“Torrenclar!” He knew me well and could sense the time had come to have it out. He trembled slightly, as reluctant as was I. “You have been lost in your thoughts all through the night.”
“Yes,” he said.
“You are disappointed in me, I think.”
He shook his head slowly, “Don’t do this, Love!”
“Tell me. How have I failed you?” He closed his eyes to shut me out, but I forced him to answer. “You think I have been slow to address the problems of the earth.”
“That is not what I have been thinking about.”
“No. True enough now, but it has crossed your mind often. Tell me, Torrenclar, how has it come to this, that you do not trust me?”
“That is untrue!”
“Yet you have stood apart from me for a long time now?”
“I don’t know, Love. I can’t fix it.”
My anger flashed. “What is it you think requires fixing?”
He was on very unstable ground and just wanted it over. “I trusted you completely before the confusion overtook me. It was never meant to be desertion, especially at a time when our connection was essential.” His eyes appealed for help, but the plea was ignored although it grieved me. “Could we take back the past, I would approach the situation differently. I keep attempting to think through my decisions, but it always leads to deepening confusion. I don’t know what to do.”
“Yet you do not ask.” Disappointment flooded me, and my face was hidden from him. He took two steps forward extending his hand in a helpless gesture. “Please,” he pleaded.
“What are you asking of me, Torrenclar?”
“Don’t abandon me because of my mess.” He fell to his knees.
I knelt with him then, our foreheads touching, and, broken, he said, “I am so sorry, Love. Please erase my foolishness?” At that point, the darkness flowed from him in one long black stream becoming one with the edges of the sea. It took no more than that.
“My dear friend,” I said gently, drawing back my face in order to look into his eyes, “for me it was never for a moment uncertain. My trust in you held, but it has taken too long for you to remember your trust in me.” He trembled with the depth of his affection for me. “I need you now. There is work to be done.” He nodded, and I continued, “Things are always more simple than you suspect.”
“Yet humans are such complex creatures,” he attempted to explain the difficulty once again with more than a hint of frustration. “Just when you think you’ve got them pegged, they head off in some completely bizarre direction, and there’s no bringing them back no matter how much you touch their spirits.”
“Ah. How very right you are.” But my next words brought a brief grin. “They are wonderful, are they not?”
“I’m going with the not!” He straightened himself.
“When you become caught in their confusion, you lose your sense of the way forward. What had been clear is murky; you are often facing in the wrong direction.”
“The worst was not their despair,” he said simply. “It seemed certain that this time you must give up on me.” He paused for a deep breath. “It was unbearable.”
“That is their despair.” I held him against me then as I had wanted to all through the night.
***
Bridey
The work outside continued. I sat myself down at the kitchen table with my laptop unwilling to risk venturing outside. It was around one thirty when Flagran and a sheepish Sandro arms piled high with food presented themselves at the back door. “Homarta wanted some time to sing over all that dirt,” Flagran told me, as though there had been no tension earlier. Gratefulness vied with hunger for my attention, so the salad roll and large coffee scroll from Sandro was accepted, and we all moved on.
“There was a man here this morning checking out the water,” I told them. It shouldn’t have been news to Flagran. Sandro looked up from his second roll.
“We checked the water in the kitchen sink. It’s still dirty but apparently the neighbours either side both have clean water. He thought maybe the work outside had broken a pipe or something.” The pause while I held my breath hoping he wouldn’t react and take it as lack of gratitude extended beyond a moment or two and was beginning to get awkward before he spoke.
“There’s no sign of water coming up in the backyard,” Sandro said. “The pipes would run only to the tap outside this window. They wouldn’t even cross the yard.”
“Well,” and a deep breath helped because it was vital not to get upset again, “he said the pipes must be broken somewhere after the front gate, and that it’s a job for the landlord who’s completely useless. He doesn’t give a shit about this place.”
Sandro was concentrating on the ham poking out from both sides his salad roll. What was he thinking? How wide his mouth must be to fit the whole thing in like that; mine had to be eaten in layers. “Would you like me to get in touch with him for you?”
It was flabbergasting. No business of his at all, and he was being so helpful. He had returned the bike, if unwillingly, and I hadn’t been in a position to use it anyway.
“No, that’s okay. It’s my problem.”
He stared at me intently. “No, I think it would be better if I did it.” He sounded quite determined. What was going on here? He was so confusing.
“You won’t make a fuss will you?” There was too much begging in my voice. “It’s impossible to find affordable rental places. It’s definitely not a good idea to upset the Estate Agents. Living here is great.”
Flagran was watching us both with interest.
Sandro promised he would handle it all appropriately (his word), and grateful for his support because they might take more notice of him than they would me, I fished out the Estate Agent’s card which he stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans. It would probably be in the next wash. Those jeans were filthy. Fortunately the ground was so dry and dead neither of them had walked much mud into the house. It’s the small things that help.
“What are you doing this afternoon Bridey? You must be sick of all this noise,” he said. No. Don’t start becoming a nice person.
“Uni. There’s another tute from three to five, and after that the library.”
“Which Uni do you go to?” he asked.
“Melbourne.” What does he want to know for?
“I’m heading off about then,” he lied. “I’ll drop you off. The car’s grubby so bring an old sheet or something.”
Here we go. Now it’s going to get really complicated.
“No seriously,” he said, watching my face intently. “I have to pack up the hoe and get it around to a friend’s place in Carlton. He wants it for the last couple of hours of light and he’s sharing the cost.” This was cringe worthy me not having given the cost a thought. My imagination had just pictured a rotary hoe hanging around in his backyard. He read my thoughts. “I’ll take up the cost with the landlord.”
“No, no. Don’t do that!” That idea threatened the end of my time in this place. “You can’t do that. He hasn’t been asked to pay for anything.”
Again, he sat watching me, and all the time Flagran watched us both and never said a word.
“Please, please Sandro” the pleading was profound, “don’t stir up trouble for me!” Tears were prickling at the back of my eyes again, and I seriously considered running. Sandro reached across the table and put his hand over mine.
“It’s okay Bridey,” he said. “If you don’t want me to, I won’t say a word.” At first it was a relief, then what that meant became clear. Sandro was going to pay for it. There was all the work he’d done today, the breakfast, the lunch, and now here he was paying for the cost of the hire of a rotary hoe which he didn’t need.
At that point Flagran shocked us both. He said in a voice of astonishing loathing, “You’re a real mongrel, Sandro!” And he got up and left. We sat in uneasy silence. Then, instead of talking about it, he said, “I’ll be ready about twenty to three. Is that okay?” At m
y nod, he left.
Uni seemed unreal. Not going to work had become natural for me in only a few days. The world was trapped inside a strange universe where study, work, finances, friendship had all been turned completely upside down between Friday and Monday. Sorting out what to take became confused in a wrestling match with obsessing about what to wear, all of which frightened me. What had Flagran meant? It seemed pretty clear he thought Sandro was trying to do a number on me, and he knew more about what went on in Sandro’s head. Despite the complete clarity on these points, here I was trying to look good.
My mirror only showed my body in frames. It needed tilting for the bottom half and then tipping up again for makeup. The dress I’d chosen was short, had pale blue flowers printed over a dark blue background, gathered at the waist and made the most of my boobs. They’re not that big, but I like them. The strange shower had resulted in my hair looking surprisingly black and shiny, which was gratifying after the difficulty with washing out the conditioner; and it was curling in exactly the right way. How long until the plumbing was fixed? The landlord could say he wanted to tear down the whole house and start again. Life was full of terrible complications and Sandro was bad news; moody and grumpy and too used to getting his own way. Well, he certainly wasn’t going to get his own way with me.
A knock at the front door made me jump and grab my things. He had the car hooked up and was double parked. His car was a bomb. He looked across at me before taking off checking me out. “You look great when you wash, Bridey.” That made me laugh because it was so not sleazy, but maybe he was just clever at it. “I have a proposition for you,” he said. Here we go! “What time do you finish your tute?”
“Five o’clock, but I’m going to the library to get some work done.” It might just be too hard to function at home.
“I’d like to take you out to eat.”
“Why?”
“Because you haven’t had a full hot meal for a while, and I’m tired and don’t want to cook and,” here we go, “I want to talk to you,” he finished. Without waiting for a reply, he said, “Tomorrow, I’ll have the trailer half the day while my mate does his job, and I plan to go out into the country to collect manure for Homarta. I’d like you to come with me.”
“Why?” I asked again.
“Because it’s for your garden,” he tried.
“That’s unfair!” He wasn’t going to put that on me.
“How about we have dinner together, and then you decide?” That seemed like a plan. What was there to talk about? He dropped me at Tin Alley, and my steps were light hearted.
It was odd being out again and in the real world. Looking from the outside in, everything was bizarre. Maybe it was all a fantasy. Maybe illness loomed. The mental kind. Who cares? It’s a meal with a great looking guy, and even if it’s just for the sex (which he wasn’t getting) it seemed worth it.” I was too happy to worry.
***
Sandro swept into the house looking grubby, needing a beer and a shower and some down time. It was a long while since he’d worked physically. The day had been satisfying on a number of fronts. He was feeling good about himself. That didn’t happen much. He was not in the mood for Flagran.
“Get away from me,” he said, as Flagran approached. The Caretaker had a purposeful air about him, and it wasn’t at all likely he would do as he was bid. “What? What are you on about now?” he backed away as Flagran grabbed him by the shoulders. The Caretaker looked like a light weight and was shorter than his opponent, but with all the power of not being bound by the physical realm, it was an unfair match.
Sandro found himself being shaken and shoved and generally thrown around until he lost his belligerent stance and gave in to a higher power. This was a good move. As soon as he went floppy, Flagran relaxed his grip, and Sandro ducked out under his arm. Flagran let him go.
“Sit!” he said. It seemed like a good idea. Sandro sat, glaring, rubbing at various bruises already starting to make themselves known.
“Well?” The Caretaker put his face in front of the man daring him to play games.
“Well what?” Sandro was not one to back out of anything without a fight. Flagran brought his face closer and snarled. His breath was hot and steaming.
“Okay.” Sandro conceded. “You’re right. She should have been told.”
“So what’s stopping you?”
“She should get to know me first.” Sandro truly believed this was a plan.
“And what is it you want her know about you?” Flagran had a point. Sandro shook his head slowly, pulling his neck from side to side to release it.
“I dunno. I just want her to like me.”
“You’ve got the hots for her!” Why was that an accusation, Sandro thought? What was wrong with that? He was a man after all, and she was gorgeous. His blood started to rise just thinking of her, and next he knew he was on the ground with a heavy slam. He felt the fiery breath on his face and neck. Using a superhuman effort, he attempted to lift his body out from under Flagran who was pinning him to the highly polished wooden boards. He couldn’t move at all.
Nothing brought it on, Flagran just bounded off, and he was free.
The Caretaker stood a good three meters away, and Sandro could still feel the heat. He was breathing deeply and steadily, and his eyes were shut in concentration. Sandro lay where he was unwilling to risk movement until he was sure Flagran had himself under control. He closed his own eyes and groaned. Flagran was right. He was a complete and utter mongrel. He felt the movement of warm air and opened his eyes quickly. Flagran was holding out a hand. Maybe, he intended to knock him down again. But the Caretaker pulled him to his feet and then returned to his position near the front door.
“You’ve got the hots for her yourself,” Sandro challenged. It was unwise. Flagran’s hair stood up on end, and he began to advance again.
“My feelings for Bridey are not at all the same,” he said stopping and struggling for control.
Sandro shrugged. “Well, what were you doing in the bathroom with her? Trying to make a move while I was off getting her breakfast?”
Flagran shook his head, disgusted. He turned on his heel and walked out the door knowing if he stayed, he would be in enormous trouble.
When he had been gone five minutes or so, Sandro remembered he needed a beer. He sat with it at the table cautiously checking out his body for damage. There was a lump forming on the back of his head, and his arms hurt to check it out. The back of his shoulders felt like he’d taken a beating across them. His thighs, where Flagran had been sitting, were in trouble. If he had had it in mind to get it on with Bridey, which he hadn’t, tonight would not be the night.
It was close on six o’clock when he roused from his reverie. He was meeting Bridey in thirty minutes. All the pleasure had evaporated from the idea, but he set about his preparations. The shower was piping hot and the water running over his tired and battered body helped; until it came to him. The picture was of Bridey the day after the earthquake when he had returned her bike. Her face was grubby, her hair matted. He felt a surge of warmth towards her which turned over well below his stomach. He took his bruised head in his hands and smacked it against the tiled wall. She hadn’t had a shower.
***
The Source
A furnace burnt hot inside a building somewhere amongst the less civilised districts of Melbourne. Flagran had used it as a refuge over the decades since its establishment, and I knew he could be found there. When Flagran was close to the edge, he would avoid me. In this instance it seemed wise to seek him out. In the life of a spirit there were many dark times. His was a fiery disposition, and in order to do his job he must both control and use it. This was challenging and more than complicated for a spirit such as Flagran.
His eyes were closed, but he felt my presence sit down beside him. He tightened without cringing, always ready to take whatever I served. Flagran had been fighting himself for a few hours by the time I joined him. It was getting on for nine o’cl
ock.
“Just do it.” he said to me. “Just wipe me out. I’m no good at this.”
“And this is what?” I asked.
“This role you have for me. I can’t do it. I cannot control myself.” He opened his eyes but stared at nothing. “I know you think I should work at it, but if coming back into my powers requires me to help Sandro there is absolutely no way it’s going to work. I’ll end up killing him instead.”
“Oh, I don’t think you’re going to do that,” I told him, comfortably. “You are exactly what he needs.”
He glanced at me to check out whether I was joking, and I put my hand on his knee. He groaned. “Don’t be nice to me, my Core. Every time you talk to me, I come to the conclusion it will be manageable, then it all goes south. Don’t make me keep doing this. How about you find me a job tending a volcano or something? Much more up my alley.”
“Sandro didn’t have a dad,” I told him. “Not since he was five. After they came to Australia without him, he wouldn’t take on anyone else for a father. He just raged.”
Flagran stared at me, puzzled. “So,” he asked, “how does that help? Surely you’re not suggesting I should be a father figure! I’d make a terrible father. When I wasn’t playing with the kids, I’d be beating them senseless.”
“What you did for him today was just what he needed. I’m not saying beating him up is the way to do things, but Sandro needed someone stronger than him to make him look at what he’s doing. He certainly started thinking after it.”
I rose to indicate the talk was over. He smiled up at me tentatively saying, “Well, I suppose that means you want me to keep going with this.” I have a special love for Flagran. He was a great deal more dependable than he imagined. There were only two provisos I gave him.
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