Billy Mack's War

by James Roy

  ‘Okay, sure,’ Danny replied. ‘Thanks.’

  Mr McAuliffe gestured to the waitress, and she picked up a slip of paper from the counter and came over. ‘You can pay at the register,’ she said, holding out the bill.

  ‘Oh, we’re not done just yet. No, I’d like another pot of Darjeeling and another chocolate milkshake, please. And two more of those excellent Anzacs, thanks.’

  The waitress took the pencil from behind her ear and added to the bill. ‘No worries,’ she said. ‘Coming right up.’

  ‘Thank you. Now, where was I?’

  ‘In the kitchen with Stan,’ Danny said.

  ‘Oh yes, in the kitchen with Stan Whittaker and my grandmother.’

  Chapter 7 Billy

  Granddad arrived home late that evening. I wasn’t in bed yet, but I wasn’t far off when I heard the truck drive up. Going to the bedroom window, I looked out between the curtains. I heard the front door of the house open as Nan went to meet Granddad. He parked the truck and crossed the yard to hug Nan, and after they’d said something I couldn’t hear, they came inside.

  I went to the door and opened it, just a crack. My room was quite close to the kitchen, so I could hear their conversation as Nan rustled together some dinner for Granddad. ‘The road wasn’t too bad,’ Granddad said. ‘Long drive, though.’

  ‘How did she seem?’

  ‘Oh, she was all right, once she got on the boat. Nervous, I suppose, poor pet.’

  ‘You would be, wouldn’t you? — Nan said.

  ‘Oh, too right,’ Granddad replied. I heard the soft scratch and hiss of a match as he lit his pipe. I wondered how long it would be before Nan told him to take it outside.

  ‘How long will it take her to get there?’ Nan asked.

  ‘Don’t know, to be honest. She’ll get to Melbourne tomorrow, I suppose, then there’ll be a train to Sydney. A couple more days, I expect, till she’s there.’

  ‘Poor love.’

  ‘Yes, but she’s got her man back, so that’s something.’

  ‘How do you think he’ll be, love? Really, I mean.’

  I heard Granddad sigh. ‘Who knows, Melv? Just have to wait and see, I reckon. How’s Billy been?’

  ‘Good as gold,’ Nan said. ‘Works hard, that boy. Got all the jobs done like a real trooper. Took it real serious, he did.’

  ‘I knew he would. Did Stan turn up?’

  ‘Yes, love, he dropped over just like you arranged.’

  ‘Didn’t want to ask him,’ Granddad said, ‘but I didn’t feel like I had much choice.’

  ‘Stan’s all right, Tom.’

  ‘You reckon?’

  ‘I do. I don’t know what you’ve got against him. It’s not his fault he’s a bit slow. And he works hard, with his old mum over there and everything else.’

  ‘Well, I just don’t like him, a bit slow or not.’

  ‘I think he’s all right, Tom. And I do wish you’d take that stinking thing out on the porch. I’ll bring your tea out in a bit.’

  ‘All right, love.’ Granddad’s chair scraped back as he stood up, and I heard the screen door slap shut behind him.

  I climbed into bed then, pulled the covers right up under my chin, and listened to Granddad pacing slowly up and down the wide verandah in his socks. The strong smell of his pipe smoke drifted into my room. I wondered if Dad was in Sydney doing the same thing as me at that moment, lying in a bed in a room that wasn’t his, just going over things in his mind. I remember thinking again about the returned soldiers putting their heads on their own pillows at long last. A shiver of excitement darted through me as I tried to grasp that finally, at last, my own dad would be coming home, and lying down in his bed, in his house. In our house, beside Ma, and in the room right next to mine. And I realised then that even though I’d kept telling myself that he would come back in the end, deep inside I’d begun to believe that he never would. It was almost like I felt I should stop myself thinking about it, in case it was all just a dream, and on awakening I’d discover that everything I’d begun to believe really was the truth.

  The next day was Sunday, and, just like we did every week, we went to church. Nan pressed my best short pants and shirt, and I helped her get the twins sorted. Hattie wasn’t hard to get ready — she was usually pretty cooperative — but Meg was being a cheeky little beggar, as Ma always called her. I’d just get the belt on her dress tied up, and she’d wait until I turned my back before she’d give it a yank and run away giggling, the belt trailing behind her like the tail on a kite. Ordinarily this would have made me pretty mad, but I had other things on my mind. For a start, I couldn’t wait to tell Doug that my dad was coming home.

  Evansbridge was just like most small towns, I guess, because in the end I didn’t have to tell anyone anything. As Granddad brought the truck to a stop in the field beside the church, several grown-ups and a couple of kids rushed over to the cab, where Nan and Granddad had the twins squeezed in between them. ‘Is it true?’ they wanted to know. ‘Is Freddy Mack coming home?’ ‘We heard that Alice has gone to get him.’ ‘How is he? Is there any word?’ ‘When will they be back?’ And on it went.

  Luckily, when most grown-ups looked at me they just saw a twelve-year-old boy, and since twelve-year-old boys don’t know anything about anything, they left me alone. I slid down from the tray of the truck and went to find Doug.

  He was over the back in the graveyard, sitting on a headstone and talking to Barry Morrie, who was also in our grade at school. Doug saw me come around the corner of the church. ‘Hey,’ he said.

  ‘Hey,’ I replied. ‘Gidday, Barry.’

  Barry was chewing on a stalk of grass. He looked up when I spoke to him. His eyes narrowed a bit, but he didn’t say anything.

  ‘Gidday, Barry,’ I repeated, in case he hadn’t heard me.

  Barry straightened up and spat the grass out. Then he jammed his hands deep in his pockets and sauntered away. Not a sound did he make.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I asked Doug, and he looked at the ground. ‘Doug?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he muttered. ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘Like hell it’s nothing,’ I said, suddenly feeling guilty for using that word in a churchyard. ‘Doug, what’s going on?’

  ‘Look, I don’t want to be the one to tell you this, and it’s not me that’s saying it —’

  ‘Saying what?’

  ‘Like I said, it’s not me, but Barry reckons …’ He stopped, shifting uncomfortably. ‘Look, don’t worry about it, awright?’

  ‘What’s Barry saying?’ I asked. ‘Doug?’

  ‘Well, he’s reckons that, compared with other blokes, maybe your dad got the easy way out.’

  ‘The what? The easy way out? The easy way out of what?’ I said, trying not to shout in a church graveyard, but suddenly finding it a bit difficult to control my voice.

  ‘The war and that. He says he spent the war getting a suntan and drinking rice wine. How do they make wine out of —’

  I didn’t let him finish that sentence. ‘Barry’s a … a flaming liar!’ I spat. ‘He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.’

  ‘No, probably not,’ Doug agreed meekly.

  ‘Do you agree with him?’ I asked.

  Doug shrugged. Then he shook his head. ‘No, mate, I think he’s just repeating what his dad’s been saying. You’re right — he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.’

  ‘What would his dad know anyway?’ I said. ‘He didn’t even join up.’

  ‘He tried to, but he had flat feet,’ Doug replied. ‘Barry said they wouldn’t let him.’

  ‘He’s a bank manager, and he wouldn’t know the first thing about fighting.’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Doug murmured.

  ‘Do you think he’s right?’ I asked again. ‘Doug? You don’t seem sure.’

  Doug raised his eyes and looked at me. He looked as guilty as anything. I know is what my brothers told me, Billy. They told me about what it was like in New Guinea, fighting in the
jungle and that. James said they were almost killed heaps of time, and there were Japs everywhere, and sometimes they had to defend their foxholes twenty, thirty times in one night, and all that. But your dad … well, you know, he was caught years ago and didn’t have to fight, did he? Not once he was caught, anyway. And it can’t have been too hard in those camps, otherwise he wouldn’t have survived, would he?’

  ‘You’re a flaming liar too, then,’ I said.

  ‘Billy, don’t say that!’

  ‘But you are!’ I retorted, so angry now that I’d forgotten not to shout. ‘And so is everyone who says my dad’s not as much of a hero as anyone else who came back.’

  Doug nodded. ‘Awright, mate, awright,’ he said, glancing nervously over his shoulder.

  ‘It’s not bloody all right,’ I said, and I spun around and marched off towards the front of the church, where people were still gathered excitedly around Nan and Granddad.

  ‘Good morning, Billy,’ said Mrs Grayson, who was there with her awful grinning husband. ‘I just heard about your father. That’s good news, isn’t it?’

  I ignored her and kept going on my mission of vengeance.

  Barry Morrie’s father was in the group, chatting with Granddad. He was smiling, and even though I didn’t hear exactly what he was saying, I could tell from his tone and the way he was standing that he was probably telling Granddad how great it was to hear the good news about his son-in-law. Barry was standing by his side, his hands still in his pockets. He looked as innocent as a chorister.

  I strode towards them, my face hot as fire and my hands clenched into fists. I hadn’t worked out what I was going to do once I got there, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to be shaking Barry’s hand and thanking him for his best wishes.

  ‘Here he is!’ Mr Morrie said as he saw me approaching. ‘Here’s the man of the moment! Billy, how’s it feel to know that your old man’s on his way home?’

  ‘Just great,’ I snarled.

  ‘Terrific!’ he said, resting one hand on my shoulder. ‘You must be very proud of him.’

  ‘I think he’s a bloody hero,’ I replied, glaring at Barry, who by now had noticed that I was none too happy with him and was beginning to shift nervously from one foot to the other. ‘An absolute bloody hero.’

  I heard several of the ladies take a quick sharp breath as I used that word not once but twice.

  ‘I say!’ said Mr Morrie, blinking like crazy. ‘I know you’re excited, young man, but really!’

  ‘Billy!’ said Granddad. ‘I don’t think you need to talk that way. Apologise now.’

  ‘I’m just trying to let everyone know how I feel.’

  ‘Well, I think you managed that,’ Granddad said, smiling at the group.

  ‘Because some people think my dad’s not a hero, and that he’s been sitting around on his backside getting a suntan’ — here Barry looked doubly guilty — ‘while everyone else has been off fighting the war.’

  ‘I don’t think anyone has been saying —’ Granddad began, but I cut him off.

  ‘He has,’ I said, pointing at Barry. ‘Him and his old man.’

  ‘I say!’ exclaimed Mr Morrie again. ‘Excuse me, youngster!’ He didn’t have his hand on my shoulder any more, and he sure wasn’t smiling.

  That’s what Barry was saying, wasn’t it, Barry?’ I said. ‘Doug told me.’

  Barry looked a bit ill. Then he almost smirked, got it under control and cleared his throat. ‘Well, he’s not exactly a war hero, though, is he? I mean —’

  He never got to finish what he was saying, mainly because it’s hard to complete a sentence when one of your teeth is poking out through your bottom lip. He slumped to his knees with a hand to his face, a choked sob slipping out as bright blood ran down his chin.

  ‘Do you want another one now, or do you want to wait until my father gets home?’ I snarled down at him, my fist cocked back ready to slug him again.

  I felt hands pulling me back and I heard my grandparents apologising to everyone within earshot as they bundled me into the cab of the truck. Granddad started the engine, and we left the church behind as he and I drove in silence out of town.

  A few minutes later he pulled over to the side of the road, lush green paddocks on either side of us. He looked over at me, sitting there with my head down. My ears were still scorching hot with anger.

  ‘That was a bit stupid, don’t you reckon?’ Granddad said. ‘Huh?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I muttered. I wasn’t crying — I was determined I wouldn’t — but I could feel that my teeth were still clenched hard together.

  ‘Maybe? Knocking seven bells out of the bank manager’s son, right in front of his father? It wasn’t exactly smart, so I guess that would make it stupid, don’t you think?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said again. ‘But he shouldn’t have said what he said. He thinks Dad’s not a hero, but he is, isn’t he?’

  ‘Of course he is, mate. But perhaps you should let your old man fight his own battles when he gets home.’

  ‘What if he can’t?’

  Granddad nodded. ‘Good point, Billy, but let’s not get carried away. I don’t know what your old man’s been through in the last few years, but remembering him the way I do, I reckon he’d probably have been prouder of you if you’d just walked away.’

  ‘You don’t think he’d have been proud that I punched Barry Morrie in the mouth?’

  Granddad smiled. Then he leaned closer to me, as if there were people gathered around listening in on our conversation, and lowered his voice. ‘I think a part of him might have been quite proud, all the same. I know I was. Which doesn’t mean you should do it again, all right?’

  ‘All right,’ I agreed.

  Granddad didn’t take me back to church, for which I was very grateful. Instead he took me home and left me there. ‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ he said. ‘Just take some time to yourself. We’ll see you afterwards.’

  ‘All right,’ I said, feeling pretty silly by then. Embarrassed too, and already thinking about Monday, and having to face Barry Morrie at school. I went straight to my not-so-secret place and spent the rest of the morning in there, reading comics and trying not to think about anything other than Vincenzo Magnifico and his problems.

  Nan wasn’t quite as understanding as Granddad. I heard the truck pull up by the house and emerged from my hideout.

  ‘Where is he?’ Nan said as she slammed the door. Then she spotted me from the other side of the yard and started toward me. Boy, was she angry! Below her Sunday hat and Sunday hair her face was like a month of rainy Mondays. ‘William Frederic le McAuliffe!’ she shouted. ‘Such a display of confounded cowardice I’ve never seen in all my days! Mr Morrie’s son, of all the people you could choose to belt! And on the Lord’s Day!’

  I found myself cowering away a little as she approached. ‘He said my dad —’ I began timidly.

  ‘I don’t give a monkey’s … bottom what he said about your father. You had no place knocking him down. At church, of all places. In front of the entire town. What would your mother think?’

  ‘She’d be proud,’ I replied.

  ‘Don’t you talk back to me! She’d be ashamed,’ Nan shouted at me. ‘Mortified is what she’d be. Now get in the house at once.’

  ‘Nan —’

  ‘In the house!’

  I went inside. There was no reasoning with her in that state.

  I sat in my room, my stomach growling. I wondered whether I’d get anything to eat, after what had happened. Then came the knock on the door. ‘Who is it?’ I asked with a sniffle.

  ‘It’s me,’ said Granddad. ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘If you want,’ I said, and he pushed the door open. He sat down next to me on the bed, where I was staring out the window.

  ‘She’ll be all right,’ he said.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Oh yes. I’ve known her for …’ He thought for a bit. ‘I’ve known her for several hundred years. Most of those years have been gr
eat. Some of them have been tough. The last three or so have been the toughest, especially on your Nan.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘It wasn’t her husband who’d gone missing.’

  ‘No, that’s true. But it was her daughter’s husband, and women … women feel that kind of thing for each other. Don’t ask me to explain it, Billy — women can’t be explained. They’re a complete mystery, which is what makes them so interesting to be around.’

  I looked at him then, and his eyes were sparkling. ‘So she doesn’t hate me?’

  ‘Who, your Nan? Lord, no! No, she’ll love you forever. She just thought you behaved a bit shabbily today, that’s all. And it’s Evansbridge, too, don’t forget. People will be talking about the McAuliffe kid’s outburst for a week or two, then they’ll find something new to go on about. But like I said, it’s women, mate, and their strange and mysterious world. She’ll know someone who’s best friends with that revolting Morrie kid’s mother, and they’ll “forget” to invite your Nan to some scone and tea thing, and everyone be in a minor uproar for a couple of weeks, and that’ll be that.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,’ I mumbled. ‘It’s just that I got so angry. Real angry, you know? Anyway, I thought sticking up for my dad was what I was supposed to do. You know, being a bloke and everything.’

  Granddad nodded. ‘Some blokes swing their fists, some blokes walk away. Which ones are the bigger men? I can’t tell you.’

  ‘What would you have done?’ I asked.

  ‘I can tell you what I hope I might have done. I hope I’d have been able to walk away. But who knows if I would have, if that had been me instead of you.’

  I frowned. This was too confusing, especially on an empty stomach. ‘So did I do the right thing or not?’

  ‘Given the choice, maybe not. But I’m Tom Carlyle, not Billy McAuliffe, so I can only decide for Tom.’ Granddad squeezed my knee. ‘Just make it right on Monday.’

  I hung my head. ‘Barry’s not going to want to talk to me, Granddad.’

  ‘You’ll just have to make sure he does. Make it right, son, make it right. Now, lunch is about to go on the table.’