Under the Influence

by Jacqueline Lunn

  Eve poked a leaf in the crack of the bonnet on the car. ‘Anyway, to this day I don’t know what Meg said. Everything went back to normal, like it never happened. I started rubbing vitamin E cream into my thighs, obviously to no effect.’ Eve raised her eyebrows to no one.

  ‘You don’t know what Meg said?’

  ‘That’s the funny thing. We told each other everything, but I never asked and she never told. And then it became something that didn’t happen. Whoosh. That year disappeared.’

  ‘It must have been awful.’

  ‘Anyway, Rebecca moved on to another girl after me. She was a day girl, not a boarder. She looked like someone had hit her in the face with a pan. You know, her face was kind of round and flat with bug eyes. They called her panface.’

  Eve slapped at her ankles, at the insects having a feast down there.

  ‘I just got punched in the head a couple of times,’ Sam said. ‘I can’t imagine never being able to get away from school, all those girls.’

  ‘That’s all I knew. Boarding with girls.’

  Eve trailed off, thinking again how odd it was to be having this conversation at 4 am in a black paddock with a man she couldn’t see. Her words were so disconnected from the world here. She left them on the ground, scattered around the car parked in the middle of nowhere.

  ‘It’s not all bad. I had a bad year. Richard and I have discussed it, the pros and cons of boarding, for our kids, I mean.’

  Sam was struck by the emphasis Eve placed on the word our, but he was more struck by the acceptance. ‘So you live in London and send the kids where?’

  ‘Don’t say it like that, Sam. The kids have a wonderful time, with lots of land and activities and sport in the country, instead of concrete and soot in London. They have routine, top teachers, friends twenty-four–seven. Kids don’t want to be around their parents at that age, they want to be with their friends. Richard boarded and loved it. He still meets up with friends from school once a year, and they holiday together.’

  ‘That’s worth it, then – a great annual holiday with a bunch of blokes with mummy issues.’

  ‘That’s unfair,’ Eve said. ‘You have no idea.’

  Sam went to walk away and then turned to the darkness where Eve was standing. ‘I don’t have to know much to know I don’t get it. I saw kids who were on the land. The rich kids went off, and most of their parents didn’t have a choice – a decent school was too far away. That I understand. What I don’t understand is when you have a choice and you send your children away.’

  ‘People have complicated lives, Sam,’ she said with affected weariness. ‘They’re not all sitting around eating steak and three veg with the kids, talking about who’s going to win Australian Idol.’

  Sam stopped and opened his mouth. He walked around the car towards Eve for no reason; he knew she could hear him perfectly well. He was about to set her straight on ‘meat and three veg’ losers like him. He leant in close, his hip banging on the car door, mist from Eve’s breath at his neck. He stopped again. Nothing he was going to say would change her mind. He made a big deal of a small noise in the bushes nearby, turning his head to search for the rustling and scratching sounds. ‘It’s probably a roo wondering what we are doing,’ he said. ‘We should get going.’

  Eve turned to open the passenger door.

  ‘Are you sure you want me to drive?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Oh. Yeah, you’re right.’ Eve grabbed the keys and swapped seats.

  ‘I’ll do anything to stop you eating those snakes,’ he said. ‘I thought we were off to the beach at one stage there.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  Sam didn’t answer. Eve turned on the engine and lights and clicked in her seat belt just like she was pulling out of a Woolworths car park. She did a U-turn in the paddock, past sleeping lambs being fattened up for slaughter, and bumped the car over rocks and uneven earth, her headlights skimming low branches. She felt an unfamiliar shudder of power course through her back as she put on her left indicator and landed with a thump back on the bitumen highway.

  Eve had forgotten the concentration needed when driving at night without rows and rows of street lights to guide your way. Ten minutes back on the road, Sam was the one who spoke. ‘Do we have a plan about Kat, about meeting her father?’

  When did ‘they’ become a ‘we’? She was already a ‘we’ with Richard. In London. She wanted to speak to him now. The earliest she could call him would be in two days. He said he would be back from a few days’ skiing on Saturday morning – her Saturday night. She thought of all that snow. All that white.

  ‘Sam, I don’t know what I am going to do.’ Eve pronounced the next three words with particular precision and clarity. ‘Richard and I can help Kat’s father with money. I’m sure with Meg’s track record the father will require some kind of assistance, probably more than I can imagine, and, of course, I’ll be there whenever the baby needs me. I want to do the right thing by Meg.’

  ‘Good to know.’

  Eve turned on the radio without consultation. She kept her eyes looking forwards and tried to ignore that she thought she could feel Meg’s elbow digging into her ribcage.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  ‘Jesus.’ Sam was the first to react, and as he lurched forwards in a panic his head hit the car window on the passenger side. The impact did nothing to jolt him out of his confusion. Trying to focus on the outside of the car, on what street he was in, on where he was, Sam registered it was some time on Thursday morning, as the sweat from his armpits ran down his ribcage. Just as he took a confirmation sniff, his eyes widened at the sight through the glass of hips and an accompanying torso clad in vermilion. A single blowfly in the car was head-butting the windscreen. It would sit still on the dashboard, absorb the heat and then start its motor up noisily, again and again, zipping through the air and banging against the warming windscreen to get to the other side. What an optimist. Sam tried to wave it away with his left hand.

  Efficient little knuckles knocked again on the glass. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Sam went to wind down the electric window further, but the ignition wasn’t on, so he had to open the door. He poked his head out of the slit and looked at Georgia staring down at him. Sam and Eve had arrived in Tallow a few hours before dawn and pulled up outside The Centennial Hotel. He tried to remember the last conversation he had with Eve. Nothing came to him. They must have fallen asleep mid-syllable somewhere around 5 am. ‘Georgia. Umm, hi,’ he said, unfolding himself from the car, taking care to shut the door quietly behind him. ‘What’s the time?’ Sam’s mouth was so dry he had to slow down and repeat himself so he could be understood.

  ‘It’s just after nine.’

  Sam’s shorts gripped the back of his legs with four-hour-old sweat. He tugged the fabric away, gave a shake and started walking towards the pub awning hanging over the footpath. Georgia followed. ‘I don’t know what to say, Georgia,’ Sam said, deciding in the time it took Georgia to pick an empty beer bottle off the ground that he was not going to engage her in some kind of dissection of Meg’s motives for keeping her child a secret.

  He looked down the main street past the post office and corner store and imagined Meg’s plan. Today was Thursday – everyone was meant to know by now. She had planned to pick up Kat and the nanny on Sunday and return Monday, put Kat into her cot and go out to the kitchen to unpack more boxes, get up the next morning and walk down the main street with her baby on her hip to buy some bread and milk and shock some strangers on Tuesday, except on Tuesday those strangers had buried her.

  ‘I suppose we need to see the lawyers tomorrow and go from there. Is Kat in town? Do you know where she is?’ Sam asked Georgia.

  ‘The nanny, Julie, is a bit shell-shocked. Actually, she was quite hysterical on the phone yesterday and is keeping Kat in Tennant Creek until she knows more. Until she knows what to do. She says that’s what Meg would have wanted. She said Meg was a wonderful mother. Wonderful. I�
�ve asked The Centennial to keep a few rooms free for the father and Meg’s cousin because it’s meant to be a busy weekend. Well, busy from today, really. I have to say, Sam, this is not what I’m used to. I suppose, though, we just have to make the best of it. Do what we can. For the baby’s sake.’

  Sam ignored her. ‘I wanted to see Kat. I thought Kat would be here.’

  Sam looked at Georgia going over the details of what she had been doing in the last twenty-four hours, how she clicked her tongue and inhaled and exhaled deeply for emphasis, and thought she must find this more thrilling than sex.

  ‘Meg’s cousin Penny is coming tomorrow for the reading of the will. I know the lawyers have contacted her. She can’t believe it. When you don’t have to answer to anyone, you can keep everything to yourself, I suppose. We thought it was a new beginning for Tallow. A doctor,’ Georgia continued.

  Clumps of cars began pulling into the main street and angle-parking. Small groups of twos and threes were stopping on the footpath to say hello.

  ‘Hello, Georgia, good day for it,’ a small man with big ears said, walking past.

  ‘Not that it matters, because a baby is involved, and, of course, a death, but it’s already a busy few days around here.’

  Sam did a one-eighty of the street and registered the activity. There were banners being hung across the main road and trestle tables being arranged in a side street. Utes were coming and going, and people were dashing around, giving the main street a city feel.

  ‘It’s the Festival of the Four Grains,’ explained Georgia. ‘Festivities start tomorrow evening, Friday, with an opening party. It’s newish. A chamber of commerce initiative. A formal way to celebrate what we do out here: wheat, oats, barley and chickpeas. I know chickpeas don’t strictly qualify, but four grains has a nice ring to it. Much better than festival of the three grains and chickpeas.’ There was a chuckle at the back of these last words, and then she returned to business. ‘They have sheep covered with Festival of the Fleece, so we decided to go the crop route.’

  Sam was too bewildered to register he was bewildered.

  ‘And it’s a good excuse to try to get a bit of activity in Tallow, maybe some tourists, particularly if we can go organic. We really need to go organic. Tonight, we start with a party, and a market will run tomorrow and all weekend. You know: fresh produce, some bric-a-brac, odds and sods, hopefully, as I said, an emphasis on the organic. Get some of those alternative types from the city out here. We have a bit of live entertainment tomorrow and Saturday evening. A few competitions for the region. You know.’

  Small groups of twos and threes walking past with wonky stools, old CD players, cardboard boxes of books and carts of pumpkins were trying not to look at Eve asleep in the driver’s seat with her mouth open and one knee pressed against the window.

  Georgia, sensing that Sam’s concentration had moved roadside, took a step towards him, severing his trance to continue announcing her plans in a louder voice. ‘Back to you and the arrangements for Dr Patterson. I’ve organised a room for the reading of the will at 3.30 pm tomorrow and …’

  Georgia was everywhere in this town. A woman in a vermilion wrap dress trying to burrow her way into anyone’s life she could was hard to miss.

  ‘Thanks, Georgia. Thanks for everything. I’d really like to go out to the place she was renting,’ Sam said, ‘if that’s okay?’

  ‘It’s down the highway, west, about ten minutes, and turn right onto Steele Road until you hit the gate with a penguin letterbox made out of old car pieces with “Appleton” on it. I’ve left the keys under the mat.’

  Sam flattened himself against the pub window as four men carrying a table came past and two women off to the left waited to grab Georgia when she had finished talking to the young visitor.

  ‘Sam?’ Georgia called as he left. ‘Meg’s house. Well, I own it, and Albert Tucker was coming out this morning to grab an old bike out there and bring it in to sell or swap.’

  ‘Of course. Thanks.’

  ‘Just to let you know,’ Georgia said, and then she turned to discuss an issue of banner height and visibility from the highway.

  Eve still slept in the car, dribbling. Her knee, where it was touching the glass, was red. Sam opened the driver’s door. Her knee slid down and she rearranged her limbs but didn’t wake.

  ‘Eve, Eve, wake up.’

  ‘What?’ Eve said, moving but not opening her eyes.

  ‘Let me drive. Eve, c’mon, get up.’

  Sam helped her up and led her around to the passenger side.

  ‘Shit, my back. Shit, my feet. Shit, shit, shit.’

  Her bare feet were burning on the bitumen, and she picked them up from the road as if she was doing a rain dance. She grabbed her waist – for some reason, she had a vicious stitch. She plonked down in the passenger seat and groggily put on her belt.

  ‘Okay,’ Sam said, starting the engine. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Hmm-mm.’

  As soon as the hum of the engine took hold and the air conditioning cooled off some sweat, Eve fell back to sleep.

  Meg’s house was easy to find, surrounded by rough-barked trees and scattered gums. Sam knew that all he had to do was drive a few hours west and those trees would give way to scrubby underbush and red dust. There was a well-shaded verandah at the front and removalist boxes by the door. Meg loved her verandahs; he could see why she chose this as her home.

  Eve woke as soon as the car came to a standstill. She put her sunglasses on and sat up, trying to focus through the glare of the windscreen. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘This is Meg’s place. The one she rented.’

  Eve sat upright. ‘Is Kat here?’

  ‘No, no. She’s with her nanny. Georgia said the nanny will bring her to the father after the reading of the will. Don’t worry, we’ll get to see her. We won’t leave town until we see her.’

  ‘The all-knowing Georgia,’ Eve mumbled. Her sunglasses fell off her head and she didn’t pick them up. Instead, she squinted and watched Sam walk up to the front door, take a set of keys from under the mat and begin to carry in some of the boxes stacked randomly on the bullnose verandah outside the front door. Eve opened the car door and stretched, immediately registering the heat.

  Inside, the house had a wide central hallway with small rooms off each side. If the geometric-patterned ruby wallpaper along the hall wasn’t so ancient and peeling in places, it would have been perfect for the city offices of a graphic-design or free-trade-coffee-importing company.

  The second room Sam came to was obviously intended for Kat. He walked inside, past the cot, chest of drawers and change table, and over a primary-coloured alphabet rug. He slapped lethargically at the mobile of sea animals above the change table and could hear Eve’s footsteps further down the hallway. She didn’t stop for Kat’s room or Meg’s or the nanny’s. Her footsteps were even and echoed in the silence. She came to a stop in the kitchen, at the rear of the house, and sat on a stool by the kitchen bench reading a piece of paper that lay on a diagonal.

  Formula

  Nappies (bulk)

  Mobile-phone charger

  Internet connection (check)

  Update my contact details

  Eve, Sarah, Sam, Penny, Alison, Greg, David, Melissa

  Lyrics to You Are My Sunshine

  ‘What’s that?’ Sam said, pulling up a stool next to Eve.

  ‘It’s just a list.’

  Sam read it upside down. ‘You Are My Sunshine?’

  ‘You know, that song.’ Eve wasn’t going to sing it to him to jog his memory. She never sang out loud. Ever. ‘Her dad used to sing it to her. Used to tease her by singing it.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Sam said. ‘This isn’t happening.’

  Eve shook her head and pushed the list away. She brushed past Sam on the way to the bathroom, and he saw her jump away from an open box in the hallway as if it was going to bite.

  ‘Time to go?’ Eve asked on her return.

  ‘I just want to sort
some things out. Bring in all the boxes and grab the mail to give to the lawyers tomorrow.’

  It was Meg’s house but it wasn’t. The only room that was set up was Kat’s room. If Eve had looked, she would have seen that Meg had a mattress on the floor in her room and an open suitcase in the corner. Meg hadn’t unpacked her personal belongings. The house was scattered with furniture: a table in the corner, a stack of chairs by the door, a mop and broom leaning by the cupboards in the kitchen.

  Eve could hear the sound of cardboard scraping along a wooden floor at the front of the house but stayed seated on the stool in the kitchen. There was nothing personal in the kitchen; kitchens had never been Meg’s favourite place.

  ‘I feel like a cup of tea,’ she yelled to Sam, relieved that the ritual would give her something to do. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’

  Eve found some tea and bread in the freezer and foraged around the pantry. She made them both toast and strawberry jam and a warm cup of tea with milk that was a day away from its use-by date in the fridge. Milk lasted a long time these days. She couldn’t stand looking at it and put it back in the fridge quickly. She put two sugars in her tea – something she usually only did on the first day of her periods, when she felt empty and sore. She needed the sweetness.

  They sat down on the verandah steps with their tea and toast, watching streaks of bold colour dive and fly across the muted landscape. The green-and-red-and-yellow parrots swerving and playing and screeching into all that blue would occasionally fall silent and rest in the top branches of gnarled trees before starting up again.

  ‘What was it like in New Guinea?’

  ‘Different.’ Sam, barefoot and with his mug of tea in both hands, talked about the afternoon rains and the mud, the diseases and the thousand different types of green. He spoke of the high level of twin births, of poor prenatal care, of happiness, of AWOL male partners, of the acceptance of tragedy. ‘I’m sure it’s very different to your life. The travelling, the nerves. I couldn’t imagine having that talent. It must make you feel good.’