Jake Campbell should not be coming here. The hands of the clock jumped a minute and another and another. She’d lock the door, pretend she wasn’t here. Not possible. She had to find out about Rick. Why wouldn’t Jake explain over the phone? Why had he travelled overnight to be here? He should not come here. He’d come into the run-down house and sit on the cheap furniture, and he wouldn’t fit. Nor would Rick. Why was Jake coming here?
Returning to her bedroom, she hurriedly changed into a flattering blue woollen frock, sprayed on Barbara’s perfume, repaired her make-up, and went back to the clock and its slow hands. A half hour later the grey Mercedes, Amy’s car, pulled up out front.
“Half an hour on the dot.” Jake strode across the verandah and into the narrow passageway. “You look rested.”
“I had a good sleep.” She led the way into the down-at-heel lounge room.
“You look great. You recover quickly, Gail.” Not waiting for an invitation, he settled into her father’s chair by the book-case.
“What’s wrong, Jake?”
“You keep saying that! Do you always think something’s wrong?”
“You’ve got the Mercedes. Where’s your mother? Is she here with you? What’s wrong! Last night when I left there wasn’t a word … did something happen after I left?” She propped by the open doorway, wary and untrusting, ready for flight.
“Okay,” he admitted. “Sit down and I’ll tell you.”
She hesitated.
“Sit down, Gail.”
“What’s happened?”
“Sit down, Gail. I’ve come to tell you about Rick.”
Instinct screaming mistrust, she chose the shadowed chair by the window.
He leaned forward, as if wanting to touch her. “I’m so sorry, Gail. I’m the bearer of bad news. Where’s your sister? You should have someone with you.”
“Tell me!”
His disapproving eyebrows raised.
“I’m sorry. Please Jake … why are you here?”
“Where’s your sister?”
“Tell me!”
“Rick shot himself.”
She did not move.
“Did you hear what I said?”
The rhythmic beat of the clock on the mantle over the cold fireplace was deafening.
“I warned you, Gail. Your sister should …”
She fell to the floor.
“Steady … steady.” He tried to lift her. “Easy.”
She cringed.
“Let me help.”
She beat him off.
He left the room, and came back. “Drink this. It’s all I could find. It’s wine. There’s no brandy.”
She pushed it away.
“Drink it.” He pressed the glass to her mouth.
Droplets of wine dribbled from her chin.
“You’ll feel better. Trust me.”
She drained the glass.
“Good girl.” He assisted her back into the chair by the window, and returned to her father’s chair. “Mind if I …?” He lit his cigarette.
She tried to speak. Her throat had closed.
The steady ticking of the clock on the mantle was louder than the outside after-school traffic. She wanted to be alone. She wanted.
She tried to speak, but whimpered.
“If there’s anything I can do … call your sister? I should call your sister.”
She willed her constricted throat open. “I have to know what happened.”
“I’m so … honestly, Gail. You don’t need to hear all this.”
“You have to tell me what happened.”
“You’re right.” Frowning, he surrendered. “Poor bastard. He wasn’t into violence. Couldn’t even hurt a bloody fly. How the hell he survived at all in the Army is beyond me.”
Every word, every single word, was precious.
“Poor bastard. He couldn’t stand himself. He hated what they’d made him.”
Barbara’s perfume. Jake’s aftershave. And strong tobacco and the leathered sweat of his long journey in the Mercedes. She fought nausea.
“He hated violence. He hated himself. He came to in the psych. ward. A psycho! I’ll bet Mother didn’t tell you that, did she?”
The smell of leather and tobacco and …
“Of course she didn’t. She wouldn’t, would she. After they patched him up, the army vetted his medication and sent him on his way.”
She heard each word she didn’t want to hear.
“… home to us. Home to more of the same. The fits just kept on. Poor bloody sod. He was out of his mind. What did they do? They shoved their pills at him and sent him home! Every time it happened, they sent him home to us. In that state! Mad!”
“Stop! Please stop.”
“What they did to him was criminal. He couldn’t stand it. Who could?”
The room spun. She fainted.
“It’s up to you lot.” Barbara was talking to Jake.
“I’m damned if I know why.” Jake was still sitting in their father’s chair. “It takes two.”
The ashtray had been emptied of cigarette butts, the cold logs in the fireplace had been lit and the room was damply warm. Jake was not smoking and, ineffectively battling the stench of strong tobacco, was the faintest scent of lemon. Barbara had been home a while.
Barbara’s response was typical. “He was your brother.”
“My brother’s keeper?” Jake sneered. “Is that it?”
She remembered fainting, remembered hearing him talk. Remembered what he’d told her.
She was on the lounge, a blanket covering her. Jake would have phoned Barbara. She should let them know she could hear them. She couldn’t. Not yet. Not yet.
“She could be wrong,” Jake argued. “There’s every chance she’s not pregnant at all. Admit it. Your sister feeds on drama.”
“Come off it, Jake.” Barbara didn’t like him either.
“There’s always the possibility of an abortion. We talked to our own doctor.”
She buried deeper into the cushions of the lounge.
Barbara immediately responded. “You’re awake! How long have you been awake?”
She forced open her heavy lids.
“You’ve been listening!”
“Of course she’s been listening,” Jake was furious. “That’s what she does!”
Barbara was outraged. “For God’s sake, Jake!”
“Did you tell Rick you’re pregnant? Is that what happened?”
To die.
“Answer him, Gail.”
Is that why he did it?
“You did! I bloody knew it! Mother said you’d been off somewhere with him!”
She’d never see him again.
“Christ, Gail! Do you know what you’ve done?”
“How was she to know?” Barbara came to her defence. “You said yourself she didn’t know he was ill.”
“No wonder he went off the deep end!”
“I suppose she got pregnant all by herself!”
“She’s not pregnant!”
“What if she is?”
“My brother was sick! He was vulnerable!”
“So was she!”
“He was out of his mind!”
“Not too bloody far gone to get her pregnant!”
“If she is!” Jake raged.
She threw off the blanket. “I am!”
“There you go again!” Jake raged. “Jim Walker says …”
“I saw Dr Petersen this morning.”
Jake reached for his cigarettes. Blue-tinged smoke curled ceiling-wards.
A log in the fireplace snapped, sparks lit the fire screen. Barbara refilled her wine glass. The clocked ticked a full minute.
“Over to you, Sis.” Jake stabbed the burnt butt into the empty ashtray. “Tell her what has to happen.”
“It’s not that simple,” Barbara worried. “It’s illegal.”
“So what?”
“I’m a nurse, Jake. I can’t be a party to this.”
“It’s
not your choice. It’s your sister’s.”
“What about your family? What help can she expect from them?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yes, but …”
The argument escalated. She fled to the bedroom.
She sat by the closed window. Street lights glimmered in overflowing gutters, car lights sloshed through streams of water, a hurrying umbrella ran past the front fence, runnels of rain water dribbled down the pane. Rain. And winter. No sky. No moon.
In the desert, the moon would be rising above the bend in the river, the family would be sitting down to dinner. How could he do that to her? How could he betray her? How could he leave her?
The window. Don’t forget the window. He’d started towards her. Despite his agony, he’d tried to reach her. He was her life and she’d betrayed him. Whatever your need.
She was carrying his child.
She left the bedroom and returned to the lounge room.
“I thought you’d be gone by now,” she told Jake.
“There’s a lot to talk through.”
“Your tea’s in the oven,” Barbara nodded towards the kitchen. “I hope it hasn’t dried out.”
“I couldn’t eat.”
“Suit yourself.”
“You should eat.” Jake refilled his glass.
“Pity you’re a teetotaller.” Barbara mocked. “You could join us.”
“I’m going for a walk,” she lied.
“In that outfit!”
“My coat’s in the hall.”
“You’ll catch your death.” Jake’s voice was steady. If he had been drinking heavily, there was no sign of it.
“That’d solve all your problems, wouldn’t it Jake.”
“It’s been a hell of a long day. It’s time I got out of here.” He looked pointedly at the black hands on the white face on the mantle above the glowing fire. “Let’s get this over and done.”
“Get what over?” In the doorway, she turned back.
“I suggest you sit down.” Barbara’s voice was slurred, her face flushed.
“You’ve got no intention of going for a walk. You thought you were missing something,” Jake accused. “So sit down and listen.”
“I don’t care what you’re talking about.”
“No?” Jake sneered, his physical beauty achingly twin to his brother’s.
She should leave. “I have to go.”
“Sit down, Gail,” he commanded.
“I think I’ll have another.” Barbara reached for the almost empty wine bottle.
“Not yet.” He removed the bottle from her reach. “Not until this is sorted out.”
“He likes to be the boss,” Barbara tittered.
The occasional passing headlight glowed through the curtains. The occasional sound of a heavy truck, using the narrow street as a detour, rattled the windows. Barbara was right. Jake liked to be boss. He also liked to wheel and deal and bargain. What was he up to? She returned to her earlier place on the lounge.
“Good girl,” Jake smirked. “Your sister and I have made a decision. The child must be legitimised.”
She waited.
“We will marry here, at the Registry Office. We will travel on a prolonged honeymoon. As you know, finance is not a problem …” He paused for sarcastic effect.
She didn’t flinch.
Assured of silence, he continued, “And so, having happily enjoyed our splendid honeymoon, we will arrive home with the happy news of a happy expectation. Mother will console herself with news of a new grandchild. Father will drink to its health, as will Ryan. We will be the bearers of good news.”
They both had to be drunk.
“It’s possible, Gail,” Barbara coaxed. “Think about it.”
“It requires no thought,” Jake dictated. “It’s what will happen.”
“You’re drunk.” She started up.
“Sit down!”
“If you think …”
“You have three choices.” His eyes were steel. If he had been drinking, he was not drunk. “The first – an abortion. A matter we can arrange, with a little difficulty. But possible. There is this …”
“No abortion.”
“We arrive at the second choice. I assure you, Gail. If you won’t consider the first, there is only the second. Legitimise the Campbell child. Give it the chance to grow in safety and security. Guaranteed. No prejudice. No poverty. Financial security. Family loyalty. The choice is yours.”
“He means it, Gail.”
Family loyalty; without Rick, it meant nothing. “What’s the third choice?”
“Good girl. You are following me.” Still, he spoke without emotion; they might have been negotiating a land deal. “About this third choice.”
“What is it?”
“The choice you’ve already made. Am I right?”
“I’m damned if I’m following you,” Barbara was impatient. “Just get on with it, Jake.”
“I’m sure Gail knows how difficult life is for unwed mothers. In every way.”
How dare he! “Money isn’t everything!”
Barbara protested. “You can’t honestly be thinking of doing this on your own!”
“She is, aren’t you?”
“You can’t!”
There’d only been one clear decision. No abortion. Based on that, she’d do whatever had to be done.
“I can see the wheels turning,” Jake taunted. “Money isn’t everything, but it sure helps. Can you face it alone? I don’t think so.”
“I won’t be alone.”
“Don’t look at me!” Barbara was aghast. “Count me out!”
“There is no third choice,” Jake was very calm. “I’m sure you’ll agree. You will need to know that the child will be reared as my own. It is a Campbell. There will be no bigotry, no recriminations. The child will be a legitimate Campbell – boy or girl. The same rights. The secret will remain with you and me – and Mother.”
“What about Doctor Walker?”
“I can promise you security. I can promise you a life of comfort. Believe me, it’ll be your only chance. You’ll never get another offer like this. Not with your handicap.”
She inspected the dingy room, listened to another rumbling truck lumber past the small house, smelled the repulsive stench of alcohol and tobacco and food and over-heated bodies and urban traffic.
Jake was right. She’d never get another chance like this. It was why she was here. Why she’d left the bedroom – to find a way. They were showing her the way. It didn’t matter who she lived with. It did matter how. She’d learned from the Campbells, and from Else and Curl. Rick’s child need never know the squalid world of the Sunview, or the ugly world outside this window. She must successfully play this game out. She must win what had to be won. “Why would you marry me? You don’t love me.”
“Now you’re dreaming,” he laughed. “Love has nothing to do with marriage.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Marriage is not a romance, Gail. It’s a contract.”
A property deal. Rick’s child. Her child. “I know what I’d get, Jake. What about you?”
“Oh Gail!” He was triumphant. “I know exactly what I’m getting.”
“I hate it!” She fell onto the thick mattress in the expensive resort bedroom.
“You hate everything.” He hung his city suit in the wardrobe. “Get off your lazy backside and help me unpack.”
“Do it yourself.”
Already dressed in holiday clothes, he emptied his single suitcase and turned to hers. “You could at least unpack your own case.”
“If you think I’m going out in that heat.”
“Christ, Gail! When are you going to start acting like an adult?”
She turned her face to the gold-papered wall. His presence was unbearable.
“If you’re not going to move.” He threw the empty cases into the wardrobe. “I’m off to scout around.”
She left the bed, went to the wi
ndow, and watched him stride through the palms and ferns edging the red brick path. Tall and slim, tanned muscles rippling in the golden light, he wore khaki shorts, a cream silk shirt, and light leather sandals. He turned to look back, saw her at the window, and waved before disappearing in the direction of the dining and recreation area.
On either side, surrounded by greenery, were more holiday cabins. Sitting at a cane table on the tiny patio opposite, dressed in floral island shirts and drinking from long ice-filled glasses, was an elderly couple. The buzz of continuing sound, geckos, birds, laughter, music, the inviting clatter of cooking utensils preparing the evening meal, the slap of thongs serving unseen guests, was strange and exotic and simple and unhurried. And subtly serene. Except in this room. There was no serenity in here.
After flying back home to witness his brother’s burial, Jake had returned to Melbourne to arrange the wedding pact in the Registry Office. The ceremony, the drive to the plane, fare-welling Barbara, and settling in for the long journey to the holiday island had been surreal. Until the unfamiliar roar of the plane’s take-off. This was actually happening.
The flight had been acutely uncomfortable. She hated Jake. She hated herself. She should be grateful. She wasn’t. There’d been no sex. Not yet. Not in the days before the formality of official marriage. But Jake would want it. Unless the marriage was actually to be no more than a contract, he was waiting for tonight. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered. She slept.
The clatter of a tray on the low bedside table woke her.
“I brought your supper.”
She blinked into the sudden light of the overhead lantern. “Turn the light off!”
He switched on the shaded bedside lamp. “You have to eat.”
“I don’t have to do anything.”
“If you won’t eat for yourself, think of the baby.”
She looked into his eyes. Cold eyes. Blue steel. Blue as Rick’s, but steel. He cared nothing for the baby, nothing for her.
“Why did you marry me, Jake?”
“Eat your supper.”
She picked at the thin sandwiches, sipped the drink. “What’s in this?”
“Whisky. Drink it.”
“What about the baby? It’s not good for the baby.”
“Right now you need to relax. Your need is greater.”
Though the taste was strange, it was refreshing. She showered, dressed in shorts and cool shirt and consented to a walk around the resort. They skirted the circles of bright-coloured lights, the noisy restaurant, the hushed cabins, the flowered gardens illuminated by tiny ankle-high lamps, the busy service area and, exiting through an open door in the encircling wall, came out onto the narrow road which separated the resort from the beach. Together, they crossed hard-packed sand to the water’s edge.
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