‘Dad. Bloody hell, you gave me a scare. I expected you to be in your recliner chair. Have you been in bed all day?’
‘I’m buggered,’ Neill said.
‘Did you have a shower this morning?’
‘Yes, but I asked her to put me back in bed.’
Jake scratched his head. This was the first time he’d stayed in bed all day.
‘I’m so tired, boy.’ He coughed, his face crumpling up with pain. ‘I’ll get up tomorrow.’
‘Do you need anything? Do you want me to bring in the radio, the paper?’
‘No.’ His eyes fluttered shut.
A lifetime of tears burned at the back of Jake’s throat. If someone had asked him what emotion he was feeling right then, he couldn’t have named it. There were so many. He moved Neill’s phone closer on the bedside cupboard, made sure the cup was full of water, the tissues in easy reach.
‘I’ll go and have a shower,’ he said. ‘Get us some dinner.’
His bedroom was stifling. He pushed up the window, to replace the stale hot air with fresh hot air. When he emptied his pockets he held his phone for a moment and then sat down on the bed and rang Laura. She picked up on the second ring.
‘Why didn’t you tell me Dad stayed in bed all day?’
‘I thought Jess would have mentioned it.’
‘What does it mean?’
‘It means he’s getting weaker, and I know he has more pain, but he doesn’t want the next level of pain relief, not until after his final visit to the farm on Sunday for his birthday.’
Jake unbuttoned the dusty khaki shirt with one hand. The work clothes he was wearing were a mix of Darren’s and Neill’s. His wardrobe had had to fit into the gear pack on his bike. He eyed the empty black pack shoved into the corner by the wardrobe, a reminder of a life put on hold.
‘Bloody hell, Laura, this is all getting too hard.’
‘It’ll get a lot harder before it gets easier, Jake.’
‘Laura.’
Jake hadn’t meant to startle her. He hadn’t sneaked in: he’d knocked, found the door open, as usual, and now here he was, standing in the doorway.
She swiped at the tears running down her face. ‘Jake. I didn’t hear you.’ She rested the paintbrush on the tin and pushed herself to her feet. ‘I was just remembering the last time I sanded and painted a floor. Brett and I did it together. It was fun.’ She hiccoughed, squeezed her eyes shut.
‘Come here,’ he said, and she came, and he folded his arms around her. Laura settled against him, resting her face against his shoulder.
‘It just comes out of nowhere,’ she said. ‘I’m fine, and then . . . ’ Jake tensed when she slid her arms around his waist and nestled closer.
‘Laura,’ he said and gently but firmly removed her arms and stepped back.
‘Sorry.’ She pulled out a tissue and blew her nose. ‘This is getting to be a habit, me upset, you there for me to cry all over. What’ll I do when you’ve gone?’
Jake cleared his throat. He couldn’t answer that, didn’t know what the answer was. But he knew he was changing, that what had once seemed important no longer did, that his old life belonged to the old him. And the new him? Well, that was a work in progress and the outcome was uncertain.
He dragged his hand across his mouth.
‘You won’t believe it but the maintenance bloke from the hospital just delivered a hospital bed. Dad reckons he doesn’t need it, and I’m inclined to agree. But he said the outreach nurse insisted, said they don’t want to do their backs in moving him in and out of the bed.’ He shook his head. ‘I reckon he just sees it as another nail in his coffin.’
‘I can see the nurse’s point, but I do also understand your reticence.’
‘Now that it’s there we may as well set it up. Will you help me move furniture so we can at least fit it in properly? Jess had to pick up the boys from school and get on home.’
‘Of course I’ll come and help. I’ll just clean up, wash my hands.’
Laura ducked out and Jake took the opportunity to gather himself. He tapped the lid back onto the paint and dropped the brush in to soak, then wiped his hands on the rag she’d dropped. He scanned the floor. She’d done a good job of the sanding and the clear seal brought out the golden hues of the floorboards.
He waited for her on the back verandah, hands shoved into his pockets, gazing out onto the backyard, squinting into the sun.
‘What’s with all the stuff on the kitchen table?’ he said when she came and stood beside him.
‘They’re boxes of Dorrie’s old stuff: papers, photos, recipe books. They were in the wardrobe in the spare bedroom. I’m gradually sorting through, putting aside anything I want or anything I think might appeal to Alice.’
‘Amazing, the stuff people collect,’ he said. He’d have Neill’s papers to sort through soon. Hopefully Jess would know what to do with it all. He couldn’t think of anything he’d want. A bonfire would be the best thing.
‘Vegies look good,’ he said as they stepped off the verandah.
‘They do, thanks to the joint watering effort. A couple of the tomatoes are colouring up nicely, should be ripe by Christmas. I’m already picking lettuce, and I’ve had one zucchini.’
He unlatched the gate, stood back to let her through. ‘You know, I’ve never worked out why this gate’s here,’ he said. ‘Have you?’
She flicked him a quizzical look. He was beginning to sound morose, but he couldn’t seem to help it. Right at this moment everything seemed hopeless.
‘When I first came here,’ she said, ‘I was about twelve, and the block Neill’s house is on was an orchard that belonged to my great-aunt. There were almond trees, a fig tree, apricot trees – you name it, Dorrie grew it.’
She stopped and took in the deserted dog kennel and the forlorn Hills Hoist.
‘Dorrie used to make jam, preserves. I remember sitting on the back verandah with Alice and pulling husks off the almonds.’ She shuddered. ‘We hated it. Broke our fingernails. Then she sold the land and someone put this house on it. It came from Woomera, on a truck. But the gate always stayed, for some reason.’
‘The next owners will probably block it off,’ he said. Laura didn’t comment but followed him to the house and into the sitting room where Neill was propped up in his recliner chair. Jake had dragged the two-seater sofa and the coffee table into the passageway temporarily to make room for the new bed.
Neill opened his eyes, mouthed her name and she laid her hand on his arm.
‘A lot of fuss for nothing,’ he said, tipping his chin towards the bed.
‘It’ll be easier,’ she said and picked up the bed’s hand-held electric control. ‘When we plug it in I’ll show you what it can do, put it through its paces.’ Her enthusiasm raised the semblance of a smile from Neill, but Jake couldn’t even dredge up a flicker of interest.
Together they moved as much of the remaining furniture as they could into the other rooms to clear a workable space around the hospital bed. Neill would be able see the TV when he was propped up in bed and, if he wanted to sit out, the recliner was still by the window. Laura plugged the bed into a power socket and showed Neill how it worked.
‘Anything else?’ she said, looking around at their efforts with satisfaction. ‘Do you want me to help make the bed?’
‘No, thanks. I won’t use it until I have to,’ he said and Jake raised his eyebrows.
‘I’m going to shower, Dad. I’ll see you, Laura. Thanks for your help today.’ He turned to go, swinging back to her to add, ‘I’ll be home tomorrow. You can have the day off.’
‘Oh, okay then,’ she said, nonplussed by his sudden abruptness.
Moments later they heard a door close, firmly. ‘Hard for him,’ Neill said between breaths. ‘Fancy-free one minute, bogged down with all this the next. He’s doing well, considering.’
‘He is.’ Her respect for Neill increased. After all Jake had or hadn’t done, his father still defended him. With a s
igh she’d lifted her hair off her sweaty forehead.
‘Another storm’s brewing. We never used to get as many storms.’
‘Yeah, it’s as hot and humid as a sauna. My floor’s not going to dry enough for another coat by tomorrow.’ She touched his arm and winked at him. ‘I’ll see you in the morning. I don’t need a day off.’
As she walked down the passage to the kitchen she slowed at the bathroom, heard the shower running, tried not to think past the closed door.
Home again she sat outside to drink a bottle of cold water and eat an orange, enjoying the juicy sweet tingle over her tongue. The heat pressed down like a hot, wet blanket. As much as she tried, she couldn’t dredge up the energy to go take a shower, or to rustle up some food and keep going through Dorrie’s papers.
Settling deeper into the cane chair, she let her mind wander though she tried to guide it away from all things Jake. She spent enough time dwelling on him, worrying about him, lusting after him. Her body had well and truly woken up after a long, grief-induced sleep.
Milt Burns. She’d think about him. That would be enough to strangle anyone’s libido. He hadn’t bothered to call. It wasn’t that there was any particular need for him to check in, and the practice staff hadn’t phoned either, so she assumed he was back at work this morning and everything at the health centre was the status quo.
But Kaylene was right. There was something a bit off. He was grumpier than usual, and whenever she’d spoken to him about patients lately, he’d been preoccupied. She’d talk to Kaylene on Monday morning.
When the sun sat like a golden orb on the horizon, dusting the backyard with gold, Laura stood up and stretched. The cane chair had left ridges across the backs of her legs, and her arms ached from painting the floor and moving furniture. Mozzies whined. There were no sounds from next door, no screech and clank of the gate. The yard was melting into the night.
With a shrug she threw the water bottle into the milk crate and walked down the path to toss the orange peel onto the compost pile. With a final glance at the silent gate she went inside to have a shower.
She was naked except for her knickers, the ceiling fan barely stirring the air, creaking with every turn. The bedsheet beneath her already felt damp. The bedroom window was up as far as it would go and thunder sounded in the distance. For about the third time in the last half-hour she swiped open her phone to check the time and almost jumped out of her skin when it vibrated in her hand and then rang.
‘Sorry for being such a moody prick and then disappearing earlier,’ Jake said.
‘That’s okay. You’ve got a lot on your mind, so has Jess. Everything is changing.’ She heard him take a breath, as if he were going to say something, but then he didn’t.
‘It’s hot,’ she said, and he laughed, a low rumble that mimicked the thunder and sent a tremor right through her.
‘Did I wake you?’
‘Nah, too hot to sleep.’
‘The storm’s coming, you can see lightning over towards the west.’
‘Are you outside?’
‘Yep. Coolest place to be. Mozzies are a bastard, though, it must be all the pot plants.’
She sat up, swung her legs off the bed and felt about for her robe.
‘Where are you exactly?’ Neill didn’t have any pot plants.
A shadow moved past her window. ‘Come out the back and watch the lightning,’ he said, his face close to the flyscreen, then the phone went dead and he disappeared.
‘What are you, some kind of a pervert?’ she said a few minutes later and tossed him one of the bottles of cold water she’d grabbed out of the fridge. ‘Peeping in women’s windows.’
‘Only your window,’ he said, catching the bottle with one hand. ‘Only ever your window, Laura.’ He unscrewed the cap and took a long swallow.
Lightning flashed across the sky, white-hot forks. A growl of thunder followed. She unscrewed the bottle in her hand, splashed cold water into her palm and pressed it to her face. It dribbled down the front of her robe. He cleared his throat, took another long swallow, recapped his bottle.
Without a word they sat down in the cane chairs. He’d already pulled up the matchstick blind and they had a clear view of the western sky and the awesome light show.
‘Fires,’ he said. ‘Lightning like this will start fires. The hills are already tinder dry.’
‘What, out here? Nothing to burn except scrub and saltbush.’
‘It all burns,’ he said and waved his hand to the south-west. ‘The Southern Flinders Ranges, Wirrabara Forest, Beetaloo Valley, the Clare Valley, there’s plenty to burn there.’
They sat for an hour or more, not talking much, just watching the sky, waiting for the first swirl of breeze, and swatting at mosquitos.
‘Mozzie coils,’ he said. ‘Put them on your shopping list.’ He stood up and yawned. ‘I’d better go, check the old man and try to get some sleep.’ He went to the edge of the verandah, craned his neck to peer up at the sky above. It had got darker, the clouds obliterating the moon and the stars. ‘I reckon it’ll hit us in the next hour.’
She came up beside him, felt his heat, took in the faint smell of soap on his skin. A puff of breeze rustled through the vegetable garden and stirred the shreds of pea straw on the cement path. She shivered. Lightning flashed. He looked down at her, rubbed his shoulder up and down against hers and she leaned in to him.
‘Go get some sleep,’ he said. His voice was rough. ‘And lock all your doors and windows.’
The gate clanged shut before Laura realised what he’d meant, and she blushed all over.
Mikey and Sam were in bed after they’d watched the lightning from the approaching storm. A short, sharp wind squall had made the windows rattle, a few fat raindrops had peppered the roof, and now the storm was gone, disappearing off to the east. Jess had let them stay up. Tomorrow was Saturday, there wasn’t a school bus to catch. In her insomnia, she sat out on the back step. Although the urge to finish the bottle of red was strong, she stopped after two generous glasses. A few hours of alcohol-induced sleep would have been bliss, but there were the boys.
Darren had called again earlier that night. Jess knew he wanted to talk, could tell by his tentative questions. She was in no mood to answer him, hadn’t got over his call from the day before, so she’d quickly passed the phone to Sam.
When would this constant feeling of sick anxiety ease? When would it disappear? Darren’s phone calls didn’t help. He’d broken her heart, but she missed him like she’d miss one of her limbs if it were suddenly lopped off.
As grim as things had been in the months before he’d left, Jess had always felt certain they’d sort it out. They’d been together since high school, she’d never imagined being with anyone else. In the long wakeful hours before dawn, her thoughts had taken her many places and she felt a new and deep empathy with her dad. How it must have been for him when his wife, the mother of his children, had turned her back on them all and walked away. Had he experienced the same feelings she was having? Worthlessness, loss, the anger that came with grief. How long did it take to pass? How long before she felt better? She returned the half-drunk bottle of wine to the pantry, rinsed the wine glass. She didn’t feel the slightest bit mellow.
The forecast change came in the night and Saturday morning dawned clear and fresh, the air sweet. After breakfast Sam and Mikey went outside to play and chase the dogs around the yard. There were three dogs now, Skip a more permanent fixture. Jess made herself another coffee and settled at the kitchen table to peruse her cookbooks, hoping to find something special that would tempt her dad tomorrow, on his birthday. It would be the last time so she needed to make the effort. Her head thumped from too little sleep and the late-night wine. The pictures in the recipe books had her feeling more nauseous than she already had been.
The paint on the spare room floor was still tacky. Laura threw open the windows and doors to let the gentle breeze blow through in the hope it would speed things along. She pulled
on a t-shirt and a short denim skirt and drove to the supermarket to buy strawberries and cream for tomorrow’s promised pavlova.
There was a flashy white Mercedes SUV parked in front of her house when she returned and a short, roly-poly woman dressed in white capris and a candy pink blouse with a perky collar was walking up the path. Laura suspected the woman’s lipstick would match her blouse perfectly, and when she opened the front door minutes later, she wasn’t disappointed.
‘Doctor O’Connor?’
‘Yes, that’s me.’
‘I hope you don’t mind, but Kaylene Curtis told me where you lived,’ the woman said. She extended her hand. ‘Linda Burns,’ she said. ‘Milt’s wife.’
Laura swallowed her surprise and accepted the proffered hand. ‘Please, call me Laura,’ she said. ‘Would you like to come in?’
‘I won’t keep you long,’ Linda said, twisting her plump fingers together as she followed Laura into the house.
When they reached the kitchen and Linda refused her offer of tea or coffee, Laura said, ‘What can I do for you, Linda?’
The older woman licked her lips and nervously plucked at the hem of her blouse.
‘I’m worried about Milt. He —’ She closed her eyes and Laura was shocked to discover the woman was on the verge of tears.
She gently shepherded Linda into a chair and brought her a glass of water, then pulled up the chair opposite and leaned towards her. ‘Now, start from the beginning.’
‘I’m sorry, but I didn’t know who else to talk to and Kaylene said you were lovely.’
‘So, what’s been happening with your husband?’
Linda sniffed then searched in her pocket for a tissue. ‘He’s got no energy, drags himself about, and he’s grumpy all the time. He’s up to the toilet nine or ten times a night and I hear him grumbling and cursing, but he refuses to talk to me about it, or to go and see anyone, as far as I know.’
‘Has he got his own GP?’
The Doctor Calling Page 24