cigarette.

  “Here, let me,” he reached into his top pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He offered Maggie one, which she accepted gratefully. Maggie turned her face towards Mike’s lighter, but he let the flame die out before igniting her cigarette. The situation seemed to grow awkward all of a sudden, the casual ease of the afternoon suddenly gone. Then, before Maggie could anticipate his next move, he took the cigarette from her mouth and leaned forward; he kissed her gently on the mouth.

  Maggie pulled away instinctively, Mike immediately began to apologise, “Oh dear, I’m so sorry,” he almost tripped on his words, “please forgive me, I had no right to do that.”

  Maggie could feel her face flushing; she was at a loss for words. She mumbled an incoherent response and graciously accepted his light. Nervously puffing on her cigarette, she regained some of her previous composure. She looked at him with open curiosity. He looked as embarrassed as she felt. “That was a dumb thing to do,” he said, by way of explanation. “I don’t know what came over me. You just looked so goddamn irresistible that I had to kiss you, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Maggie thought that he looked like an anxious teenager on his first date and she started to laugh again. At first Mike just looked at her, shocked by her reaction, but then he joined her in her mirth. “What a klutz,” he said, “no wonder my fiancé left me.”

  In spite of the initial discomfort the moment had generated, Maggie was amazed at how exhilarating Mike’s company was. From the moment he had made a pass at her in the milk bar, her senses heightened, her pulse raced and her heart had begun to beat faster. For a short moment he had made her forget about her worries and actually feel good about herself. She felt young again. It had been a long time since an attractive male had paid her so much attention; she had almost forgotten how exquisite it felt. Not to mention the kiss; there was no denying it had left her head spinning.

  Despite Maggie’s conviction not to think about Peter, she thought about him anyway. Had it been the same for him with Jane, she wondered. Had Jane made him feel as good as Mike was making her feel now? She knew that had to be the case, and for that she felt sad. She felt sad that they were no long
er able to give each other butterflies, at least not in the way experiencing someone for the first time did. She felt sad that no matter how much two people loved each other, and she and Peter did love each other, the rush came only once. She knew that now. The butterflies she felt in her tummy as she sat on the bench, Mike so close that she could smell him, wanting him more than she’d wanted anything in a long time, her hand burning from his touch, her face flushed from his kiss – the rush came only once.

  She knew that no matter how many great firsts a couple experienced, or how good things were between two people, the feelings – precious, but fleeting – that came with the initial attraction, happened only once. As did the excitement that filled you to bursting point when you realised that he had noticed you at last; the pounding of your heart with his first tentative touch; the heat of his soft lips against yours as he finally got up the courage to kiss you. The daydreaming and the waiting, wondering when and if you might see each other again, certain that you would die if you didn’t get to see him one more time. And at long last, an end to the longing as that precious moment finally arrived and the thrill of the chase gives way to the joy of the catch; the moment when two people come together in that perfect place.

  The rush had been there with Peter too, Maggie knew that well enough. And despite its inevitable demise, she knew that for most people, their relationship never recaptured those initial moments of bliss. At least, in Maggie and Peter’s case, the rush was merely the beginning and while it never returned with the ferocity of the first time, Maggie knew that it had evolved into a love and friendship so remarkable that it would stand the test of time.

  Maggie also knew that nothing was capable of destroying the bond they shared or the passion they felt for each other, not even an affair. They had been blessed. What she had experienced that afternoon with Mike reminded her of that. The wonderful sensations he’d stirred in her made her realise that the desire to give into the rush was far greater than she would have imagined, but she knew in her heart that once she had given into it, it would surely wither and die as it always did.