‘Eff off,’ Gabs said. ‘I’d not make a good lady of the town house.’ She belched.
Rebecca gazed ahead at the traffic.
‘So what would you truly want?’ Gabs asked again.
Rebecca glanced around and saw Ben had drifted off to sleep, his sweet face tilted back, mouth open. She turned back to her friend. ‘I think I would want this whole business with Janine and Charlie to go away. That’s what I’d want.’
Gabs turned towards her. ‘But it won’t. I seriously can’t see why you’re still letting him stay as if nothing happened. If Frank did that to me and the kids, I’d be gone. I mean, haven’t you dragged it on enough? Can’t you see it’s not getting any better? He’s not getting any better.’
Bec swallowed.
Gabs swigged her beer. ‘And as for that Janine Turner: pffft! She’s had more cocks than a second-hand air rifle. It’s not as if Charlie’s going to fall in love with her and run off. He was just after a bit of sex on the side.’
‘But why? Why do it to the kids? And to me? Why risk the farm?’ Bec asked in hushed tones, glancing at the sleeping Ben, her teeth gritted.
Gabs shrugged. ‘You need to think about yourself. What is it that you want from this moment now?’
‘I don’t know! I don’t know. Just not to feel so fucking angry all the time?’
Rebecca took a swig of beer from Gabs’s can, and in an instant she was braking, flinging the door open and vomiting. When she was done, Gabs offered her a KFC serviette, the smell of which made her want to retch again.
‘Bec, you can’t keep going on like this. The stress will kill you.’
Rebecca shut her eyes and clenched her jaw. ‘That’s it,’ she said quietly so the sleeping Ben wouldn’t hear. ‘This week I’m going to tell Charlie. He has to leave.’
At the bush hospital in Bendoorin, Rebecca set the bag of toys down beside Archie’s bed as Gabs busied herself by packing his clothing into a cupboard. Rebecca smiled gently, watching him sleep, drifting the backs of her fingers over his arm, taking in the rise and fall of his narrow chest. Each breath she witnessed brought with it an overwhelming sense of gratitude that he was here, almost home. Out of the city.
Her boy, although battered and broken, was alive. The bruising across his chest was now less angry and ugly, and colour was returning slowly to his pale cheeks. The scar from the emergency tubing was healing in a puckered red line. The surgery scars were neater, but still shocking. Still, he was so thin. The doctor had said, though, that he would just need a couple more weeks for rehabilitation, then life could get back to normal. It wasn’t yet known if there would be any long-term impact from the injuries, but each day Rebecca was grateful and each day Archie seemed better.
From the window, both women could see Frank wrestling with Charlie on the hospital lawn, Ben standing nearby, watching, laughing.
‘Will you look at the big dumb kids?’ Gabs said. ‘I’d better take them home now.’ She slung an arm around Bec’s neck and rubbed her knuckles on the crown of her head. ‘Take care of yourself, knuckle head.’
‘You sure you’re OK to give the wandering stallion a lift home for me?’
They both turned their gaze to Charlie, who was puffing now from the exertion of wrestling with Gabs’s husband. He was scratching his belly and standing with a big idiot grin on his face.
‘Him a stallion? Look at him. Time to trade him in,’ Gabs said as she grabbed her bag. ‘Least that’s my opinion. He jumped the fence; you didn’t. But it’s your call. You’re a good woman. Too good to waste your life on someone who doesn’t appreciate you.’
Rebecca blinked back emotion. ‘Get going,’ she said to Gabs. ‘You’ll make me cry. Tell Charlie and Ben I’ll be along soon. Just as soon as Archie has had his dinner.’
‘You sure you don’t want me to bring some clothes in to the motel for you?’
‘Nah. I’d better go home. Check the farm — god knows what he’s done in the weeks I’ve been away. I can pick up my stuff then.’
Gabs walked out the door, stifling a deep beer burp, and Rebecca could hear her say ‘excuse me’ to someone in the hallway.
In the room, silent save for Archie’s breathing, Bec watched from the window as Gabs, Ben, Charlie and Frank piled into Frank’s crew-cab ute and motored away down the main street of Bendoorin.
Bec turned to begin arranging Archie’s toys beside his bed. She wanted them all to be there when he woke up. Her plan was to spend the evening with him, then when he went to sleep she would camp at the motel until the nurse called in the morning. She thought about the striking conversation in the city hospital she’d had with Archie, not long after he’d regained consciousness. As she had stooped to kiss him good night, she had asked, ‘Are you sure you’re OK with Mummy leaving now? You won’t be lonely? You know the nurses are here?’
‘And Uncle Tom.’
Rebecca froze. ‘Pardon?’
‘Uncle Tom. He’s here,’ Archie said, his little face serious, his blond curls still wet from the bed-bath Bec had given him. ‘He’s been here since the bull got me. He keeps telling me to be brave.’
Rebecca had felt a wave of emotion wash through her. She held back tears as she stroked her son’s beautiful, clear-skinned forehead. ‘Does he?’
‘Can’t you hear him, Mummy?’
‘Yes, I can,’ she had lied.
Now in the Bendoorin hospital, as she stooped to gather Buzz Lightyear up, she tried to foster the notion that Tom was here in the room too, but suddenly another urge to throw up hit her. Grabbing for a steel bowl, Bec began gagging into it. Eyes watering, the reflex action tearing at her throat. But no food came. She saw her morphed image reflected back at her in the bowl. A blonde weirdo with a stomach ulcer, she thought. Just as her gut contracted again with another violent retch, Dr Patkin swept past the door, then reversed. He dragged his glasses down over his nose and surveyed her as she gagged and gagged again.
‘You, my dear,’ he said, beckoning her, ‘come with me …’
Not long afterwards in Dr Patkin’s office, Rebecca sat staring at him with wide blue disbelieving eyes.
‘Six weeks along, I’d say,’ he said.
‘How could I be? I throw up at the drop of a hat. Always have done. HSC exams. My brother’s death. The stress of shearing time … And with Charlie …’ Her voice trailed off.
Dr Patkin tossed the pregnancy test stick and urine sample in the bin, then, flipping out the tails of his white coat, slowly sat down.
‘I can’t be. He’s had a vasectomy,’ Rebecca said.
Dr Patkin set his elbows on his desk, clasped his hands together, pushed the glasses up the bridge of his fine English nose and said, ‘It is feasible. There are several cases of women falling pregnant to their partners after the men have had vasectomies.’
‘But it’s impossible.’
‘My dear, I’m telling you exactly the opposite. It is possible.’
‘But I can’t be.’
‘But you are.’
‘But my husband and I never have sex.’
‘I see. Or,’ he said cautiously, ‘perhaps there was another partner?’
Bec’s eyes widened in shock and she shook her head vehemently. ‘No! There was this one night with Charlie … the night before Anzac Day … I …’
Dr Patkin held up both hands to ease her distress. ‘I understand. If Charlie has an issue, send him to me.’
‘Oh, he’ll have an issue,’ Bec said quietly. ‘He’ll kill me.’ She looked down at her lap. ‘How could I have not known? I put the skipped periods down to stress.’
Suddenly she wondered if she should tell Dr Patkin of the trauma, generated by Charlie’s affair.
‘Now you are pregnant, you will need to watch your stress levels. Go get yourself a good cup of tea at the café.’
‘But Archie —’
Dr Patkin held up his hands. ‘Sister and I will keep an eye out for Archie. Just take half an hour off. Have a think about your new
s.’
‘Thank you,’ Rebecca said, standing up and reaching for her handbag; there was nothing she could do to stop her hands from shaking.
Twenty-two
Larissa’s coffee shop was closed so instead Rebecca found herself wandering in a daze into the Heaven is Here! hippy shop. She couldn’t help but roll the word ‘pregnant’ around and around in her head. Half of her was overjoyed at the prospect of another child, the other half devastated in light of her situation. Mostly she worried about what Charlie would say.
As she stepped into the shop, the peaceful vibe of the room and the scent of sandalwood instantly soothed Bec’s jangled nerves.
She looked about. Ornate umbrellas bejewelled and bright in pink and green silks hung from the ceiling. They reminded Rebecca of Indian brides riding to weddings on elephants. The shelves were cluttered with Balinese-style ornaments while stained-glass decorations and crystals adorned the windows. Candles and hearts clustered together on tables and gentle flute music drifted throughout the store.
‘Hello?’ called Bec as she poked her head around a shelf.
‘Crikey!’ Evie said with a start from where she sat behind the counter. ‘You scared the crap out of me.’ She stood up. ‘Hah! You got me back from scaring you in the hospital! It’s funny, I should expect customers, shouldn’t I?’
Bec laughed just as Evie’s Jack Russell started up suddenly from his deep sleep, like a machine gun with a round of rat-a-tat barking.
‘Jesus! Jesus Christ! Sit!’
The Russell wagged his whole body in greeting at Rebecca, then, as she reached to let him sniff her hand, he curled his lip.
‘Oh, for god’s sake, Jesus,’ Evie said, looking down at the dog, then back up at Bec. ‘Good to see you back in town. How is Archie? I was going to bring Jesus Christ in as a “Pets as Therapy” dog, but five minutes with him and you bloody well need therapy. Cuppa?’ Evie held up a blue-and-white Chinese-design teapot.
Bec nodded. ‘Love one. Archie’s fine. Why did you call your dog Jesus Christ?’
‘Partly because I kept hearing myself say it every time he piddled inside as a pup and partly because it’s funny, and Jesus was a funny bloke. The church has us thinking He was all about suffering, but I reckon He was all about laughter and living life to the full.’
‘I’m not really into religion. I don’t believe in all that god stuff that they tried to ram down our throats at school.’
‘I don’t blame you. God is really only a word for the life force of energy that runs through everything. But we’ve mixed it up so much, it’s hard to swallow, particularly if you are a woman.’ Evie disappeared into a back room and Bec heard her running a tap and putting on a kettle. She reappeared, setting out two handleless cups beside the teapot. ‘If I was born in another time, I would’ve been burned for being a witch.’
‘Me too, I think,’ Bec said. ‘The way I want to farm Waters Meeting, I’d be called a witch as well, I reckon.’
‘I’ve got a good book here if you like,’ Evie said.
‘Um. I haven’t read the last one I got here,’ Bec said a little guiltily. ‘Or listened to the CD.’
‘You mustn’t be ready to hear it yet. But I tell you now, there is someone knocking loudly on your door. For your own health and sanity you must let them in.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I see an extra energy around you. Another aura. As colourful as a painting.’
Rebecca felt goose bumps shimmer across her skin when Evie said the word ‘painting’.
The old woman left the room again, returning with the steaming kettle. ‘He’s trying to tell you something. You’re holding yourself in such resistance and he wants you to let go. To paint your world how you want it to be, using your feelings to guide you.’
Rebecca watched Evie pour the water into the teapot and thought about the words Archie had spoken in the hospital about Tom. ‘My brother used to paint.’
‘Well, the energy has a male feeling to me. You weren’t aware?’
‘Aware of what?’
‘That you carry two auras with you. One is your own and there is this bright other. What was his name?’
‘Tom.’
‘And what do you think he’s waiting for you to hear?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Do you think he put that book and CD in your hands?’
Rebecca lifted her shoulders in a shrug.
‘Do you think he protected Archie in some way? Archie could feel him in the hospital with you. Would he be happy for you about this new pregnancy?’
Rebecca’s mouth fell open, and Evie almost squealed.
‘How did you know?’ Bec narrowed her eyes. ‘Have you been spying through Dr Patkin’s windows?’
Evie laughed. ‘No. It’s just me. I can see a third energy with you. One that is yet to physically manifest. Plus your tits have got so massive since the last time I saw you, you’d have to be up the duff.’
Rebecca looked down to her cleavage, which was indeed bursting out of a cowgirl shirt that had once been fairly loose on her bust.
‘You say some weird stuff, Evie.’ Bec snorted as Evie handed her a cup. ‘You know that?’
‘Ah, yes, weird to you, and yes, “out there” to many others. But the world is changing. My weird is becoming the new kind of normal. It just hasn’t reached most of you at Bendoorin yet.’
‘How do you know all this stuff?’
‘Because I spent the first third of my life doing what you’ve been doing: doing what others expected me to do. Then I spent the next section of my life inviting bad things into it by being careless with my thoughts and words. Watching all that frightening stuff on the news about what is wrong with the world and then in the advertising breaks watching what diseases would kill me — and what I needed to buy to feel better. Then I got sick. Really sick. And then I found myself. Bit by bit, I read, I studied, I opened my mind and I began to create my own future.’
Bec listened with interest. In all the time spent together during Archie’s hospital stay, Evie had never much mentioned her past. No family. No husband. She wanted to hear more, but her friend paused, topped up their tea and leaned closer. ‘So tell me, what is it that you want to create in your future?’
‘Well, apparently I’m creating a baby. That’s my future.’ Rebecca felt the tears well. She had always longed for a little girl, but the thought of going through a pregnancy again in the midst of a marriage break-up filled her with despair. ‘Oh, I don’t know. It’s all too hard.’
‘If you tell yourself life is hard, that’s the life you will create for yourself,’ Evie said, settling back onto her chair. ‘If we train our minds to believe life is joyful and flows easily, then we can deal with whatever life throws at us with a sense of inner peace. Affirm that all is well, even if most of it isn’t. Look for the good bits.’
‘I know, Yoda,’ Bec said, swiping her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. ‘I’ve been practising.’
‘I know you have, darling,’ Evie said. ‘You’ve been remarkable. Now, smile.’
Rebecca frowned at her.
‘Smile! Or I’ll set Jesus onto you.’
At last Rebecca smiled and Evie gathered her up in the warmest of hugs. Both women jumped when Jesus Christ suddenly cranked up with his barking again.
‘Jesus! Who needs a shop bell when I’ve got that? Can I help?’ Evie asked, squinting towards the blinding light of the bright day outside. Into the warmth of the shop stepped Sol Stanton.
‘Hola, Evie,’ he said in his deep baritone voice, stooping to bestow a kiss on the old lady’s cheek. ‘Rebecca. Lovely as always to see you. You look well. Delicioso.’
Rebecca looked up at him, drinking in his good looks, wondering why she felt so flushed and flustered that he was suddenly here before her. He still offered the same waft of expensive cologne and had just enough dark stubble on his jawline to make him look as if he could advertise yachts or diving watches or BMWs. ‘Back again
from Europe?’ she said, cringing that she had just stated the obvious.
‘Sí, I know the Bendoorin Show is still a long time away, but I’ve been perfecting my recipe and my design for the inaugural Man Cake competition. It’s a long flight to Australia, so there was plenty of time to work on it.’
‘Your father hasn’t been keeping you busy enough, Sol,’ Evie said.
‘Maybe. And nowadays I have no girlfriend.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Such a sad, lonely man. Lamentable.’ He pouted at Rebecca, then turned to Evie. ‘I came to see if my CDs were in? I could use a distraction. Papá is back from Europe too and he will flog me harder than the jockeys run the horses.’
‘They are in. Indeed. Out the back. I’ll just be a moment.’
When Evie was gone, Sol squatted down beside Rebecca and looked levelly into her eyes with his dark passionate gaze. ‘Yazzie told me about your Archie.’ He patted her hand. ‘I’m so glad to hear he’s on the mend. Buena noticia!’
‘Thank you, Sol.’
‘So, can we, you know, catch up for a chat? A coffee at Larissa’s one time? It would be nice, yes? I have thought about you a lot while I have been away.’
‘Coffee?’ she said, caught off guard. ‘Yes. Sure. One time. That would be nice.’ And with her heart and mind racing, she rose from her chair and almost ran out the door, back towards the bush hospital.
Half an hour later, after settling Archie, Rebecca jabbed her finger at the car stereo button as the panic roared through her. Another baby? And a crush on Sol Stanton? Her mind screamed. Another baby! And a crush on an unobtainable man? The American voice of a man sounding like a Muppet filled the stuffy space. ‘Hello, I’m Jerry H—’ he said.
‘Fuck off,’ Rebecca said, jabbing the off button. That bloody CD! It was haunting her. ‘No — apparently it’s you haunting me, Tom, isn’t it?’ She looked to the empty passenger seat. ‘So go on: show yourself, brother!’
She shook off the idea of Tom’s ghost manifesting in her car, and started the engine. As she trundled out of town, she tried to sort through her whirl of thoughts. Her conversation with Evie had both reassured her and rattled her. She had always felt Tom with her, but it was something she carried as a notion in her head. Not a reality. The fact both Archie and Evie had spoken about ‘an energy’ around her had brought the reality of Tom’s presence rushing at her.
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