The Drifter

by Anthea Hodgson

  ‘No! Don’t you dare lecture me! Don’t you dare think so little of me that you believe I can live in that woman’s home, can walk in her shoes and leave her there to die, alone, in my mother’s dressing gown. I won’t have it, Henry, and neither will she. I gave Brigit a terrible, pointless death. I cut her short. I stole from her. And now, if I can just let my parents down again – and let’s face it, that’s the one thing I’m good at – I can give Ida the death she deserves. Right here.’ Her eyes were filling with tears.

  Henry’s hands were on his hips and he released an enormous sigh.

  ‘Then let’s go,’ he said.

  They were in the car within the hour. Cate decided she wasn’t talking to Henry after all. He could help because he was strong and intimidating, but she wasn’t going to speak to him or listen to any bullshit drifter-call-of-the-road excuses. She was a fool to trust him in the first place, and she wasn’t going to sit around waiting for Henry to disappear for weeks at a time on a bender, or so he could gaze at a different set of stars. She stopped herself. He had never promised her a thing. Except that he would leave. And he was as good as his word.

  They drove in silence, the princess, the swagman and Finley, who was weeing excitedly on the old towels on the back seat. It was three hours later when they pulled in to her parents’ driveway, having only stopped briefly at a servo. This hopefully wasn’t going to take long. She breathed deeply. What did she have to lose? She knew what her parents thought of her, and certainly they’d be angry, but they were angry with her anyway.

  At least she could help Ida, she reasoned. She’d known she’d have to come back for her, and now here she was. It was simple. She felt cold creatures crawling through her veins, making her nervous and sick. She glanced at Henry, who was out of the car and walking a step behind her, his huge frame a comfort. He nodded. Let’s roll.

  Her mother came to the door first.

  ‘Cate! What a surprise!’ she said with a little too much enthusiasm. She’d obviously heard about her conversation with her father. ‘Derek, look who’s here!’ and her father came out.

  ‘Cate,’ he said quietly.

  She nodded. ‘Dad.’

  He looked over her head. ‘Who’s your friend?’

  ‘That’s Henry. He’s the drifter who’s been living in the old mudbrick house,’ she said.

  Henry smiled, looking at ease. He didn’t offer to shake hands. He could see that was never going to happen.

  ‘Oh, I thought he was some sort of mining consultant,’ said her mother, confused.

  ‘And I thought he was given his marching orders weeks ago,’ her father snapped.

  Cate blew out a sigh, walked past him and into the house. ‘I forgot,’ she said. ‘Is Ida here?’

  Her mother trotted after her, agitated now. She had never seen Cate like this before. She looked steely. Determined. ‘Uh, yes. She’s in her room.’

  ‘Good. Come on, Henry.’

  He nodded apologetically and entered the house. ‘Excuse me,’ he murmured, and followed her like a bodyguard or a gangster’s strongarm.

  ‘Now wait a second!’ Cate heard her father say, but she wasn’t listening to him anymore. She was going to disappoint him enormously in about thirty seconds, and it was going to make the Henry thing seem totally fine.

  She found Ida sitting on her bed, looking at her shoes.

  ‘Good morning, Aunty Ida,’ Cate said and kissed her.

  ‘Cate, dear! How lovely to see you! How’s the farm? Do we have any lambs?’

  Cate glanced around for her suitcase and found it packed and in the wardrobe as Ida had promised.

  ‘I’ll fill you in later, Aunty Ida. Would you like to go home now?’

  She had time to draw in one large breath, and then her parents, standing in the doorway, reacted.

  ‘Hang on!’

  ‘Are you crazy?’

  Ida noticed Henry standing on duty behind Cate.

  ‘Henry!’ she said over their voices. ‘How lovely to see you, dear!’

  He grinned at her. ‘You, too, Ida. We’re going home.’

  Cate’s father came into the room. ‘I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you are mad if you think you can just waltz in here and take an old woman away from the comfort of a proper home and the safety of the medical care she needs.’

  ‘Have you packed your medicine, Aunty Ida?’ asked Cate, underneath his tirade.

  ‘It’s in my case, dear,’ she replied.

  ‘And the prescriptions?’

  ‘In my handbag.’

  Cate straightened up, grabbed the case and the bag, then held out a hand to help Ida up.

  ‘Aunty Ida, would you like to go home now?’ she asked for a second time, her stomach churning with anxiety.

  She was never coming back from this. Surely. Her parents would never forgive her this deliberate crazy disregard for an old woman’s safety.

  ‘Yes please, dear,’ she said clearly, her eyes shining with excitement. ‘Let’s go, shall we?’

  Cate nodded because it was all she could do; her heart was simultaneously filled with fear and elation. They turned to the bedroom door, where her mother was stepping nervously from foot to foot and her father was blocking the way.

  ‘No! This is ridiculous, Cate, and you know it!’ His face was appalled. How had his daughter become this silly, selfish creature?

  ‘Excuse me, Dad. We’re leaving.’

  She approached the door with Ida on her arm, but he was in the way and she couldn’t manoeuvre an old lady and a suitcase past him.

  ‘Dad.’ Her voice held a warning, and she felt it tighten like it wanted her to cry and give up, but she wouldn’t let it.

  He was looking at her like she was a stranger he didn’t like. Like some football hooligan or pop starlet, falling pants-less out of a limo.

  ‘Don’t speak to me like that, my girl,’ he replied. ‘You haven’t thought this out, have you? It’s just a silly petty gesture to get back at me. Isn’t it? Isn’t it?’

  He sounded triumphant, like he knew her, like he’d worked her out. He was wrong, and now she was beginning to work that out, too.

  She turned to Henry, who came forward and swept Ida into his arms as if she was a little girl. He strode past her father like he wasn’t there, and was helping Ida out to the car in moments.

  When she was at the front door Cate stared back at her father, unable to feel guilty this time. She had plenty of other huge mistakes she could feel bad about.

  ‘She wants to go home,’ she said. ‘I’m taking her. You can’t keep her here if it isn’t what she wants. She wants to be with her friends again, not waiting to die here, where nobody even knows who she is.’

  Her mother was crying, panicking. Maybe it was the fear that Ida wouldn’t survive the trip, or the fear that Cate was leaving, too, and the old spells didn’t work anymore.

  ‘Cate, Cate,’ she said. ‘Don’t take her. Don’t you see you’re just acting out against your father and me? We only want the best for you, Catie. Only the best.’ She grabbed her hand. ‘We didn’t want the parties and the frivolous friends, and we don’t want you to throw your life away because you’re a silly girl with some homeless person, Catie. Just come inside and think for a change.’

  ‘If you take her now, I will never forgive you,’ her father said.

  Her eyes stung at that. She flicked a glance at Henry without knowing why, and he was staring implacably back at her. He believed she was tougher than this. He was damn well going to be right.

  ‘You won’t forgive me anyway,’ she said.

  Her father went inside and slammed the door. He could see he wasn’t about to stop her, and there was no way he could stop Henry.

  ‘Sorry, Mum, I have thought. I’ve thought about it a lot, and it is absolutely what she wants. I owe it to her.’

  Her mum was still crying. ‘Cate. You’ll have another death on your hands. Is that what you want? Isn’t one enough? I thought – I hope
d – you’d learned something from Brigit.’

  Cate looked at the ground. ‘I’ve learned plenty from Brigit.’ She went to the car where Ida was watching.

  ‘Just a second, dear,’ she murmured to Cate, and tottered gingerly over to her mother, who was watching her, horrified, as if she was about to hurl herself into a volcano.

  ‘Claire, thank you, my dear niece and nephew, for looking after me so well. I’ve appreciated your kindness. But it’s time to go home now. I hope not to come back again, but I want you to know that I love you all, and that Cate is giving me much happiness by her bravery and willingness to carry this burden. She has turned into a fine young woman, and I, for one, am very proud of her.’

  Cate’s mother cried again, in fear and frustration. ‘But Aunty Ida – you’ll die.’

  Ida hugged her niece hard and smiled, her eyes glistening.

  ‘I’m eighty-four years old, dear – what did you think was going to happen?’

  They were leaving. Cate glanced back and glimpsed her father’s face in the upstairs window of her old home. He was staring coldly and resolutely at her, as if burning her face into his memory like they’d never see each other again.

  Henry helped Ida into the passenger seat, then folded himself neatly in behind her. Cate breathed in and out very slowly. Okay. She climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, first go. She looked back at her mother and waved. She didn’t know when she would see her again. Her mother turned and ran back into the house, as Cate carefully reversed the car and pulled decisively onto the street.

  They drove quietly for a few minutes while the sound of her parents’ voices echoed in her ears. Then her aunt placed her hand over Cate’s on the steering wheel, and squeezed.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said and large tears ran down Cate’s cheeks. She didn’t speak. She just carefully watched the traffic, calmly took the corners and gently but firmly accelerated away, as if she absolutely knew what she was doing.

  Dear Brigit, when you died, it was because I made a massive mistake. Am I making another one now? Am I selfish for wanting to give Ida this one last thing?

  At the top of the Darling Scarp Henry spoke.

  ‘Stop the car, Cate.’

  She pulled off the road and turned off the engine. He climbed out of his seat and came around to her door.

  ‘I’m driving,’ he said. ‘I think you need a break.’

  She got out without a word and looked in the back door. Finley gazed hopefully up at her again, next to a wet towel. She sighed. ‘Move over, dog,’ she said begrudgingly, and Finley scrambled happily into her lap.

  They drove home with a short stop for a cup of tea at Brookton, feeling like prison escapees. The day was fresh and clear, and Cate had time, among all the busy thoughts in her head and the gnawing of a happy puppy, to wonder how long it would take them to get Ida to Narrogin if they needed to, and she realised that that would be another decision to make. What if they took her in for some reason and couldn’t get her back out? How many days of life were they willing to rob her of? How much pain or fear or discomfort? How would they feel if she begged for help? If there was pain at the end and there was nothing they could do, and Ida had changed her mind? It was overwhelming. Maybe it wouldn’t come to that. Maybe it would all just magically work out.

  Henry hovered near her in the service-station café. ‘Are you okay?’ he whispered, his eyes filled with concern.

  ‘Of course,’ she muttered.

  He wasn’t convinced, and he kept on watching her until they were back on the long road home. It was late afternoon by the time they pulled in to the house.

  ‘Home again!’ said Ida, the relief in her voice almost immeasurable, like maybe she had doubted it would ever truly happen, even sitting in the car, even watching the country miles being eaten up beneath her. They climbed out, and Finley dashed about joyfully, as if the farm was created especially for him and he had woken up on doggy Christmas morning to find it underneath the tree, with all its scents and movement. He was yapping at cabbage moths within moments, careering about madly through all of Mac’s favourite places.

  CHAPTER 31

  When Ida Christie walked through the gates to her house, she could not only see her home, she could feel it. Home again for the last time. Home where she belonged, where she had first come as a young woman, carrying roses for Jack’s mother, where she had come as a young bride, full of hope and love, where she had laughed at Jack’s foolishness, and had raged at the selfishness of the world sometimes and had cried at its cruelty. She paused to take in the light and the air, and the scent of lavender and rosemary, but she didn’t need to. Her heart knew this place so well that she didn’t need to see it to feel its warmth. Her eyes grazed the roofline and the fence around the house yard, drifting out gratefully to the welcome horizon, which never changed, which would never change for her, even if the house itself became dust. She was where she belonged, with darling Jack leaning against the front steps at the end of the day, murmuring, Home again, old girl?

  And although Cate was talking enthusiastically about something she couldn’t hear anymore, Ida was smiling because she knew. She knew. Nearly, my dear man – I’m nearly home again, with you. And when Cate and Ida hugged on the verandah, she knew that it wouldn’t be long now, and she sighed with relief.

  ‘It’s good to be home, dear,’ she said. ‘Thank you. Now, time for a cup of tea.’

  Cate laughed. They went inside to the kitchen, and Henry took her case to her room.

  ‘We have to give you the tour later, Aunty Ida. You won’t believe what all the girls managed to achieve on your behalf.’

  ‘I can see the house looks wonderful already! Look at the shine on those windows! Oh, and the garden! Look at the hedge! And a beautiful vegie patch! I can hardly believe my eyes. It had been getting a bit much for me, you know,’ she confided.

  Cate grinned. ‘Well, it’s super easy to live in now. We’ve fitted non-slip surfaces in the bathroom and some handles here and there to help you get up if need be.’

  Ida was shocked. ‘Really? Who did that?’

  Cate looked bashful. ‘Uh, the girls, Henry and I.’

  ‘Well! You all are wonderful. How thoughtful!’

  Henry was back from dropping off the bag, looking awkward again. ‘Come and hug me, Henry! I’m home!’ Ida beamed.

  He smiled and bent down to give her a hug. ‘Thanks for helping Cate,’ she whispered. ‘I know that wasn’t easy for her.’ He nodded.

  ‘Now,’ she commanded. ‘Tea. Get down the pot.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘The teapot, dear. Get it down.’ Cate wrinkled her nose. Lucky she hadn’t thrown it out. ‘Only the Lord knows how long I have on this earth, and I’m not going to spend it drinking tea bags!’

  Cate was gazing dubiously at the pot. It was an ugly old relic from the sixties, she was guessing. Donna Hay would vomit all over it. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked. It looked like it should be condemned.

  ‘You are about to learn to make tea, dear. Isn’t that exciting?’

  Cate had to hand it to Ida: she got irony. Henry was smirking. He was already glad Ida was home.

  ‘Okay, what’s first?’

  ‘Boil the kettle, fresh water, please – better taste if it hasn’t been boiled already.’ She put on the kettle. ‘Now, when the water boils, pour a large splash in the teapot to warm it.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Then add a spoonful for each of us, and one for the pot.’

  Cate followed her instructions.

  ‘Jack bought this for me for our tenth wedding anniversary,’ she said fondly. ‘I broke the old one on a mouse one night. The little blighter shot out from under the fridge and nearly gave me a heart attack!’

  Cate got down three cups.

  ‘Henry, could you go to the china cabinet and take out the three prettiest cups and saucers you can find?’

  Henry headed to the lounge to choose them and came back with three
old-fashioned florals balancing in his large hands.

  ‘How lovely! These were my mother’s, and we’ve always saved them for special occasions. Today’s the day! Warm them up, Cate, then pour the tea. There’s a strainer in the top drawer.’

  Cate did as she was told. Old people. What a pain in the backside. She was still smiling to herself as she poured hot tea into the tiny cups and they all took a sip.

  Yuck. Cate looked at Ida, who nodded approvingly. ‘Very nice, dear,’ she told her. ‘That’s your job from now on.’

  Henry sniggered.

  ‘Or yours if Cate is away with her new boyfriend,’ Ida warned him.

  That shut him up. He looked at Cate questioningly, and she shrugged. What did you expect? He kept staring at her like he wanted her to apologise or explain herself. She didn’t owe him anything. He had loved her on the crappy seventies carpet and then disappeared for weeks, with no word if he was ever coming back, where he had gone or why. Bugger him. Ida was asking him about Finley, and he was answering her questions politely, but Cate could tell he wasn’t really listening. She gazed blandly back. Wonder all you want, Henry.

  When she had finished her cup Ida said, ‘Well, Henry, why don’t you give me the tour? I think Cate probably deserves a coffee.’ She slowly stood and took his arm. ‘All that sitting down has made my old legs lazy, Henry, but don’t worry, I’ll buck up soon!’

  He moved slowly with her down the hall, to her room first.

  Soon, dear Jack, very soon.

  Cate rinsed out the pretty cups and looked out to the front yard. She could hear Ida’s happy chatter and Henry’s deep voice replying to her questions.

  He was gentle with her and kind. Maybe he understood women better than she had thought. Not for the first time she wondered what it was that had changed his life forever. She sighed like it would help, and went out to feed the chooks, who were very pleased to see her. Finley leapt up to her knees, his soft paws tapping lightly on her legs.

  ‘Finley! Down!’ she commanded, and snuck inside the chookyard to find a clutch of six white-and-brown eggs. ‘Well done, girls,’ she cooed as she tossed some feed around.