Night Swimming

by Steph Bowe

  I drop down again. It certainly looked like my dad. I must still be hallucinating.

  I have to go and get the paper for Grandad. I’ll sneak out the back, jump the fence, go cross-country, then double-back once I’m out of sight. I can’t do that. It’s ridiculous and cowardly and the fences are electrified. I have to face him. If it really is him, and this is not some incredibly vivid dream, then he must be here for a reason. You don’t just happen to be in our town. Everyone who comes here intends to.

  I close my curtains, feeling like a very inept spy, and put on yesterday’s T-shirt and jeans. I hear Maude’s nails tapping on the stairs as she climbs. She sits in my doorway, thumping her tail on the floorboards. She knows we have a visitor. Marianne regards Maude from her spot on my bed. When I try to take the stairs, the two of them are suddenly at my feet, clearly trying to trip me up and send me tumbling to my death.

  ‘Girls, get out of the bloody way!’ I mutter, stepping over them.

  I glance at myself in the mirror by the front door, raking my fingers through my hair. A mess. Doesn’t matter. I am expecting a knock, but there’s silence. I peer through the front window, trying to stay out of sight.

  He’s still at the fence.

  I press my back against the wall again. I count to sixty. Not even a footstep on the veranda. I check. Still in the same spot. Still overdressed. Wearing a tie in the country. Grandad only ever wears a tie for weddings and funerals.

  I really do have to get Grandad’s paper or he’ll start to get jittery.

  I open the front door, popping open the umbrella only once I am out of the house. I walk up the drive. He raises his eyebrows in greeting. ‘The house is still here,’ he says. ‘Like something built by the three little pigs. I remember when there were bad storms, it always felt like it would collapse.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ I ask. I don’t mean to sound rude but it comes out that way.

  ‘I’m here to apologise,’ he says. ‘I spoke to my wife and she made me realise how poorly I dealt with everything. I finally got up the courage to drive out.’

  ‘No, I mean, what are you doing standing out the front? Bit weird. Knock on the door. You want a cup of tea or something?’

  He grimaces. ‘I don’t think your mum would be very happy with that.’

  ‘So you drove four hours to stand at the fence?’ My tone is not exactly cordial.

  ‘Ah, I didn’t really think about what would happen once I was here. I am not too good at working out what the right thing to say or do is. As you will have already noticed. It takes me a while to figure things out.’ He scratches his neck. ‘I always imagined you’d try to find me sooner. I expected your mother would get in touch. I left it up to you guys. The more time passed, the more I thought you didn’t have an interest in talking to me. Because I left. Understandable, to be upset by that. You were so young. Not as if you’d miss me.’

  ‘You changed your name,’ I say. ‘We didn’t know where you were or what you did. You could have left a forwarding address.’

  ‘I only call myself Jack professionally,’ he says. ‘It’s a very slight difference…look, I probably did the wrong thing. It’s just that I thought it was all history. So I was…surprised when you turned up. Well, shocked, actually. It’s a shit excuse.’

  I inhale and exhale loudly through my nose. I sound like a bull. It is not an attractive sound.

  ‘It is actually,’ I say. ‘It’s a majorly shit excuse. You don’t have a kid, and then pretend that kid doesn’t exist, and then when that kid pops up and is like, Hey, yeah, I exist and would like to know you, you don’t go, Nah. A good person doesn’t do that. It’s not about being a good father or some rubbish like that. It’s just basic human decency. Our “relationship” doesn’t need to be anything more than exchanging Christmas cards, but even that was too much of a stretch for you.’

  He looks shell-shocked. I have said this all in one breath.

  ‘I never get angry with people,’ I say. My mouth is dry. I swallow. ‘Unless it’s to do with Grandad getting shipped off to an old people’s home. Anyway. That’s not relevant. I would rather not be upset with you, because it’s a very uncomfortable feeling for me.’ My heart is going like a mad thing in my chest. I take three deep breaths and I steady my voice. ‘The thing is, I was only ever a little bit curious. I never missed out on anything. I’m not even upset anymore. It’s okay. You’ve got your life. I’m good.’ And then, embarrassingly, I’m crying. I struggle to continue speaking. ‘Maybe my feelings are a little bit hurt? Mostly, I’m baffled, because I think if I was my kid, even though that’s clearly impossible, I would want to know me. I would be proud of a kid like me.’

  My father nods. And nods and nods and nods. ‘I’d give you a hug,’ he says, eventually. ‘But I’m not certain you’d appreciate that right now.’

  I breathe out in one long breath, try to calm myself. ‘Yeah, bit too soon.’ The rain has eased enough for me to drop the umbrella. ‘You know, when I was a kid, I always thought adults were infallible. They always knew what the right thing to do was, and that’s what they did. As if being over eighteen or becoming a parent somehow made people responsible members of society. Seems a bit stupid now. Just because you survive to adulthood doesn’t mean you automatically make good decisions. I don’t think I’m going to be recruited to some sort of secret club of maturity and conscientiousness next birthday. But I still expect my mum to be good and kind and righteous, because she’s my mum. And she mostly is. And I guess I expected it of you, too.’

  The rain has stopped, but water continues to trickle from his hair to his shoulders. ‘I’m sorry for disappointing you. I don’t know how to convey how much I want to make things right. But that’s what I want, and that’s why I drove up. Of course I’m proud of you. But I don’t know if it’s my place to be proud of you. I can’t take credit.’

  I shake my head.

  ‘I…I think it would be nice if you got to know the boys,’ he says. ‘So does Lisa. My wife. I know it’ll take a while to warm up to the idea, but they’d love to get to know you. I’ve got a lot of stuff to work out myself.’ He is tapping each finger against his thumb in a pattern. He half-smiles. I can tell how crippled he is by anxiety. ‘I am trying my best to be a good person, for what it’s worth.’

  ‘Right, yep, okay,’ I say. I am too overcome to form a longer sentence. I am trying not to get carried away with hope. My father might very well disappoint me again. But still. What an exciting notion. To meet my brothers. They don’t have to be like family. But it’s not such a big deal, just to meet them.

  Nick from the IGA drives past, slowing to a stop outside our house. My father steps forward to avoid water sloshing onto him. It’s pointless given how soaked he is.

  ‘How you going, Kirby?’ says Nick. He gives my dad a smile. Does he recognise him? Can he tell how emotional I am?

  I’m yoga-breathing again. ‘Good,’ I manage.

  ‘You hear about these storms coming in?’ Nick is rarely this chatty. ‘Reckon it’s going to flood?’

  I shake my head. ‘We’ll be right,’ I say.

  Nick nods, staring at my father. ‘I think so, too. You’ll be in later, won’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, have to get Grandad’s paper. I’ll see you soon.’

  He drives off with a wave.

  ‘I have to go to the IGA,’ I tell my father. I probably should have got a lift with Nick.

  ‘I’ll walk with you,’ he says.

  Mr Pool calls to tell me Mrs Hunter has put in an order for new tables and chairs for the pub and that he needs my help. Considering how slowly I work, I find this unconvincing; I think he just misses the company. When I get back from Mr Pool’s that night, Mum has a calculator out at the kitchen table.

  I put on the kettle, check the fridge for some takeaway to heat up, which we’re short on, given I haven’t dared step foot in Purple Emperor, or Saffron Gate for that matter. I take my phone out to check for a message from Clancy, bu
t there’s nothing.

  ‘Spoke to your dad,’ says Mum. ‘On the phone. While he was sitting outside our house in his car. Really does not like confrontation, that man.’

  ‘How’d it go?’ I ask. I take out a container of lentil dhal and slide it into the microwave.

  Mum doesn’t seem agitated or upset or on edge. Just normal. ‘Fine. He tells me you’re going to meet his kids.’

  ‘If you’re okay with it,’ I say quickly.

  She looks at me over her glasses. ‘You are your own person, Kirby. You decide.’

  ‘I don’t want to upset you.’

  Mum sighs, exasperated. ‘It doesn’t upset me. I want you to be happy.’

  ‘Okay. I don’t know if it’ll make me happy. But I think it’s worth it. I’d rather get to know them and realise that they’re awful little shits than regret never getting to know my family when I had the opportunity.’

  Mum glances over at me and smiles. ‘I would not raise small children now for quids. Good luck to him.’

  ‘Don’t forget we’ve got a new arrival. Nathan and Claire are going to try to get some free babysitting, for sure.’

  ‘I’m going to be a great-aunt,’ she says, grinning as she goes back to her calculations. ‘Christ, I’m old.’ Then she adds, ‘It’d be easier for you to get to know those kids if you moved up to Sydney, hey?’

  *

  By the last week of August, the storm warnings on TV are getting intense. Meteorologists gesture wildly in front of their green screens, special effects illustrating how high the water might climb if the dams burst. All of us submerged.

  Even Grandad starts getting edgy about it, echoes the television back at us. ‘Once-in-a-century storm,’ he tells me, eyes wide, gripping the handle of his walking stick. His joints are aching from the weather, so he paces constantly, muttering, ‘Once-in-a-century storm.’

  Mum’s mouth becomes a hard line whenever the weather report comes on. Nathan tells us it’s not worth getting worried about; it’ll all turn out to be nothing. Nathan reminds us that they’re always talking things up on TV, that the news is all about keeping us fearful. Mum looks too concerned to snap back about his blasé attitude, but I guess he’s just trying to defuse the angst in the room.

  Then it starts looking like the storm’s imminent. Even Mr Pool reckons we’re going to flood, and tells me I should take a few days off work again to prepare. It doesn’t worry me, like it did before. I’ve started to get the sense that maybe I want to do something more than build chairs with Mr Pool all my life.

  I think of Clancy: his parents away, ignoring my calls, turning around whenever he sees me in the street. As upset as he is with me, he can’t be on his own in a natural disaster. I tell Grandad I’m going over to Clancy’s to pick him up. I can’t really rely on Grandad to pass on the message, but Mum’s out moving the goats and it’s already started bucketing rain, so I’d better hurry.

  Clancy is not at home, so I head for the restaurant. I have no patience for Stanley and his dawdling today. I yank at his lead to make him hurry up. Clouds are gathering.

  When I finally get to the restaurant, I have to step over a line of sandbags to find that the front door is locked. I give Mrs Hunter a wave; she and Mr and Mrs Down are putting sandbags at the front of the pub and the newsagent’s. There are quite a few people out in the street, that heavy feeling floating between us, because we all know what’s coming but no one is sure how bad it’ll be.

  The kitchen door at the back of the restaurant is locked, too. I bang against the wire door; it rattles in the frame. ‘Clancy!’

  Water is pooling in the gutters at an alarming rate; he can’t stay here, and I have to get back to Mum and Grandad. The door is being unlocked. He’s there, sighing, like he’s reluctant to let me in.

  ‘I’m just doing some prep,’ he says. I follow him over to the kitchen bench, where I see that he has chopped up an insane amount of carrot. His mum can cut carrots into little roses, like works of art. Clancy has no such skill. His looks like a small mountain of orange tanbark. ‘Since the engagement party, Saffron Gate has been going great guns. As Mum says, evolve or die. Not that it’s affecting our business yet, but survival of the fittest, you know? Have to get ahead.’ He chops the next piece of carrot decisively.

  ‘There’s about to be a flood, Clancy. And you’re not going to open the restaurant without your parents here, anyway.’

  He stops. ‘I know. I was just nervous. I couldn’t study. I put everything up high at home and Mrs Hunter gave me sandbags and I couldn’t get through to Mum and Dad on the phone.’ The knife flails in his hand. He looks up, as if he is trying to stop himself from crying.

  ‘Please put the knife down. Come to our house. Your parents would want you to.’

  He puts the knife down and leans against the bench. ‘I don’t want to be stranded at your house for days, Kirby. I’m upset with you at the moment, I don’t know if you’ve worked that out.’

  ‘I’ve been trying to talk to you, Clancy, I know you’re upset. Not communicating isn’t going to help. Talking about your problems is the number one way to solve them. You’ve seen West Side Story and Grease.’

  ‘Of course I’ve seen West Side Story and Grease!’ Clancy shouts. This is a ridiculous point at which to begin shouting, but I’m guessing he’s not really upset about my referencing musicals. ‘Don’t be stupid!’

  My phone rings in the pocket of my jeans.

  ‘You should answer that,’ snaps Clancy. ‘Might be Iris. Don’t know why you’re not with her right now since you love her so much.’

  ‘Don’t be a baby. I’m not answering it until we have this conversation. This is important. And I can care about more than one person, believe it or not. Besides, Iris’ll be fine. She’ll be with her parents and their house is on the hill. You’re on your own.’

  My phone stops ringing, then immediately starts ringing again.

  Clancy harrumphs. ‘We are expecting a flood, Kirby, answer the bloody phone. It might be important. I swear to you we’ll talk after you’ve answered that.’

  I raise my finger for a pinky swear and only once Clancy has acquiesced do I answer my phone.

  ‘Kirby. Where are you?’

  ‘Mum. I’m at Clancy’s. The restaurant.’

  ‘Are his parents there?’

  ‘They’re in Sydney for a wedding. Didn’t you know?’

  Mum sighs. ‘I’m distracted. This flood’s going to come through very soon. You might not have time to get home.’

  ‘I should be home.’

  ‘I do not want you in the street when it happens. The restaurant won’t be swept away. Get up on the roof. Take the water from the drinks fridge with you. You’ve got Stanley?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We’re taking the goats to higher ground here, and I’ll take Marianne and Maude with me, but you can’t leave Stanley outside where you are. The water will channel right down Main Street. Try to stop him wrecking anything over there. Is Grandad with you?’

  ‘No. Isn’t he there with you?’

  Silence.

  ‘Mum.’

  ‘Everything’s fine, Kirby. You stay there. Stay safe with Clancy and Stanley. All right?’

  ‘Is Grandad out in this? Mum! He can’t be out on his own at the best of times. Where could he have gone? We’ve got to find him!’

  ‘Stay there. I will sort it out. Calm down. Panicking will not achieve anything.’

  ‘Mum, we can’t let anything happen to him!’

  ‘I need to get off the phone, Kirby. He’ll be fine. Get water and get on the roof. All right? I love you.’

  I cannot remember my mother ever saying that she loved me. In our family, these things are just a given; you show people you love them through your actions, you don’t necessarily say it.

  ‘I love you, too.’ She’s already hung up.

  I follow Clancy into the empty restaurant. He looks out the front. ‘I don’t reckon the sandbags are going to do much
good.’

  ‘Mum says to get up on the roof.’

  Clancy nods.

  ‘Grandad’s missing, though.’

  I see panic flash in Clancy’s eyes. ‘You should do whatever your mum says. She’ll find him. Your mum takes care of everything. Your mum is the most reliable person I have ever known.’ Clancy has always had a thing about my mum.

  Water begins soaking into the carpet. I guess they’ll have to do their overdue refurbishment after this. I find a plastic bag behind the counter and fill it with water bottles from the drinks fridge.

  When we head out the front, we realise we’re not going to get far. The water is rising, and rain is teeming down. I almost get swept away, the water up to my knees. The ironwork on the awning hangs low enough to allow us to climb up onto the roof, Clancy first. He then heaves Stanley up, then the bag with water bottles, then me. The sky is dark, even though it’s not yet nightfall. Clancy still seems upset with me, even in the midst of a severe weather event. I dial Mum, but can’t get through, and Clancy can’t reach his parents, either. The rain is too heavy to see if anyone else is on their roof.

  Main Street turns into a creek, then a raging river. Soon I forget what it used to look like, and imagine that water must always have flowed here. It’s strange how quickly something as familiar as a street can become unrecognisable. The water is black and churning. I have to stop looking over the edge, because I’m afraid I’ll slip and fall in.

  There’s a flash of lightning. I breathe through the panic in my chest and watch Clancy mouth numbers, counting each second. It’s a long way away. But the resulting grumble makes Stanley panic, legs kicking. He yanks at his lead, dragging us towards the edge of the roof. Water is rushing by, a dark torrent. If he goes in, he won’t come back out. If he goes in, he’ll end up a long way away, if we ever find him.