by Isla Evans
‘I know what you mean.’ Kate blew smoke out and then watched it drift apart. She had a sudden thought. ‘Angie! What was your father in jail for?’
‘My father was never in jail.’ Angie turned her hand over and gazed at the palm. ‘Although he did get charged once, when he was in the army.’
‘He was in the army?’
‘Yes, in Korea. You know that.’
Kate stared at her cousin, open-mouthed. Now that it was mentioned, she did have a vague memory of Uncle Frank having spent time in the army. Certainly he had never spoken about it much. But could that have been where he was? Kate felt laughter bubble in her throat because it suddenly seemed hugely amusing.
‘I’ve got all his military stuff. Medals and all. From Korea.’ Angie held her hand higher and frowned at it. ‘Have you noticed that my hand is getting all wrinkly?’
‘It’s called age.’
Angie turned her hand over slowly, and wiped the back of it dry with the other one. ‘Look at this. See the hairs? And the dimples when I do this?’ She flexed her hand and then straightened it. ‘I’m just realising that I don’t know it at all. And if I don’t know the back of my own hand, then what the hell do I know?’
‘Dunno,’ said Kate slowly, seeing the dilemma. Then Kate started to laugh again because it seemed almost as comical as thinking her uncle had been in jail, when he’d really just been in the army. Angie looked up, frowning, and then her face relaxed into a smile before she began to laugh also.
‘I think we’re high.’
‘I think you’re right.’ Kate stopped laughing long enough to take another drag. The tip of the joint glowed even brighter and she suddenly realised that it was almost dark. The rain had stopped also, with just the occasional patter as water slid from nearby trees.
‘Sometimes I think my Auntie Faye liked your dad. I mean, really liked.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Unrequited love,’ Angie nodded. ‘But I think she also accepted the fact he wasn’t interested. Sometimes I think it’s rather sad that he never even tried to find someone else after your mother, but maybe that’s the sort of person he was anyway.’
‘You mean solitary?’
‘Yeah. And if the marriage wasn’t altogether happy, then that just sort of verified it for him. He was like a confirmed bachelor, just one who had a kid along for the ride.’
‘I like that image,’ said Kate. ‘But I think I’ll merge it with a somewhat happy marriage, for my mother’s sake.’
‘Fair enough. Do you know how much I miss him?’
‘Yes. Me too.’
‘No,’ Angie frowned. ‘I mean, do you know how much I miss him? Because sometimes you act like you’re the only one.’
‘No, I don’t,’ said Kate defensively. ‘I know you miss him. I know everybody misses him.’
‘And you must admit you’ve been a little hypocritical,’ continued Angie, as if Kate hadn’t spoken. ‘Having a go at me for not telling you about my mother, when you haven’t exactly been a font of information yourself.’ Angie ran her finger over the ash at the end of the joint and grey flakes floated down to the water. ‘Although, to be honest, you started closing down even before Uncle James died. I mean, sure most of the hard yards were left to you. Hospital visits, organising the home help, that sort of thing. But I did try to do what I could. I went there every day after work. But it still felt like you shut me out. Especially at the end.’
Kate felt her anger blossom. She took a gulp of wine. And then another.
‘Remember a conversation we had a week or so ago? About Sam using avoidance? Well, I think you do too. Not for the little things, but for the really huge ones. Almost as a coping mechanism. Then again, maybe we all do.’
‘Hmm.’
‘I’m not trying to start an argument,’ said Angie, watching her now. ‘And I’m not trying to make it a competition. It’s just sometimes I think you’re hurting so much that you lose sight of the fact the rest of us are too. Me in particular.’ She turned away again. ‘But let’s change the subject. I don’t want to be depressed tonight. Besides, methinks it’s time for a top-up.’
As Angie clambered out of the spa, Kate stared at the water, at the way the filtered light played across the ripples. She took a deep breath and then released it, with some of her anger. The rest she tucked away for later. Behind her she could hear Angie rummaging through her handbag.
‘Where the hell’s a pen? You’d think amongst all these odds and ends I’d have a pen.’
‘Is a pen an odd or an end?’ asked Kate, turning around to watch her.
‘Both.’ Angie held one up with a flourish. ‘You top up our drinks and I’ll use this to make the perfect joint.’
Kate hoisted herself up into a kneeling position. Water cascaded from her shoulders, rushing to re-enter the spa. She watched it, fascinated by the seamless fusion, and for some reason suddenly thought of Shelley. She pointed a finger at Angie. ‘You! You told her! After you said you’d wait!’
Angie paused, with the pen poking out one end of the half-made joint. ‘Well, you started it by telling her I was leaving. You left me no choice.’
Kate thought about this. ‘Hmm. I suppose so.’
‘Voilà!’ Angie carefully pulled the pen out and then screwed that end of the joint closed. ‘Bugger your fancy filters. This is the way to roll a joint.’
‘Pleb,’ replied Kate critically. ‘Besides, they’re not called filters, they’re called roaches.’ She reached over and grabbed the bottle, refilling their glasses with the last of the wine. She passed one over to Angie, who was lighting the joint. ‘Here you go. Something to whet your fancy.’
Angie trickled smoke from her nostrils. ‘Hmm, a wet fancy. Not sure that’s what I’m aiming for, right now.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Either whet my appetite or tickle my fancy, I’m guessing.’ Angie manoeuvred herself forward and sat down on the side of the spa with her towel still wrapped around her shoulders. ‘I should get back in, because it’s pretty cold out here.’
‘Why don’t you, then?’
‘Not sure.’
Suddenly thirsty, Kate drained her glass and then reached behind and laid it down on the side of the spa. ‘I am definitely high.’
‘Have you ever heard that theory of testing breast sag?’ asked Angie suddenly, holding the pen out. ‘You put this underneath your boob. Or you can use a pencil.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Look, I’ll show you.’ Angie passed the joint over and then pulled her T-shirt forward before pushing the pen down behind it and her bathers. She frowned as she made a few awkward adjustments and then looked back at Kate, beaming. The ends of the pen stuck out visibly as two tiny tents on a purple stripe either side of her right breast. ‘See?’
‘Don’t you think it’d be easier just to buy a pencil case?’
‘No, you twit. This is to measure breast sag. If you’re all pert, then the pen would just roll out. You couldn’t hold it at all. But if you’re not, then you have to see how many pens you can hold. That tells you how saggy you are.’
‘So how saggy are you?’
Angie peered down, considering. ‘I’d say I’m a two pen girl nowadays.’
‘That’s all?’ Kate looked at Angie’s chest doubtfully.
Angie reached inside her clothing and pulled the pen out. ‘Ouch! God! But here’s a handy hint: if you try this at home, remove it slowly. Do you want a go?’
‘I think not.’ Kate turned back to face the water and took a drag of the joint. She could see the outside light of the next door unit and wondered what Mrs Jarvis was doing and how she would react if Kate climbed the fence and made some surreptitious vampire-type sounds in her backyard. She giggled.
‘I’m hungry.’ Angie sounded surprised.
‘Me too.’ Kate took another drag and passed it behind to Angie.
‘Auntie Faye sent some of that soup down,’ said Angie. ‘
D’you want me to heat it up for you?’
Kate looked at her suspiciously. ‘And what’ll you be having?’
‘I’m going to order pizza. Bugger the diet, I deserve a break.’
‘Then, as tempting as the soup sounds, I think I’ll give it a miss and join you.’
‘I should make you have it, as a penance.’
‘Just the thought is penance enough.’ Kate brought her hand gently back towards her through the water. ‘This must be what it’s like in a womb.’
‘And so the conversation comes right back to my mother.’ Angie sounded annoyed but when Kate turned, concerned, her cousin was grinning.
‘Hey, Ange?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m sorry about your mum. And I understand why you didn’t tell me.’
‘Me too.’ Angie took a drag and held it. Then she blew the smoke out past Kate’s shoulder. ‘Have I told you lately that I love you?’
‘You don’t have to,’ replied Kate, facing the water again. ‘But ditto.’
‘Pizza?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Coming right up.’
Kate stretched an arm out along the spa either side and leant back. She could see a scattering of stars through the perspex roof, like the lit ends of thousands of joints, only incandescent white instead of red. She smiled lazily, then closed her eyes so that she could be enveloped by the buzz within her head. She imagined it was like a tide, moving stealthily downwards all the way to her toes. She wiggled these and the euphoria immediately seemed almost alive, an entity of its own.
She could hear Angie faintly, from inside the house, ordering the pizza. And Kate realised she wasn’t just hungry, she was ravenous. She opened her eyes and began scissoring her legs gently, loving the ripples that spread across the water. If she blocked out Angie, then the gentle tide and her own shallow breathing were the only sounds that existed. Life wasn’t just good, it was marvellous. Past, present and future. And there was nothing that couldn’t be grasped within her hand if she so chose. Kate swam her fingers through the water before lifting them to clench at the substance of the air, of life, as droplets trickled down her arm. There, it was done.
TWENTY
Dear Dad, I’ve been thinking about what Angie said and maybe she’s right. Although if I did shut her out last year, it wasn’t on purpose. And it’s not like talking was going to change anything. Nothing was. As you said after the diagnosis, it’s a done deal. So I probably did use avoidance but, to be honest, I think I was protecting myself. Whether that worked is another matter! But the thing is it was so incredibly draining. Yet it felt selfish to even feel that way. Let alone say it.
But surely I can now? Okay – I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO MIND-NUMBINGLY EXHAUSTED IN ALL MY LIFE. Mentally, emotionally and physically. Not just by the illness, but by everything. Trying to be superwoman, but not succeeding. Anywhere.
The next day was a hangover, from start to finish. Kate knew it wasn’t so much the marijuana but everything else that was doing the damage. The chocolate eggs during the day, the fish and chips, the bottle of wine, the plate of nacho corn chips with melted cheese and sour cream that Angie had made while waiting for the pizza, and then the pizza itself because even though they were now full, it seemed a shame to let it go to waste. Nor the bottle of soft drink that came with it, which they had diluted with scotch because it had just seemed right, at the time.
All merged overnight to create a potent mixture that sat uncomfortably within, every now and again sending up bubbles of indigestion that left a sour taste in their wake.
She and Angie passed each other at odd times throughout the day, mostly silent in their suffering except for the odd sociable phrase, like: ‘This is all your fault’ or ‘Just kill me now’. And every time Kate would see in her cousin’s face what she knew was mirrored in her own. Bloodshot eyes, pale clammy skin, and a furrowed brow that was born of a persistent headache. And the knowledge that it was all self-inflicted.
After that, Wednesday started off as a wonderful day. Kate emerged from beneath her doona and realised that the world seemed fresh and clear once more. She showered with a euphoria that felt almost drug-induced itself and threw on tracksuit pants and a T-shirt so that she could catch Angie before she headed off to the shop. She found her standing at the sliding door, staring outside at the courtyard.
‘Feeling better?’ asked Kate with a smile.
‘God, yes.’
‘Me too.’
‘Did you know we left the stuff outside?’ Angie pointed to the side of the spa, where the zip-lock bag could be seen lying on the cobblestones with the matches and Tally Ho papers beside it.
‘I’ll clean it up today. But for a purveyor of illegal substances, you’re not very hip with the terminology,’ commented Kate. ‘You should call it weed, or dope, or even pot. Speaking of which, has the kettle just boiled?’
‘Yep.’ Angie turned around. ‘Sam rang yesterday. Did I tell you? He left a message on the answering machine. I think it’s about the development.’
Kate nodded as she tipped hot water into her mug and added milk.
Angie watched her. ‘God. Do you know, I only ever tried the stuff a few times when I was young, but I never felt like I did yesterday. I thought I was going to die.’
‘I think that was all the crap we ate. And the alcohol. Not the marijuana.’
‘Well, I’m too old for it whatever. But . . .’ She paused and then grinned. ‘It was fun, wasn’t it?’
Kate grinned back, with interest. ‘The best.’
‘Although next year I think I’ll stick to chocolate.’
‘You’ll probably be in England. Playing grandma.’
‘Then you’ll have to come visit. And definitely don’t try bringing that with you.’ Angie gestured outside. ‘I don’t want to visit you in some dingy prison. And you’ll be all po-faced because of the internal search.’
‘Believe me, if I was threatened with an internal search, I’d be handing over all contraband before they could even get their gloves on. And keeping my legs crossed.’
‘With that image etched on my consciousness, I’m off to work.’
‘Nice to know you’ll be thinking of me, then.’
Angie rolled her eyes and then grabbed her handbag from the table and headed outside, the front door slamming behind her.
Kate sat down at the table. Even with yesterday’s fallout from their little mind-altering sojourn, she had no regrets. Apart from a very enjoyable evening, she had managed to resolve the whole mother issue with Angie quite marvellously. And the additional information only served to reinforce her early decision to discard Sophie as writing material. The mysterious scarlet woman had metamorphosed into a middle-aged woman whose ordinariness eclipsed her past. Besides, whenever her mother was mentioned, a slither of bitterness had slid through Angie’s speech. A book based on her mother’s life, detailing the abandonment of Angie herself, would be like stabbing her in the back. Again.
She thought about the other discoveries. That her uncle had never been a jailbird, just a soldier. Which made the whole Sophie thing even more understandable. There she’d been, little more than a teenager, engaged to responsible young Thomas who was busily putting down roots, when along came the older, handsome rake of a man, complete with army uniform emblazoned by medals from the Korean War.
Kate smiled, warmed by contented relief. She thought about her father, and Angie’s theory that he was a confirmed bachelor, regardless of his brief marriage. Kate liked this image; it made sense, and transformed his whole life into something eminently more satisfying. For her as well as him. She suddenly realised that it had been some time since she had last really visited the house. And that it was exactly what she felt like doing right now.
Kate grabbed a banana for a quick breakfast. She peeled it as the engine warmed up and then held it between her teeth as she reversed up the driveway and out onto the road. The day was not quite as overcast as it had been lately, but i
t was still cloudy and the sun kept disappearing, so that one minute the road was dappled with sunlight and the next it was strewn in shadows. Kate stopped at a café around the corner to buy a cappuccino. She fitted the plastic lid on tightly and balanced the disposable cup on the passenger seat as she drove the rest of the way.
Later she was to wonder, with a sort of masochistic curiosity, how long it was before she realised exactly what was wrong. At the time, though, she was feeling so damn content that it didn’t register. Couldn’t register. The leap was just too big. Instead she coasted to a halt by the kerb and then slowly frowned, twice glancing towards the neighbouring properties, thinking that she had made some ridiculous mistake and was parked outside the wrong place. Each time her gaze was brought back again and nothing had changed. Except everything.
Because the whole house was gone. Completely. Missing from the foundations up, with not even a piece of roofing or a weatherboard plank to mark where it had once stood. All that was left was a patchy piece of dirt, which stood out starkly amongst the weeds.
Kate turned off the ignition, almost automatically, and then sat with her hands on the steering wheel and stared. Although she could see it was gone, she was having enormous difficulty actually registering this as fact.
Kate got slowly out of the car and walked up onto the footpath. She felt stiff, like an old woman. Now that she was closer she could see the grey stumps upon which the house had once rested. And she could also see the more practical evidence of obliteration. Long trench marks scarred the gravelled driveway, and then veered off to loop around the dirt itself, leaving an almost decorative pattern of tyre-tracked mutilation.
Kate walked over to the driveway and up along the side of the trenches. At the top she stopped for a moment to stare at the rhododendron bush that had edged the kitchen window. It sat torn and crushed, rippled with the herringbone pattern of heavy tyres.
There was a rubbish pile by the back fence, with the Hills hoist on top, one arm jabbing drunkenly towards the sky like the mast of a stricken ship. And, right by the fence, on top of the foliage from the lemon tree, was the wrought-iron setting from the backyard.