Deeper Water

by Jessie Cole

  ‘She took the postcard,’ Mum said once Frank was gone. ‘I noticed it was missing this morning but I thought it was you.’

  I gripped the glass in my fingers, trying to conjure up the address on the back of the card. I didn’t even remember the name of the town. Sophie stalked over, looking down the cracks on either side of the fridge, leaning right over and poking her fingers underneath. For a minute she looked like Rory does when he’s about to blow. Eyes fierce, lips quivering. Rory stood beside me tugging my skirt.

  ‘How could she?’ Sophie snapped out, and Lila started to wriggle in her arms.

  ‘She must have come in here last night when we were all asleep.’ Mum sighed, glancing around the kitchen. The sight of my empty bed flashed inside my mind. Maybe Anja had come looking for me but I wasn’t here. Out with Billy. I hung my head, trying not to think about it.

  ‘Soph, it’s alright, stop growling. I remember the address,’ Mum said, holding out her arms for the baby. ‘I could never forget.’

  ‘I bet she raided the cash jar too.’ Sophie handed Lila over to Mum and started rummaging in the cupboard. In a second she pulled out the jar Mum used to store our market money in. It was empty. ‘She took the lot!’

  I swallowed another gulp of water. I couldn’t say it out loud, but inside I was glad. Rory lifted the hem of my skirt and crawled beneath it. I could feel him huddling against my leg, trying to block us all out. Sophie was pacing now. On Mum’s hip Lila was gearing up for a full-force squall and Mum jostled her around so she was facing over her shoulder.

  ‘Sophie,’ Mum said, ‘it’s alright.’

  ‘How could she steal from us?’ Her voice was getting loud. ‘We were her family.’

  I shrugged, the air in the kitchen pushing in against me. ‘She needed it more than us.’ I held the glass of water up, pressing it against my forehead. ‘We won’t starve.’

  Mum looked at me real close, like she knew there was something she was missing.

  ‘It doesn’t matter anyway,’ I added, suddenly thinking of the trees coming down, the sound of them cracking. ‘Nothing lasts, does it?’

  I realised then how angry I was. Scorched and sore, hemmed in by babies, facing the women in my family, all the men long gone. All the things they’d never told me came bursting in.

  ‘Baby-girl?’ Sophie stopped pacing.

  ‘Don’t call me that.’ And it struck me that I’d always let them. ‘You can’t call me that anymore.’

  Sophie crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  ‘Mema?’ Mum quizzed, gently patting the baby’s back.

  ‘How can you … not know?’ I said, biting down on my lip. ‘The whole world’s at risk.’

  Sophie’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘Well,’ the words felt heavy on my tongue, ‘maybe not the whole world. How would I know anything about that? But our whole world.’

  ‘Mema.’ Sophie sighed. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Mum kept patting Lila’s back while she watched me. ‘Just tell us, Mema,’ she added softly.

  ‘All my life you’ve told me that there was nothing out there for me.’ I could feel Rory’s sweaty little arm wrap around my leg, clinging on to me under my skirt. ‘And maybe you’re right, but how would any of us know if we never leave here?’ The angrier I felt, the more I whispered. ‘And the worse thing is we’ve become so cut off from everything we don’t even know when the whole thing’s going to come tumbling down.’ I was trembling all over. Rory squeezed in tighter against my thigh. ‘We can’t just cut off some part of the world and control it. The outside is always going to come bursting in.’

  ‘Mema, is this about Hamish?’ Sophie asked. ‘’Cause that’s not the end of the world.’

  ‘It’s not the flood guy,’ Mum said, shaking her head ever so slightly.

  ‘It’s not a guy,’ I said, louder. ‘It’s much bigger.’ I looked out past their heads, out towards the green. ‘It’s the trees.’ My throat was tightening, but I was keeping the tears at bay.

  Rory bit me then, right on the soft part of my thigh. I screeched, kicking out at him, ’cause I wasn’t expecting it, but he only bit down harder. There was a scramble, all of us trying to get him out from under my skirt. When he appeared he was red-faced and wild. Mad as a cut snake, floundering around so much Sophie had to pin his arms down. Mum handed Lila over to me. My sister couldn’t manhandle Rory on her own, so the two of them dragged him off to the bedroom to give him a talking to. Holding Lila in one arm, I lifted my skirt. Rory hadn’t broken the skin, but his teeth marks were already turning a bright scarlet. My thigh was swelling under my eyes, red and bruised. I dropped my skirt again so I didn’t have to look at it and Lila started up her squalling. I tucked her in against my shoulder and—stranded there beside the kitchen sink—we cried.

  Later, after the smoke had cleared and everyone had cooled down—babies bathed and dressed in pyjamas—Mum and Sophie approached me in my room.

  ‘Mema,’ Sophie asked gently, peering around the doorway, ‘will you tell us what’s happening with the trees?’

  She stepped inside, Mum behind her, and they looked at me carefully, as though I had become somehow unfamiliar—as if I had gone into the fire and come out changed.

  ‘They’re going to start felling the camphors in the paddocks and burning the woodchips to create power at the sugar mill.’ I thought of how Anja and I had collected flowers and rocks and leaves and made little fairy gardens between the camphor roots. Child-altars, where we counted our blessings. It struck me that we’d always worshipped the camphors in our own strange way, laying out offerings at their feet.

  ‘It just feels so wrong. I love those trees. The way their roots seem to hold the ground. It’s like they’re holding everything together.’ I felt myself sigh. ‘Remember how Anja had names for them all?’

  ‘But who?’ Sophie stuttered out. ‘Who will fell the trees?’

  I told them what I knew, what Hamish had told me.

  ‘But how can they do that?’ Sophie was just as perplexed as I was.

  ‘Money,’ was all Mum said, as though things were always as simple as that.

  ‘Ask Frank about it,’ Sophie said to Mum. ‘He always knows exactly what’s going on.’

  Mum didn’t protest, and I knew then he’d be around again soon.

  ‘Hamish gave me the frog guy’s details.’ I pulled the pages from my pocket, unfolding them. ‘He thinks I should call him.’

  They glanced down at the paper in my hands but neither of them tried to read it.

  ‘What do you think, Mema?’ Mum asked softly.

  I wondered then if being grown up was as simple as seeing when something needed to be done and doing it.

  I shrugged. ‘It’s a start.’

  Mum looked so tentative, standing there beside Sophie, as though the perimeters of her world had suddenly shifted.

  ‘Little bird,’ she said softly, and I could see she was trying to decide whether to take me under her wing, ‘I never meant for you to get burned.’

  ‘I’m okay.’ I could feel my lips tremble. Mum hadn’t called me that since I was small. I thought she might step towards me but she didn’t.

  ‘I’ll put them on the fridge.’ She reached out and took the pages from me. ‘This time they won’t get lost.’

  We stood there, the three of us, not knowing how to be. Like all the paths we normally walked were gone. Somewhere off in the house Lila started to cry. Softly at first, but then more insistent.

  ‘Mum,’ Sophie murmured, ‘can you—’

  ‘I’ll get her,’ Mum said, and she walked back out, leaving my sister behind.

  I looked at Sophie, delicate and pale in the evening light, carrying all that weight on her shoulders, and I wondered what she saw when she looked at me.

  ‘Mema,’ Sophie’s voice was soft. ‘I didn’t realise you didn’t like it.’ I knew she was talking about my nickname. ‘It was … just … habit,’ she kept on, ‘but I should have
stopped calling you that once you got big.’

  ‘I always liked it. Before.’

  She nodded, looking me over one more time.

  ‘You’re all smudgy,’ she murmured, stepping up and rubbing her fingers against my cheek. ‘You must have gotten real close.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  She held up her hand to show me the blackness on her fingertips, but all I saw was Anja’s battered face. None of that would rub off.

  ‘I better go make dinner,’ Sophie said. ‘The bath’s full if you want to hop in. Kids were in and out, it’d still be warm.’

  She headed back out to the kitchen and I limped to the bathroom to wash myself off. I lay in the tub, body aching, thinking of the way the shack had burned, collapsing in on itself with a giant swoosh. Something that had stood for so long suddenly gone. Around me the house was quiet, subdued. I guessed Lila was asleep, and even Rory was keeping to himself somewhere.

  After a little while, Mum called me out to eat, and when we all sat down I kept catching the two of them staring distractedly out the windows, as though checking that the world they knew was still there. The pages Hamish gave me were pinned on the fridge with a magnet, like a signal from the outside world.

  Rory wouldn’t look at me after the bite. I wasn’t quite sure how to help him work it out. How could I tell him it wasn’t alright to bite me but that I loved him nonetheless? My thigh still throbbed and I guess I was a little wounded. We sat around the table, eating, all thinking our separate thoughts, when there were footsteps on the veranda and Billy appeared in the doorway. Just like that. He glanced around the table, but mostly he looked at me. Sophie and Mum kept chewing, peering from him to me. I could feel a kind of comprehension dawn.

  ‘Billy McKechnie,’ Mum said. ‘What a surprise.’

  He nodded at her and then at Sophie.

  ‘Why don’t you come in?’ Mum added.

  ‘Want some food?’ Sophie put down her fork. ‘There’s some left over.’

  ‘I’m right, thanks,’ Billy said, stepping inside the kitchen. There wasn’t a spare chair so he just leaned against the kitchen sink.

  So far, I hadn’t managed to say a word.

  ‘You alright?’ he asked me, motioning his head towards the shack. ‘You were all sooty. You get burned?’

  One side of me felt a little singed from being so close to the fire and my eyes stung from all the smoke, but neither of those hurt as much as the bite on my thigh—or the weight of all the leaving on my chest—so I shook my head.

  ‘I’m okay,’ I muttered, looking down at my bowl. There was no way I could eat any more with Billy standing there staring. I pushed the bowl away from me. Rory always likes to pick through leftovers, so he climbed off his chair and sidled up beside me.

  I put my hand on his head, sliding it down to his shoulders. I loved his nape, that vulnerable place at the base of his hair. He didn’t slither out from under my touch.

  ‘You want the rest?’ I asked him.

  He nodded, peeking up finally to check my eyes. I smiled at him and he smiled back, putting his little hand on my knee. I held the bowl up to him so he could find the bits he liked.

  ‘He’s an eater,’ Billy said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Sophie replied. ‘You sure you don’t want some?’

  Billy shook his head. ‘I ate.’

  Mum stood up and began stacking the dishes. Billy moved aside for her to put them in the sink.

  Then the baby started to cry, away in Mum’s room, and Sophie stood up to get her.

  ‘Maybe I’ll lie down with her in there,’ she said, glancing from me to Billy to Rory. ‘You want to come to bed with Mummy too?’ she asked him, holding out a hand. Rory took a second, tossing up between a cuddle and the food, but he chose Sophie in the end.

  ‘Good to see you, Billy,’ Sophie said as she and Rory slipped away. ‘It’s been a while.’

  Billy lifted his hand in a wave, and I caught sight of the curve of his fingers. Even there in the dim kitchen light they were beautiful to me.

  When Mum finished stacking the dishes and wiping the table she headed straight out to the shed. It was an unusual hour for her to throw pots, so I knew she was just trying to leave us alone.

  I wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. Billy and I hadn’t done much talking.

  ‘I’ve never been inside your house,’ Billy said, after a few moments. ‘Even when I used to hang with Sunny we never came in.’

  ‘Too busy smoking ciggies at the shack.’

  He smiled at that. ‘I guess so.’

  ‘It’s all gone now.’

  I thought of all those secrets I’d stored in there, all my desires. They’d spilled out. Uncontainable.

  ‘You want to see my room?’ I asked, knowing that he would.

  When I opened the door I remembered my unmade bed, strewn with leaves and sticks, the rumpled towel laid out in the centre. I hesitated, but Billy was right behind me, and in the end I switched on the light and stepped in. There wasn’t really anywhere to sit, just the big old bed, the desk covered with all my things, and my clothes hanging there along the wall.

  Billy looked around slowly.

  ‘I forgot to put my sheets back on,’ I said, by way of explanation.

  Billy nodded, but he didn’t comment. I wandered over and perched on the end of the bed and he moved towards my desk. Reaching out, he touched one of my nests.

  ‘I see heaps of these things when I’m working,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know you collected them.’

  I wasn’t sure how to explain what I loved about nests.

  ‘Sometimes you see those ones with all the moss in the centre.’ Billy’s voice was steady, and I had to admit he was making a valiant attempt at conversation. ‘They’re the ones I like.’ He picked a nest up and held it gingerly in his hand. ‘You know, where the bird has chosen the softest stuff for the inside.’ He pointed to the middle as though I mightn’t know what he meant.

  I nodded, watching his fingers as they traced the centre of the nest.

  ‘Did she say anything when you dropped her off?’

  ‘Nah.’ He put down the nest and patted his pockets. ‘But she gave me this to give ya.’

  He pulled a stone from the pocket of his pants and stretching out his arm, he dropped it into my palm. ‘I guess it means something to you,’ he said, turning back to look at my collection.

  It was a sucking rock. Anja and I had rocks for all different purposes, but there were some we liked to suck like lollies. They were smooth and flat and felt just right on the tongue. I slipped it into my mouth, knowing it had been in hers. That was as good a way as any to remember her.

  ‘You haven’t got much stuff,’ Billy said, turning back around to face me. ‘Some girls, their rooms are full of shit.’

  I tried to imagine Billy in the rooms of other girls. It was hard to picture. I slid the stone from my mouth back into my fingers.

  ‘You alright, Mema?’ His voice was soft, his head cocked to the side. I wasn’t sure how to answer that. My thigh was tender from where Rory bit me. Thinking about it made me want to cry again.

  ‘Rory bit me real bad.’

  ‘The little blighter.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I touched the inside of my thigh through my skirt. ‘He got me good.’

  ‘He bit you up there?’ Billy went still, staring at the spot.

  ‘He was hiding under my skirt.’

  Bending down, Billy grasped the hem hanging at my ankle. ‘Give us a look, then.’

  He didn’t pull the fabric up, but peered at my face, waiting.

  I nodded, wanting him to see.

  It was odd watching my legs appear under the slide of the fabric. They were so familiar to me, but under Billy’s gaze they looked somehow new. The higher up my legs he pulled the skirt the more I wanted him to see. I thought I’d only desire Billy in the darkness—out in the paddocks, the stars overhead and the grass beneath—but I didn’t. I could feel the throb of it building in me there, right unde
r the light, in the middle of my room, with everybody home. The skirt came up high, the bruise appearing, a sudden scarlet.

  Billy stood there looking at it and then he crouched down, right there between my legs.

  ‘It’s a beauty.’ He glanced up at my face. ‘He must have been real mad.’

  More than anything I wanted Billy to touch me the way I touched myself.

  ‘You got your rags yet?’

  I shook my head, but something about the way he said it made me close my legs. I’d had spots of blood that morning, so I knew it was near. Probably by tomorrow I’d be bleeding. I shifted myself a little away and he dropped the hem of my skirt, the fabric flopping down again around my ankles. Standing up, he stepped back from me.

  ‘When do ya think you’ll get them?’

  I shrugged. ‘Anytime now, I guess.’

  ‘You gotta tell me,’ Billy said, ‘so I can stop thinking about it.’

  It surprised me that he’d worry about that. That he’d even think it was his problem.

  ‘It’d be my baby too.’ His face was stubborn, like he was getting ready to hold his ground.

  I nodded, ’cause that was true enough. But there wasn’t going to be a baby.

  ‘I’ll tell you. It’ll be soon.’

  We were silent then. Billy turned, like he wasn’t sure where to be.

  ‘Billy?’ I asked, thinking of the trees.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Did you know they’re going to burn all the camphors at the sugar mill?’

  ‘Everyone knows that. They’re going to pay for the chips by the tonne.’

  ‘I didn’t know.’ How blinkered I’d been. Happy in this little bubble. Because it was easy and knowing these things was hard. I kept thinking of my tree, the one I’d pressed against in the night, the feel of it against my breasts.

  ‘I’ll probably get some work out of it,’ he said. ‘It’s the type of thing I do.’

  ‘Work for one of the contractors?’

  He nodded, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

  ‘Will all the farmers do it?’

  ‘Depends how good it pays. It’s a lot of mess to make if they’re not paying much a tonne.’