The Memory Tree

by Tess Evans

  Godown, the instigator of this fervour, admired the depth of his friend’s faith, but was sometimes uneasy with its intensity. He said as much to Chloe and Ariadne, whose sibylline demeanour invited confidences.

  ‘Hal’s not at ease with himself,’ Godown said. ‘He finds no lastin’ peace in the Lord.’

  ‘Poor Hal. There is no peace for him.’

  So Godown attempted to lighten the burden of knowledge. ‘Bible’s true, every word,’ he’d say. ‘But we need to pray so we can understand just what the Lord’s tellin’ us.’

  ‘Of course,’ Hal would respond irritably. ‘What do you take me for?’ But he was secretly shocked at Godown’s apostasy.

  10

  ZAV MET MY MOTHER IN his first year at university where he was studying biochemistry. She came from an outer suburb and was boarding with an aunt in Clifton Hill while she completed her Arts degree. There was something soft about Kate. Something exposed. It wasn’t just her blonde prettiness or her petite figure. There was no guardedness in her eyes. No protective carapace. Like his father, Zav chose a delicate beauty to make his own.

  From the first moment, my grandfather adored her and became gallant and charming in her presence. Whenever she visited, he’d cut her a long-stemmed rose or a daffodil or whatever bloomed in his carefully cultivated garden.

  ‘A rose for a rose,’ he’d say. Or ‘A rose by any other name . . .’

  ‘For God’s sake, Dad,’ Zav would mutter.

  Sealie, sweet sixteen, found my mother quite wonderful and fretted over her own black curls.

  ‘Her hair’s that soft baby-blonde,’ she told her friends enviously. ‘And I don’t think she’s ever had a pimple in her life.’ Her friends, all a little in love with Sealie’s handsome brother, took a more critical view.

  Godown treated her with wary respect. Pretty women were still a temptation to him, and this was Zav’s girlfriend, after all. He half-heartedly invited her to join his congregation, but wasn’t surprised or even disappointed when she declined, explaining that she and her family had always attended the Methodist church.

  ‘Not that I don’t respect your church,’ she told him seriously. She was terrified of seeming to be racist, but found the big black man unsettling. He wasn’t the sort of person you’d expect to find in a middle-class Melbourne suburb.

  For Zav, Mrs Mac’s approval was all-important. He loved this woman who had raised him and Sealie as though they were her own. He was also aware of her down-to-earth wisdom, and respected and sometimes feared her judgement.

  ‘Kate, I’d like you to meet Mrs Mac. She’s been here for us since Mum died.’ And he hugged the plain skinny woman who had dressed for the occasion in her new apricot twin-set. She’d had her hair done, too, but that was her weekly treat and nothing to do with meeting Kate. Nevertheless, she unconsciously patted the sculpted, grey helmet as she reached out the other hand to greet the girl.

  Kate’s hair was a silky curtain that shadowed her face. ‘It’s so nice to meet you at last, Mrs McLennon,’ she said, equally anxious to make a good impression.

  ‘Mrs Mac, dear. Everyone calls me Mrs Mac. Now what do you say to a cup of tea?’

  Kate was a coffee drinker, but accepted the tea and sipped it graciously, murmuring in reply to the other woman’s chatter.

  ‘She’s a quiet little thing,’ Mrs Mac told her sister later. ‘Very pretty, of course. All Zav’s girlfriends have been pretty. But I haven’t, you know, really warmed to her.’

  Alice looked at the other woman shrewdly. ‘Sure it’s not a case of the green-eyed monster? Zav’s always been your darling boy. Don’t be like Marjorie. You’ll only lose him.’ Alice was referring to her own mother-in-law who was now thankfully dead and presumed to be harassing the denizens of heaven. ‘God rest her soul,’ Alice added with venomous piety.

  From then on, Mrs Mac made an effort, and as my mother was as harmless as she was pretty, soon became quite fond of the girl she thought of secretly as her future daughter-in-law.

  That future came sooner than they all expected. Australia had entered the Vietnam War and supplemented their regular armed forces with conscripts. The young men were conscripted by lot, with birthdates drawn from a barrel. Zav’s number came up in 1966. He deferred a year to finish his undergraduate degree but instead of deferring further to complete his honours year, he opted to go into the army. They had made it pretty clear that he’d be sent for officer training and he began to think that maybe he’d make the army his career. He was ripe for adventure and this was the ultimate opportunity.

  Hal tried to talk him out of it. ‘You’re crazy not to do your honours year first,’ he argued. ‘The war could be over by then.’ Hal sounded like any other concerned father, but the possibility of losing his son preyed on his mind and momentarily, the Voice slid back, smooth and threatening. So begins your time of travail, it said. Your enemies are growing in strength.

  But an end to the war was the very thing my father wanted to avoid. Like so many young men before him, the idea of fighting for his country stirred him with excitement and dread. The fear of death is a powerful aphrodisiac and on the day my parents married, I was already secure in the fastness of my mother’s womb.

  In those days, ‘nice’ girls didn’t go all the way. At least not until they were fairly sure of their man. Zav had suffered tortures as Kate primly allowed him to fondle her breasts and even kiss her firm pink nipples. Thus far and no further. No further for me either. After all, these are my parents.

  It all changed when Zav simultaneously decided to join the army and marry Kate. I can’t help but think that the first was more important to him. That he would have married his girlfriend at the time, whoever she was. Was the choice my father made one of timing? Or was it, as he believed, true love? Whatever. We do know that he liked a drama and can imagine that the thought of saying goodbye to a dewy young bride as he marched off to war appealed to him on all fronts.

  When he went to tell Hal of his decision, he was annoyed to see Godown sitting with his father reading from the Bible. Hal was frowning, nodding his head every now and then and muttering an Amen or Praise the Lord with an intensity that Zav always found both irritating and embarrassing. He cleared his throat and the two men looked up.

  ‘Dad, I need to speak to you.’

  ‘What is it, son?’

  Zav looked meaningfully at Godown. ‘It’s private.’

  Hal was puzzled. ‘There’s only us here.’

  Godown closed the Bible and stood up. ‘Father–son thing, I think, Hal.’ And with a wink at the fuming Zav, he ambled out the door.

  Despite his annoyance at the interruption, Hal was intrigued. Zav never confided in him. ‘Beer?’ He topped up his own glass and handed another to Zav who took a sip before speaking.

  ‘I’ve got my papers. I have to report for basic training in July.’

  Hal’s heart sank. ‘So soon?’ He had begun to look older, recently. There was a good sprinkling of grey in his still-thick hair and the lines down the sides of his mouth had deepened. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’

  ‘We’ve been through all that before, Dad. And there’s something else. Kate and I have decided to get married before I go.’

  ‘Married!’ Hal looked at his son with tears in his eyes. ‘I can’t tell you how happy I am,’ he said, pumping the young man’s hand. ‘She’s a great girl, our little Kate. A great girl.’

  Our little Kate. Zav had never felt so close to his father. ‘She is a great girl isn’t she?’ he said almost shyly.

  But Hal was off on a wave of enthusiasm. ‘Sealie,’ he called. ‘Mrs . . .’ He stopped and looked at Zav. ‘We can tell the others?’

  Zav hesitated a second before replying. This made it all so real. So terrifyingly real. He pulled himself up sharply. He and Kate loved each other. Of course they did. Why waste time? ‘Call them in. Let me tell them, though.’ He saw that Hal was almost dancing in an effort to contain his excitement.


  ‘We can have the wedding here. I’ll get a marquee. Let’s see . . . we can fit about a hundred and forty, maybe a hundred and fifty people comfortably . . .’ Sealie and Mrs Mac came in, followed by Godown. ‘Guess what?’

  ‘My news, Dad.’

  Hal muttered a sorry as the others looked at Zav. ‘What?’ said Sealie. ‘What?’

  No-one was more excited that day than Hal. He rushed off for more glasses and a bottle of champagne as the other three gathered around Zav, all talking at once.

  Sealie was delighted. ‘A wedding? Fab! When? Have you set a date?’

  ‘We thought March. I’m off to Pucka on the third of July.’

  In one gulp, all sound was swallowed up. Off to Puckapunyal. To become a soldier. What do you say to news like that? Mrs Mac had to restrain herself. She remembered the last war: the telegrams, the lists in the newspapers, the grieving parents. Her own loss, the one she had tried so hard to suppress, came back with a sharpness that almost took her breath. Don’t go, Zav. It’s not our war. She heard the words in her head, but they couldn’t or wouldn’t break through. She gave him a hug and a watery smile then hid her trembling hands in her cardigan pockets. She looked helplessly at Godown.

  He, too, looked grave. He had experienced three years of war and knew that even if you survived, the price was high. He had never told Sealie the end of the story about his buddy and the butterfly. That the beauty of the butterfly and light in Gabriel’s face had been extinguished in the same instant by a sniper’s bullet. He laughed about the butterfly because if he cried, he wasn’t sure he could ever stop.

  It was Sealie, a romantic almost-seventeen, who broke the silence. ‘What a shame you can’t get married after you go in. You could wear your uniform!’

  The first time he held me he was in uniform. And very handsome he was too.

  Godown followed Mrs Mac out to the kitchen, where she stood at the window, dabbing at her eyes with her apron.

  ‘Hey, Mrs Mac-Lennon, you okay?’

  She nodded without turning her head.

  Godown stood beside her and touched her wet cheek. ‘No tears. Our boy—he’ll be just fine.’

  ‘Of course he will. I’m just a silly, sentimental woman.’

  ‘Never that. You’re never that.’

  Bob wasn’t sure how to approach Hal on the subject of money. This wedding thing was getting way out of hand. Kate’s father had deserted the family many years ago, leaving her mother to struggle with bringing up three children on a shop assistant’s wages.

  ‘Not to worry, Betty,’ Hal had told her when they met. ‘It’ll be my pleasure to pay for the wedding. My way of welcoming little Kate into the family. We’re very fond of her, you know.’

  Kate’s mother acquiesced with some relief and Hal set about spending with a gleeful indifference to the rapidly rising cost. He and Kate could be seen with their heads together discussing food, flowers, music—all the things that she might normally have discussed with her mother. Because of her background, Kate was quite frugal, but she was caught up in Hal’s disregard for cost and found that she only had to mention orchids and orchids appeared on the ever-growing list. Silk, she said and her gown became silk. Hal liked to think of himself as Kate’s—well, not exactly fairy godmother, but something along those lines.

  Finally, Bob felt he had to say something. None of the others knew Hal’s financial situation, and he felt responsible for his friend’s welfare. He’d seen these spending sprees a couple of times before and managed to pull Hal out before too much damage was done, but when it came to Zav’s wedding— Bob feared he might sound niggardly if he demurred about the cost. Nevertheless, he steeled himself to speak.

  ‘So you see, Hal,’ he concluded, as the two men sat over a beer. ‘You’re beginning to deplete your capital. Perhaps if you gave up a couple of things—the full choir, for instance and the horse and carriage—cut down the guest list a bit . . . It would still be a great wedding.’

  Hal waved a dismissive hand. ‘My son. My money.’ He paused for emphasis. ‘My business.’

  By now, Bob was able to read the stubborn set of Hal’s jaw. ‘As long as you know what you’re doing.’

  But Hal was looking back at the other man with disquiet. Here was someone whom he had believed was his friend, but who was brazenly trying to sabotage the wedding. The one thing he knew would hurt Hal most. As the Voice had predicted, the forces arraigned against him were beginning to come into the open. Well, forewarned was forearmed. Hal knew what he had to do.

  Bob was surprised when he didn’t receive an invitation to the wedding but assumed it had been lost in the mail. He said as much to Mrs Mac, who reddened as she explained.

  ‘Mr R has sort of taken against you since you talked about the money.’

  ‘Taken against me?’

  ‘Like he took against Father Murphy. Sometimes he just— takes against people.’

  Sometimes he did—often without reason. It had begun to affect their business. Bob saw his concern reflected in Mrs Mac’s eyes.

  ‘You, his oldest friend. It doesn’t make sense.’

  But they both understood that this was true of much of Hal’s behaviour.

  ‘Has he seen anyone yet?’

  In those days mental illness was a source of shame. Dr Plunket had tried to advise Hal and his family that he needed help, but found a stubborn resistance on all sides. That he appeared normal most of the time allowed them to argue that there was nothing wrong with him. He was just prone to occasional moods. They called them his highs and lows. Your father’s a bit low today or Watch out. Dad’s on a high. Keith Plunket prescribed sleeping pills, but knew he was out of his depth.

  ‘Dr Plunket tried to get him to see a psychiatrist, but then Mr R took against the doctor.’ Mrs Mac was indignant. ‘I don’t blame him for that. It’s not as though Mr R is mad or something. He just needs a tonic and a good holiday.’

  Bob thought differently, but kept his counsel.

  I guess Hal should have been born forty, fifty years later. Things might have turned out differently but there’s not much point in wondering. That’s the card he was dealt.

  At first, Zav was delighted to have his father take so much interest in him and his wedding, but even he began to worry about the cost. He joined Hal and Kate one night as they pored over their list. ‘Do we really need to hire a grand piano? Can’t we use our upright?’

  ‘Silly old Zav.’ Kate had agreed to the grand piano. Hal’s extravagance was infectious.

  ‘What about the catering? Do we really need five courses?’ Hal swatted away this concern as though it were a fly.

  Zav was firm on one thing and Hal agreed. Kate had wanted to be married in church, but Zav insisted they be married under the magnolia tree. ‘It’s the one thing I’m asking for,’ he said. ‘We can have a priest or a minister—I don’t care. As long as it’s someone who’ll do it from home.’

  ‘Of course, darling.’ Kate was having the time of her life and could afford to be generous. ‘I’d like to have Sealie as my bridesmaid, too—if that’s alright with you, of course.’

  As the spending continued, Zav decided it was best to tackle Kate alone and was mortified when she burst into tears. ‘Your father’s so kind. I don’t want to disappoint him. Please.’ So Zav gave up.

  Three days before the wedding, Sealie was looking for her brother and some instinct led her to the cupboard under the stairs. ‘Zav?’ She pushed the door and heard the familiar scraping sound. ‘Zav, are you okay?’

  ‘Just getting away from the wedding for a bit,’ he said glumly. ‘You’d think Kate was his daughter the way he’s carrying on.’

  Sealie felt a little stab of jealousy. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so, so—taken over by anything.’ She patted his shoulder in an awkward gesture. ‘Don’t worry, Big Bro. You’ll be off on your honeymoon before you know it.’

  ‘Might as well take Dad. It’s his money.’

  The young couple had decided u
pon a week at Coolangatta. It was the best Zav could afford with his part-time job at the brewery. While he was working extra shifts, he thought bitterly, his father was convincing Kate to accept a honeymoon on Hayman Island. When Hal announced that he had booked the flights and accommodation, he looked so happy that Zav felt it churlish to object. Even so, it made him feel less of a man.

  ‘You don’t mind, do you Zavvie?’ Kate said later. Her eyes were big and anxious. ‘Your dad was so pleased and—I didn’t know how to tell him we had our own plans.’

  Sealie had been excited about the marriage and had paid little attention to Hal’s obsessive behaviour. It was her first experience of a wedding and as far as she knew, it could have been normal. Now she thought about it, though, Hal had taken responsibility for everything. She was not concerned about the money. They had always lived comfortably and she trusted that her father would continue to provide. But he had even chosen the colour for her bridesmaid’s dress. ‘Yellow,’ he said, head on one side. ‘A buttery yellow.’ She had to admit that it suited her beautifully, but surely clothes were women’s business. Poor Daddy, she thought with sudden insight. He’s trying to be mother and father.

  While it arose from her anxiety to please, Kate’s choice of tall, dark Sealie for bridesmaid created a charming foil to her petite, blonde prettiness. They spent a good deal of time together choosing material and patterns; shopping for nightgowns and negligees; twirling with self-conscious beauty as acolytes knelt at their feet with mouths full of pins.

  In the three months leading up to the wedding, Zav felt he hardly saw his future bride. ‘They’re off again,’ he complained to Mrs Mac, who was ironing a large pile of shirts. ‘If it’s not dresses, it’s caterers or florists or bloody hairdressers.’ What could a hairdresser do to improve Kate’s hair? He loved it long and straight and loose around her face. He didn’t even like to see it in a ponytail.