by Black Inc.
On the fifth night of the flooding I tied the boogie board to our stairs. I tested how many steps were underwater, counting four before clambering back up, my legs dripping and muddy. I’d paddled to the edge of town this time, looked up at the green highway sign pointing towards Adelaide. The roadhouse was ruined; through the windows I could see the tables and bar stools covered in mould, the fridges and food counter ankle-deep. This was where we used to sit, us girls, and watch people leave town. Especially at graduation time, the place would be feverish with plans of escape, dreams of getting a job and a flat in the city. I’d met Stuart there. He was just a boy then. A writer, he said. Hitching his way around Australia. He stayed for a week, camping by the river at a spot I showed him. I went home only once, to pack a bag and leave a note. It was the wildest thing I’d ever done. I honestly thought I was never coming back.
I missed him then, under the highway sign and drowned roadhouse. I turned the board homewards and paddled. I crawled into the bottom bunk and saw his eyes were woven shut with salt. He’d been crying. He looked so young. I saw our two sons in his face. I put my face in his neck and kissed his skin. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry,’ I said, over and over, prying my arms around him. I lifted him off the mattress and held him. Tears, his and mine, ran down my neck and onto my breasts. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ I kept saying. ‘I love you.’ And it’s true. I still love him. We sank into each other like we had been starved by the silence. Butting our heads hard. Like horses. For a moment I thought I felt the bunk beds lift, bobbing in the flood, until I cried out, a spasm going through me and into the empty town.
We lay together, on the bottom bunk, for the rest of the wet. Our bodies shifted into their habitual curve around one another, as if in sleep we knew no grudge.
Things will be different when the water recedes, as though sucked away with a straw. The crows will be the first to return. Picking at the bloated flesh of drowned dogs and sheep stuck in the mud, river shrimp and crabs coming out of their mouths. Pecking at the eyes of stranded fish, the silver gills fanned open. The hovering powerlines will return to the ground, and puddles will remain, like a great big mirror has been broken over the town, each reflecting pieces of the sky. They’ll find him. Jason Strand. Blue like a swimming pool. Toes and fingers nibbled. Stuart’s thumbprints all over him. The streets will fill up with new cars, tyres spinning in the bog. And our house will probably collapse, its knees rotten.
Dust
Patrick Cullen
The rain broke early. The sun pitched into the narrow courtyard behind the terrace and Pam went out, put the basket down beneath the clothesline and ran her hand along the length of each of the dripping wires. A fine black dust gathered on her fingers. She rubbed her hands together and the dust worked its way into the creases of her palm.
The dust came from the steelworks across the harbour, drifting across the water, day and night, to settle over the city. Pam had been living with it from the day she and Ray had moved in from the suburbs but it still got to her and, though she wouldn’t admit it to Ray, she’d even started to hope that there was some truth in the talk of closure. It was years since Ray first told her that there’d been talk of closing the steelworks, that there was no kind of certainty to their jobs, and back then Pam asked Ray if he should think about moving on, if he would consider picking up something on the waterfront or in the shipyards, if he’d ever head out into the mines if he had to. But Ray had just said that he was going to stay at the steelworks and stick it out for as long as he could. She’d only once complained to Ray about the dust and he’d told her that it would always be there and that she’d just have to put up with it. ‘That’s what we do over there,’ he’d said. ‘We make steel and we make dust.’
Pam went to the tap beside the steps, found the end of the hose and held it between her knees while she washed her hands. Water pooled at her feet and a plane passed through the reflected sky. Pam turned off the tap, looked up and searched for the plane but it was already gone. She went back to the clothesline and the water seeped away between the pavers.
She spent the rest of the morning cleaning – vacuuming, and wiping dust from the sills and architraves – and she was back out in the courtyard folding the clothes down into the basket when she heard the water pipes hammering away under the house. She glanced at her watch and looked up towards the kitchen window. ‘Ray,’ she called out. ‘Is that you already?’ The hammering stopped. She called out again but there was no answer. She dropped the last of the clothes into the basket, pulled it up onto her hip and headed into the house.
Pam stopped in the doorway to the kitchen. Ray was sitting at the table. His hands were flat on the table and there was an empty water glass in front of him. He looked up at her. His face was smeared with black dust. There were patches of clean skin under his eyes.
‘Have you been crying?’
Ray shrugged and then nodded like he couldn’t make up his mind.
‘What is it?’ Pam said, dropping the basket. It turned onto its side and clothes spilled out onto the floor between them.
Ray kneaded a thumb into his palm.
‘Is it the kids?’
He shook his head. Pam pulled a chair out from the table and sat across from him. ‘Then what?’ she said. ‘What is it, Ray? Please tell me. What’s wrong?’
‘It’s Geoff.’ Ray worked his thumb harder into his palm.
Pam leaned forward in her chair. ‘Did something happen in the mill? What happened? I had the radio on,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t I hear anything, Ray?’
He got up from the table and went and leaned over the sink. ‘No,’ he said. ‘He’s done it himself.’
‘What, Ray? What’s he done?’
Ray turned around and leaned back against the bench. ‘Geoff didn’t make it in to work today,’ he said. ‘Judy called looking for him. She said she had something she needed to tell him. I said he wasn’t in – that I thought he must have been home sick but she said she was sure he’d gone to work.’ Ray put his hand to his face. ‘Then she asked me to wait because she could see his car in the driveway. I heard her call out to him and then a moment later – it was only a couple of seconds at most – I heard her,’ Ray said, biting down on the corner of his thumbnail. ‘I’ve never heard anything like it before,’ he said, looking across at Pam. ‘She was all the way out in the garage and I could still hear her. She just made this awful sound and I knew it, I did. I knew that he’d done it.’
‘What’s he done, Ray?’
Ray came back to the table. ‘He’s killed himself,’ he said. ‘Out in his garage. He hung himself. He got up and dressed for work, backed his car out into the driveway and then went back into the garage and hung himself. As soon as I heard her,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘It was awful, it was, the sound she made. It was like some kind of wild animal all hurt and angry at the same time – and I knew it, I knew what he’d done.’
Pam pushed the glass aside and reached for Ray’s hand but he pulled it away and started chewing on his nail again. ‘I drove straight over,’ he said. ‘There was an ambulance in the driveway and Judy was in the garage with Chris and they had Geoff down on the ground between them and Judy was there in her dressing gown kneeling down beside him with his head in her hands and Chris was just standing beside her. He was dressed for school – it was awful, it was. No kid should have to see something like that.’
Pam went around the table and leaned down over his shoulder. She pulled his hand away from his mouth and held his arm against his chest. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, holding him. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’
They stayed at the table until Ray got up and looked at Pam as though he was about to say something. She held out her hands to him and waited for him to say whatever it was that he needed to say but he just looked down at the floor and said that he was going to bed. Pam mentioned dinner and Ray, saying that he couldn’t stomach it, headed upstairs. Pam looked out into the courtyard. It was still light out.
It was almost twenty years since Ray and Pam had lived out in the suburbs a couple of streets away from Geoff and Judy. Ray and Geoff had started in the steelworks on the same day and soon worked out where each other lived and settled into sharing a ride to and from work.
Geoff would sometimes drop by to borrow a tool or something for the yard and there were other times when he would come round for no good reason at all and he and Ray would sit out in the backyard, drinking and talking about what they’d do different if they had their time over again.
‘You should hear yourselves,’ Pam said one afternoon when Ray came back in to the kitchen.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re like two old men out there. Counting down the days.’
Ray just laughed and took more beer from the refrigerator and went back out into the yard. Pam went through to the lounge room and called Judy. They talked for a while and Judy asked Pam over. Pam went out and told Ray where she was headed and Geoff sipped his drink and said, ‘Tell her that I’m not sure when I’ll be home. She might be on her own tonight.’
‘Maybe she’d like that,’ Pam said and started walking. Ray and Geoff laughed behind her.
Judy made tea and she and Pam went through to the sunroom at the back of the house where a low window stretched across the width of the room. They sat in low cane chairs and looked out over the freshly mown lawn. ‘Guess what?’ Pam said as Judy started pouring the tea.
‘What?’ Judy said, then looked up at Pam smiling. ‘You’re not?’
Pam nodded. ‘I am,’ she said. ‘I’m pregnant.’
Judy put the teapot down. Tea ran down the underside of the spout and pooled on the table. ‘That’s great,’ Judy said, leaning over and grabbing Pam’s hand. ‘That’s so great for you two.’
‘But please don’t say anything,’ Pam said. ‘I haven’t even told Ray yet.’
‘I won’t,’ Judy said. ‘I won’t say anything. That’s great,’ she said again.
They sat and sipped their tea, and smiled and laughed without speaking.
‘We’ve been trying,’ Judy said, crossing her legs.
Pam sat up in her chair. ‘Any luck yet?’
‘Not yet. But it’s got to happen sooner or later, doesn’t it? If you keep trying?’ Pam just smiled and Judy grabbed her hand again. ‘That’s so great.’
*
The day before Ray and Pam moved into the city, when all of their things were packed into boxes, they went for dinner at Geoff and Judy’s. Ray and Geoff took over the barbeque, and Pam and Judy – who were by then both heavily pregnant – worked together to set the table. They carried the white plastic table sideways over the lawn, laughing, and Ray and Geoff turned and shook their heads at them. Pam and Judy both shrugged as if to ask, ‘What?’ and laughed again and disappeared into the house. They came back out nursing bowls of salad and coleslaw on their hips.
When it came time to eat, Ray and Pam sat on opposite sides of the table and Judy eased in beside Ray. ‘Looks like it’s you and me tonight,’ Geoff said, as he brought the meat to the table and pulled out the chair beside Pam. Pam passed her plate across to him and told him what she wanted. The others passed their plates in turn and then they all got down to eating. They soon started talking about what they thought life would be like – if it would be much different – when the babies arrived and their voices trailed off as they reached the edge of the things they knew for certain.
By the time they’d finished eating, Ray and Geoff had decided between themselves that they shouldn’t be any busier than usual but that Pam and Judy probably would have their hands full. Pam and Judy both shook their heads and gathered up the plates and took them into the house. Pam found the bin beneath the sink, scraped off the plates and then, standing side-on to the sink to accommodate her abdomen, set about washing up.
‘Don’t worry about that,’ Judy said. ‘Geoff can do that for me.’
‘No,’ Pam said. ‘I’ve already made a start. I may as well finish it now.’
Judy pulled a stool out from under the bench and sat and kicked off her shoes. She started cutting up the cake. She ran her finger along the blade of the knife and licked the icing from her finger. ‘Do you think Ray will make a good father?’
‘Too late now,’ Pam said, patting her belly. ‘The damage is already done.’
Judy nodded and looked down at her bare feet, ran her instep over her other foot and said, ‘I had an affair.’
‘What?’ Pam turned away from the sink.
Judy looked back over her shoulder towards the yard. ‘I had an affair,’ she said.
‘Does Geoff know?’
‘No,’ Judy said, shaking her head. ‘Nobody knows.’
‘Why would you tell me such a thing?’
Judy shrugged. ‘I just wanted to tell someone. I needed to tell someone.’
‘But you didn’t need to tell me this. I didn’t need to know,’ Pam said. ‘I don’t want to know.’
Ray and Geoff started up a chorus for cake and Pam and Judy both glanced towards the door.
‘It wasn’t much of an affair, anyway. Hardly worth it. He asked me to leave Geoff and I almost did,’ she said. ‘But Geoff will be a good father, I know he will. I want my child to have a good father. I could have left him, though,’ Judy said. ‘I could have. The only reason I’m still here is because I want to be. I want you to know that.’
Pam looked past Judy. Geoff was walking up behind her. When he saw Pam watching him he put a finger to his lips. He leaned over and kissed the back of Judy’s neck and put his arms around her belly. ‘You’re not going to have your cake and eat it too, are you?’
‘I was just saying how much I love you, wasn’t I, Pam?’ Judy laughed and got up off the stool. She slipped her shoes back on and headed out with the cake. ‘Bring the plates,’ she called behind her.
Geoff picked the plates up off the bench and winked at Pam as he followed Judy out into the yard. Pam put her hands back into the water. The water was cold and she pulled the plug and felt the weight of the water drain away.
As they ate the cake Pam watched Judy laugh and lean back in her seat. She saw how Judy put her hand on Ray’s arm when she laughed. Pam looked across at Ray and Judy. She tried not to imagine them together.
‘You know what?’ Pam said. ‘After all this time that we’ve known you I don’t think you’ve ever told us how you two met.’
‘It’s a long story,’ Geoff said, picking up his drink. ‘We don’t have all night.’
‘Give us the Digest version, then,’ Ray said.
Geoff stalled and sipped his beer. ‘Well …’ he said and looked across at Judy.
‘It’s simple enough,’ Judy said. ‘I won him over.’
‘Just like that?’ Pam said.
‘Well,’ Judy said slowly. ‘He was seeing a friend of mine at the time.’
‘So where’s your friend now?’ Ray said, and laughed. Judy laughed too and put her hand on his arm and left it there.
*
The morning after Geoff’s suicide, Ray and Pam drove out to see Judy. Ray pulled up opposite Geoff and Judy’s house and left the motor running. They both looked across at the house. It sat low, stretching most of the way across the front of the yard. Two narrow strips of concrete cut across the lawn and ran down the side of the yard. Geoff’s car sat in the driveway and beyond the car was the garage. Pam could remember the last time they were there, all of them together, and Judy telling her things that she did not want to know. ‘It’s been a long time,’ Pam said.
‘Too long,’ Ray said under his breath and cut the engine.
They went to the front door and knocked and waited. Judy came to the door. ‘Sorry,’ she said, waving them inside. ‘I was just packing up some things. Trying to get this place cleaned up before the funeral.’
‘When is the funeral?’ Pam asked.
‘Friday morning. Can you come? Both of you?’
Ray nodded. ‘Of cours
e,’ Pam said.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Come through.’ And they followed her down the hallway into the lounge room. There was a pile of boxes inside the doorway. ‘I’ve got somebody picking those up this afternoon,’ Judy said, gesturing at the boxes as she passed. ‘There’ll be more to go tomorrow,’ she said and turned and stopped in front of Ray. ‘I’ve got some things for you, too.’
Ray hesitated. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I really am sorry.’
‘It’s OK,’ Judy said, going through to the kitchen. ‘Life goes on – isn’t that what they say?’
Ray nodded and Pam just looked at her.
‘Sorry,’ Judy said and went to the sink and filled the kettle. ‘I’ve always thought that that was such an odd thing to say and now here I am saying the same damn thing.’
‘It’s OK,’ Pam said. ‘There’s probably not much else to say.’
Judy put the kettle onto the stove and lit the burner and took some cups down out of a cupboard beside the stove. ‘Do you know what I realised this morning? I realised that I didn’t really know my own husband. Geoff just went out each day and came back again and hardly said a word about his work. All I knew was that he used to come home covered in dust and I was forever washing out his clothes trying to get rid of it. It was everywhere,’ she said, then looked at Pam as though she was seeing her for the first time. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Listen to me complaining.’