In the Company of Strangers

by Liz Byrski

  Lesley shrugs and picks up her glass. ‘Cheers … oh, you’re not drinking – again?’

  ‘I don’t drink – at all,’ Declan says, knowing that the time has come to make this clear.

  ‘Not ever?’ Lesley asks. ‘Oh I’m sure we can do something about that.’

  Declan shakes his head. ‘Not you, not anyone,’ he says, and he holds her gaze until she drops her eyes. It feels like a tiny victory, but why does he feel he needs one? Because she’s older, perhaps, and he was brought up to defer to and humour older women? But then he’s never been out with one before. Perhaps this whole evening was a mistake. Her comment about Todd has annoyed him. He wishes that he was back at Benson’s Reach eating dinner with him, and with Alice and Ruby, because right now he feels he’s dipping his toes into dangerous waters.

  ‘So what next?’ she asks.

  ‘We still need to find someone to take over from Fleur. She makes all the lavender products, the creams and toners, all that stuff. But we’ve got time for that.’

  Lesley leans forward across the table. ‘How interesting. I remember your aunt telling me about all that when I was here before. In fact she showed me her workroom. I’d love to see it again.’

  ‘Just ask Fleur,’ Declan says. ‘Catherine taught her and she’s been doing it for a few years now. Letting people see how it’s done was always part of the deal. She’ll show you around.’

  ‘I’d rather you showed me,’ Lesley says.

  Declan feels sweat prickle the back of his neck. Dinner is so much more complicated than lunch, he should have known that, but it might be less complicated if he could work out why he set this up and what he wants from it. He has always found it difficult to read the signs that women give out and has frequently erred by reading too much into too little and too little into the obvious. As a result he’s been both slapped down and missed out on some tantalising possibilities. He has never thought of himself as an attractive man and is usually surprised to find himself the object of a woman’s attention. Is he reading the signs right tonight? Perhaps his hormones have taken over from the rest of his brain? … And what would Alice think?

  ‘So tell me about Alice,’ Lesley says, pouring herself another glass of wine. ‘You were very lucky she could come and help out when you needed her. How did you two meet and what was she doing before this?’

  or more than five years Alice’s sleep has been broken by agonising dreams and attacks of anxiety so intense that her heart pounds in her chest and she has difficulty breathing. They force her out of bed, movement being the only solution for her restless body and mind. In prison she had longed to be able to go outside, gulp down the fresh night air and walk or run until the demons were exhausted. But prison rules didn’t accommodate such idiosyncrasies and bellowing with grief and rage and pummelling one’s mattress with fists was not an option when sharing a cell. The rules and the accommodation at the pre-release facility were less restrictive but they certainly didn’t include the freedom to walk in the grounds at night. Benson’s Reach has granted her many freedoms and this, Alice thinks, is a particularly precious one. Now she can let herself out in the dead of night or at dawn to walk off the night terrors. Contained weeping, even roars of anger, are possible now, thanks to Declan’s generous decision to let her have a cottage to herself. It’s all helping. She can see it in her own face, the colour of her skin and the way the shadows beneath her eyes have lightened. She’s fitter too, but the dreams remain – the recurring one, of the night it all happened, replays itself through her sleep time after time and she suspects it always will. It’s always the same: the rain driving against the windscreen, the lights ahead of her, the other car and the screech of the tyres as she breaks and spins out of control, the noise and then the silence. That overbearing claustrophobic silence and what it means, what it says about what she has done. Nothing, Alice believes, absolutely nothing will change the dreams, and nothing can ever change what they represent.

  Even in this beautiful place, which has soothed and settled her, those dreams still hang like a stone around her neck, sapping her energy and stopping her from feeling fully alive. This is the real punishment and it’s what she believes she deserves, a life sentence; prison was just the start. It will always be there, just as there will always be someone who knows hiding ready to blow her cover. She wonders sometimes if Ruby has guessed her secret because occasionally she catches Ruby watching her as though she is looking for clues. Does she look like a woman who has spent years in prison? But if Ruby does know she has said nothing about it. And here at least the days do not begin with locks and keys, with the yelling of orders and crude rejoinders. Here she can have what she has missed for so long, the chance to start the day gently and alone. Often in the evenings or at daybreak she sits, as she does now, here on her balcony, practising meditation, naming the emotions that drive the anxiety – the shame, the guilt and the fear, because naming them for what they are seems to give her some control over them, to minutely reduce their power.

  This morning she sits, hands curled around a mug of tea, watching the dawn break, waiting for the kangaroos to emerge cautiously from the cover of the bush and pause, ears pricked, before hopping across the path and between the trees to the field which, before long, will be home to the music festival. She is learning the landscape, spotting tiny changes in the plants, and learning, too, the early morning activity of guests but, more particularly, of the people with whom she now lives. Declan is not an early riser and is rarely seen before seven-thirty while Todd, although not emerging from his room until later, has usually thrown back his curtains before seven. It’s unusual for a teenager, Alice thinks; her own children had to be prised from their beds at his age. But the person who interests her most is Ruby, who is not only up at dawn but walks out, circling the lavender beds and the boundaries of the property, often ranging far beyond them. More interesting still is that Ruby also walks outside at night. Her movement lacks the frantic energy of Alice’s own sorties, but she is, nonetheless, walking, absorbed in thought. Alice is convinced that, just like herself, Ruby is walking off the burdens of a troubled mind.

  What are Ruby’s demons, she wonders? Declan told her that Ruby and Catherine met when they were sent to Australia as children and Alice knows enough about the treatment of the child migrants to know that cruelty and neglect were a reality for most. How important that friendship must have been, and yet Ruby left Australia in 1969 – left her oldest friend and has never returned until now. And Todd has told Alice that Catherine and Ruby didn’t write or speak to each other for more than twenty-five years, until Catherine turned up on Ruby’s doorstep in London. So why did Ruby leave? What caused that rift?

  Alice feels drawn to Ruby but can’t quite reach her, and she wonders whether Ruby, like her, has the ability to appear approachable, relaxed and open whilst hiding behind an internal defence mechanism toughened by time and circumstance. Ruby is the sort of person you want to run towards while fearing that you might make a complete ass of yourself if you do. And who is she anyway? Alice’s curiosity is eating away at her. She is not usually a nosy person but in this case a little information would help. This morning, she thinks, she’ll risk it. Ruby and Declan have an appointment in town with Catherine’s solicitor; it’s her chance to pop over to the office and see what she can find out. Just a Google search will do it, nothing more intrusive than that. People do it all the time.

  The kangaroos have completed their morning trek across the path and are disappearing through the trees. It’s almost five-thirty and Alice is contemplating the ethics, or rather the lack of them, in this plan, when something very surprising happens. Another creature breaks cover, this time a human one. A door opens and Declan appears on the balcony of cottage six. He is wearing the clothes he was wearing when he went out last night, his shoes are in his hand, and he looks around just as the kangaroos had done, only rather more furtively. Then he sits on the top step, slips on his shoes, creeps quietly down the stairs and
sets off at a brisk walk towards the back door of the house.

  Alice grimaces and sips her tea. So she was right, he did have a date, but Lesley Craddock is the last person she would have expected. Is this why she has extended her stay? Alice is not keen on Lesley Craddock, who she thinks is imperious and condescending. Indeed, the more she thinks about it the more surprised she is that Declan – usually so cautious, diffident and lacking in confidence – has fallen so quickly into this … this … whatever it is, with such an unlikely person.

  Declan disappears through the kitchen door and closes it behind him, and Alice finds that she is suddenly uneasy. Declan has an awful lot to cope with right now, the last thing he needs is someone like Lesley Craddock complicating things. ‘But it’s none of your business,’ she tells herself, and then remembers that it actually is. She might be working for Declan but she was once and still is his sponsor. The worst thing for Declan, and indeed for Alice herself, now is complications. One of the most valuable lessons she learned in AA was the importance of navigating stressful periods in her life by avoiding extremes and complications. For some people, getting sober involves a commitment to stay out of relationships until a period of sobriety is established. Declan had fallen foul of that rule in his first year and had hit a crisis that set him back months. Admittedly that was a long time ago, but Alice’s unease niggles. On the other hand, perhaps this is Declan’s way of looking after himself – uncomplicated sex works for some. The trouble begins when one party takes it more seriously than the other. So what about Lesley Craddock, is she looking for a way to sort out some crisis in her life? Alice knows she can’t confront Declan as she might otherwise have done. They are friends and colleagues but Declan is also her employer now. Their lives have become linked in a different way. All she can do, she thinks, is try to keep an eye on things and hope that Lesley Craddock will soon disappear back to wherever she came from.

  ‘Jackson Crow!’ Declan says, practically choking on a flake of croissant. ‘Jackson Crow is coming here?’

  Ruby nods. ‘Yes. He’s some obscure saxophonist from North Carolina, and he seems to have struck up a working relationship with Catherine. He sounds like a bit of a poseur to me. Anyway, he’s the person who’s mustering the local bands through some sort of jazz and blues online network. Why, what’s wrong?’

  Declan bursts out laughing. ‘There’s absolutely nothing wrong. It’s just that Jackson Crow is not some obscure saxophonist, Ruby. He may not be as famous as John Coltrane or Charlie Parker, but for serious blues fans he’s a musical legend. You must’ve heard of him.’

  Ruby shakes her head. ‘Never. I just assumed he was some weirdo that Catherine latched on to. If he did all that why is he bothering to come here to the wilds of south west Western Australia for some little music festival?’

  ‘He dropped out of the big time years ago because he was sick of it. Disappeared off the scene for quite a while and then, about twelve years ago, he turned up as a lecturer in the music school at Duke University in North Carolina, teaching saxophone in the jazz and blues program. They also set up a radio program for him on the university radio station, but it goes out all over the world. You know how people love the Garrison Keillor radio show? Well it’s like that – unique. He’s got a really dedicated audience, of which I am one.’ Declan stops to finish the remains of his croissant.

  ‘I see I’ve done him a disservice,’ Ruby says, although not entirely convinced. ‘He seems to have been fond of Catherine.’

  ‘She was always going on about Jackson Crow,’ Todd says through a mouthful of cereal.

  ‘There, you see,’ Declan says triumphantly.

  ‘But this must be a tiny event to him.’

  ‘These days he and The Crowbars just get together a couple of times a year to go to small festivals. It’s a fun thing for them. I bet you Catherine hassled him for years to get him to come here the first time. I don’t know why she didn’t tell me about it.’

  ‘He’s pretty old.’ Todd says. ‘I’ve seen a picture of him.’

  ‘Well then he and I will have something in common,’ Ruby says. Declan is looking as though he won the lottery and it seems unkind not to show an interest. ‘Have you seen any of the publicity from last time, Todd?’ she asks, turning to him. ‘Maybe we should have a look at it and get some ideas for this time.’

  Todd nods. ‘There are some posters and stuff in a big plastic box on the top shelf in the office. She asked me to get the ladder and put it up there one day when she was tidying up.’

  ‘Well I think we’ll keep you off ladders for a while,’ Ruby says, looking at Declan. ‘Maybe you … ?’

  ‘Oh absolutely,’ Declan says. ‘I’ll get it down today. I’ll look after all that, Ruby, the posters and so on, just try and stop me.’

  ‘Excellent,’ she says. ‘I’m a musical fossil and it needs to be done by someone with a feel for it.’

  ‘If he’d agree to do something big in Perth, maybe at the Burswood, I bet they’d fill the place,’ Declan says, spreading marmalade on another croissant. ‘But he won’t go that way, I think he prefers teaching and the radio program these days. I’d better rethink the parking arrangements. Good thing there’s plenty of space.’

  ‘But where will they stay?’ Ruby asks.

  ‘We’ll be able to fit some of them in here, but there’s going to be a hell of a lot of caravans and tents. Come on, Ruby, you remember what it’s like. And I bet quite a few will make for the caravan park and campsite on the other side of town. I’d better warn them. And I might just talk to the people who own that vacant land opposite, see if they’ll let people park and camp there. But we’ll need some volunteers to direct the traffic and we might not have enough toilets – maybe have to order a second block of portaloos. I’ll talk to those guys that play at the pub. They may have been involved last time, they should be able to tell us what it was like.’

  Declan gets up to make more coffee and mimes playing the saxophone as he waits for the kettle. ‘Jackson Crow,’ he says again, ‘at Benson’s Reach. Good thing Alice is ready to go with the café. We’ll need a whole lot more than that though. We’ve already got Rotary doing the hot dog stand. I wonder if the fish and chip shop would bring that caravan along, the one that they take on the road sometimes. It’ll be huge.’

  He looks incredibly young, Ruby thinks, fooling around over there by the sink, making saxophone noises and dancing. So often he seems burdened but this is another side of him, playful, energetic, that she’s not seen before. This is the young crop duster, running wide circles, arms outstretched, emitting a low buzz to simulate the aircraft engines. Something about him touches her deeply and she realises how fond she has grown of him in just a few weeks. He looks only remotely like Harry so is it the link to Catherine, or just Declan himself, that endearing mix of indecisiveness and competence, and now the boyishness? But he’s not a boy anymore. This morning, as she set out for her early walk, she had turned the corner at the end of the house just in time to see him putting on his shoes outside Lesley Craddock’s cottage and then skulking back to the house. At the time she’d laughed to herself. ‘Oh really, Declan, if you’re going to bonk the guests don’t be so furtive,’ she’d murmured, but as she walked on amusement evaporated to be replaced by concern. Declan, she suspects, is vulnerable. He hates confrontations and would probably go a long way to avoid an argument. Lesley Craddock, on the other hand, is a very different sort of person, Ruby thinks; one determined to get what she wants in the way she wants it. Of course, she reminds herself as she watches Declan, it’s none of her business. All being well Lesley will be gone soon, and Declan will have more than enough on his plate with the festival.

  Alice, in the café kitchen testing some of her recipes, watches from the window as Ruby and Declan pile into his car and head off down the drive. She stops what she’s doing, rinses her hands under the tap, dries them on a tea towel, and stands there for a moment contemplating her next move. It still doesn’t seem quite
right but she knows she’s going to do it anyway so it might as well be now. Closing the café door quietly behind her she walks quickly to the office. It’s a pity Todd hasn’t gone with them but a few minutes ago she saw him hobbling up the slope to the workroom. He likes Fleur and Alice knows that he often gives her a hand in there so he’s unlikely to appear in the office in the next ten minutes or so.

  There are no restrictions on her use of the computer so, feeling very shifty, Alice slips into the chair, types Ruby’s name into Google and hesitates briefly, her hand on the mouse. It’s probably a waste of time. People think you can find anyone on the internet but it’s not true – hundreds of thousands of people slip through the nets of cyberspace because they are just ordinary law-abiding people who live quiet lives and don’t attract attention; others are invisible behind aliases. Alice takes a deep breath, clicks the mouse and leans forward in amazement. There are 91,207 results.

  ‘No,’ Alice murmurs, ‘surely not? There must be someone else with that name.’ So where will she start? Wikipedia seems a good bet; she should at least be able to see if she’s got the right Ruby Medway. The picture makes it clear that she has. It was obviously taken some years ago – a black and white portrait of an unmistakable Ruby, the unflattering bun, the characteristically fierce expression and she’s wearing some sort of insignia, because she is – ‘Oh my God!’ Alice clasps a hand over her mouth – she is not Miss, Mrs or Ms but Dame Ruby Medway, born (Eleanor) Ruby Medway 23 January 1940 in Lewisham, London. In 1947 Medway was transported to Western Australia under the British Government’s Child Migration Scheme and returned to England as an adult in 1969.

  Alice stops, leans back and studies the photograph again. Declan has said nothing of this – maybe he doesn’t even know? When Ruby’s arrival was imminent he had speculated on what sort of person she might be and it was nothing like this.

  Alice scrolls down past the index and reads on.