Long Gone the Corroboree

by Tony Parsons

  I hesitated at the door of his bedroom to see if he was following me. He was, so I went into the room and began removing my clothes. Clay looked at me as I got down to the basics. “Are you sure this is what you really want, Gillian?” he asked.

  “More than anything in the world, Clay,” I said thickly.

  He nodded and gave me his gentle smile. Now, minus all my clothes, I lay on Clay’s bed and waited for him to take his clothes off and to see him with his passion aroused. Presently, Clay came and stood beside the bed. I looked up at him as his eyes roved over me, and I began to feel the warmth of my arousal.

  “Am I all right, Clay?”

  “You’re absolutely all right,” he said.

  I held out my arms and he fell into them. I hugged him tightly and we kissed, and then Clay trailed his fingers across my breasts. Any discomfort between us fell away and passion ignited. No longer were my thoughts about the child I hoped we were making, but about the man who caressed me and the love I felt for him, even if it was only passion that was being returned.

  It was after our first session of lovemaking that I remembered what Shelley Carruthers had said about Clay as a lover. She was right. Clay was terrific. No one had ever made me feel as he did. And I wondered if I would ever feel that way again.

  To achieve my goal, I’d decided to play the perfect guest while Billy was home, and the wanton lover when he wasn’t. I showered and dressed decorously before Billy arrived home and when he did, he gave me a friendly kiss and a big hug just as his mentor had done.

  “You’ve grown a lot since I was last here, Billy.”

  “I’ve had to buy him a heap of new clothes,” Clay said and there was a kind of pride in his voice, one I hoped I would one day have the chance to feel for a child of my own. Of our own.

  That night, we had a sing-song together and it was as if I’d never left Jerogeree. And I didn’t want to leave it again. But I’d come for a reason and next morning, as soon as Billy left on the school bus, I took Clay to bed again and repeated our lovemaking again after lunch.

  This went on for three days, by which time, I felt I’d done all that I could to achieve my primary objective, and perhaps to make Clayton Steele love me just a little. Next morning, I said goodbye to Billy before he left on the bus and after another passionate session with Clay, I told him I was leaving.

  I hesitated before saying anything to Clay. To thank him seemed entirely inappropriate, as he’d obviously enjoyed the process as much as I had, but I said it anyway.

  “Well, now Miss Brooker,” he said with a smile. “I’ve done all I can for you and if you’ve got your days right, I’d say that you stand a good chance of becoming pregnant.”

  “I realise you don’t love me, Clay, but you do like me, don’t you?” I asked.

  “I like you a lot, Gillian. I’ll always remember you and you’ll always hold a special place in my heart and in Billy’s, too. Not because of what we’ve had together here, but because I think you’re a very sweet person,” he said.

  This really broke me up and I was crying a lot when I kissed him goodbye. I hoped that he’d always remember me and that he’d given me what I most wanted from him. Apart from my own selfish desire to have a child by him, I felt that the world would be a much poorer place without at least one child by Clayton Steele.

  “Goodbye, Clay, and thank you… for everything,” I said.

  “You’ll let me know, won’t you?” he said.

  “Of course, I will.”

  It was desperately hard to leave Clay but it would have been much harder if he’d knocked me back and I’d made the trip for nothing. I was satisfied that I’d done everything honestly and up front and hadn’t tried to be sneaky about it. If I’d tried to pull the wool over his eyes, he’d never have respected me. This way, we’d always have that between us, and I hoped that before long, we’d have a lot more.

  Nine months later, I had a gorgeous baby boy whom I called Clement, which was as close to Clayton as I could dream up. It was the best I could do to have a part of Clayton Steele, and though I’d hoped he’d come after me and ask me to return to Jerogeree with him, I never regretted what I’d done.

  There were moments when I felt very low at the thought of Clay alone in bed at Jerogeree. On one occasion, I felt very weepy after reading about Clay in an interview he’d given to a feature writer from a leading woman’s magazine. The interviewer wrote lyrically about Clay’s wild, lovely garden and his vast herb collection. It brought every detail back to me. After all, I had Clay’s son and that was what really mattered to me. No other woman in the world that I knew of could say that.

  We exchanged cards at Christmas and I sent cards to Glenda, too, but I asked Clay not to tell her about Clement mainly because I was concerned about how Deborah might react to the news. It would’ve been different if I could’ve explained my behaviour in person. I wasn’t confident that I’d be able to hide Clement from them forever but I thought that time would be on my side. If Clay kept knocking Debbie back, she’d probably settle for another man and then, she wouldn’t be so concerned about my liaison with Clay. I suppose I was naïve to imagine I could get away with it for long, and I didn’t.

  When Clement was about two and a half, Glenda phoned me to say she was coming to Sydney for a legal conference and wondered if she could meet up with me. She didn’t ask straight out if she could stay with me, but I could tell that was what she wanted. She’d been very kind to me, so of course, I couldn’t very well not ask her to stay. For Clement’s sake, I’d moved back to live in the old family home on the North Shore as I considered it a far more suitable place and environment in which to bring up a child. The family doctor, who’d been a close friend of my father, was close by and there were good shops at Chatswood, which obviated any need to go into the city.

  Clement was sleeping when Glenda arrived, but he toddled out while we were chatting over afternoon tea. It didn’t take the perceptive Glenda very long to work out who Clement’s father was. She was an awfully smart lady and she’d had so much experience in the courts that it was virtually impossible for anyone to put anything over her.

  “Did he happen on your first or second visit?” she asked.

  “The second.”

  “Ah. Does Clay know about him?”

  “Absolutely. I couldn’t have had him without Clay’s co-operation,” I said.

  She raised her eyebrows at that, so I gave her an abridged account of Clement’s conception, less the intimate details.

  "Why?" she asked.

  “I did it for me, Glenda… to have a part of Clay. I could see that although he liked me, he didn’t love me. He didn’t make a move in my direction, so I knew I’d have to do the running. Debbie had told me she still loved Clay and wanted him so I reckoned I didn’t stand much chance against her. She was younger and better-looking and very accessible. Then, there was Billy,” I said.

  “You could have stayed longer and tried a bit harder,” Glenda said.

  “I didn’t want to complicate Clay’s life. He was so happy there with his writing and Billy. And I could see how much Debbie wanted him. So, we had a fling and I gained a son… Clay’s son. And if Clay never marries, there’s at least one child by him to, hopefully, make the world a better place,” I said.

  “Debbie still hasn’t snagged Clay,” Glenda said. “Oh, she still wants him but he doesn’t want her. I doubt he wants any woman. Who knows? Maybe he’ll do something when Billy leaves. Clay has taken his guardianship of Billy very seriously. The boy has some money behind him now and should have a great future if all the success he’s had doesn’t go to his head.”

  “You think a lot of Clay, don’t you?”

  Glenda nodded. “I think Clay is the most thoroughly decent man I’ve ever known.”

  It was time to ask what had been in my mind for a long time for the simple reason that I felt Glenda might be in the mood to confide in me. “I know you’ll probably consider it awfully nosey of me to ask bu
t were you and Clay ever…” I hesitated while I searched for the right word, “Close?” I ended rather tamely.

  “Yes, I’ve slept with Clay. I needed to get some knots out of my system and I thought it would do Clay a lot of good. He hadn’t been with a woman since his treatment and wondered if he was still all right in that department. I don’t have to tell you that he was. It did us both a lot of good. If I’d been younger, I would’ve tried to grab Clay. Perhaps I should have, anyway. What’s age? It’s a state of mind. The difference in our ages has never been a bar to the way we get on together,” she said.

  “So, what are the chances of Clay and Debbie getting together?” I asked.

  “Not very good would be my assessment. I think she certainly loves him and she’s carried a torch for him for a long time but Clay is a very special kind of man. It’s unrealistic to expect that a man made in his mould should be a great husband and father. The fact is that Clay doesn’t appear to want to be a father since his illness. That might sound weird in the light of the effort he’s put into looking after Billy all these years. Living there at Jerogeree, Clay can’t forget the awful treatment handed out to the Gubbi Gubbi by the original inhabitant of his cottage. And with Billy being a descendant of those old people, I think Clay feels a sense of responsibility for what happened then, and to Billy later. In his own way, maybe he’s trying to make amends for all the atrocities.”

  Glenda paced my kitchen floor. “When all is said and done, Gillian, writing is Clay’s life. I don’t say that Clay’s opposed to an occasional frolic in bed because he’s a man with normal needs but he doesn’t appear to want the responsibility of a wife and children. I think Debbie would be far better off with a man who thinks she’s the greatest thing in his life… someone perhaps more run-of-the-mill than Clay. Of course, it’s very difficult to persuade Debbie to that point of view,” Glenda said.

  “I understand what you mean,” I said. “The sort of woman who would suit Clay would be one who’d be prepared to live a very simple life and not make any unrealistic demands on him.”

  “I couldn’t have put it better,” Glenda said with a smile. “What high-spirited, intelligent, young woman would be happy to accept that kind of role?”

  “Do you think that Clay and Debbie have…?”

  “Made love? I doubt it very much. I know my daughter very well and I don’t see that kind of difference in her. Maybe Clay simply doesn’t like Debbie well enough for all that she’s a beautiful and intelligent young woman. You’re a good calibre of woman and you said you had to make the advances with Clay. Perhaps he’s just a gentleman, but in Clay’s case, it seems to me that it smacks of indifference to women as companion objects. At least, to the normal notion of courting a woman and all it entails. But it isn’t that simple, Gillian. I know that Clay is very fond of me and after my ex-husband, Clay is a jewel. I’ve thought that if Clay and Debbie don’t get together, I might retire early from the bench and look after him. I wouldn’t do it while I’m a magistrate. I could take a lot of Clay and Jerogeree after the life I’ve had. I’ve heard enough of life’s problems. I’ve wanted to paint for years. I mean, take lessons and do it properly. I think Clay would endorse me trying to develop my artistic interests.”

  I thought about Glenda looking after Clay and that hurt a bit. Well, more than a bit. I sensed that she’d be able to give him everything he needed too. There was less of a suitability gap between her and Clay than between Debbie and Clay. Glenda had had a career and was ready to give it away, while Debbie, who was now doing her Masters and had plans to do a PhD, was at the beginning of hers. Glenda could devote herself to being at Jerogeree with Clay while Debbie would have to devote most of her time to her studies.

  “There’s also the matter of Billy,” Glenda went on. “Billy will soon become his own boss. I presume he’ll go on tour as he’s certainly good enough. How will he manage without Clay to guide him? That’s the big question. He has a hot mother, to use a crude term, and he certainly has an eye for girls, and they appear to like him. So, how will he handle his independence and his money? Clay’s done everything humanly possible to guide Billy but he can’t go on being a nursemaid to him. Billy needs a good agent so Clay can hand over the management of his affairs to him or her. I wouldn’t go to Clay while Billy is there. Maybe when Billy goes back to his mother and Tess.”

  The picture of Clay and Glenda together at Jerogeree brought home to me how deeply Glenda felt about Clay. She’d had a very unsatisfactory husband and now, before she got any older, she wanted a bash at a better relationship. Glenda made me feel ashamed that I’d opted to leave Clay rather than stay on any terms. Instead I’d thought Debbie had the running with Clay and I’d meekly capitulated to her.

  “Will you keep in touch, Glenda? Clay writes long books and short letters. I believe that even when he thought he was dying, he wrote mere scraps of letters and he hasn’t changed. It’s very frustrating at times.”

  So, Glenda went back to her magisterial duties and all the problems implicit in that role while I enjoyed life with my son, and Clay’s son. It seemed that both Glenda and I wanted Clay but whereas it appeared she might do something about it, I lacked the guts to pre-empt her. There was also Clement to consider. I had him booked into Shore, which was my father’s old school and although that was a fair way off, I wanted him to go to a good preparatory school prior to beginning there. Responsible parenthood imposed certain responsibilities and to some extent at least, dictated how one could live one’s life. But when I had time to daydream, I thought of how it’d been when Clay and I had been together and I speculated about how it might be for Glenda. Based on my own experience, I thought that if Glenda moved to Jerogeree to look after Clay, she’d have a very enjoyable early retirement. Maybe after all her years of trying to sort out other people’s problems, she thoroughly deserved it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Steele gave a small party for Billy’s 18th birthday. They had the function in a marquee at Lilly’s farm because she felt less conscious about the wheelchair there. Billy was very moderate in his party list, which he’d limited to about forty people and at least half of these were his relations. Billy especially wanted both Glenda and Deborah to be at his party but neither attended. Glenda told Clay that she wouldn’t be comfortable about being in the company of several people who’d appeared before her in court, and doubted they’d be comfortable either, while Debbie was in the Northern Territory on some research project.

  Steele recognised that Billy couldn’t be tied to him forever and that he’d have to be given the freedom to develop both his career and his life. If he messed it up, it would be his own doing. While Billy played both the piano and guitar, it was his voice that so many people wanted to hear. Up to now, Steele had picked the gigs Billy attended and he hadn’t allowed him to go too far afield but he had his own van now, which had been fitted out for him to live in as he drove from gig to gig.

  Billy’s party was only one of a number of events which happened, so it seemed to Steele, in a continual stream and which completely negated his hopes for a quiet life. Indeed, as Steele told Glenda, he’d never lived through a period anything like it. Much of what happened involved Glenda, as she was in possession of information which she was withholding from her daughters for perfectly valid reasons. Both she and Deborah had managed to refrain from mentioning to Donna that Clayton Steele was a resident of the district and had been for some years. This wasn’t only for Steele’s benefit but because Glenda had no wish to see Donna leave Britain before she’d finished her economics degree and, knowing how obsessed she’d been by Steele’s writing, she couldn’t be sure that Donna wouldn’t follow in Debbie’s footsteps if she learned that Steele was now accessible.

  The second secret Glenda held concerned the existence of Steele’s son, Clement. She’d asked Gillian Brooker to withhold this choice bit of information from Debbie, at least until she’d finished her studies. The last thing she’d wanted was for Debbie to go to pie
ces because another woman had achieved more with Steele than she’d been able to. Glenda realised that she was treading a dangerous path and that Debbie might never forgive her for withholding this information but she was prepared to risk it for the sake of her daughter’s wellbeing. Glenda was well aware that there was a time limit on how long she could keep Clement’s existence secret and that both Donna and Debbie would be devastated that she hadn’t levelled with them. The day would come when Glenda’s secrets would have to be revealed to her two highly educated and very intelligent daughters, and when that happened, there was only one place she would find real understanding and that was with Clay Steele. But the moment of truth was not to be long delayed…

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sunshine, everlasting sunshine, poured down on the monoliths of the Glass House Mountains that stood as perpetual reminders of the antiquity of the country. The same sunshine poured down on Jerogeree and warmed the ground which, with moisture from either creek or sky, produced a microcosm of an old, old world, a world in miniature. It was formless yet fantastic in the abundance of its vegetation. The scent of hundreds of flowering shrubs and trees mingled with the aroma of drying herbs and drowned the senses. Birds of many varieties called from the trees that ringed the dwelling. Lorikeets squabbled noisily for millet seeds and a pair of pale-headed rosellas sat in dignified silence as they waited for their turn at the dish.

  A man walked up from the creek and two lorikeets circled above him. He was dressed in only a pair of brief blue shorts and water glistened on his body. He was carrying a yellowbelly which he proceeded to scale and gut on a large waist-high stump beneath a large magnolia, as a sociable magpie waited beside the man for the innards that would presently come its way. It was aware of the routine.