Mark did not understand that his lavish lifestyle could, of itself, afford him no lasting contentment. To all external appearances he’d fulfilled his dreams – a beautiful, younger girlfriend, a prestigious professional position, an expensive wardrobe, over-seas travel, two luxury cars and an impressive home. Yet Mark felt genuinely puzzled by a deep and growing sense of dissatisfaction with his life. Unable to appreciate that his rapid rise up the corporate ladder had come at a great personal cost, he looked for simple but unfortunately flawed explanations to justify his misery. One explanation seemed to resonate above all others. Maybe he was still in love with Beth?
Mark’s concept of love always had more than a small element of convenience attached to it. He also was not one to take much personal responsibility for his problems. Beth presented a neat way for him to rationalise his feelings. She represented the qualities that were missing in his own life – love, commitment, self-sacrifice and last but not least, a vital and joyful appreciation of the world. These aspects of Beth’s personality were suddenly irresistible in comparison to Mark’s own barren existence. Irrationally, he felt that sheer physical proximity to his wife might somehow revive his own dwindling life-force.
In an uncharacteristic lack of devotion to his career, Mark left the office at three o’clock that afternoon. He felt restless and unable to concentrate. He had no particular desire to see Helen but, unable to come up with a more attractive destination, he headed for home. As he pulled into his driveway he was relieved, but faintly puzzled, to see that Helen’s silver Peugeot was not in the garage. Helen’s lunches did not usually last this long. Chance always slept in the afternoon and only settled properly at home. Helen often complained about how restrictive the baby’s routine was. Still, Mark was grateful for some time alone.
He contemplated ringing Beth. No. He would give her time to rue her impulsive behaviour. Undoubtedly she already regretted her rudeness and would soon ring to apologise. Mark brewed an extra strong coffee and headed into his home-office to check his e-mails.
To Mark’s surprise, by six o’clock his girlfriend and son were still not home. More irritated than worried, he was calling Helen on her mobile when he heard the key in the door. He reacted with anger as she, slightly flustered, struggled inside with the baby capsule and some shopping bags. Helen was extremely surprised to see Mark. He rarely arrived home much before seven thirty. Chance was usually in bed by then. The couple generally ordered a take-away meal and spent the evening watching television. Neither of them could really cook and the most commonly used appliance in their sparkling new stainless-steel kitchen was the microwave oven.
“Where were you?” demanded Mark.
Helen was at a loss for words. She had been playing the poker machines at the local hotel and stayed on long after her girlfriends went home. It was the first time since the birth of her son that she’d spent time by herself. Her own mother lived in another State, and her mother-in-law had not been thrilled at becoming a grandmother the first time around. Mark’s mother was even less enthusiastic about Chance, dismissing Helen very early on as little more than a phase her misguided son was going through. Thus the young woman did not have the practical support that was so important to a first-time mother.
Confronted by Mark’s anger, Helen was, quite wisely, reluctant to confess how she had actually spent the afternoon. For one thing, she hadn’t discussed with Mark her decision to enrol Chance at the childcare centre. It hadn’t seemed to be an issue that might concern him. Secondly, she’d lost far more money than she intended to, foolishly chasing her losses. Recalling their recent rather heated arguments about money, she considered discretion to be the better part of valour. Helen mumbled something about shopping, before disappearing into the bedroom with Chance. She had indeed gone shopping before collecting the baby from the creche. It was her way of cheering herself up after the disaster at the poker machines. Those damned things must be rigged!
As her gambling escalated she’d started dropping one hundred dollars a spin, playing as many lines as she could to maximise her chances of winning. Her strategy had not worked. Still, Mark was loaded with cash, wasn’t he? If she was honest with herself, she had to admit that this had always been a large part of what had attracted her to him. He certainly spun her head around with expensive gifts and extravagant holidays. Helen had not enjoyed an affluent childhood and was easily impressed by material advantages. However, never having much money meant she never learned how to look after it. Easy come, easy go was her philosophy.
Mark emptied the shopping bags out onto the couch with a disgusted expression. So that’s what she’d been doing all day; dragging their baby around a shopping mall. One glance at the price tags attached to the scattered items of clothing confirmed his worst suspicions. Every article was outrageously expensive. Without a word he went to Helen’s handbag and extracted her purse. She watched him, equally silent, from the bedroom door. He took out her store cards, credit cards and Diners Club card and then retrieved a pair of scissors from a drawer. Cutting each plastic card in two, he hurled the pieces in her face. Although upset by her boyfriend’s fury, Helen was nonetheless relieved that he had not discovered the whole truth. She picked up the ruined credit cards. There were plenty more where they came from.
Mark poured himself a scotch from the bar in his office. He rarely needed a drink to calm his nerves. Tonight was an exception. There had been a lot of exceptions lately. He disliked experiencing his emotions and struggled hard to suppress his heated feelings. Half an hour later he sought Helen out to apologise. After all, she had committed no crime. She just didn’t understand how to live within a budget. If he was honest with himself, he had chosen her more for her figure than for her head for figures. He would just have to take more of an interest in her financial affairs. The notion that it might be more productive for him to take an interest in Helen herself, rather than in her spending habits, escaped Mark entirely. Helen gratefully accepted his apology. She vowed to restrict her future spending. Then they ordered a takeaway meal of Thai food and watched a movie, having resolved nothing.
On Saturday, the morning after the disastrous lunch, Beth woke to find Rick snuggled beside her. Since the separation, any upset saw him creeping quietly into Beth’s bed. It happened less frequently now he was older, but occasionally he still craved the warmth and security offered by his mother’s sleeping body. She stroked strands of his pale hair lovingly out of his eyes, causing him to stir and smile in his sleep. Beth felt an intense surge of privilege and joy wash over her. This simple pleasure of mornings with her children could soon become a thing of the past if Mark had his way. She recalled the events of the previous day and instantly regretted her behaviour. The way to change Mark’s mind was not to antagonise him. It was necessary to repair any damage she might have done as quickly as possible. Easing out of bed so as not to disturb her sleeping child, Beth showered and dressed, all the while considering her next move. She went downstairs and slipped out of the front door. A walk in the garden always helped her to think more clearly. Although only seven o’clock, it was already hot and humid outside. The sky loomed grey and oppressive.
Beth noticed there’d been a termite swarm overnight. The early morning air was still thick with them. Some struggled weakly on the windscreen of Beth’s car, hopelessly trapped on their backs, their waterlogged wings plastered to the dewy glass. Others crawled over the concrete porch, piles of their discarded, silver wings fluttering slightly despite the apparent stillness of the air. Others clogged the untidy spider webs that festooned the outside lights under the verandah roof. It seemed a curious contradiction. Insects that evolved in complete darkness were, for one brief moment of their lives, irresistibly drawn towards the light. Flycatchers, Fantails and Dragonflies greedily targeted the final stragglers still in flight, feasting on their succulent, nut-brown bodies. Beth viewed the scene with distaste. Swarming termites always made her feel vulnerable. Where did they all disappear too? She was suspiciou
s that they vanished into the woodwork of her home. She had seen a Disney cartoon where a single termite eats every piece of timber in sight.
She need not have worried. The cartoon termite was based on an insect known as a Powder Post termite, capable of living in very dry wood with no connection whatsoever to the ground. Therefore it could indeed reduce wooden furniture within a home to powder as its name suggested. By contrast, the termites swarming around Beth’s house lived in the damp, decaying wood on the forest floor. They would not damage the dry, sound, timber frame of her home. Beth did not know this and worried when she saw them in such vast numbers. She was also saddened by the carnage. Fully ninety nine percent of these termite reproductives perished. Their bodies lay all around. Beth screwed up her face and went back inside. She had greater troubles than termites to consider.
Sarah was watching cartoons in the lounge room and looked up as her mother entered.
“Is Rick in your room?” asked Sarah.
“Yes. I’m letting him sleep in. How are you this morning?” asked Beth, giving her daughter a big hug.
“Good.”
Beth decided to take the opportunity to sound-out her daughter in Rick’s absence.
“Sarah?”
“Yes, Mum.”
“Your Dad talked to you about living with him, didn’t he?”
Silence.
“I need to know what you’re thinking.”
Sarah continued to watch the television. Beth turned off the set. Sarah looked cornered.
“I don’t know Mum. I love you and Daddy. I shouldn’t have to make a decision like this,” she said indignantly.
Beth realised she was right. Children required protection and guidance, not to be put in the middle of a conflict. It was their parent’s responsibility to take control, offer leadership, give them security, provide them with safety and a sense that the world was predictable. Beth felt like a failure. It would not happen again. In the absence of a strongly expressed belief either way, it was up to her to make decisions in the best interest of her children, and that obviously meant that they should stay with her.
Beth apologised, kissed Sarah and switched the television back on. Sarah gave her mother a grateful smile. Rick came down the stairs, rubbing sleep from his eyes and yawning. He hugged his mother and regarded her closely, as if inspecting her face for something.
“Are you okay?” asked Beth, a little concerned.
“I am if you are.”
“I’m fine,” she reassured him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I had a bad dream.”
“I’m sorry Darling. What was it about?”
“It was about you. It was a really bad nightmare.”
“Go on,” said Beth. “Tell me about it.”
“Well, there was a giant wasp and it was trying to get you. You were running and running, but it could fly really fast. I tried to help you but this other wasp grabbed me and flew up into the air with me. I looked down and saw the giant wasp had you and was sucking your blood. You were screaming and screaming. Then I woke up.”
“Gross,” said Sarah, making a face.
Beth cupped Rick’s chin in her hands and kissed him. Absurdly, she couldn’t help reflecting that the wasp would not suck her blood. It would instead crush her head in its mandibles, and then feed her flesh to its giant wasplings. There goes that imagination again, she told herself. Working overtime, as usual. I’m as bad as Rick! Still, it was a bizarre thought and slightly unnerving.
“It was just a silly dream. I’m fine and you know nothing like that could ever happen. Come on, let’s make pancakes for breakfast.”
Rick and Sarah squealed with enthusiasm and trooped into the kitchen after their mother. Through the window, Beth saw her array of traps. They needed emptying again. On second thoughts she decided to take them down completely. The large numbers of wasps being trapped was a constant surprise to her. It was hard to believe that the colony could sustain such heavy losses. At least for the moment she would cut the wasps some slack. She was really wasting her time anyway. Common sense told her that the queen was probably laying eggs faster than she could kill the workers. Beth tried to cast thoughts of the wasps from her mind. She realised that her interest in them was bordering on obsession lately, and their presence was clearly disturbing Rick.
The day remained grey, overcast and muggy. Beth rang the riding school to cancel her morning classes, pleading illness. She intended to spend the day with her kids. After breakfast she rang Mark from the privacy of her bedroom. A plan was brewing in the back of her mind. Mark sounded uncharacteristically eager to speak with her. She took this as a good sign. Perhaps it would be easier than she thought to mend fences. After first apologising for her sudden departure from the restaurant, she stated honestly that his words had taken her by surprise. It was unusual for Mark to be so conciliatory. Encouraged by his receptiveness, Beth proceeded to ask him about Christmas and his plans for the children. It was coming up next week and they had not yet arranged anything. Mark was vague. Beth gathered her courage.
“Well, how about you and Helen and Chance all come over for Christmas lunch? Then, if you like, you can take the kids back with you for a few days.”
Mark was surprised, yet delighted at the prospect of spending some time with his wife. He agreed immediately without consulting his girlfriend. Beth felt her spirits lift. If everything went according to plan, Helen would soon be firmly on her side.
The barking of the dogs heralded the arrival of a visitor. Glancing out of the window, Beth recognised Ted Beaumont’s truck. Ted was Beth’s handyman. She’d called him earlier in the week, insisting that he finish cutting up the fallen tree for firewood. He partially completed the task ten months ago in early autumn. Being a supremely unreliable handyman, he never came back. Beth worried about the danger presented by the dead timber so close to the house during bushfire season. A local fire safety officer only recently alerted the residents of the area to just such a risk. Windblown embers could quickly take hold in a woodpile, moving a bushfire front dangerously close to a residence. Beth nodded and smiled at Ted through the window, waving him on. He drove past the house and over to the gully where the fallen tree lay.
A flock of Gang Gang Cockatoos fed on gum nuts in the surrounding trees. Ted peered curiously up into the crowns of the Gum trees and soon spotted several of the striking, medium sized cockatoos with their sooty grey plumage and bright red heads and crests. A soft, collective murmuring, and the gentle, clearly audible pitter-patter of gumnuts and twigs falling continually to the forest floor below, revealed the presence of the flock. During summer, Gang Gangs frequented the dense, mountainous forests surrounding Beth’s property and were fortunately still quite common in their limited range. At the first chill of winter they migrated to the warmer, open, timber plains below.
Ted soon lost interest in the birds and reluctantly turned his attention to the task at hand. He was a fundamentally lazy man. Casting an experienced eye over the dead tree, he was again surprised and daunted by its sheer size. In it’s heyday it had indeed been a giant. It remained impressive, even in death. For more than a century it stood on this place as a silent sentinel, bearing witness to the infinite dramas unfolding below. For only a mere fraction of that time had either humans or European wasps been part of its story.
Ted set to work, the roar of the chainsaw deafeningly loud. As the frightening noise tore through the silence, the Gang Gangs rose above the trees, their beautiful crests raised in alarm as they uttered their haunting warning cries. Tiny skink lizards ran for cover. A sleek Copperhead snake slithered swiftly and silently away, unseen by the unobservant man. Unwittingly, Ted almost trod on the highly venomous reptile hidden in the long dry grass beneath his feet. Fortunately for both of them, the snake greatly preferred a peaceful retreat to a violent confrontation, notwithstanding its deadly reputation. Actually Ted was by far the more dangerous of the two as, despite its protected status, he would almost certainly seek out a
nd kill the innocent snake had he become aware of its presence. At the other end of the log lay Zenandra’s nest. The unfamiliar noise and activity was arousing the ire of the wasps.
First, Ted cut the limbs and branches into rounds. Then he used a log splitter to cut the wood to size to fit the firebox of Beth’s slow combustion heater. As the morning wore on, the humidity caused Ted’s shirt to cling uncomfortably to his body. By midday his chainsaw ran out of fuel and he couldn’t have been happier. He started a fire on a clear patch of ground near the centre of the tree, to burn off what he considered to be the rubbish; small branches and twigs not worth cutting and stacking for firewood. The resulting heat added to his discomfort. Tired, hot, sweaty and thirsty, he decided to call it a day. He walked back to the truck in order to fetch water with which to douse the flames. In doing so he passed dangerously close to the hidden nest.
Thoroughly agitated by the noise and vibrations, the wasps reacted swiftly to the proximity of the intruder. They streamed out of the nest towards Ted, bold and antagonistic. Several of the angry insects landed on his sweat soaked shirt and stung him on his unprotected back. The sting of the European wasp is much more painful than that of the Honeybee. However the sight and sound of the swarm so close to his face, terrified him more than the pain of the stings. Ted opened his mouth to scream in panic but had enough sense to control himself. He had heard what could happen to a man with wasps in his mouth. Desperately he sprinted for the safety of his truck. The sudden movement only served to further infuriate his attackers. The wasps produced an alarm pheromone, a chemical signal that marked intruders, thus attracting other wasps to the sting sites. Ted reached the truck, jumped in and wound his windows up tightly, only too aware that some of the insects had entered the cabin with him. Several in fact hitched a ride on his back where he could not reach them. Only inches from his face, hundreds of wasps dive-bombed the windscreen. He looked directly into their wide, furious eyes and they clearly looked back. They could see him but not touch him and they swarmed around the cabin beside themselves with frustration. Ted was grey with fear. An intense, burning pain shot through his left buttock as he received another sting. He strangled his scream no longer, uttering an earsplitting cry that set the dogs off barking. For a number of seconds he continued to ineffectively wriggle and slap at himself in a vain attempt to dislodge his tormentors. Realising that he was hopelessly restricted behind the wheel, he gritted his teeth and drove erratically back to house. The enraged wasps trailed after him for a short distance before returning reluctantly to their nest.
Wasp Season Page 8