by Helen Garner
BETH: I thought I said only one scoop.
WAITRESS (merrily): It looked a bit lonely, all by itself, so I thought, well—
She gestures with both hands outspread, then bounces away. Beth looks sombrely at the large sundae.
FATHER: Hey.
Beth looks up.
FATHER: I’ll give you a hand.
She passes him the spoon and he begins to eat, but with scrupulous and flamboyant daintiness he keeps to his side of the dish and demolishes only one of the scoops.
Beth can’t help grinning. She tries to cover her mouth with her hand.
Father looks at her with false soberness, chewing.
It is a warm evening, back in the city.
In the lane outside the back gate, Tim is waiting with his bike. Annie comes out, eager and flustered.
TIM: Cute beret. It’s got little holes for your antennae to poke through.
ANNIE (flattered): It’s Mum’s.
She hops on the bar and they wheel away.
Night now, in the desert. The sky is white with stars. A deep silence.
Beth and her father walk along a dirt road.
FATHER: This is far enough.
BETH: No, come on—let’s see if we can get away from the lights.
FATHER: Where is everyone?
BETH: They’re inside watching The Texas Chainsaw Massacre on video.
He laughs. They walk.
BETH: Hey, Dad. Have you ever—
FATHER: What?
BETH: Doesn’t matter.
They walk.
BETH: Hey, Dad. Do you believe in God?
FATHER (taken aback): What?
BETH: God. Do you believe there is one?
FATHER: Me? Do I?
BETH: Yeah.
They walk on.
BETH: Well—do you?
FATHER (sighs): Ah, no…When I was a kid and they told me that God made everything, I used to rack m’ brains tryin’ to nut out who made God.
Beth laughs.
FATHER: Does anyone know that? Has anyone ever nutted that one out? Everyone’s got a theory, but…
They walk. Beth is looking at him expectantly: she is hoping for an answer.
FATHER: Mum and I went on a tour once, down the Danube. We got off at some famous old city or other, I forget, mighta been Budapest. They dragged us into a cathedral. Oh, huge, it was. I got sick of the guide telling us what this was and what that was, so I sat down on a bench under a colossal dome. There was another bloke sitting near me. He looked at me and he said, ‘What do you think?’ I said, ‘Whaddya mean, what do I think?’ He said, ‘What do you think about God?’ I said, ‘I’m not convinced. What do you think?’ And he said, ‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’
A pause. They walk.
BETH: There is no God?
FATHER: There is no God. He said, ‘Look. I’m a Jew. I got out of Germany b’ the skin o’ m’ teeth. My entire family was exterminated. How could I think anything else?’ And I agree. What I reckon is—if there’s a God, why didn’t he come down and stop Hitler? Why didn’t he come down and stop the death camps, and the Nazis?
They walk. A pause. Father is out of breath, unused to extended speech.
BETH: And what about dying?
FATHER (wary): What about it?
BETH: Are you afraid of it?
Father gives an odd smile and a shrug, looking down at his feet as they walk.
Long silence.
BETH: Are you?
FATHER (at last): Fair go.
Still walking, not looking at him, Beth takes his arm, an action so unprecedented between them that he almost jumps before accepting it, and can’t look at her.
They walk, arm in arm. The sky is absolutely swimming with stars. The silence is tremendous.
A great gush of water, a noisy fountain in a city park.
Towards it are riding Tim and Annie on the bike; she is crouching in the curve of his body.
The fountain is shouting.
They don’t speak. Their faces are calm, absorbed.
Towards midnight, the same night. Vicki is asleep in her room. Outside the window there are sounds of metal on metal, thumps, rattling.
Vicki stumbles, half asleep, to look out.
JP’s car is parked right outside. In the dark Vicki can make out a figure—there is a man in the car. Now she sees him crouching to hot-wire it. The motor roars, stalls, roars again. Vicki bangs her fist hard on the window. He looks up.
Vicki is standing in her nightie, arms folded, staring in at him with a stupefied expression of outrage.
THIEF (winds down window: drunk, agitated—as if annoyed at being interrupted in urgent business): I’ve gotta go after them! I’ve gotta get to Cronulla!
VICKI: What! What are you doing?
THIEF: M’ girl! She went off with m’ mate!
VICKI: But this is our car!
THIEF (suddenly deflated, like someone woken from a dream): Oh Jesus…Sorry. Look, I’m sorry.
He gets out of the car and stumbles away up the street, mumbling to himself.
In his room at the back of the house, upstairs, JP hears nothing of all this: he is asleep. He wakes as the door opens: he sees a woman standing against the dim light from the hallway. Sound of her breathing hard, from having run up the stairs.
JP (thinking it’s Beth): C’est toi? Tu es rentrée? Qu’est-ce que tu fais là? (Is it you? Are you back? What are you doing here?)
VICKI: Someone was stealing your car.
She walks in and stands next to the bed.
He sits up, fully awake. A charged moment. Vicki is panting.
He puts out one hand and takes hold of her by the wrist.
She puts one knee on the bed.
Very late that night, the back gate opens and Tim and Annie creep in. Tim is wheeling his bike. At the bottom of the stairs they kiss, very hesitantly: the first time. They are smiling.
ANNIE: Good night!
TIM: Good night!
Annie dashes up the back stairs, being careful to make no noise.
In bed, Vicki is falling asleep in JP’s arms.
We see his face: calm, almost smiling. He is guarding her. She is someone who needs to be looked after, who needs him.
JP (murmuring, to put her to sleep): I can wait. There is no hurry. We can work it out.
Vicki’s nightie is on the floor beside the bed.
It’s dawn. The sky is pink. Birds are singing loudly.
Vicki, in her hastily donned nightie, comes creeping down the outside stairs towards the back door.
Ten days later, at five in the afternoon, Father’s car, red with dust, pulls away from the kerb, outside Beth’s house.
Beth carrying her bag, approaches the front door. The house looks attractive.
The window and door open; somebody is playing the piano.
Beth stops at the front door. Tim and Annie are playing the piano left hand right hand, ‘Donna Lee’—playing it now with more skill, speed and panache than when Beth left, though it is still much too sophisticated and difficult for them.
The room is a pigsty.
As Beth stands in the doorway, they bring the tune to a triumphant conclusion, with a flourish and almost in time except that Annie is half a beat behind.
ANNIE (throwing her hands in the air like a virtuoso): Yay!!!
She looks up and sees Beth standing there.
ANNIE (hopping up to kiss her): Mum! Hi! Did you hear us?
BETH (hugging her): Beautiful. Well—what’s been happening? Did I miss anything?
TIM (helpfully): There’s a Jelly Roll Morton revival—among my friends, anyway.
BETH: Where are the others?
ANNIE: I don’t know—out—working, maybe.
They stand awkwardly. Tim picks up the ukulele, runs off a riff.
BETH: Did you miss me?
ANNIE: Well—I have been pretty busy.
BETH (to tease): You could at least say you missed me.
ANNIE: Oh
Mu-um!
They laugh, and look away from each other.
Ten minutes later up the street comes Vicki, bouncing along, keen to be home. She sees JP backing down the front steps of the house, and gives a little hop. He is holding a paper bag with two stubbies in it. She skips up to him.
JP (quietly): She is back.
VICKI (wind out of her sails): We haven’t cleaned up.
JP: It is too late now.
VICKI: I might go round the block.
She walks away, head down.
JP continues to dither, nerving himself to go in.
Meanwhile, we can faintly hear Beth’s voice somewhere inside the house, telling a great tale of travel.
BETH: No sooner do we get the car back on the road then he notices he’s lost his watch. Total panic: ‘I got it in Geneva—we’ll have to go back.’ Big U-turn into the valley, which consists entirely of sand and stones. All these Aborigines are standing round under a tree. We pull up near them and start to get out; but before my father can open his mouth, one of the black blokes steps forward, holding out the watch, and says, ‘Is this what you’re looking for?’
In the kitchen, Beth is already vigorously mopping the kitchen floor, which is partly covered with sheets of newspaper. Tim is sitting up on the bench with his feet out of the way, strumming the ukulele softly and fast. He is chattering now.
TIM: …he was playing these very…esoteric chords. They could have been in any key whatsoever. We clapped them out of pity. I don’t know what it is that makes one band more successful than another, and I’m sick of thinking about it.
Hi, JP.
JP picks his way towards Beth, leans forward off an island of newspaper, kisses her on the cheek.
JP: Ça c’est bien passé? (Did it go well?)
BETH: Oui.
She is glad to see him but cross that he has let the house get into such a state.
JP opens the bag of stubbies, takes them out, opens one and hands it to her. Tim fades out into the dining room.
JP: Alors—c’est mission accomplished? With your papa it is now like this? (Holds up two crossed fingers.)
His tone is lightly teasing, apparently affectionate, but something in it makes her uncomfortable. She bristles slightly.
BETH (still holding the mop): Can I have mine in a glass? Please?
JP pauses for a fraction of a second before opening the cupboard. Customs have changed in her absence.
Vicki comes in from the lane in a resolute rush.
BETH (gladly): Hullo!
VICKI: Gee, you’re brown!
They hug heartily. JP looks on.
That night, Beth and JP are lying on their backs in bed, awake, talking.
JP (with an incredulous laugh): You asked him this? Was he embarrassed?
BETH: Not half as embarrassed as you.
They both laugh.
Pause.
JP: If I was religious, I would choose Islam. Then I could have two wives.
BETH (trying to go along with his joke): Two wives. (Laughs uncertainly.) Where would that leave me?
JP: See? You turn everything to yourself, straight away. (As if preparing to drop the subject:) It’s nothing. I think about it when I’m stuck in the traffic.
BETH: Got anyone special in mind?
JP: Who? Who would I have in mind?
Pause. Beth is thinking.
BETH: That’s hippie stuff. It never worked.
JP: But for me, having to choose is not natural.
BETH: Why?
JP (as if thinking out loud): For me to leave you would be cruel.
BETH (with a little flare of pride): Cruel? To me?
JP: Non! To me! I am not thinking of you, at this moment!
Pause.
JP: But if I had another wife, then I could love you better.
BETH (touched and relieved): So you do still love me, then.
JP (hastily, brushing it aside): Of course.
Pause. They lie there quietly.
JP (lightly): Why don’t you become a Christian? Or a Buddhist? Then you could forgive me for everything I do.
Beth gives a puzzled laugh.
JP: Let’s go to sleep now.
BETH: All right.
JP kisses her cheek.
BETH: Your skin’s cold.
They settle themselves for sleep.
Next morning. Beth is standing just inside the back gate, drinking a glass of orange juice. She notices something in the back seat of an old Morris parked in the lane outside the gate: somebody is asleep in there, under a leather jacket. Tim comes rushing out the back door, heading for university.
BETH: Hey. (Gestures towards the sleeping person.) There’s a body in there.
TIM (slightly embarrassed): That’s Spenny.
BETH: Who?
TIM (speaks in low, confidential voice): I said to him, look, Spenny, if you feel funny about sleeping top to toe with me in my bed, there’s heaps of other blankets and stuff out in the shed—but he said no, he absolutely wanted to sleep in his new car. So I said, you’ve hurt me, Spenny—but he insisted.
He sets out up the street.
Annie rushes out with her satchel.
BETH: Hey. Who’s Spenny?
ANNIE: That’s him in there.
Beth stands with her glass as Annie darts away to school. Another life in the house has begun, one which she has not initiated and does not control.
She looks at the distant row of cypress trees. They are dark, even in morning sunshine, and quite still, like a hand held up to say Stop or even Help.
Later the same morning, in the dining room, Vicki is making herself a bag of lunch, throwing it together in a hurry. Beth is cleaning her boots.
VICKI: And did he climb it?
BETH: He didn’t even get out of the car.
They laugh.
BETH: So—how were things while I was away?
VICKI (very small pause): Good. Same as usual. Plenty of laughs.
BETH: And what about Tim and Annie.
VICKI (pushes down her sock to show Beth her ankle): Look at this scab. I must have scratched it on something.
BETH: Vicki? What about Tim and Annie?
VICKI (vaguely): They seem fine.
BETH: Yes, but are they—you know—
VICKI (irritated): Oh, leave them alone, Beth, can’t you? It’s none of your business.
BETH (bores on): I just hope she won’t do something stupid like fall in love and fail her exams.
VICKI: What if she does? Love is more important than honours. Love’s more important than anything.
JP comes bustling through the dining room on his way out to work. Vicki drops her eyes but Beth pursues him with her questions, pestering; we feel her anxiety.
BETH: Where will I meet you, JP? Or will you pick me up? I’ll be—
JP (irritably): Non! Take the bus and I will see you outside.
He charges off out the front door. Beth stands still. Vicki is busying herself, eyes down.
Late the same morning, when everyone else has left the house, Beth stands in the middle of her sister’s room, not doing anything or looking at anything; just standing there. She doesn’t know, either, why she is there.
Her expression is confused. Instinct is working, but it hasn’t broken through yet to consciousness.
Three faces in a row: Vicki, JP and Beth. Their different expressions: Vicki contained, eyes down; JP having trouble concealing amazement, dismay and scorn; Beth ashamed and keeping an eye on JP’s reaction. Voice-over of Mayor leading, with other voices droning along behind, in a perfunctory manner.
MAYOR: I swear by almighty God—that I will be faithful —and bear true allegiance…
Pull back to show that the three are standing just inside the door of the chamber where a naturalisation ceremony is already in progress: JP is late. The Mayor and Co. are all kitted up, on a dais. New citizens stand in a row at the front, friends and guests seated behind them on folding chairs. The new citizens are
being sworn in, in groups of four at a time.
In the background, an awful attempt at a festive setting: trestle tables, urns, massed ranks of cups and saucers, plates of sweet biscuits, big jugs of cordial. No wine or beer.
Beth is holding a bunch of small red roses. She offers one to JP.
JP: Non! This is nothing special for me. It’s just a piece of paper.
He hurries away towards his rightful place in the new citizens’ row.
BETH (desperately, to Vicki): It’s a time warp. It’s still the fifties in here.
Vicki makes no response: Beth cannot spark a laugh out of her.
The dreary ceremony continues.
When it’s over, JP stands holding his scroll and looking cross and embarrassed.
Beth puts out her hand to shake his, protecting herself by making a joke out of it. He takes her hand and presents his cheeks for her to kiss.