In the Company of Strangers

by Liz Byrski

  That night they had lain close, talking, touching, eventually making cautious moves towards intimacy and finally making love, slowly, thoughtfully, knowing that this could either seal or destroy the reconciliation to which they had edged closer during the day. Lesley, remembering the surprising difference and the comfort of Declan’s body, wondered whether she should confess, but it occurred to her that Gordon might be contemplating a similar dilemma. In that moment she realised that if this was the case she would rather not know and so the metaphorical sleeping dog or dogs were left to sleep just like the real one stretched out on an old blanket by the warmth of the wood stove.

  Now Gordon is back in Broome and they are apart again, but this time it feels right – at least for now.

  ‘I’ve closed the office for an hour and put a notice on the door that I’m over here,’ Fleur says, appearing in the shop. ‘Declan just called. They’ve collected Alice’s things and they’re going to have lunch and mooch round Mandurah before heading back, so I thought you and I could have lunch over here.’

  There are only half a dozen people in the café so they pick a table from where they can see through into the shop.

  ‘I’m really pleased we’re in this together,’ Fleur says. ‘In all the time I’ve worked here it was only Catherine that I had much contact with. And then Todd, of course. I’m a bit of a loner but I regret that now. It’s really why I felt I needed to leave once Catherine had gone – it was just a job after that, but this is different.’

  ‘I’m pleased too,’ Lesley says. ‘I think there’s a great online market for the lavender products and I’ve been making a list of local craftspeople we could talk to about bringing their products into the shop. But I need to ask you about the soft toys, the ones that we sell for charity. We’re out of stock, and I also need to know what to do with the money. I asked Declan and he said you’d explained it to him but with everything else to think about he’d completely forgotten.’

  Fleur nods. ‘That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about too. Catherine started it but when she got sick she just let it go. There’s a group of volunteers who make things with dried lavender – the neck and eye pillows, and the soft toys. Benson’s provides the lavender and some of the fabric. The rest of the materials come from local people and businesses who give us offcuts and remnants. And Catherine knew various people in Perth so every time she went there she’d come back with bags of leftover fabric. The volunteers make up the toys and the pillows at home. At least they used to.’

  ‘Used to?’

  ‘Yes, when I explained it to Declan I could see it was going in one ear and out the other and I was worried that there might be big changes and it would just get ditched. So I gave the bags of lavender to one of the volunteers, together with all the fabric, and asked her to distribute them to the others, and keep making the toys until we knew what was happening. I should probably have told Declan and/or Ruby, but I thought I’d just wait and see how things panned out.’

  ‘So what’s the situation now?’

  ‘There’s a stack of products all ready to go, they just need collecting, labelling and pricing. So I’m thinking I should talk to Ruby and explain it. I think she’ll go for it in a big way, and we could get them into the shop with a really nice display and maybe promote them online too. But I need to know how you feel about that.’

  ‘I think it’s a great idea,’ Lesley says. ‘But I don’t know where the money goes.’

  ‘They go to producing these,’ Fleur says, reaching into her bag and putting a small plastic package on the table. ‘Open it up, have a look.’

  Lesley opens it and takes out a folded black plastic sheet, a tiny tablet of soap, two fine latex gloves, a scalpel blade sealed in cellophane, three lengths of white cord, and some squares of gauze. She lines them up in front of her on the table, looks at them again and shrugs.

  ‘It doesn’t look like much to me.’

  ‘Exactly, but it’s a lifesaver, literally,’ Fleur says, smiling. ‘It’s a birthing kit.’

  Lesley shakes her head. ‘Sorry,’ she says, ‘you’re going to have to explain that.’

  ‘Okay. Hundreds of thousands – well, actually millions – of women in developing countries like in Africa and Afghanistan give birth alone in non-sterile conditions and every year almost four hundred thousand of them die from preventable infections, and so do their babies. This little kit provides the six clean items they need for a safe, sterile delivery.’

  ‘No,’ Lesley says, picking up the plastic. ‘Really? How can it? I mean, it’s so simple, when you think of all the sterilising and stuff that goes on in hospitals.’

  ‘It works, Lesley,’ Fleur says, ‘it really does save lives.’

  Lesley looks again at the contents of the kit. ‘Bits of cord, gauze, some plastic – it doesn’t seem possible,’ she says, and it’s hard to say it because the very simple, personal nature of it touches her deeply. ‘What does it cost for one of these?’

  ‘Two dollars for the contents and then lots of hours to put them together. There are assembly days when women volunteer to spend the day making up the kits and sealing them into the bags.’

  ‘Two dollars! So if we sell an eye pillow for ten or one of those little pram toys for twelve … ?’

  ‘Exactly – five or six kits.’ Fleur grins. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I first heard about it. So I’d really like to get this going again, and give it a boost, make a feature of it. And I think it’d be good for Benson’s too. The other thing is,’ she pauses, leaning forward across the table, ‘I think we’re all feeling pretty bad about Paula, you know … feeling we let her down. Well, it was Paula who told Catherine about this and persuaded her to get involved. Paula used to volunteer for the assembly days, and she gave something to the birthing kit project every month. I know it doesn’t sound a bit like Paula, but she did. She never talked much to me, mainly because I couldn’t be bothered to listen, but I do remember her telling me that it made her feel she was making a personal connection with a woman in another country. So I want to get this going again, because it’s a brilliant project and because …’ She blushes, looking down at her hands and then up again at Lesley. ‘Well, because I want to honour Paula now in a way I failed to do while she was alive. And before I go and talk to Ruby and Declan I want to know if you’re with me on this.’

  uby hesitates outside Todd’s door. He’s been in there for ages and while it’s more than a month since Paula’s death and then the phone call from his mother, she’s still concerned about how he’s coping.

  ‘It’s Ruby, Todd,’ she says, tapping on the door. ‘May I come in?’

  ‘Sure,’ he says, ‘come on in, I want to show you some stuff.’ He gets up from the desk and moves a pair of jeans off the armchair to make space for her. ‘Look at this,’ he says, handing her half a dozen printed pages. ‘I thought I could do one of these courses before I go on the sound engineering thing. I could use some of Catherine’s money.’

  Ruby puts on her glasses and leafs through the information. ‘Looks good,’ she says. ‘Which did you have in mind?’

  ‘Well, I thought Bookkeeping in Excel would be useful, although it’d probably be pretty dull. And there’s one called Basic Principles of Management, and another about marketing. They’d be useful, wouldn’t they?’

  Ruby smiles. ‘I’m sure they would. You need to have a look at all the elements of the sound engineers’ training course and see which you think fits best with that.’

  ‘That’s exactly what Jackson said,’ Todd says, ‘see what matches the curriculum.’

  ‘Jackson said that?’

  ‘Well, he emailed it. I forwarded this stuff to him late last night and there was a reply when I got up this morning.’

  ‘Well that’s good,’ Ruby says. ‘He’s an excellent person to get advice from on this.’ It’s hard for her to speak at all as she reels with shock at the news of Todd’s correspondence with Jackson. She hasn’t heard from him
at all since he left, not that she’d expected to – just the same, the fact that he’s corresponding with Todd gives her a jolt. She gathers herself together in a long breath.

  ‘The other thing you could do,’ she says, forcing herself to concentrate on Todd, ‘is to choose a course simply because it’s something that you’d really enjoy. You’ll be doing some bookkeeping and other things with Fleur, so you could pick something you’re interested in just for itself.’

  Todd cocks his head on one side. ‘Like what?’

  ‘Well, I was thinking about all the reading you were doing with Catherine, and what you’ve read since then. You might want to think about a course that would put those books or books like them in a historical and social context for you, that would explain the issues in them and why they were important to the authors, and what the authors were actually trying to achieve in them.’

  He looks puzzled. ‘They were trying to write stories, weren’t they?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ruby says, ‘of course they were, but why those stories at those particular times? What did the authors want to say about the times and the places in which they lived, what influenced them? Because those books are much more than just good stories, they tell us a lot about what life was like, and what was important to the authors.’

  Todd is silent for a moment, and Ruby could kick herself for boring him, for taking what is his pleasure and turning it into something else, something that probably sounds like the dreariest of lessons that he was thankful to abandon when he left school.

  ‘That sounds cool,’ he says. ‘What would it be called?’ And he turns back to the computer and opens another window.

  ‘Well, probably something like understanding literature, or reading the classics,’ Ruby says. ‘I’ll help you look for it in a minute but I want to talk to you about something else first.’

  He turns back to her, nodding.

  ‘I know Declan’s talked to you about the future,’ she says, ‘but I want to do that too. You know I’m leaving here soon?’

  Todd nods again. ‘I wish you wouldn’t,’ he says. ‘I’m going to miss you.’

  ‘Me too, Todd, and that’s why I need to tell you this. If, at any time, you need help and Declan’s not around, then I want you to know you can come to me. If you need money, or help in some other way, you can call or email. The other thing is that if you decide to go on the technical production course or do a different sort of training course, I’ll pay for it.’ She leans forward, her forearms resting on her knees. ‘I don’t have any children, Todd, and so obviously I don’t have any grandchildren, but if I had a grandson I’d be enormously proud if he was like you. So I want to be there for you if you need it in the future.’

  Todd rocks back and forth on his chair, arms clasped around his body. He looks awkward, unnerved, and he shakes his head.

  ‘Everyone’s so kind,’ he says, his voice thick with emotion. ‘I don’t know why but it’s like everything changed for me. First Catherine, then you and Declan, and everyone else. I don’t understand …’

  ‘It’s because of you, Todd, because of the sort of person you are. As for the kindness – well, we’re really not that kind because none of us helped Paula. We all looked at Paula and saw a problem or a nuisance. None of us took the trouble to look beyond that to what was happening for her, to see what she needed, or question why she behaved as she did. So, don’t start to think too well of us. Now let’s have a look for some literature courses.’

  Side by side they sit at the screen, and Todd prints out their findings to read later.

  ‘Okay, time for me to get on with the dinner,’ Ruby says eventually, getting up from her chair and heading for the door. ‘By the way,’ she says, turning back to him, unable to help herself, ‘how is Jackson?’

  ‘He’s cool,’ Todd says. ‘He’s going to Canada next week. Just him, not The Crowbars, it’s not like a festival or concerts or anything, just something for the university.’

  Ruby nods. ‘Good,’ she says. ‘That’s nice. I’m sure he’s really good at that. Well, say hello to him from me when you email again.’

  In the kitchen she opens the fridge and stares at the contents without seeing them. She holds the door open for so long that the alarm starts to beep and she closes it. And still unable to think about whatever it was she was going to cook, she sits down at the table, remembering the moment she first saw Jackson, how that felt – visceral, certainly, but also so much more, the sense of a deeply intimate connection. Was he lying when he’d said he felt it too? Was it all just a figment of the florid imagination of an old woman grasping at youth, a desperate last attempt to find something that had eluded her for so long? She feels shamed by her self-delusion, shamed when she remembers standing naked in front of the mirror, shamed by the erotic dreams, and shamed most of all by the way she still can’t quite let go of it.

  Oh, she’ll be all right, she knows that. And coming here has helped her to reclaim her past, and to make new friends. But she had briefly allowed herself a glimpse of other possibilities, and the more she thinks back on it the less clear she is about what was real and what was mere imagination.

  It’s time to leave. Time to take up her old life once again, and the sooner she does it, the better.

  Ten days later she is home again. Islington in August is mild and pleasantly green, but as she walks through Highbury Fields, sits on a bench watching the joggers with their iPods and mothers strolling with their toddlers in pushers, Ruby struggles to find her place.

  ‘Perhaps this is how astronauts feel,’ she attempts to joke with Jessica, ‘totally disorientated and struggling with re-entry.’

  ‘That’s a good way of putting it!’ Jessica says. ‘A few more days and you’ll be through the jetlag and back to normal. And you don’t have to go back again, you know. When you’ve decided what you want to do about Benson’s Reach you can let them know in writing or send someone else. I can go for you if that helps.’

  But Jessica doesn’t know how it was to be there, to be in the house where she had once lost everything, and then to think she had found it again. And Ruby can’t begin to explain the magic of four such different people, each with their own problems, connecting in such a profoundly satisfying way. Why couldn’t you have been satisfied with everything else that happened? she asks herself. You found love with them, why did you have to run after another sort of love as well? It should have been enough but she had wanted more, and in that wanting she had deluded herself. Well, she has lost love before, through war and politics, through death and deceit, and she has recovered, so she supposes she will also recover from this.

  Think how fortunate you were, she tells herself, remembering the pleasures and satisfactions of the last few months. Think of Paula, who had so little and lost it all. Get up, get back to work, get on with your fortunate life – you’ve done it before and you can do it again. But she knows that this time it will be harder because what she has lost is a dream and one can only lose so many dreams in a lifetime.

  But time does work its old magic and in the weeks that follow she feels she is waiting, waiting for it to be time to go back, to tie up the loose ends. Catherine had asked for a year, but what difference will a few months make? To distract herself she employs a builder to fix the roof and add a small conservatory at the back of the house, which she has planned for years. At least one item can now be crossed off her bucket list. And over and over again she ponders her plan for Benson’s. But most of all she thinks of the future and what it means to be old: to be a woman who had learned to be entirely comfortable alone but who stumbles and injures herself while grasping at the chance to feel young, to be wanted, to be precious, to come first with someone once again. Old age looks different, less attractive, today from the way it looked a year ago.

  And then early one morning in late October she stoops to collect The Guardian from the doormat and reads that next month the Australian prime minister is to move a motion in parliament to apologise to the child
migrants for the hardship and neglect they suffered in Australia. Ruby has to grasp the back of a chair to steady herself. Finding her mother and discovering the truth of what had happened all those years ago had resolved only part of her story. The greater story of the ruthless and unlawful removal of thousands of children – the horrors perpetrated on them, the misery, the humiliation, the shame – remains. The lies and denials, the defensive rationales, have all raged back and forth against the background of increasingly poignant and painful personal stories. At last, after all this time, there is at least to be acknowledgement, validation; someone is finally willing to say sorry.

  Restless with a churning mix of emotions, Ruby puts aside the newspaper, pulls on her old anorak and boots and goes outside to burn off some of her nervous energy in the garden. And with little awareness of what she is doing she pounds back and forth, digging, hoeing, clipping, dumping and finally, as she rakes leaves from the lawn, she comes to an abrupt halt.

  ‘Sorry, Cat,’ she says aloud. ‘I’ve done my best, and I need it to be finished now. I need to let go of the reins. They don’t need me to sit on my hands for the next few months.’ And she drops the rake, goes back into the house and books a fight to Perth.

  In the arrivals hall Alice pushes her way through the waiting crowd to the barrier. The drive took longer than it should have and Declan has dropped her and gone to park the car. For the last half-hour, as they seemed to catch every red traffic light and get stuck behind truck after truck, she had thought they weren’t going to make it in time. As Alice weaves through the crush she can feel the impatience of the people waiting for the appearance of the first passengers. Relieved to have made it in time she takes a deep breath and positions herself close to the barrier from where she can see both exits from the customs hall.