Journey’s End

by Jennifer Scoullar

  ‘Why do I always have to keep score?’ asked Jean.

  ‘You know all the answers,’ said Ben. ‘It cuts out the middle man.’

  ‘I’ll do it if you want,’ offered Kim. ‘I’m not that great at trivia questions, except ones about plants, so I might as well pull my weight some other way.’ Jean looked pleased, and handed over the notebook. Kim started to feel better. Their table was filling up, and so far she knew everybody. She passed the plate of pizza around and Jean took a slice.

  ‘It’s a good turnout tonight.’ Jean said. ‘We’ll end up with six teams.’

  ‘How many people on a table?’ asked Kim, hoping for four.

  ‘Five.’

  Oh. There was still somebody to come.

  Pat rang the bell. ‘Final call.’

  Kim looked around for the kids. She spotted Jake playing Uno with Todd . . . and Abbey. How sweet. Back in Sydney, Jake never included Abbey in anything. But here in Tingo, with such a small pool of children to mix with? Well, it was like Jean said. Age didn’t matter so much.

  Kim turned back to the table to find Taj seated opposite her. It was as if he’d materialised from thin air. Abbey made a beeline for him. ‘Taj, I want to show you a bird’s nest I found. When are you coming to our house?’

  Kim couldn’t make sense of him in this kind of social context. She was too used to seeing him in his old work clothes, tools in hand. One thing, though, he sure scrubbed up well.

  ‘Taj,’ said Jean. ‘Very glad you’re here. If this keeps up, we’ll have to stop calling you the hermit.’ She turned to Kim. ‘This is Taj’s first quiz night too, so you’re not the only newbie.’

  Pat rang the bell again, and acknowledged the people of the Biripi nation, the traditional owners of the land where the Tingo hall stood. ‘Listen up. Correct answers are worth one point, and no calling out. Six teams, six rounds of questions. Teams nominate a quizmaster, who keeps score and asks one round of questions each, so I don’t have to stand up here all bloody night. Oh, and there’s prizes at the end.’

  Ben touched her arm. ‘He makes the rules up as he goes. They change every time.’

  ‘Are we ready?’ asked Pat. A murmur of assent came from the floor. ‘Okay, I’ll start us off. The subject for this round is Australian history. Let’s see how much you fellers know about the real history of your own country. Right. What happened in May 1967?’

  ‘I was born,’ said Charlie, and the room laughed.

  ‘No singing out,’ said Pat. ‘And that’s wrong.’

  ‘I should know when I was born,’ protested Charlie.

  ‘I’m talking about something historically significant.’

  ‘Being born was pretty bloody significant for me.’ More laughter.

  ‘How on earth are we supposed to answer a question like that?’ asked Kim.

  ‘Aboriginal people were included in the census for the first time,’ said Jean. ‘Write it down. I’ve been to enough of these things to know what Pat’s after.’

  Kim duly wrote down the answer.

  The next few questions were easier, at least in the sense that they weren’t impossibly open-ended. But they were pretty obscure just the same, or at least Kim thought so. Pat had bifocals perched on the end of his nose and seemed to be reading from a set of ancient Trivial Pursuit cards. ‘What federal electorate did Malcolm Fraser represent from 1955 to 1983? What was the name of the plane Sir Charles Kingsford Smith flew across the Pacific in 1928? What was Al Capone’s nickname?’ She was clueless about most of the questions. Ben and Mel weren’t much better. Taj stayed quiet. Thank god for Jean. Every now and then, Pat abandoned his tattered quiz cards and slipped in a curly one off the top of his head. ‘What happened in February 1965?’

  Before Kim had a chance to complain, Jean said, ‘Charles Perkins led the Freedom Rides.’

  And so it continued till the end of the round. ‘Bloody glad that’s over,’ said Ben, sculling his drink and pushing back his chair. ‘Who wants a beer?’

  Taj raised his hand. ‘I’ll have one.’

  ‘Righto.’

  Kim looked up from tallying the points, straight into Taj’s eyes. She forced a smile. His gaze always left her a little tongue-tied, especially without Abbey as a go-between. She tried to look away, but couldn’t seem to.

  When Taj worked at the house, they talked about walls and windows. Nothing more important than that, not even the orchids. Why? Perhaps she didn’t want to upset Jake. Perhaps knowing the hidden place where the ravine orchids grew would anchor her too firmly to Tingo. Perhaps Taj’s brooding brown eyes were simply too disturbing.

  Kim took a gulp of wine, searching for some small talk to break the awkward silence between them. ‘I didn’t think Muslims drank beer.’ Shit. Had she really blurted that out? What was wrong with Have you been busy lately? or Wasn’t it warm today?

  His eyes softened with amusement. ‘I didn’t think they did either.’ He delivered the remark, cryptic as it was, with considerable warmth.

  Jake came over, eyes blazing. ‘What’s he doing here?’ His constant mantra where Taj was concerned.

  ‘Honey, Taj is on our table.’ Kim’s stomach tightened, and she drank her glass dry. Please, please don’t let him have an outburst. Not here in front of half the town. In front of Jean. In front of all his new friends.

  Jake glared at Taj. ‘I don’t want you on my mum’s team.’

  Jean and Mel stopped talking. Conversation ground to a halt at the next table as well.

  ‘That’s enough,’ said Kim, knowing how futile it was to reprimand Jake, going through the motions anyway. ‘Say sorry to Taj.’

  ‘No fucking way.’

  Ben arrived with the drinks. ‘Whoa, what’s going on here?’ He moved Jake aside with a hand on each shoulder. ‘You can’t use that sort of language in front of your mother. Apologise right now, or you and me – we’re going to have a problem.’

  Oh no. Jake didn’t respond well to ultimatums. Any moment now he’d launch into a fury, alienating everybody. It would be like Sturt Street all over again, and it was her fault. Not realising Taj might be here as a trigger. Coming here at all.

  ‘Well?’ said Ben. ‘I’m waiting.’

  Jake scowled and breathed harder, his fists balled at his side. His face went red. All the signs were there. Kim tensed in readiness . . . but the explosion didn’t happen. Instead Jake examined the floor and mumbled something beneath his breath

  Ben frowned. ‘I can’t hear you.’

  Jake looked up at his mother. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘That’s better,’ said Ben. ‘Now beat it. Round two’s about to start.’ He plonked a stubbie in front of Taj. ‘There you go, mate. Get that into you.’

  Jean leaned forward and whispered, ‘Kim, it’s Taj who deserves the apology.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Kim’s heart rate was returning to normal. ‘I’m so sorry, Taj’

  Jean frowned. ‘No, I meant Jake needs to . . .’

  ‘Let it go,’ said Taj, who’d remained impassive throughout.

  Kim wanted the floor to open up and swallow her.

  The bell rang. Team two, the Village Idiots, were up next. A spindly teenage boy acted as quizmaster and the topic was sport. Ben came into his own this round. How many gold medals did Australia win at the 2000 Sydney Olympics? Who is Australia’s all-time leading run-scorer in one-day internationals? How many Australians have raced in the Formula One world championship? Kim didn’t know or care, and found it hard to concentrate. Mel had given up trying to answer questions altogether, and spent most of her time glaring at Geoff. She’d found another bottle of wine, and was giving it a nudge.

  ‘Which batsman helped India make one of the best comebacks in test history by scoring 281 in the second innings, on the 2000–2001 Australian tour of India?’

  ‘Sachin Tendulkar,’ said Ben.

  ‘How do you spell that?’ asked Kim.

  ‘No.’ Taj drained his beer. ‘It’s VVS Laxman.’ This was the firs
t time he’d offered an answer.

  Kim looked up. ‘What do I write?’

  ‘Don’t ask me,’ said Jean. ‘I’ve no idea.’

  ‘I’m team captain,’ said Ben. ‘Put down Tendulkar.’

  She hadn’t realised their team had a captain.

  Geoff passed by their table with two cups of coffee. ‘How can he bring that woman here among all our friends?’ said Mel. Her voice wavered and a sheen of sweat showed on her cheeks. She went to top up Kim’s wine.

  ‘No more for me,’ said Kim. ‘I’ve got to drive.’

  Mel had to drive too, but the hint fell on deaf ears. Mel refilled her own glass instead, and Kim went back to scoring. Keep your head down, she told herself. Don’t get involved. Just survive the night and get out of there.

  The rounds kept coming: geography, films, entertainment. Jake stayed away. Abbey returned occasionally with scraps of childish gossip: Nikki was getting a pony. Aiden’s mother was having twins. Todd could wiggle his ears. ‘Jake said Dad could touch his nose with his tongue,’ said Abbey. ‘Could he Mum?’

  Kim searched her mind, but for some reason she couldn’t remember. How could that be? How could she have forgotten something like that? Abbey gave up waiting for an answer, and ran off to join the other children.

  Kim felt Taj’s eyes upon her, and turned away. He wasn’t being much help, which was understandable. How was he supposed to know Marilyn Monroe’s real name or what city Beyoncé was born in? To be fair, she didn’t answer many questions either. Neither did Mel or Ben. They didn’t have to. Jean was a walking encyclopaedia.

  At the end of the fifth round, their team was neck and neck with Geoff’s Sock Puppets, and Mel was distraught. ‘We can’t let them beat us. Geoff thinks I’m stupid. Look at him, gloating. He thinks that without him we can’t win.’ She glared at Ben. ‘If we’d gone with Taj instead of you on that cricket question, we’d be ahead right now.’

  ‘Hang on a minute, Einstein,’ said Ben. ‘How many questions have you answered tonight?’

  Jean tried to give him a swift kick under the table, and connected with Kim instead.

  Pat approached their table. ‘Sorry to do this to you, Bright Sparks, but Jean’s hubby has rung in. Apparently Bessie’s gone down. He reckons she’ll calve any time, and that Jean would want to be there.’

  ‘Of course I want to be there,’ said Jean. ‘How exciting.’ She found her bag. ‘Sorry to leave you in the lurch like this, but it’s Bessie’s first calf.’

  ‘Bugger,’ said Mel. ‘We’ll never win without Jean.’ She glanced miserably across to where the Sock Puppets were smiling and clinking glasses.

  Pat stepped up to ring his bell. ‘So, final round, with two teams neck and neck for first place. Hold onto your hats, folks.’ A few whoops. ‘Now let’s make Kim welcome, quizmaster for the Bright Sparks.’ A smattering of applause.

  ‘Knock ’em dead,’ said Ben.

  She stepped onto the stage, burning with self-consciousness. Pat handed her the cards. Oh no, science and nature. Finally a subject she was good at, and she wasn’t allowed to answer any questions. Poor Mel. Geoff would have a clear run.

  Kim began. ‘Which native Australian tree lives the longest? How many million years ago did Gondwanaland split apart? “Aurum” is the Latin name for what precious metal?’ Damn, she knew all of them so far. She glanced over at her table and was surprised to see Ben writing furiously and Mel smiling. The quiz grew harder, too hard even for her. ‘What is the Latin name for a Moon Bear? Which native animal did scientist Dr David Peacock successfully reintroduce to South Australia? What is a ‘trophic cascade’?’ Where the hell did Pat get these questions? Kim finished the round and returned to her table, where the rest of the team were joking around with each other. Mel’s grin was the widest of all.

  ‘What are you guys so happy about?’

  ‘Taj here’s a dark horse,’ said Ben. ‘Answered every one of those damn questions.’

  Pat rang the bell and began reading out the answers. Ben picked up the scoresheet and his pen. ‘Now we’ll see if he was feeding us a load of bull.’

  ‘You weren’t, were you, Taj?’ Mel clutched dramatically at his arm. ‘I’ll die if those bloody Sock Puppets win.’

  ‘Nah, it’s all good,’ said Ben, ticking off line after line. ‘He’s acing it.’

  ‘That’s it then,’ said Pat. ‘Add up your scores.’ He collected the tally sheets from each table, headed back to the stage and balanced his glasses on his nose. ‘Well done, everybody. For much of the evening, it was very close, but one team ran away with the game in that final round.’

  Mel couldn’t contain her glee. ‘Look at him.’ She pointed to Geoff, who was high-fiving one of his teammates ‘He thinks he’s won.’

  ‘And without further ado,’ said Pat. ‘The winning team is . . . the Bright Sparks.’ Cheers, applause, and disbelieving glances from Geoff’s table.

  Kim looked at Taj askance. ‘Those were tough questions. You did very well.’

  Taj shrugged. ‘I like biology.’

  ‘It must be more than that,’ she said. ‘Who the heck knows the frequency of a wolf’s howl?’

  ‘Leave him be,’ said Ben. ‘The man’s answered enough questions for one night.’

  The skinny teenager emerged from the kitchen with a side of lamb slung over each shoulder. ‘First prize is a prime lamb,’ said Pat. ‘Donated by Geoff Masters of She-Oak Springs.’

  ‘What a nerve,’ said Mel.

  Pat looked over to where Geoff sat. ‘Looks like you won’t be winning it back tonight, mate.’ The rest of his team laughed, but not Geoff. ‘Now, we do have a prize for the runners-up.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ said Mel.

  The teenager dropped the lamb sides to the floor with a thud, ducked from the stage and returned with a milk crate. ‘Second prize is a vintage record collection,’ said Pat. ‘You Sock Puppets will have to argue among yourselves over these little beauties.’ The moth-eaten sleeve of Val Doonican’s Greatest Hits peeped out the top. Mel chuckled and drained her glass of wine. ‘Don’t laugh,’ said Pat. ‘Vinyl’s making a comeback. These records will be worth a fortune in a few years. Anyway, thank you all for coming. We’ve raised almost a thousand dollars towards the purchase of our new fire truck.’ Everybody clapped. Mel hooted and cheered.

  Kim turned to Ben. ‘I’m a bit worried about her driving.’

  Ben sized Mel up for a few seconds. ‘Come on, mate. Call those kids. I’m driving you lot home.’

  ‘I’ll be okay —’ began Mel.

  ‘No, you won’t be.’ Ben strode off to find Nikki and Todd.

  ‘I didn’t know he cared,’ giggled Mel. ‘Hope Geoff’s watching.’

  Jake appeared at Kim’s side, all smiles now. ‘I don’t want to go yet. Todd and I are having the best time.’

  ‘It has been a good night, hasn’t it?’ said Kim. ‘But everybody’s going home now, even Todd.’ It would be an even better night if she could talk Jake into saying goodbye to Taj. Baby steps.

  But when she turned around, Taj had gone.

  Ben arrived with the kids trailing after him. Nikki and Abbey were holding hands and yawning.

  ‘What about the sides of lamb?’ asked Kim. ‘How are we supposed to share them?’

  ‘Taj said he’ll slice them up and drop them off for us,’ said Ben. The very mention of Taj’s name was enough to wipe the smile from Jake’s face. ‘Now, let’s get going. These girls look like they could go to sleep standing up.’ Ben put out his hand. ‘Keys please, Mel.’

  Sweet of Ben to look after her like that. Mel was plainly quite taken with him, and why not? Drop dead gorgeous. A larrikin on the outside, with a heart of pure gold. Connor was like that. Kim looked over to where her son was laughing and arm wrestling with Todd. Jake respected Ben. Nobody else could have headed off his outburst the way Ben did. She couldn’t be both father and mother, no matter how hard she tried. Jake needed a man to teach him how to be a man. May
be that was Ben.

  CHAPTER 13

  Taj whistled as he packed the ute and did a final tool check. A week into the new year and Kim was finally back from spending Christmas with family in Sydney. Her two-week absence had seemed much longer. Taj prided himself on self-sufficiency. He’d schooled himself to be grateful for what he had, to require no more. So why did his thoughts turn to Kim on waking and when he closed his eyes at night? Why had he counted down the days until she returned?

  He’d spent a lonely Christmas, lonelier than usual, and was glad the holiday was over. The loss of Camila always loomed large in this season, her favourite time of year. She’d loved their secret Christmases in Afghanistan: white-capped peaks, fir forests heavy with glazed snow, decorating their cabin with a tiny tree that could swiftly be hidden from visitors.

  Her parents, Kamal and Amira, had converted to their own vaguely understood version of Christianity after being helped at Camila’s birth by UN medical aid workers. Camila survived because an American surgeon performed an emergency caesarean on her mother. However he extracted a heavy price in return – an undertaking that the family convert. Such was the depth of their gratitude that her parents raised Camila and her sisters as secret Christians.

  There was no such thing as religious freedom in Afghanistan, and for Taj, the doctor’s demand was just another example of control. It was an unfair and dangerous ask. But Camila would hear no criticism of the man who’d saved her life and that of her mother.

  Her parent’s understanding of this new foreign faith was imperfect. However they tried their best, using objects and ideas gleaned during the American’s short stay. The English language bible he’d given them remained a mystery, so they relied on a wall poster written in Dari. Camila had shown Taj where it hung in the back of a cupboard, hidden by furs. He still remembered it. The bright colours. The three quotes. ‘Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you.’ ‘Do not judge so that you will not be judged.’ ‘What do you benefit if you gain the whole world but lose your own soul?’ Next came an injunction to prayer and to tolerance. A picture of Jesus on the cross. From the cross, through the church, to the world. And a children’s story of the first Christmas tree, a tradition that her family had embraced. Camila had been gone for eight years now, and he’d accepted the reality of her passing. Yet he still wished she could know one of the sunny summer Christmases of his adopted country. Maybe she did know. From time to time he felt her spirit smiling down on him.