Somebody's Crying

by Somebody's Crying (retail) (epub)

  ‘What’s funny?’ Tom’s mouth is almost touching her ear. She turns to look at him and decides that he has the most beautiful eyes she has ever seen. So melancholy! As though he knows about grave and desperate things that she can only guess at. Then, when he smiles it’s . . . wham! The sadness disappears and they’re as bright as the ocean on a good day. They tell her everything might, in fact probably will, go on forever, and it will all be good.

  ‘Nothing,’ she mumbles.

  ‘Liar!’ he breathes, and they both laugh.

  They turn off the main sealed road onto a dirt track. It is slippery because of the recent rain, but Jonty doesn’t slow down. After the third skid where the car almost ends up off the road altogether, Tom yells at him, ‘For fucksake, slow down, Jonty!’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘I don’t want my car wrecked!’

  ‘It’s a heap anyway!’ Jonty laughs.

  ‘Yeah well,’ Tom snarls, ‘it’s my heap.’

  When they get out in the little parking place at the boundary of the national park, they are suddenly three individuals again. Alice shivers as she looks around at the few scraggly trees and low-lying hills all around. She remembers it being more spectacular than this . . . scrub. With the music and close warmth of the cabin gone, the stillness is almost overpowering. So chilly, too! As if they have suddenly landed in another world and they might have to learn the simple things all over again.

  ‘Hey, let’s eat while the pizzas are still vaguely warm!’ Tom is at the car, opening the back door.

  Alice helps to carry the food and drink, the rug and the coats. Her cousin stays apart, hands thrust deep into his pockets, scowling distractedly as he looks about. He seems to have dived into some inner, private place.

  Then she remembers. It’s one of those memories that surface quickly, out of the blue, like a hard whack to the face. This is where he came the night . . . the night her mother was murdered. This place. He was found out here cold and traumatised and when questioned he could only gabble incoherently. What had he talked to her mother about? What had he . . . seen? Why did he want to come here tonight?

  Once they have everything, Jonty follows them through the small gate and they walk in silence up the little dirt track towards the caves.

  ‘What about here?’ Tom suggests when they reach a small grassy enclave sheltered by huge boulders on one side and a couple of scraggly acacias. ‘We can lean our backs against the rocks, and it’s near enough to the car when the storm starts.’ He looks at Alice. ‘You okay with this?’

  She nods.

  ‘Let’s just eat,’ Jonty calls. ‘I’m starving.’

  They throw down the rug and put the boxes in the middle then settle themselves down. Tom hands Jonty a beer and Alice a can of lemonade, then opens the first box – tomatoes, ham, olives and peppers on a still-warm crust.

  Alice has never tasted anything so delicious. She has three slices before she can even think or remember where she is. In fact, two whole large pizzas are consumed before anything like a conversation resumes.

  Tom and Jonty are half-lying on the rug as they munch away and Alice is sitting between them.

  ‘That’s a finch.’

  ‘No! It is a swallow, you idiot.’

  ‘A swallow is a European bird, Mullaney!’

  ‘Ever heard of birds migrating to warmer climates?’ Tom explains that his grandfather had been a birdwatcher, and tries to impress them with his knowledge of the different types. But he’s forgotten most of what he used to know, so the other two tease him about being a fraud. They get onto birdwatching and scenic photography and famous photographers working in the field. Alice listens quietly, wishing she could join in, but she hasn’t heard of any of the names.

  Eventually no one can eat any more. Jonty gets up to stretch. He takes a stroll over to the nearest cave.

  ‘Come check this out!’ he yells for them to join him.

  They stand on the edge of the first big crater-like hole. In the strange, low, grey light Alice can only just make out the layers of rock, full of cracks and crevices, leading off into tunnels. Moss and grasses grow here and there, down into the depths. Little birds, swallows and wagtails mainly, tweet and hop in front of them. The quietness is actually full of noise.

  She can hear the far-off sound of cows, and the occasional sheep or motor. She can hear Jonty’s breathing, and the small sniffs and coughs Tom makes when he clears his throat. Every now and then she fancies she can hear her own heartbeat, and she is filled all over again with the weird feeling that they’ve landed in a new world.

  ‘Want to walk on a bit?’ Jonty says.

  ‘Need a coffee first.’ Tom looks at Alice, who nods.

  ‘But we’ll run out of light,’ Jonty protests.

  Tom shrugs. ‘We didn’t come out here to do a fucking hike, Jonno.’

  Tom and Alice head back to the picnic site, leaving Jonty looking down the hole. The two of them sit down on the rug again and Tom pours the coffee. Sitting on the ground with her chin on her knees, Alice is momentarily uneasy as she watches her cousin’s back. He is still squatting over the cave. What’s he thinking about?

  ‘Top stuff this,’ Tom grins, as he hands her a cup of steaming coffee in a red plastic mug. ‘Pure instant coffee. You want sugar?’

  ‘You got any?’

  ‘Of course!’

  He gives her a spoonful and then stirs three heaped ones into his own cup.

  Alice smiles. ‘What about your teeth?’

  ‘Perfect,’ Tom bares his fangs and laughs, ‘not one filling. How is the coffee?’

  ‘Perfect,’ she says softly, loving the way his eyes drift about but then always come back to her. It’s like he’s hungry to keep looking at her. And the coffee is perfect. It warms her all the way down into her core.

  ‘You got lucky then.’ He is nearer now, smiling into her eyes. ‘I worked for a week making coffees in the University Café on Lygon Street. So I know my stuff. I’m an expert.’

  ‘Only a week?’

  ‘I kept boiling the milk!’ He admits with a laugh, throwing back his head.

  ‘They sacked you?’ This amazes her for some reason.

  ‘No way,’ he grins, ‘they let me go.’

  ‘Really!’ Her surprise is genuine. ‘But I thought you’d be good at everything. I mean, I thought you’d be one of those people who gets everything right!’

  ‘But . . . I do Alice!’ Tom laughs and takes her hand, caressing it with his own. ‘I was a miserable failure at making coffee, but I’m bloody ace at everything else. Promise!’

  Alice turns back toward Jonty, who is still in the same position. Should they call him over for a drink? But it’s so nice being here with just Tom, talking about nothing and watching each other. Jonty is still standing in the same spot, looking down into the cave, deep in thought. Is he remembering being out here that night? Alice shivers suddenly. Why was he so keen to come here?

  When she turns back, Tom is lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, facing her, one hand mucking around with some little twigs he’s found, building a tiny square structure in the dirt. He looks up briefly.

  ‘Jonno is a good guy,’ he says quietly. She hears the strained tone and waits for him to continue, but he just keeps building his little stick structure. It’s about an inch high now and so she collects a fistful of her own sticks and passes them over. Tom thanks her with a smile.

  ‘You guess my thoughts sometimes,’ Alice ventures shyly. ‘I was thinking about Jonty just then.’

  ‘He is a good guy,’ Tom mutters again.

  ‘He let my gran have it once and . . . that takes guts!’

  ‘She’s a tough one, is she?’

  ‘Is she ever!’

  ‘Jonno always did have guts,’ Tom says thoughtfully. He clears the twigs away with one hand and rolls onto his back, shuts his eyes and smiles. ‘Tell me what he said to your gran.’

  As Alice talks, Tom edges his body closer. Still o
n his back, he slides down a bit and leans his shoulder against her arm as she sits, her chin on her knees, describing the scene. She loves the familiarity of this. The closeness it implies. She can look down and see the top of his head, the way the curls spread out from a central point. I’ve got a name, Jonty had said that day. She’d really liked that. He’d refused to be intimidated by his rich bossy old grandmother.

  ‘I watch you closely, Alice Wishart,’ Tom muses softly, and turning on his side reaches one hand up and buries it in her hair. Alice smiles down into his face and briefly touches his hand entwined in her hair.

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘I do,’ he breathes, ‘and I think about you, too.’

  ‘When?’ she laughs.

  ‘When?’ Tom laughs too, ‘Try pretty much all the time!’

  ‘No you don’t!’

  ‘Yes I do,’ Tom winds her hair around his fingers. ‘I wake up in the morning and you’re there. I go to bed and . . .’ he withdraws his hand. ‘I’ve said too much already! You’ll think I’m a complete dork . . . spinning you a line!’

  ‘You’re not a dork,’ Alice says shyly.

  ‘I’m not?’

  ‘You’re not.’

  He takes her hand. This is totally new ground for her. New and wonderful ground! She has never before sat out in the open under a wide, darkening sky holding hands with someone. Nobody has ever told her before that he thinks about her all the time, or kissed her hand. It makes her giddy with happiness, and slightly afraid.

  ‘Sorry about the other day.’ Tom rolls onto his side, propping his head up with one hand. ‘In the darkroom, I mean.’

  ‘No,’ Alice frowns, ‘I’m sorry! I just can’t . . .’

  ‘You don’t have to explain!’ Tom says. Jonty is walking back towards them. If he’s noticed the hand holding he doesn’t let on.

  ‘Want to go now?’ he asks.

  ‘Not really,’ Tom laughs.

  ‘You always were a lazy prick!’

  Jonty picks up Tom’s leather coat lying on the side of the rug. ‘I remember this!’

  ‘Luke used to wear it to our footy matches,’ Jonty tells Alice as he rubs his hand over the soft leather. ‘I can see him on the sidelines yelling out C’mon the demons and smoking.’ He slips the jacket on. ‘How is your old man?’

  ‘He’s all right,’ Tom says easily, sitting up a bit to look at Jonty. ‘Clothes always did fit you better than me, Jonno’.

  Alice sees that it’s true, Jonty has the better physique. Compared to Tom, who is too thin, Jonty has a good chest and muscled arms. He strikes a few poses in Luke’s jacket, making the others laugh. With his fair hair and even, chiselled features he could be a fashion model.

  ‘You can’t have it, though!’ Tom tells him

  ‘Sorry, mate,’ Jonty grins, buttoning it up, ‘mine now.’

  ‘No way! Hey, Jonno, thanks for introducing me to your cousin,’ Tom says lightly, grinning at Alice.

  ‘Did I introduce you?’ Jonty laughs.

  ‘Well . . . sort of.’

  ‘You’ve got her blushing, Mullaney!’

  ‘I’m not!’ Alice laughs. But she is and what’s more, she doesn’t care. Tom is squeezing her shoulders and Jonty is shaking his head, trying not to smile, embarrassed but also pleased. She can see that. He is pleased for the both of them.

  ‘Bloody great chick!’ Tom jokes and the three of them break up laughing. It is such a lovely moment. Everything seems so clear and . . . sparkling, like that piece of crystal hanging in her grandmother’s window. Depending on the sky, the colour is faintly different everytime she sees it. So lovely and transparent.

  ‘Come on, you two,’ Jonty yells. ‘Let’s just have a bit of a commune with nature before we go back. Just walk up the hill a bit. I want to see if I can find this particular rock.’

  ‘What rock?’

  ‘Just a rock.’

  ‘It’s going to piss down!’

  ‘You’re a weakling, Mulla,’ Jonty punches Tom’s arm. ‘Come on, just a few minutes!’

  ‘Okay,’ Tom holds out a hand to Alice, ‘just to please this idiot we’ll go ona quick trek, eh?’ She takes his hand and stands up too. Tom looks up at the blackening sky and groans. ‘Better put all this stuff away first though,’ he says.

  Motivated now to get the walk in before the rain, they scramble about, hurriedly packing up their things. Alice grabs the rug. Tom chucks the thermos, cups and sugar into the empty plastic bag, and Jonty grabs the empty pizza boxes. Jonty is first to the car. He opens the back door and throws in the boxes. Suddenly the wind shifts and the temperature falls. They all feel it and turn to each other. The air is now heavy and grey. Splat! The first fat drops splatter down.

  ‘I reckon we should go back home now.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘The road out of here will get bad fast,’ Tom says.

  ‘Stop being an old woman!’ Jonty reaches into the car and throws his own jacket at Tom.

  ‘Put this on. We’ll be right.’

  Tom sighs and does what he’s told. Jonty’s jacket is a good-quality waterproof that will keep the wind and rain out. Alice is slipping on one much the same. Tom pulls a cigarette out of his jeans pocket and sticks it in his mouth.

  ‘You got a light?’ he asks Alice.

  ‘I don’t smoke.’

  ‘Yes you do,’ he smiles. ‘What about outside the court that time?’

  ‘That was my first ever,’ she laughs recklessly.

  ‘Yeah?’ he grins at her, then puts one hand under her chin and kisses her nose. ‘I’m honoured!’

  ‘Come on you pathetic little lovebirds!’ Jonty is hopping from one foot to the other anxiously. ‘I want to check out this massive rock. There will be a lighter in my jacket.’

  They walk off together towards the trees, Tom holding Alice’s hand and tapping around the pockets of Jonty’s jacket with his other hand for the lighter. The rain holds off, but the wind has begun to blow like the fury.

  ‘So where is it?’ Tom shouts above the noise of the wind at Jonty, who is walking on ahead. ‘I need nicotine now, man.’

  ‘Pocket!’ Jonty calls back. ‘In one of the pockets somewhere.’

  Tom lets go of Alice’s hand as he searches though Jonty’s pockets. He grins as he pulls out a hanky, and then a twenty-dollar note and a few train tickets.

  ‘You always did carry a lot of shit, Jonno!’ he calls to Jonty’s receding back, as a wad of used tissues comes next. Jonty walks back impatiently when he sees the other two have stopped. He and Alice watch Tom dive into the inside breast pocket. Out comes a small address book then a couple of biros.

  ‘Ah!’ he cries triumphantly, ‘some other little treasure here in the corner!’ He opens his hand to see what he has found.

  In the middle of Tom’s palm is Lillian’s necklace, a small diamond heart on a chain of gold. Tom slumps a little. Holding it at one end, he lets it dangle in the air between them.

  Alice takes a step backwards and then another, staring at the necklace. The magic stones shine in the rain and quickening dark like something alive.

  Jonty stares at the necklace too, as though in a trance. Tom looks at Jonty. The necklace swings a little in slow round circles. Around them the trees creak and bend with the wind.

  The knowledge that the necklace has been sitting in Jonty’s pocket for the last three years explodes into Alice’s life like an inexpertly detonated bomb. Everything is flying up in the air again and not coming down. It can’t be! What does this mean? Oh please no. She thinks of him with the dog earlier, then settling in behind the steering wheel. Ya gonna love this, Alice! Jonty was her brother. The one she never had.

  How long do the three of them just stand there staring at the necklace? It feels like forever. When is someone going to say something? When is one of them going to explain?

  ‘That belongs to my mother,’ Alice eventually whispers. She reaches out and takes it from Tom. Alice closes her fist tightly around the necklace
and collapses onto her knees, feeling the shock waves race through her. Tom squats beside her, tries to put an arm around her shoulders, but she pushes him away.

  ‘I remember now.’ Jonty’s voice is devoid of emotion.

  ‘What do you remember, Jonno?’ Tom says sharply.

  ‘I was there,’ Jonty mutters. ‘I remember now. I was there.’ He begins to stumble off like a drunkard, away from them, up the track leading into the trees.

  But Tom gets up and hauls him back. Jonty tries to resist at first. They scuffle a few yards from Alice, but in the end Jonty allows himself to be pushed down onto the ground next to Alice. Tom kneels between them. So it’s the three of them on their knees on the dirt in the smattering rain, Jonty breathing heavily, muttering oh shit and jeez with his eyes closed, picking up handfuls of the soft soil and letting it run through his hands.

  ‘Come on, Jonty,’ Tom shouts into his face. ‘What do you remember?’

  Jonty

  She was sitting at her little wood slat table out in the backyard, smoking a cigarette, drinking from her crystal glass and looking up at the sky.

  ‘Hi, there.’

  ‘Jonno!’ Her face jerked around. ‘God! You gave me a fright.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I walked towards her, ‘but I’ve got news!’

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I hope it’s good. Pull up a seat.’

  She didn’t seem all that pleased to see me but I knew she’d be pleased when she heard the plan. Anyway, Lillian sometimes took time to warm up. I was used to that.

  I began to talk but I couldn’t stay sitting down. I was so edgy that I kept jumping up and sitting down again, striding up and down in front of her, stopping to lean my hands on the back of the chair, gesticulating to the heavens. She stayed very still as I talked – just sat there stiffly, smoking and listening as I outlined my plan.

  ‘Oh, Jonno!’ she said. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘What?’ I was stunned.

  ‘I wasn’t serious!’ she said. ‘For God’s sake!’

  ‘Yes, you were!’ I said.

  ‘Darling, I’d been drinking!’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Jonno,’ she sighed deeply, as though talking to a very young child, ‘I’d drunk rather a lot when I suggested . . . all that.’