The Road Back: A Novel

by Di Morrissey

  They pushed on through the water until, rounding a corner, they saw a large swimming hole. Chris was already on the far bank, where he dropped his towel and made his way over to a fat rope hanging from a tree. Grabbing it, he swung out over the creek and let go, falling into the water and disappearing. His head bobbed up and he roared with delighted laughter.

  Fat old trees lined the creek, their sturdy branches suspended above the deep swimming hole. Amidst much laughter and squeals, a group of boys and girls were taking turns to drop feet first from the branches, plunging into the water with loud splashes.

  ‘Come on, girls, have a go!’ Chris shouted.

  There were four boys and three girls all about the girls’ age, and the fun they were having was infectious. Megan and Ruby didn’t need a second invitation to grab the rope and swing out over the water.

  ‘Do you think there’d be fish in here, Dad?’ asked Megan as she bobbed up beside her father.

  ‘Not any more,’ he laughed. ‘This mob would frighten away an elephant!’

  Finally, arms tiring from hanging on to the rope, they all floated in the pool and began to chat lazily with the local teenagers.

  ‘How’d you find this place?’ asked one of the boys. ‘You’re new. Not that it’s a problem,’ he added, after eyeing the two girls.

  ‘I brought them. I’ve been coming here since I was a kid,’ said Chris. ‘In fact I might go upstream a bit further, I remember another spot I used to like.’

  ‘It gets a bit overgrown further on,’ said another of the boys.

  ‘Yeah. I remember. If I’m not back in half an hour or so, send out a search party.’ He winked at Megan. ‘I’ll be fine. You stay here.’

  Chris swam confidently through the water and thought back to the times he had spent in this creek, years ago. Often he and his mates had come out here adventuring, exploring, swimming and fishing. Memories flooded back to him. Even the trees looked familiar. There was one tree he remembered particularly well. He’d always loved its wide branches that were flat enough to lie on. Once he and Shaun French had dragged an old plywood sheet up onto one of them to make a platform they could both fit on. One winter in the freezing rain they’d settled themselves on the precarious platform above the river, to watch the swirling creek. Shaun had suddenly seen something floating downstream.

  ‘Hey, is that somebody’s fishing rod? Let’s grab it,’ he’d yelled.

  ‘No, it can’t be,’ shouted Chris. ‘No one would be fishing when the weather’s like this.’

  But Shaun had ignored him. He’d leaned forwards and tried to grab the long pole as it swirled past. Suddenly, without warning, he’d lost his balance and had fallen into the river. The creek had raced furiously, carrying the boy with it, and Shaun had been swept from sight in seconds.

  Chris had scrambled down the tree and, quickly slashing one of the ropes holding the platform in place with his pocket knife, he’d raced back along the bank, carrying the rope and shouting Shaun’s name. As he’d rounded a bend in the creek, he’d seen Shaun on the opposite side, clinging to the root of a eucalyptus tree.

  Chris had tied one end of the rope to a sturdy tree and, with the other end tied around his waist, he’d made his way across the creek, fighting against the current. But the rope had held, and he hadn’t been swept away. Even now, Chris wondered how he’d managed to haul Shaun back across the creek to the safety of the bank.

  By the time they’d ridden their bikes home that day, they’d decided not to tell anyone what had happened. They hadn’t wanted to be forbidden from going back to the creek. It would just be their secret, and they’d never mentioned it again. Chris wondered if Shaun still remembered the incident.

  He gazed around at the tranquil scene, remembering how different it had been that grey afternoon. So much water had gone under the proverbial bridge since then, he thought. Good times, bad times, exciting times and now . . . well, things weren’t going quite as he’d planned. He turned and went back to the main pool where the girls were laughing with the other young people.

  ‘I’m hungry,’ he told them. ‘I’m going back to Bunny. See you when you want to eat,’ he called.

  The girls arrived back shortly afterwards with two of the boys and a girl who was about their age. Susan offered them some sandwiches and fruit as Chris sat quietly in a folding chair.

  ‘They’ve asked us to join them and their friends on New Year’s Eve,’ he heard Megan tell Susan.

  ‘Lovely. Where are you going?’ she asked.

  ‘There’s a group of us going to the river to see the fireworks. We’re taking music and stuff,’ said one of the boys.

  ‘You’re Jake Timmons’s boy, aren’t you?’ Susan said, peering at him. ‘That sounds like a good idea, girls. You two could walk home when it’s over, if need be. Speak to your dad, Megan. I’m sure it will be fine.’

  *

  Chris found himself feeling just a little concerned on New Year’s Eve as midnight came and went. He and Susan had celebrated the New Year quietly together. Then his mother had gone to bed but he had stayed up, sitting on the verandah with a drink and his book, his phone beside him in case Megan called him to fetch her and Ruby. The girls had insisted on being independent and walking home the short distance from the river by themselves, but Chris knew he would not relax until they arrived safely.

  Just before 1 am, he heard muffled giggles as the girls came tiptoeing down the driveway.

  ‘Hey, Dad, you still up? Happy New Year!’ called Megan, and went over and kissed him.

  ‘You too. And you, Ruby. How was it, have a good time?’

  ‘Yeah, we did. Met some nice people, some stupid guys. Got a few kisses,’ said Megan.

  ‘One serious one,’ laughed Ruby.

  ‘Ah, it was just fun.’

  ‘A couple of people came along who sang and they were pretty good,’ said Ruby. ‘It wasn’t a wild night. But that’s a good thing,’ she added as an afterthought.

  ‘We met the son of your friend Shaun French. Troy. He’s nice,’ said Megan. ‘He might call us to go somewhere tomorrow. I mean later today.’

  ‘Great. Well, you girls had better get to bed.’ Chris stood up and put his arm around Megan’s shoulders. ‘Did you wish your mother a Happy New Year?’

  ‘Yep. Ages ago. She was at a party. Thanks for waiting up, Dad.’

  ‘No problem. Sleep tight, you two.’

  Chris took his glass to the kitchen and turned off the lights, but suddenly there was a piercing scream from the family bathroom at the back of the house. Chris raced down the hall.

  ‘What is it? Ruby?’

  ‘In here! Quick!’ squealed Ruby.

  Chris pushed the door open to find Ruby in her pyjamas in a corner of the bathroom, pointing at the toilet seat.

  There, perched on the edge, sat a large green tree frog.

  ‘It’s okay, Ruby. It’s only a frog. It’s harmless,’ Chris said, suppressing a laugh.

  ‘What is going on?’ called out Susan from her bedroom.

  ‘Nothing, Mum. It’s only a frog,’ replied Chris.

  ‘It’s hideous! Take it away! Don’t put it down the toilet! I’ll never go again!’

  ‘Oh, yuck! How horrible! How did it get in the house?’ said Megan, who had joined them. ‘Oh, this is so embarrassing.’

  ‘Rubbish. Frogs are part of the rich tapestry of country life,’ said Chris as he grabbed a hand towel, scooped up the fat little creature and marched outside.

  ‘Don’t let it go in the garden, Dad. Or we’ll never go out there either!’

  Chris rolled his eyes. ‘Megan, don’t be so squeamish. You used to play with frogs when you were little.’

  ‘I did not,’ said Megan indignantly.

  ‘Yes, you did. Ask Bunny. You scooped them out of her fishpond.’

  ‘Well, they were little ones. Not huge like this.’

  ‘God, Megan, how can you bear all these creepy-crawly jumpy slithery beasts?’ shuddered Ruby. ‘I c
ouldn’t stand to live with them.’

  ‘We don’t actually live with them,’ said Chris. ‘Our lives just overlap occasionally. Who knows, if you’d kissed him Happy New Year he might have turned into a prince.’

  ‘Dad, that’s not funny. We don’t have frogs in the house in Newport.’

  ‘No, you have funnel web spiders instead,’ said Chris. ‘Now, no more fuss. Off to bed.’

  ‘You don’t think there are any more, do you?’ Ruby asked in a shaky voice. ‘This is a bit too close to nature for me.’

  ‘Very unlikely,’ said Chris. Then he added mischievously, ‘And look on the bright side, at least you didn’t sit on it!’

  ‘Arrrgh!’ cried the two girls, but then they both laughed.

  *

  Since Megan and Ruby were fully occupied between the boys they’d met, the beach and Susan shepherding them off to Coffs Harbour to shop, Chris decided to accept an invitation to go fishing with some of his old school friends.

  ‘Just like the old days,’ Alex enthused. ‘Remember our fishing trips?’

  ‘Do I ever! We were mad, looking back. Shooting the rapids by moonlight in those rubbish old canoes. What were we thinking of?’ laughed Chris.

  ‘If we’re going fishing, let’s do it properly. Get serious,’ said Duncan.

  ‘I caught a serious fish under the town bridge the other day,’ said Shaun.

  ‘You were just lucky, Frenchy. I’ll get my tinnie out. We can all fit into it and the river has a decent flow,’ said Duncan.

  They made a day of it, with food and beer and bait and gear.

  Duncan insisted they launch the boat at his special spot, which entailed them dragging the light aluminium vessel across a paddock that belonged to one of his friends.

  The paddock was full of cows who viewed the men and their boat with great suspicion. Chris was sent to keep an eye on them while the others hauled the tinnie to the water’s edge. After a great deal of grunting, they managed to lower it into the river and they all settled themselves in.

  ‘Don’t think much of your magic spot, Duncan,’ said Shaun. ‘I reckon the town boat ramp would have been a whole lot easier. I think I worked up a thirst after all that work.’

  ‘There’s an idea,’ said Duncan, reaching for the beer cooler. He passed a can to Shaun. ‘Want one, Alex? You too, Chris?’

  ‘Save it. I just had breakfast. It’s not even eight o’clock! My rule is, no grog till after the first fish.’

  ‘Bugger that, we could die of thirst,’ said Alex.

  Chris laughed as the little open boat puttered slowly down the Henry River, while insects buzzed across its surface and a bird circled high above them. Alex and Duncan trolled their lines in the hope of a strike.

  The day was starting to heat up. Chris leaned back, his hat pulled over his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun as well as the company. This was how it used to be, he reflected, the four of them fishing, hunting, messing around, telling silly jokes and stories, sometimes getting into a spot of bother, but completely carefree. Some days had been more successful than others, but always the day had ended with their being tired and relaxed. Not that they had any real worries or commitments in those days, Chris thought. Looking back, he knew that they had led a pretty idyllic life. They’d all lived in an oasis of lush abundance, surrounded by family, friends and a close-knit community. Was it any wonder that Shaun, Alex and Duncan had never left such a perfect environment? And now his three friends were happily married, raising children, leading comfortable lives. They’d been away on holidays to Hawaii, Bali, New Zealand and Disneyland but maintained that, while these were great places to visit, they had never considered living anywhere else but this beautiful place.

  Over the years, Chris had sometimes thought himself superior to these small-town friends with their narrow horizons, content to live quietly and protect what was familiar. But now he realised that although he had been challenged and enriched by the life he had chosen, here he was, back to square one with not a lot to show for it, while they seemed content with their lot. He felt so discouraged. The media contacts he was in touch with were sympathetic, but not helpful, or even hopeful. He wondered if his luck on the job front was ever going to change.

  He drew a deep breath. Still, it was pleasant, even for a short while, to be back where he came from, to know he had a place where he belonged, with friends that he’d known all his life who did not judge but simply accepted him because he was one of them.

  The day turned out to be much like those he remembered, full of silly jokes and mateship, light-hearted debates about football and cricket. The men recalled, with much laughter, old teachers who had made school life difficult and the triumphs and failures of the encounters they’d had with girls they’d been sweet on. Today Chris revisited those halcyon days and for an instant wondered if he had done the right thing when he turned his back on Neverend.

  *

  Ruby stayed nearly two weeks and the two girls crammed a lot into each day. But once Ruby had gone home, time dragged for Megan, and nothing Susan or Chris suggested seemed to interest her.

  ‘Dad, I’m bored. It’s no fun without Ruby,’ she said, lounging on the couch in the living room.

  Chris looked up from his book. ‘Maybe it’s time you started to like your own company, entertain yourself, or you could always help Bunny in the garden. I’m happy to do something with you – go back to the waterfall or the swimming hole, or go for a hike. I have taken you to the beach a few times.’

  ‘Dad, I like going to the beach, but not with you watching over me all the time,’ Megan said, and with a dramatic shrug of her shoulders, she marched to her room.

  Chris watched her go, feeling badly not only for his daughter but for himself as well.

  Susan joined him. ‘I heard that exchange. She’s missing Ruby. And Jill too, I expect. It’s unfortunate that she doesn’t have a special friend in Neverend, although I have heard her talking on her mobile to a couple of the boys she met on New Year’s Eve. The Christmas holidays are rather long and most kids get bored towards the end of them. She’ll be all right, I’m sure.’

  ‘I expect things will be fine when we get back to Sydney.’

  After the pause that followed, Susan said tentatively, ‘Chris, dear, can I ask how you’re going with your job hunt?’ When he didn’t answer she pressed on. ‘It’s nearly the middle of January and a decision is going to have to be made about Megan’s schooling. You’ve told me that Jill isn’t interested in paying boarding fees for Megan to stay in her Sydney school and you can’t afford to do that by yourself at this time, so have you thought through what your next move might be if the right job doesn’t eventuate pretty quickly?’

  Chris sighed. ‘All I can do is keep trying. But yes, you’re right, if something doesn’t turn up soon, I’m going to have to make some hard choices, and that will have to involve Megan.’

  ‘I hate to suggest this, because I know that you only want to be a journalist, but while you’re waiting for a media job, you could perhaps do something else to earn some money?’

  ‘You know, Mum, you’re being really wonderful. I don’t know where I’d be without you, but what can I do? Walk into the supermarket and stack shelves, for goodness sake?’ Suddenly Chris’s frustration and fear boiled over.

  ‘You shouldn’t be too proud to do any kind of work to earn a living,’ Susan said pointedly.

  ‘Sorry, Mum. It’s just that I have to keep banging away at doors. If I stop, I could miss an opening somewhere.’

  ‘Chris, it’s up to you, but crunch time is coming. Are you going to stick to your word and keep Megan with you? And if so, how are you going to manage?’

  Chris knew his mother’s blunt assessment was right, but at that moment, it didn’t seem to be helping. ‘Mum, I don’t bloody know!’ He got up and walked to the front door. ‘Let me think about it.’

  Later that afternoon, Megan trudged up the driveway chewing the last of her gelato cone, her skatebo
ard under her arm. Chris watched her from his father’s office. From her slumped shoulders to her dragging feet, Megan radiated sulky boredom. Chris understood how she felt, and didn’t want to be too hard on her when being in Neverend was so different from her life in Sydney. He wished he could get her motivated and interested in something. Mum’s right, he thought. Eight weeks of holidays was too long.

  But when Chris was her age holidays had never seemed long enough. The car trip towing their old caravan, the long summer days camping, swimming, fishing, hiking and meeting other kids had seemed to go by in a flash. The card games at night by lantern light, cooking meals over the open fire in the old camp oven or frying pan, reading in the shade and even the sunburn, oyster cuts, sprains and embedded fish hooks were fond memories. Chris and Kate had never been bored with the games of cricket, swimming races in the lagoon, exploring the caves up on the hill and taking the old rowboat to a secret fishing hole. It would have been enjoyable to have done that sort of thing with Megan. Now it all seemed too late, the opportunity gone.

  He turned to his computer screen to type out yet another email to a contact asking about work.

  He came out of the office a little later feeling tense.

  ‘You look down in the mouth, sweetie,’ said Susan, looking up from a magazine.

  ‘That’s one way of putting it,’ he said, his mouth twisting in a grimace.

  ‘No luck?’

  ‘More knock-backs. You know, Mum, I even tried the local media – the ABC and regional TV as well. I mean, I’m here, I could whip up a story or two for them.’

  ‘They’d be thrilled to have you, too. “Local boy made good” and all that.’

  ‘You might think so, but they just weren’t interested.’ He began to pace around the room. ‘I know that some big-name journos can make good money in TV, but not in the sticks, and not if the journo has to be retrained like I would have to be. The ABC does a great job, especially in the regions, but there aren’t any vacancies.’ Chris rubbed his face with his hands. ‘Mind you, they were kind enough to accept my resume and told me that if a position came up they’d let me know, but I got the impression that’s highly unlikely.’