Water Under Water

by Peter Rix

  Forget it, Jim, his mum said. It keeps him settled.

  James grabbed Tom in a headlock. That’s my French dictionary for school. Anyway, you loser, everyone will speak English. We’re still going to be in Australia.

  I’m not stupid, James. And I need French for when I go to my high school.

  Car trips. The trick was to be on the road early, that’s what his dad always said.

  Cool! It’ll still be dark night and we’ll be awake.

  It’s just a matter of getting the journey done, mate.

  On the road before sun-up and you’re ahead of the mob all the way, his dad said. Getting up before dawn just takes self-discipline.

  Maybe it was the self-discipline that made his dad tired and cranky this morning. The radio alarm, set for ten to five, didn’t go off, because the alarm button was switched to Off. His dad woke up an hour later.

  Bloody Tom!

  He was cranky while they packed the car, and he was more cranky when Tom and James played games in the back seat. Settle down, boys. By the way, Tom, leave my things alone. Including my clock radio.

  Take my advice, Dad. You get cranky when you’re tired. Mum said. So sleeping in is better than self-discipline.

  You don’t have to do the driving, do you?

  I could if you teach me.

  It’s one hour, Jim, his mum said. Let it go.

  Look at the traffic, Fran.

  Tom’s dad knew that Tom didn’t do the flat tyre. I’m not stupid, Fran. Of course I’m not blaming him for that.

  When they got to the High Tops Holiday Ranch, Tom and James both wanted to open the gates, so Tom’s mum told them she’d do it herself and, Really, boys, let’s have a break now.

  Remember, you two, Tom’s dad said in a serious voice, in the country, any gate you find closed, you close after you.

  James did a great joke. That’s right, little brother. You better close all the gates, otherwise the cowboys string you up from a tree. By your thumbs.

  Tom cackled and held out his thumbs.

  Yeah, but before they hang you up, James said, they take off all your clothes and smother you in honey, and the ants come and bite you all over.

  On your bum, Tom yelled out, and on your willy too, and everywhere. Gross!

  Tom, quieten down, please, his dad said.

  Oh, no, Tom, James said. There’s some poor loser hanging from that tree over there. What a gruesome sight.

  Tom couldn’t see between James and a pile of pillows. Where? Where?

  James grabbed a pillow and wrapped it around Tom’s head. No, Tom, don’t look. It’s too horrible.

  Even Tom’s mum didn’t like the joke. Enough, you two, enough.

  At the ranch, they had horses. I bags the big, black one, Tom yelled.

  Whichever you want, James said. Trail bikes for me.

  Actually, I can’t ride horses, Tom remembered. Not alive ones. I can collect eggs, though. Look.

  They drove past a big henhouse. There were lots of dozens of chooks scratching in the dirt of the chook yard.

  As if, James said. You wouldn’t know where to look.

  I would so. I’m not stupid. They’ve got them at my friend Karen’s house. The eggs come out of their bums! Right out of their bums.

  Their dad shook his head and said to their mum, Why do we bother?

  Then Tom’s mum put her hand on his dad’s knee like she always did for the self-discipline. Let’s get settled in, have a cool drink. We’ll all feel better.

  James said he should have the top bunk in their cabin because he was the oldest, but that wasn’t right because it didn’t matter about sixteen and thirteen with top bunks unless you couldn’t climb up there, which Tom could easily. They had a pillow fight until Tom’s mum said they should swap each night, which was a good way to do it. Then James said he was going over to the main homestead, and he must have thought there were girls because he put on a new shirt and did his hair with that stuff. Tom hung around. His mum and dad had a nice rest in the special deckchairs on the veranda. His mum brought out a bottle of wine from the esky. Tom decided to go for a walk.

  There’s no phone here. That means no room service.

  Tom’s dad was feeling much better without any self-discipline. No phone? Oh, no, Tom, he laughed. What will we do? Catastrophe.

  It was great when his dad did tricks and teasing. He dipped his fingers in the wine glass and flicked at Tom, who ducked out of the way.

  Missed by a mile!

  Tom’s dad held the cold glass of wine on his cheek and let the little drops of water run down his face. He closed his eyes, but he wasn’t asleep, he was just resting from doing driving and from all the hard work doing numbers and writing. His dad was the best person in the world when he had no self-discipline, and Tom wanted to give him a big hug, but his mum put a finger up to her lips, so Tom went to check out the henhouse to see if it was different to Karen’s.

  He walked through the grass in the paddock. It was very hot in the day, and that was because this was a summer holiday, and the fences and trees on the other side were all bent and shimmery. Down near the henhouse, the horses were eating the grass, and the chooks were there too, scratching all about. The horses should be very careful not to step on any chooks, Tom thought. He talked to the chooks, because he was a special animal person who understood their language. Tom asked the chooks, Where are the eggs? The chooks took him into the henhouse and showed him where he could find two big ones. He carried the eggs very carefully back up towards the cabin. Now he could show James.

  TOM!

  Tom heard his dad shout, and he held up the eggs, one in each hand. They’re for you, Dad, he called. I got them for you.

  His dad was running down the paddock to get his eggs. It would have been better if Tom could have brought them to his dad. Maybe he could have found some special paper to wrap them in and done a card, even though it wasn’t his dad’s birthday. His dad was shouting and waving his arms.

  The gate, Tom, the bloody gate!

  Tom stood still. His dad rushed past him. Stay there, Tom. He was very angry. Don’t move.

  He knocked Tom’s hand as he ran past, and one egg went flying up in the air and smashed on the path. Now Tom’s mum and brother came running.

  Tom’s dad yelled to them, Come on, it’s a full breakout. Look, over near the horses. You grab that lot, James. Try not to stampede them.

  The chooks?

  Not the chooks. Don’t spook the horses. And it’s not funny.

  James said, The Man from Snowy River’s stockwhip couldn’t get that lot’s attention.

  Just do it, his dad said. Fran, that group near the bushes. If they get in there, we’ll never get them out. Herd them back this way.

  Herd chooks, Jimmy? Don’t you think you’re –

  Forget it, I’ll get them.

  Tom’s dad talked to the chooks. Shoo, shoo. Look, there’s the gate, over there. You’re much better off inside.

  Some chooks looked at his dad with their beady little eyes, but then they ran away.

  Are you deaf, his dad said to the chooks, or just plain stupid?

  It’s not nice when people say you’re stupid, so the chooks ran faster. At Karen’s house, they used a bucket of chook food to make the hens come, so Tom started to tell his dad.

  Just stay there, Tom, his dad said. You’ve done enough.

  Tom’s dad chased and chased and grabbed and missed and dived, and he caught some chook tail feathers but no chooks. So his dad ran even faster, and he caught some chooks to put back in the henhouse. He didn’t even put them back gently, he just threw them in, which was a bit mean to the chooks, who just didn’t want to have their tail feathers pulled out.

  Take it easy, Dad, James said when he brought some more chooks over.

  Listen, you don’t have to pay for his stuff-ups, do you? Just get them all back.

  It took a long time to catch all the chooks. Then his dad shut the door to the henhouse and walked back
to the cabin. His dad was very hot, sweaty and smelly from chook poop. He passed by where Tom was not moving, but he didn’t look at Tom and he didn’t stop walking.

  Did you forget already, Tom, what I told you about the gates?

  Tom’s body started to shake like he was very freezing cold, even though he was really hot from staying right there in the sun. Then his dad stopped and turned around towards Tom, so maybe it would be all right now. His dad did a big breath and looked back, and he took one step towards Tom, but then the egg Tom was holding very tight in his hand broke in half and the yellow stuff squelched through his fingers and dripped onto the grass, and when Tom looked up again his dad was walking away towards the cabin.

  We’ve been here five minutes, Tom, his mum said. Couldn’t you just …?

  Tom watched his father’s back moving away up the slope and the feeling came into his stomach like he was hungry, even though he wasn’t even hungry at all.

  Tom couldn’t stop the tears then. It wasn’t me, Mum. He’s wrong. It wasn’t me!

  His mum sat on the grass beside him. Okay, come and sit here with me for a minute, she said.

  They sat together, and his mum helped get the yellow stuff off his hands.

  Do you remember how we talked about telling the truth, Tom?

  I always say the truth, Mum, so God won’t get angry.

  His mum said something under her breath about God, and then she said to Tom, Fair enough. If you say you didn’t open the gate, then you didn’t. Simple.

  But Dad thinks I did, Tom wailed. It’s not fair being a disability person because everybody thinks you did it.

  I just told you, I don’t, his mum said.

  Tom looked at her in surprise. But you’re my mum, he said.

  They sat there in the warm sun, and then Tom’s mum said, Come on, my little big man. Haul your old mother onto her feet, and we’ll get you into a shower.

  Tom and his mum walked up the slope to the cabin.

  You know, Tom, his mum said quietly, it’s not easy being a dad with boys.

  I know that, Mum, Tom told her. That’s why I have to do driving and school and girlfriends and be the same as James, like Dad wants. Then he can be happy.

  When Tom’s mum stopped and grabbed him, he thought she was doing another game like hauling her onto her feet, but she just stood and held him close against her and didn’t do any game at all.

  I love you so much, my lovely boy, his mum said. Don’t you ever forget that.

  His dad came to his bed that night.

  I still love you, Dad, Tom said.

  That’s my line, his dad said, and he tucked the sheets in tight so it felt like you could stay there forever. His dad told him, You stuffed up. I forgive you. So I say, In spite of that, I still love you.

  I’m thirteen going on fourteen, Dad. I’m not stupid.

  Next morning, everyone had breakfast in the ranch dining room. James had said High Tops Ranch breakfasts were a speciality. On the car trip, he’d read out the brochure: Simply the biggest, freshest, tastiest farmhouse breakfast you’ll ever eat! And that’s a country promise.

  Tom sat with his dad on a long wooden bench, which was great because you could meet lots of people. James came in with a group of big kids, like he was too, but he still sat next to Tom, because they were brothers. He gave Tom a high five.

  Smell that bacon, little brother.

  Tom did big, loud sniffing sounds, and James laughed, so Tom told all the people at their table, This is even better than room service.

  The ranch manager came in with his big cowboy hat on his head. Sorry, folks, but eggs are off this mornin’, he said. Some silly bugger rounded up all the free-range hens like they was cattle and locked ’em in the chook yard. Put the birds off their layin’. It’s a shame, specially on yer first day.

  Everyone was quiet in the room now, so you could hear a pin drop, except you shouldn’t drop them because pins are very sharp when they stick in people’s feet, so Tom said, That’s what I meant about the …

  Then his dad shoved a piece of toast into his mouth. Not now, Tom. We’ll talk about it later.

  After breakfast, Tom’s dad said, Sorry, Tom, we shouldn’t jump to conclusions, and Tom grabbed his dad around the neck and whispered the special words in his ear.

  Eight

  If it hadn’t already been clear that Fran would be with him all the way to the river, Jim would never even have noticed the young man waiting with his backpack at the edge of the emergency bay. She was always picking up hitchhikers then regaling the family with stories of the interesting people she met. She pooh-poohed Jim’s warnings. He could almost sense her smile when he pulled over and the boy peered in at him. The hitcher had clear eyes, at least. Jim lowered the window, halfway.

  Hi. I’m heading for Port Halliburton, the boy said.

  I may not be able to take you that far.

  Anywhere’d be great.

  He made no move to open the car door. Jim pressed the central unlock button. Throw your pack in the back, he said.

  The boy stowed the pack then climbed in. Jim watched while his passenger pulled on the seat belt – tanned, short-cropped blond hair, spiky, like James had been wearing his lately.

  Fran was warning him now. Don’t do this, Jimmy.

  But he had never been able to avoid the comparisons. The what-ifs; the if-onlys. Any encounter with a boy around Tom’s age and he couldn’t help himself.

  I know it’s pointless, Fran … I’m not stupid.

  The hitcher returned his gaze. Wary.

  Set? Jim said, and pulled into the traffic. They drove in silence as he built speed. Anyway, she’d fallen into the same trap herself, hadn’t she, more than once, the intensity on her face for that instant before she caught herself and turned away? Every parent does it, no matter how much they try not to, even with their regular kids. James had turned out well, so the occasional reality check against his mates or fellow students or sportsmen was never more than a momentary jab and easily dismissed. With Tom, though, he told her once, it’s like having it thrown in your face all over again. Like that one time at Tom’s swimming carnival.

  He shook himself free of it, hit cruise control and asked his passenger, So, off on a backpacking trip? It’s Jim, by the way.

  Why was he introducing himself?

  I wish, the boy said. Oh, I’m Campbell Baxter. Thanks for the lift. Not many do.

  What’s at Port Halliburton then, Campbell?

  Just a party tonight. Twenty-first.

  You’re cutting it a bit fine, aren’t you?

  If I don’t make it, I don’t make it, the boy said.

  Jim glanced across. This must be a very special friend, he said.

  My brother.

  Ah, family obligation.

  That got a reaction. Exactly.

  I’m sure he’ll appreciate it, Jim said.

  Not my brother. He won’t even notice.

  They both let their thoughts run for a few moments.

  It’s none of my business, Jim said. Mum and Dad happy about you hitching, after …?

  That guy down south? Probably not. I’ve always done it. Anyway, I’m over the age of consent, or whatever they call it.

  Eighteen?

  Nineteen.

  A good age, nineteen, going on twenty.

  The words were out before he could get a grip on the thought: what if, if only. Jim felt the boy’s eyes checking him out.

  Yeah, I used to think of it like that, he agreed. When I was a kid, I mean.

  When he was a kid. Jim glanced across to ask, Working? Uni?

  Med. New South. First year. Like he wanted to get it out of the way.

  Well done, Jim said. Hardest of the lot to get into.

  Go to the right school, get the coaching, you know.

  To get off the subject, the boy launched into a story about backpacking, turning to Jim in mid-sentence … after the HSC, I spent a couple of months outback, up near the Tanami Desert. I’d
always wanted to see what life was really like for them, I guess.

  That sounds like a good trip. Did you find what you expected?

  I didn’t go in. Just hung around for a few days on the edge of the reserve. The boy’s voice sounded lost in the capsule of the big car.

  Really? All that way for nothing, Jim said.

  Throw two strangers together and there’s always an initial flurry. Campbell hesitated then trailed off into silence. Jim followed his gaze through the window; lean pickings for a passenger along this stretch. Struggle-town, left behind in the rush to subdivide and upgrade. Wrong topography, wrong zoning, or just unlucky, missed beneath the radars of the developers and town planners. Scrubby paddocks below the level of the built-up freeway, fibro shacks, hauled in and dumped on bush-brickie piers, indiscriminate plantings in wire-fenced yards, discarded children’s swing-sets and tricycles, rusty car parts, old laundry tubs, overgrown piles of blue metal. Down near the gate, recycled hope in the painted milk-urn letterbox, and, leaning against the post, the broken sheet of masonite: Navels $5 box. Choice.

  Look at him, Fran, taking it all in. Just like Tom did on our trips. It surged through him then … I had a second son … he could have been a doctor.

  Campbell turned back from the window. That’s what my dad said. It just felt like I didn’t have the right to lob in … Sorry, did I say something wrong?

  No, nothing. Go on.

  It was like, Here I am, let’s have a look at you, Campbell continued. Then disappear back to the city like some tourist ticking off the must-sees. I hitched back home. I’ll do it properly some time. Pop says – that’s my granddad – he might come with me. He knows how to look after himself in the bush, so that’d be good. He’s the only one in my family who …

  He’d gone too far. Still, good on him. Not many nineteen-year-olds want to go on holiday with their parents, let alone a grandparent. James was the same. When did he last come with them? When the boys were younger, though, the family was always heading off somewhere. Jim looked across to his passenger. Nineteen, going on twenty. Nineteen years of making comparisons and coming up short. And then a kid like this. Right in your face.

  I guess it seems pretty stupid, Campbell said quietly.