Season of Hate

by Costello, Michael

  "I think it best we have our sandwiches out here."

  Doug couldn't hold in his thoughts any longer.

  "You told us she was dead. You lied!" he spat out. It could have been me stating the very same.

  "No son, I didn't lie. I never said your mother was dead. I said something like 'your mother's no longer living with us'. Not dead. I'm sorry if I ... All this time you thought ... Oh fellas, I'm so sorry. I was trying to explain as best I could to two three year olds what had happened between your mum and me. I should have put it better. I'm sorry."

  "Look I don't want to stir up any trouble, Harry. I just came back to …"

  "You came back," Dad smiled. "That's a start." She looked away and took a packet of 'Craven A' cigarettes from her handbag and lit one nervously as Dad disappeared inside again. We all just sat there with nothing much to say, Doug and I staring at her face through puffs of smoke. I felt awkward sitting there. This was our mother, but we didn't know her at all.

  "You're very pretty," Doug ventured. My thoughts exactly.

  "Why thank you," she smiled coquettishly with a tilt of her head. "But time and the weather are a woman's worse enemies. So tell me, how are you doing at school?" she faltered, looking around while trying to make small talk.

  "I topped the class in spelling and arithmetic," Doug boasted. I looked at him but said nothing to destroy his lie. She gave him a dimpled half smile.

  "That's excellent. And you, Pat?"

  "I topped it in writing and social studies." I hadn't but wasn't about to let Doug get away completely with big-noting himself, without adding my own fabrication. But as I finished speaking, a smirk came over Doug's face. She saw it too.

  "Oh I see. I don't know whether I'm talking to two geniuses or a couple of wise guys," she smiled. And we smiled back. We couldn't think of anything else to say so we just sat there looking at her as she puffed on her cigarette. To us she was strange and exotic, like some star in a Hollywood picture.

  After a while Dad returned with a tray of mixed quartered sandwiches and four glasses of cordial. The three of us ate in awkward silence but she didn't even take a bite. Dad was the first to speak.

  "You're looking well."

  "You've done a great job with the boys."

  "We've plenty of room if you'd like to stay."

  "With her? Thanks, but I'm booked in at the Exchange. I'm leaving on the morning train."

  "Tomorrow?"

  Dad looked confused and she very uncomfortable, moving about in her seat as she stubbed out her cigarette on her plate before lighting another straight away. Nan would have been furious if she saw what she just did to her good plate. Doug noted it as well. Dad suggested Doug and I go inside so they could talk.

  "I hope you will stay. Pat and I would like it if you would," Doug said as we got up.

  Once inside, we got as close as possible to the window to hear what was being discussed, while remaining out of sight. Nan was already standing there. She didn't say a word, just put a finger to her lips and let us stand there with her, listening.

  "Harry, the reason I came …"

  "You're still as beautiful as …"

  "Harry please. Just listen. I'm not coming back. Neither of us could make it work. And we both tried." There was a moment where neither of them spoke. I looked at Doug. We both felt an empty sort of … sadness, I guess. It would have been nice if she had said 'yes' and stayed, I thought.

  "Things'll be different, I promise." There was an anxious plea in his voice.

  "I could never be the wife you need or deserve. And I'd die out here."

  "You'll never know, unless you give it a try. Please."

  "I did that, remember? The old bag's right about one thing, you can't keep carrying a torch." Nan bristled, narrowing her eyes and setting her jaw.

  "The boys need a mother," Dad argued.

  "I've met someone." It went quiet again for a second.

  "Who?"

  "Richard. You don't know him. He owns the pub I work at. He loves me and wants to marry me." We were waiting for Dad to speak, but only she continued. "I only came because I didn't just want to post them without explanation. I've got these papers I need you to sign and lodge. I've also written out the details about the – well, you've got sufficient grounds. It's all in there. I'm not after anything from you. I'm sorry. I know you're strict Catholic, but a divorce is the only way for both of us to move on with our …"

  "Divorce?" Dad sounded stunned. "Claire, I still love you. We can make …"

  "And I loved you – once."

  "What about the boys? You can't just waltz back into their lives, then – Claire, they need you in their lives." There was another pause. "So, if I sign and whatever, can they at least visit you from time to time, say school holidays?" There was another silence.

  "Richard doesn't know about them. He thinks I'm single. He doesn't want kids. If he knew I had kids, I'd lose him. And I need someone. Someone who'll stay." Her voice trailed off.

  I felt like I was going to blubber as I glanced over at Doug. He had a stony look on his face. Nan looked down at us and placing her hand on my shoulder, whispered very gently to us.

  "You boys go and play in your room for a bit." We both walked slowly with our heads bowed to our room.

  An hour or so later, Dad appeared at the door. We were both just lying on our beds gazing out the window through the branches of the jacaranda to the drained summer sky.

  Dad began awkwardly.

  "Your mother said she was sorry, but she had to go. I drove her into town."

  "We heard. She doesn't want us," Doug mumbled, barely holding in his emotions.

  "It's not that she doesn't love you, it's just that – well, your mother has got her own life, and..." We both just looked at him. No words could cover the fact she didn't want us. "Look, she left this for you both," he said, trying to give excitement to the words.

  We watched as he searched through his wallet to find two five pound notes. Our mother had never sent us as much as a card on our birthday and now she wanted to give us each five pounds? The three of us knew she hadn't. Neither of us would take the money he was holding out. Doug rolled away on his side.

  "What does divorce mean?" I asked. Dad paused in thought.

  "Well, that's where um two people decide not to be married any more."

  "I wish she was dead," Doug muttered as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up. All I could do was look at the floor.

  "You don't mean that, son."

  "I do."

  "Then that saddens me a great deal." Dad put the notes back in his wallet before quietly leaving the room and heading back to the surgery with Susan.

  "I'm never gettin' married and never havin' kids. Never," Doug later proclaimed to me.

  As tired as we were from the whole events of the day, we found it hard to get to sleep that night. Laying with our hands behind our heads we both just stared up at the dark ceiling.

  "Doug, you awake?"

  "Yep."

  "You want to get in with me?" He didn't answer. "Can I get in with you?"

  "No."

  "Okay."

  But it wasn't. And although we were best of mates and still did things together, that part of our lives Doug had outgrown before me. It made me unhappy for a long while, because I wanted everything to stay the way it was between us.

  Around the same time, I started to get more involved with schooling and achieving better marks that put me only five desks away from assisting at Benediction. Doug, on the other hand, was always a day late and a penny short when it came to school work. He much preferred kicking a football around with mates rather than concentrating on lessons or doing extra work to better his grades. As a consequence, he stayed in the lower quarter of the class, and getting further and further away from me.

  "Are ya mad at me or somethin'?" I asked once. "Ya never want to mess 'round any more."

  "I'd muck 'round with ya, but most the time you've got ya nose st
uck in some book." He was right. We were different and neither about to change – we couldn't. It marked the beginning of our independence from each other and the development of our own individual personalities – but we still remained close, just in a different way from before.

  Later that same night of our mother's visit, when I got up to get a drink of water, I thought I could hear Dad sobbing in his room. When I paused outside his door on the way back from the kitchen, there was no sound. I didn't mention it the next day, to anyone.

  In the days that followed, everyone was a bit quiet. Nothing more was said about our mother's visit 'cept I overheard Dad say to Nan a few weeks later, that his solicitor had filed the papers with the Court. Nan was as nice as could be to all of us, especially Dad. There were times we'd come home from a game of forcings back and Dad would be sitting on the verandah daydreaming, just staring into the distance at nothing in particular. When we found him like this, we left him alone as much as possible and tried to be on our best behaviour.

  "It's harder on Dad I guess, knowing she won't be coming home. At least we've got Nan," Doug once reasoned.

  "I think we're better off without a mother," I said, trying to convince myself we were. Doug didn't reply.

  Dad was still Dad, finding the time to take all of us on car trips out of town for picnics and bird watching. And soon he started mucking around with us again. He'd wrestle and play 'tickle torture' with us on the front lawn on warmer nights, or join us on the verandah sleep-out. On the stillest of those nights you could hear the distant croaking chorus of frogs from the creek or the voices of neighbouring kids also sleeping out with their parents. We'd fall asleep all curled up around Dad, looking at the stars as he told us stories. The stars seem different here than in the city – brighter and closer, like you could almost reach up and pluck them from the inky sky.

  "Dad, you know how there are other planets spinning 'round, just like Earth –" began Doug.

  "Well not just like Earth, but yes, other planets."

  "Well, just like we're lying here looking up at the stars, do you think that somewhere up there amongst all the planets and stars, there could be people lying there as well, staring back at us and wondering the same thing?"

  "Yeah, back at us," I repeated.

  "Could be. It's possible I guess. Who knows?"

  We all just looked up at the night sky in silence for a moment. It was almost a spiritual experience, contemplating the overwhelming enormity of the universe. It was another magic moment, lying there with Dad's arms around us. My feelings of being abandoned by our mother diminished to a degree. Snuggling up to him, I felt loved and secure – and wanted. And I wouldn't trade how I felt for one hundred pounds. Doug didn't want to talk about her ever again.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was late one Sunday afternoon. Dad, Doug and I had just come home from a weekend camping trip, when Nan almost fell over running down the stairs with Dad's medical bag. She told him to go into the Walshe place immediately – there'd been a terrible incident.

  "You two stay here and unpack the camping gear," he instructed as he took the bag and rushed next door. We waited until Nan had gone back inside, then Doug and I sneaked through the palings and ran around the back of their house before tiptoeing up the steps and onto the verandah. Through the flyscreen door we could just see into the lounge room, where they were all standing around looking at someone lying on their stomach under a blanket on the lounge. Dad was in front of the person and Miss Bridget and Miss Kitty were standing to the side, blocking our view. Miss Bridget was speaking.

  "I was coming back from the Pattersons when I saw him naked, tied by the wrists between two trees with a sugar sack over his head – a bit back from the road. I drove straight towards them blasting the horn. They soon scattered."

  "You saw who it was."

  "There was a group. At least four men. All white. They jumped into the one truck and sped off. We were both churning up the dust, me just trying to get to him, so much so I couldn't make out who they were or the truck's rego either. His little tin hut was strewn all over the place. I untied him and mopped the blood on his back as best I could, Harry, with a hankie. Then I laid him on the back seat and got us outta there quick smart, in case they came back. God knows what they had in mind."

  Dad bent down to examine the patient. Miss Bridget and Miss Kitty completely blocked our view of what Dad was doing as they moved in closer as well.

  "Don't worry son, I won't hurt you. If I could ask you ladies to leave the room, I'll give him a thorough examination."

  The sisters hovered outside the door. From within were several cries of pain and Dad's voice saying, "Sorry mate, but I have to do this." After about twenty minutes Dad opened the door and let the women back in.

  "Those are whip marks on his back," he stated.

  "One of them was waving something about in his hand."

  "Several are quite deep, indicating a fair amount of force."

  "Who'd do such a thing? Poor lamb," Miss Kitty sighed.

  "Some mongrel," growled Dad. "I've cleaned up the lacerated flesh and applied some iodine and dressings. I've also given him a shot in case of any infection and something for the pain. He's an excellent patient, aren't you Johnny?" All Doug and I could do was look at each other, our hearts as leaden as sacks of flour when we heard his name.

  "We'll pay any –" began Miss Bridget.

  "I wouldn't hear of it ladies. Johnny's a mate of ours. Have you given Sergeant Farrar a call yet?"

  "No, I thought it best you see him first before the Sergeant starts asking him a whole lot of questions," reasoned Miss Bridget. "Besides, how can he tell him anything?"

  "I'll give him a call when I get home. Whoever did this needs locking up. Would you prefer him coming home with me?"

  "Oh no. Please, we can look after him, can't we Biddy? I'm sure he won't be any bother," Miss Kitty pleaded with some urgency.

  "Son, these ladies will take good care of you. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye ladies."

  Dad started to leave the room, which meant it was time for us to get back home as soon as possible. We shot down the steps, through the fence and waited for Dad in the front yard.

  "Everything alright, Dad? Nothing wrong with Miss Bridget or Miss Kitty?" I asked. Dad said nothing, just headed up the steps. He turned calmly as he reached the top and looked back and forth at both of us, with a stern expression.

  "I thought I gave you two an order. I'm disappointed in both of you." I looked quickly at Doug. "And next time you listen through doors, make sure it isn't a see-through flysflcreen."

  "We didn't hear anything, honest," rushed Doug to cover.

  "But he will be alright, won't he?" I asked as Doug trod on my toe. "Owwh."

  "We're sorry," Doug stated in our defence.

  "I'm sure you will be when you go without pocket money this fortnight. Maybe then you'll take notice that when I tell you to do something, you do it. Right?"

  "Right," we both answered, with hung heads.

  "Get that camping gear stowed under the house and the table set. Now." We ran to the boot of the car. "In answer to your question, 'yes' he will recover."

  We wasted no time in emptying the boot and had the gear stowed in minutes before flying up the steps to set the table.

  Later, after we had our wash, I made an attempt to salvage our pocket money.

  "It was only a white lie," I suggested to Dad.

  "A lie's a lie son, no matter what shade." I continued putting on my pyjamas, thinking on what he had just said.

  Later that evening, Dad rang Sergeant Farrar and he came around. Dad took him into his bedroom and closed the door. Nan kept an eye on us in the lounge room, so that we wouldn't listen in. I made an excuse to go to our bedroom to get a book and heard a bit of their conversation.

  "We can't let this sort of thing happen. Someone has to be brought to justice," Dad argued.

  "There's a group that get a belly full at the end of the week and
go stirrin' up trouble with the blacks, but what can I do? No one wants to be a witness."

  "It's Wood and his mates, isn't it?"

  "Until I have proof …" Sergeant Farrar replied in a way that seemed to suggest he knew who it could've been, but didn't know for sure. "Every town has to have a troublemaker. We must be lucky, seems we've got bloody three or four. Don't worry; I'll keep an eye out closin' time to see there's no mischief brewin'. Let's go see the boy."

  At that stage, I quickly scooted back to the lounge room as they wound up their talk and opened the door. They left the house, saying nothing.

  It was only a half an hour into the first of our serials, when Dad came back up the front steps and entered, supporting Johnny. His arm was over Dad's shoulder and he had a blanket wrapped around his waist. Doug and I jumped up from the floor.

  "Mum, can you make up the spare room? We've got a guest," Dad called out from the doorway to Nan, still cleaning in the kitchen. She entered, wiping her hands on her apron.

  "How is he, love?" Dad set Johnny down in his armchair. He winced in pain then sat upright so that the wounds on his back didn't touch the back of the chair.

  Dad then pulled Nan aside into the kitchen doorway and explained that Johnny was starting to run a temperature. He thought he'd be better off here, where he could keep an eye on his recovery. I turned the serial on the wireless down to a low whisper so that we could hear what was going on. Johnny just sat there, fascinated by the wireless, like he'd never seen one before. I looked over to Dad and Nan.

  They kept their voices down but I managed to hear most of what was being said.

  "… And Sergeant Farrar can't or won't do anything about it," Dad concluded.

  Johnny could hear as well, and was trying to get up to make a bolt for the door. As he shuffled to his feet they walked back in and Dad grabbed Johnny firmly by the arm. He cowered as if he expected Dad was going to hit him, before getting all wobbly. Trying to regain his balance he let the blanket slip, revealing his nakedness.