The Geography of Friendship
Page 23
Hannah is everything and nothing like Lisa. When Nicole first met the girl, she was thrust back to her school days. Here was the skinny blonde girl who patched her knee that day, the girl who claimed her. She’d almost wept upon their introduction, had to look away from her youthful, innocent face. Be careful she wanted to warn her. We don’t always control the rules of our future. So in truth she thinks she would have probably made a terrible godmother, taught the girl to acquiesce, where Lisa has taught her the power of choice.
When Nicole met Samantha’s sons she hadn’t known how to speak to them. It made her realise what little she understands about the lives of young men, how inexperienced she is in socialising with them. Samantha does it with natural ease. She calls them out but gives them rein as well; a seamless juggling act of holding on and letting go. Each of her boys is in the image of himself but the whole is taken from the features of each parent – shoulders, hair, height. They are young men but playful still, almost childlike in their torment of one another. And Harry, a monolith of a man in any room, seemed proud and bewildered in turns by the family before him, as though disbelieving his good fortune in being part responsible for its making.
Nicole doesn’t allow herself to try and conjure the image of the child she might have had. She looks away from the white light left by this child’s absence. Instead, she looks to the flat, grey granite she must cross to reach the barrier at the cliff’s edge.
She hadn’t wanted to go near the barrier previously. But today she does.
Progress already.
She steps over lacy lichen, cubes of scat and tufted grass that has found opportunity in slim gaps. She places her hands on the guardrail when she reaches it and looks down to the ledge. She is immediately surprised by its lack of familiarity. She recalls nothing of its contours and angles, its colour and texture. Nothing of its width or length.
She tries to picture him lying there, but can’t.
She can’t picture the young woman who lay on her belly and tried to push this man from the ledge either. She’s just as foreign to her. Did she really even exist? In a way Nicole doesn’t think so. It wasn’t her.
But because of her, Nicole left this place with two new truths held in the palms of her hands. Her degradation rested in one, her capacity for cruelty in the other. Rarely has Lady Justice balanced one with the other.
None of them ever questioned their duty or failure to report what happened here. Nicole suspects for Lisa this was because she didn’t care; Samantha, because of her culpability.
For Nicole it was because she had nothing to show for it. No physical signs beyond a few scratches and leech bites. There was only a girl’s account. A doctor can’t hold a stethoscope to the soul, put a stitch to shame.
But it’s enough to say this place has possessed her ever since.
She’s back again though, and in her hands she now carries hope.
She will cross the mountains in reverse this time. Confront the opposing hardship of them. She will turn old, difficult climbs into new, easy descents. Each of her steps will cover the same ground but in a different way. The geography unchanged, but her vision of its contours renewed.
Acknowledgements
Thanks and gratitude to my publisher, Madonna Duffy, for her ongoing support of new voices in the Australian literary landscape, and for including mine. Special thanks to my editor, Jacqueline Blanchard – I still can’t believe my good fortune at being teamed with not only a talented editor but also a keen bushwalker who connected with this story beyond the page. I would also like to thank Varuna, The Writers’ House for the space and uninterrupted writing time provided while working on this book.
This is a story about friendships and of mine I would like to thank Kris Olsson for the many talks and walks we’ve shared; and Annah Faulkner and Cass Moriarty for their encouragement with this slippery craft we’ve embarked upon. Heartfelt thanks to my sister, Kerri, as well as Julie, Alison, Louise, Dave, Sue, Caroline, Lynda and my Tuesday friends for their unwavering support and faith in my work. Thanks also to the many readers and booksellers I’ve met through my writing – your passion for books and words is a lifeline to this often threatened social and cultural necessity.
Finally, thanks to my family, John, Aaron and Liam – your unconditional love sustains me.
First published 2018 by University of Queensland Press
PO Box 6042, St Lucia, Queensland 4067 Australia
uqp.com.au
uqp@uqp.uq.edu.au
Copyright © Sally Piper 2018
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
This book is copyright. Except for private study, research, criticism or reviews, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.
Cover design by Christabella Designs
Cover photograph by Shutterstock/Getty Images
Author photograph by Chloë Callistemon
Typeset in Bembo Std 12/17pt by Post Pre-press Group, Brisbane
The University of Queensland Press is supported by the Queensland Government through Arts Queensland.
The University of Queensland Press is assisted by the Australian Government through the Australia Council, its arts funding and advisory body.
ISBN 978 0 7022 5997 5 (pbk)
ISBN 978 0 7022 6106 0 (pdf)
ISBN 978 0 7022 6107 7 (epub)
ISBN 978 0 7022 6108 4 (kindle)