We That Are Left

by Lisa Bigelow

  Mae turned her gaze to the dance floor and saw Johnny pull Alice close for another waltz. They swayed in time to the music, Alice’s cheek resting on his shoulder as comfortably as though they’d been married for years. When Johnny had his back to Mae, it was easy to imagine she was watching Alice dance with Jim; the two men were uncannily similar in height and shape. For a moment time stilled, as if Harry were just about to walk in the door and save her from the Mals of the night. Instead of feeling sad or wistful, Mae felt content. This was how the new year was supposed to begin: with the four of them together again.

  Then Mae’s heart jolted in her chest as Johnny looked at her over Alice’s shoulder, holding her gaze before grinning; not an open, friendly smile, but something more sinister, closer to a smirk of triumph, as though he were saying, Look what I’ve got, and you can’t do anything about it. She rubbed at the goosebumps that rose on her arm where Johnny had touched her. His hands were so large, so rough. The heat she’d felt radiating from him was probably just a trick of her imagination—but why was she so much more aware of him than any of the other men? And what had he meant by whispering in her ear like that?

  Surely Alice couldn’t be interested in someone already? Although he was so like Jim; his hair was much darker, his chin more pronounced, and he seemed so sure of himself; it was all wrong. But seeing Johnny dancing that way, it was also easy to picture Et with his father Tom. She wondered why Tom—whom everyone said was such a powerful man—had been so weak, leaving Et like that. If he’d married Et, Mae might have grown up on the farm. She and Alice would have been childhood friends and she might have met Harry that way, through Jim. But that would have meant less time together. Every now and then she wondered what was the one thing in their life that had needed to change to give them a different story. Could one different decision have changed everything? Well, if Harry hadn’t accepted that posting, of course. But what could she have done to make him want to stay? If she hadn’t been so awful on that last night of his leave, maybe he would have found a way to come home sooner.

  She turned and walked out the door and down the steps and found a log to sit on in the shadows. Her ankle throbbed. Five minutes in the country and she was already reverting to her clumsy ways. Glad to miss the midnight countdown, she watched the crowd through the door, and saw Alice standing on tiptoe in the centre of the hall to kiss and hug Johnny. Several other men lined up to kiss Alice, but they only received chaste pecks.

  The band played three more tunes then bid everyone goodnight. Within minutes the crowd was streaming out of the hall and into their cars. There was a rumble of motors and blaring of horns as people shouted their goodbyes.

  Alice appeared with a beaming smile.

  ‘Let’s call it a night,’ she said. ‘Johnny’s invited us to a picnic by the river tomorrow. I want to look my best.’

  ‘You two seemed quite friendly,’ Mae said tentatively as Alice steered the car around the edge of the football ground, past the netball courts and onto the main road.

  ‘Isn’t he lovely? I’ve known him nearly my whole life and now he says he’s liked me since we were kids. Imagine that. Not knowing all this time.’

  ‘Should you be getting involved so soon?’

  ‘It’s been two years, Mae!’

  ‘I know. Sometimes it feels like it’s just been a few months, other times it seems so much longer.’

  ‘For me it just feels longer. The children are growing up not knowing Jim at all—it just breaks my heart.’ Alice pulled a hanky from her brassiere. ‘I keep hankies everywhere. The smallest things still set me off, mostly when I’m driving.’

  Mae stared ahead at the white posts tracing the edges of the road into darkness. ‘I often dream about Harry. When I start to wake, I try to will myself back to sleep so I can feel him with me for longer.’

  ‘I’m too tired to dream, but Jim’s always with me, keeping me company in the car. He’s in their faces too; Josh in particular. Sometimes I call him Jim. He laughs, but there’s no joy in it.’

  ‘I talk to Harry all the time, about the house and about Katie when she’s being naughty.’

  ‘It’s not the same, though, is it? And I can’t stand being alone. I’m certain Jim wouldn’t want me to be.’

  ‘But they could still be—’

  ‘Johnny’s one of the sweetest men I know. And he told me tonight that you two are cousins. I can’t believe it. Why didn’t you say you knew the Wilkinsons?’

  ‘I didn’t know they were your neighbours!’

  ‘Life takes strange twists,’ Alice said. ‘I never thought I’d feel happy again, Mae.’

  ‘Just be careful.’

  ‘Of what? I’ve known them forever, Mae. Johnny’s the one who told me Jim was missing. He was devastated, like he’d lost a brother.’

  ‘Tom Wilkinson hurt Et very badly,’ Mae explained. ‘He promised to marry her. She never got over him leaving and marrying someone else at the first sign of trouble.’

  Mae saw that Alice’s smile had gone and her jaw was set tight as she spoke. ‘You can’t blame Johnny for what his father did. Besides, we don’t know the full story and Tom’s not here to defend himself.’

  Alice turned off the main road and sped along the driveway, the car tyres crunching to a halt on the gravel at her front door.

  They walked quietly up the stairs onto the front verandah and let themselves into the darkened house. The children hadn’t waited up after all.

  ‘Do you want a cup of tea before you go to bed?’ Alice asked as she tidied the children’s empty glasses and dinner plates from the table.

  ‘No, thank you. I just need to get out of these shoes and get my weight off my foot.’

  ‘There’s cold compresses in the ice chest. See you in the morning,’ Alice said. ‘I’ll make breakfast at eight so we can all sleep in.’

  Moonlight streamed through holes in the curtains as Mae lay in bed, burned by the memory of Alice’s dismissive tone. True, she’d spoken her mind, but Alice had no reason to be so cold. And after she’d tried so hard to support her friend at that interminable dance. She felt the cold cloth slipping off her ankle but couldn’t be bothered sitting up to put it right. Instead she turned the night over in her mind, imagining that Harry had been on stage playing the fiddle, his fingers flying faster than she could see, weaving a thread of music that invisibly bound them together. As she drifted off to sleep, she dreamed she was wearing the silk chemise she’d worn on their wedding night. Harry was sitting in the bed propped against pillows and she rested her back against his warm bare chest. He was brushing her hair with one hand and using the other to smooth her hair between strokes. He worked gently, kissing her neck and nuzzling her ear.

  It could have been minutes later or hours, but his strokes gradually grew harsh; he tugged at her scalp, digging the bristles into her skin. She reached up and touched his hand to encourage him to be more gentle, but his hand was larger than she expected, his skin rougher, hairier. She spun around and saw Johnny’s face. He grinned and leaned down, licking her neck roughly with his broad, wet tongue. Her legs lurched and a wave of pleasure flooded her belly, her groin.

  She sat up straight, panting, the unwanted pleasure mingling with panic. Her heart was racing, her nightgown drenched. Why was her mind playing such nasty tricks? She didn’t desire Johnny; she didn’t even like him. For the rest of the night she lay awake, fighting sleep in case her mind betrayed her again.

  ‘How’s your ankle?’ Alice asked the next morning. She was standing at the stove stirring a pot full of porridge.

  Mae hobbled over to the table and sank into a chair, slipping her shoe off and slowly rotating her foot. She wouldn’t be walking far today. ‘I might need some liniment if you’ve got some.’

  ‘You looked like you were having fun dancing last night.’

  ‘A little too much fun, I think.’

  ‘There’s no such thing as too much fun, Mae. You’ve just forgotten how.’

 
‘I’m running the shop and I’m looking after Katie, Et, Albert and William. There’s not much time for dancing, and there won’t be till—’

  ‘Stop it, Mae.’ Alice put the spoon on its rest and turned around. ‘You have to face the facts: they’re not coming back.’

  ‘They’re still finding prisoners in the jungle,’ Mae protested. ‘I read about it in the paper just the other day.’

  ‘It’s great that you have your family for support, but I don’t. There’s no one left. But the farm needs a man’s hands and I do too. I refuse to live the rest of my life alone. I just won’t.’

  ‘I want you to be happy, Alice. Truly I do,’ Mae said quietly. ‘But there’ll be no one else for me, not while there’s a chance Harry is still alive.’

  Alice sat in the chair opposite; her hands moved across the table to make contact with Mae’s.

  Mae sat to attention, her muscles tightening like a spring.

  ‘You are probably the most stubborn person I’ve ever met,’ Alice said. ‘But I don’t think you’re managing very well. They’re gone. It’s terribly sad and we’ll never forget them, but there’s no government cover-up; they’re not in a POW camp. Wishing won’t change the facts.’

  ‘That’s enough, Alice,’ Mae said, sliding her foot around under the table, looking for her shoe. When she found it, she couldn’t fit her foot inside. ‘Perhaps it’s time Katie and I went home, while I can still walk on this foot. When’s the next train to Melbourne?’

  ‘Tomorrow afternoon,’ Alice said with a heavy sigh.

  ‘Well, I can’t get into my shoes, so you go on to the picnic without me. I’ll stay here.’

  ‘The Wilkinsons will be disappointed. I know Johnny’s mother wanted to meet you.’

  ‘Katie can go with you, if you like. She’ll enjoy another day with your children.’

  ‘We won’t leave for a couple of hours, maybe you’ll feel better by then.’

  Mae heard the car drive away as she sat on the back verandah reading a book, her foot up on a stool. She looked through the trees to the large dam about two hundred yards away. The air was already warm and harshly dry, so she was glad to be in the shade. The never-ending cicada shrill sounded like a scream of frustration. Mae’s stomach was knotted as tight as a girdle. This trip had been a terrible mistake. What had happened to her friend? She hardly recognised Alice anymore. And now she was thinking of marrying Johnny Wilkinson! What if he was like his father, like her own father—just using Alice for a thrill, only to leave when things got serious?

  A breeze carried the sharp scent of nettles from a stand of pines behind the sheds. Mae wondered how much Johnny’s mother knew about Et. Nothing, she hoped. It would be too awful to know that Tom had known another woman so intimately then broken his promises. But maybe Alice needed to know what sort of family she was letting her children spend time with? Or maybe not. After all, it was Et’s story to tell, not Mae’s.

  Large gum trees near the dam’s edge softened the landscape and a wooden jetty jutted into the air; the water level was so low that anyone wanting to get into the rowboat needed to climb down a ladder. The boys had promised to catch yabbies from the dam and Alice said she’d cook them for dinner, but unless they did it tonight, it was unlikely she’d get the chance to try them.

  ‘Don’t leave tomorrow,’ Alice had implored. ‘Jemima adores Katie and the boys treat her like another sister. Please, Mae; stay for the week and try to enjoy yourself.’

  Mae knew it would be impossible to avoid Johnny if she stayed any longer, and the thought of seeing him…well, she was certain he and Alice would be able to see the thoughts she’d had about him written all over her guilty face. She thought back to dancing, to twirling and whirling and feeling free, flying like a bird. But then she recalled the way he’d looked at her as he danced with Alice, and the vivid feel of his tongue on her neck in her dream. It hadn’t even happened, yet it was already tangling itself in her memories. How could her mind have made it feel so real?

  She’d made a point of not looking at men, of keeping her expression distant, never speaking more than a few words to any of the fellows at church. And now, in a single night, she’d let herself go, dancing like a lunatic with Mal then Johnny. The whole town had egged them on, as though they’d all decided it was time for her to get on with life. But that was silly; they wouldn’t know anything about her life unless Alice had told them her story, and as distant as she seemed these days, she couldn’t believe Alice had slipped that far away. Still, it was just a matter of time until she and Alice drifted apart completely. Soon there’d be no one who had known her and Harry together, who knew the look on his face when he was with her, who had seen the way his shoulder dropped so that his hand hung at just the right height to comfortably hold hers. When she was gone, her memories would be gone too, and there’d be nothing left of Harry apart from his photo.

  She moaned. Harry was gone. Harry wasn’t coming back. She knew it, but she couldn’t admit it to the world. Once she finally said it aloud, it would be real, and her life would change completely. The only way she knew how to live was with hope; huge, unwavering, against-all-odds hope. The thought of living without hope was almost impossible to imagine. Mae couldn’t picture who she’d be or how she’d get out of bed each day if she let her hope go. Instead she filled her mind with memories, but only the good ones that brought her lightness, a sense of belonging. She was happy to let go of anything else, especially their last night together at her family’s house; if only it were gone already. The memory of her last night with Harry still caused her breath to catch, her chest to ache.

  I’m so sorry about that night, Harry, she whispered to the trees and the dam and the insects. I didn’t mean for it to end that way. I always thought I’d get the chance to make it right.

  Mae let the tears stream. There was no need to hold back; the luxury of being completely alone meant she could give in to the pain and let it flow through her. Alice was right; it was time to give up hope and make a new life for herself. But where would she start? Building the house? No, that was too big a step to begin. Finding a dance partner for church socials? There weren’t many men of suitable age in sight. Stop talking to Harry so often in her thoughts? Impossible.

  Mae heard a car approaching the house and stop. She tried to tidy her face and pretend she’d been reading.

  A few moments later her friend approached with Jemima and Katie.

  ‘Alice! I thought you’d be gone for hours.’

  ‘I couldn’t leave you here alone and Jemima left her dolly here. We’ve both been miserable all day.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Mae said. ‘You should be with Johnny, not worrying about me.’

  ‘I’ve left him with the boys. He won’t even notice I’m gone.’

  ‘I doubt that.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mae; I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  ‘It’s all right. I shouldn’t have been so critical.’

  Alice looked down at the hanky in Mae’s hand then back at her blotchy face. ‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘Is your ankle hurting?’

  Katie and Jemima ran inside to look for the doll.

  Mae looked squarely at her friend and summoned the strength to ask the question. ‘What if Harry…What if he never forgave me?’

  ‘Forgave you for what?’

  ‘We fought, that last night. I turned my back on him and didn’t say goodbye.’ Mae’s throat burned. She fought against her tears then gave in when she felt Alice’s arms wrap around her and rock her gently like a child.

  ‘Harry knew you loved him. And he loved you.’

  ‘But I wasn’t perfect. I swore I’d never fight with him when he was home, but then we couldn’t stop arguing. I was just so tired, and I didn’t want him to leave.’

  ‘And you apologised in your next letter?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Mae, I’m sure he never gave it another thought. I’ve never seen a man more devoted.’

  Mae let herself rela
x in her friend’s arms, comforted by her voice.

  ‘Harry and Jim were quite the pair, weren’t they?’ Alice said.

  ‘They—they were.’ Mae took a few deep breaths. ‘I just can’t picture my life without Harry,’ she said quietly. ‘I try, but nothing comes to mind.’

  ‘Mae, you’re already living it. This is your life. Raising Katie, spending time with your family, working; even visiting us sometimes. You don’t have to plan it all out, just try to enjoy some of it, dance a bit more.’

  Tension slipped from Mae’s shoulders and neck. She sat back and looked at Alice’s expression, concerned, tired, but open, with no sign of grief.

  ‘Thank you for coming back.’

  ‘I’ll always be here for you, Mae.’

  Mae lifted her head and attempted a smile. ‘I’ll always be here for you too. I couldn’t bear to lose you as well.’

  A week later, the two women stood on the station platform as the children ran around the suitcases.

  Mae adjusted her hat and smoothed her blouse—tears threatened but she swallowed them back.

  ‘We’ve been through our best and our worst times together,’ Alice said in Mae’s ear. ‘But there’s so much ahead, even if you can’t see it yet.’

  The noise of the train prevented them from saying much more. Mae still loved Alice, but she knew their lives were moving in different directions. ‘Katie, say thank you to Alice for inviting us to stay.’

  Alice bent down and hugged the little girl. ‘You must visit again. The boys will teach you to ride properly when you’re big enough.’

  Mae and Katie boarded the train, pausing in the doorway to wave goodbye before finding their seats.

  As the train pulled away from the station and gathered speed, Mae watched the flat, dry landscape and spoke to herself: This is your life. There’s so much ahead, so much ahead.

  That might be true, but first she had to learn how to live without holding her breath.