Not Bad People

by Brandy Scott

  ‘I’m not.’ Byron held out the weed; it was in one of Aimee’s yellow snap-lock freezer bags.

  ‘Shit, how much is in there?’ said Nick. It was a lot. ‘Oh well done, Aimee. What a bloody mess.’

  Lou sat out back in the little post office garden. She’d never been out there before, but it was lovely. The low fence lined with tufty grass and agapanthus, corellas flying between the trees. She sat at a faded picnic table, listening to Sharna shoo her customers from the shop, and feeling weirdly okay about whatever came next.

  She’d visit the baby’s grave, she decided, as she leaned back and tipped her face up to the sun. Wherever it was. Take Tansy. Show her that tragedy happened but it was how you dealt with it that mattered. That they needed to keep loving each other, no matter what.

  The back door creaked open and the postmistress pulled a chair out next to Lou. She held two icy poles and a piece of paper. ‘Now, I’m not sure I should be doing this,’ Sharna said, as she ripped the paper off her own icy pole. ‘Your mother would be turning in her grave, but with your own daughter in trouble, maybe you do have a right to know after all. It might make you understand Bev a bit better, forgive her just a little.’

  How the hell did she know about Tansy? ‘We’re not using that term,’ Lou said stiffly.

  ‘Oh, get off your bloody high horse,’ said Sharna. ‘I’m almost sixty-five, I’m not going to change the way I speak just because your generation doesn’t like it.’ She placed the piece of paper on the table. ‘Now, I don’t know everything, but this is the hospital she gave birth in, and this is the date. She called him David.’

  ‘I knew it.’ Lou scanned the piece of paper as she crunched into her icy pole. David Phillip. He was an October baby, two and a half years older than Lou. ‘When did he die?’

  ‘He’s not dead, love. At least, not that I know of.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Your mother had a baby before she was married. When she was twenty. And if you think they were tough on you, you have no idea what it was like for her.’

  Lou’s grandfather had been a minister. She could feel her hand getting sticky where it clutched the icy pole. ‘What happened?’

  ‘She got pregnant before she met your father. I don’t know who too, never asked and she never told. She went away to have it where no one knew her. Came back with a secretarial certificate five months later.’

  ‘Did my dad know?’

  ‘I have no idea. Probably not. They made her feel so ashamed.’ Sharna sucked loudly on her raspberry ice.

  ‘Then why wasn’t she nicer to me?’ Sharna wasn’t helping her understand her mother — the opposite. If she were here, Lou would have shaken her. The hypocrisy. Like with Aimee. Lou had broken down in angry tears at Aimee and Nick’s wedding, the unfairness of it all. Aimee had got pregnant less than eighteen months after Lou, but she was getting married, so that was all okay then.

  ‘She left you the house, didn’t she? I think she was probably horrified to see history repeat itself. Her parents did a real number on her. I daresay she piled some of her own guilt onto you, but then you’re probably passing some of your own issues onto Tansy, aren’t you, love. We all do.’

  ‘I’m not.’ Except she was, wasn’t she? The crazy spending to keep her daughter close, the insistence that Tansy would make this work, would finish school, would have all the opportunities she hadn’t. ‘Do you know anything else? Where he might be?’

  ‘I know they took him to New Zealand. That was all she said when she got back. Came in here, showed me that same photo and said, ‘I’ll never see him again, the family is moving to New Zealand.’ We sat and had a little cry, and then she straightened herself up and never spoke of it again. Six months later, she was engaged to your dad.’

  ‘And no one knew?’ It seemed impossible in Hensley, to keep a secret so big for so long.

  ‘Oh I daresay a few people did. But no one would ever have said anything. Bev was one of us. Like you could be, if you wanted. Think what you like about this town, but it looks after its own. Everyone just wanted her to be happy.’

  Lou stared at her melting icy pole. ‘This town has never liked me,’ she insisted, ‘not like that.’

  ‘No, Louise, you chose not to be liked. There’s a big difference.’

  Aimee sat in the back of the car, like a naughty child, while Nick — the adult — stood outside sorting things with Arthur. Byron sat in the passenger seat, face like stone.

  ‘I thought he was taking advantage of you,’ Aimee burbled hopelessly. ‘You can see why I’d think that, can’t you? Why I’d worry? He’s so much older. So good-looking. I thought he was playing a game.’

  ‘What, because someone like that would never fancy me?’ Byron wouldn’t look at her. ‘God. It wasn’t even like that. We were just hanging out.’ Aimee put a hand on his shoulder; he shrugged it off. ‘Don’t touch me.’

  Nick opened the car door. ‘You’re only making it worse,’ he said, looking at her as though she was one of the kids. ‘I’m sorry, mate,’ he said to Byron as he turned the ignition. ‘We didn’t mean to embarrass you. At least you only got a caution, eh?’ As though Byron having his own supply of cannabis wasn’t even an issue.

  None of them spoke the whole drive home.

  The moment the car came to a stop Byron was off, running into the house like Oscar let out of his cage after a visit to the vet. Aimee took a few steps to follow him.

  ‘I wouldn’t.’

  ‘We need to speak to him about the marijuana,’ said Aimee. ‘God, did you see how much was in there?’

  ‘I’ll speak to him later. Right now, I need to speak to you.’ Nick looked over at the house. Byron’s blinds were closed, but Shelley’s forehead was pressed against her window. ‘Come with me, will you?’ He started walking down into the vines.

  All Aimee wanted was a cup of tea. ‘Can’t we just go inside?’ she asked, trying to keep up as he strode between the rows, grasshoppers bouncing furiously in his wake.

  ‘Nope,’ said Nick, not turning round. ‘I don’t want the kids to hear me yell at you.’

  He stopped in the middle of the shiraz and let loose. She had no judgement. Had lost control of her senses. Humiliated their son. Was putting her family at risk by refusing to take her medication. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. Out all day and night pursuing conspiracy theories. No more. There’d be no bloody more. Nick waved his arms as he shouted, his watch getting caught in the black nets, which only made him angrier.

  ‘Did you even think about how Byron would feel?’ he demanded. ‘Poor kid’s got crap self-esteem as it is. And then for you to barge in on him like that?’

  ‘You came barging in too!’ Aimee yelled back. ‘You were frightened as well!’

  ‘Because you told me to be!’ Nick rubbed at his hair wildly. ‘My only mistake was believing you. And I won’t bloody do it again.’

  ‘That’s not your only mistake,’ said Aimee. She wasn’t going to mention it, but she wasn’t taking the blame for all this either.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I saw you,’ said Aimee. ‘I saw you. Coming out of Melinda’s last night.’

  ‘So?’ But his eyes darted left and right, a captured animal.

  ‘I know you’re sleeping with her. I knew you were while I was in hospital, although I never said anything. Because I didn’t want to rock the boat. But I fucking know, okay.’

  ‘You don’t know anything.’

  ‘It’s fucking obvious,’ said Aimee. No wonder people swore so much. Sometimes they were the only words that would do. ‘You echo each other, like bloody parrots. I say something to her, you say it to me. I say something to you, she magically knows about it. And you were out, nearly every time I phoned from the hospital. Do you think I’m fucking stupid?’

  ‘We’re. Not. Sleeping. Together,’ said Nick, through gritted teeth.

  Aimee paused. He wasn’t lying, because he was staring h
er full in the face, and Nick could only lie looking slightly away.

  ‘Well you’re doing something,’ said Aimee. ‘Why else would you be over there, late at night, and telling me you were at the pub?’

  ‘Nothing happened,’ said Nick, with a small glance at his grapes.

  ‘Something doesn’t have to happen for something to happen,’ snapped Aimee. ‘It’s bad enough that you’re there when I need you here. It’s bad enough that you take her seriously but not me.’

  ‘Because she’s not coming up with all sorts of crazy theories! Maybe I need to have a sane conversation sometimes.’

  ‘You can have a sane conversation with me.’

  ‘I bloody can’t.’ Nick grabbed a handful of netting; the vine sagged underneath. ‘Melinda’s worried about you,’ he said. ‘Thinks you’ve got your head all messed up over this plane accident.’

  ‘See! You believe her and not me. I’m the one you’re supposed to listen to. I’m your wife.’

  ‘But I can’t,’ said Nick. ‘I can’t listen to this any more.’

  ‘But Melinda was wrong! I was right! We did cause the accident, just with lanterns not fireworks. I should have told you straightaway, but now I’ve got proof.’ Her bag was in the car. ‘Come with me and I’ll show you.’

  Nick shook his head. ‘Drop it, Aimee.’

  ‘But they found —’

  ‘I said drop it.’

  He’d chosen her again. Like he always did.

  Nick pulled the netting down, straightened it so no birds could sneak underneath. ‘I’m going to tidy up the cellar,’ he said. ‘You’re going to start taking those bloody pills again if I have to shove them down your throat myself. You need to sort yourself out. If you want to have any kind of family, if you don’t want all of us to end up bloody hating you, you have to sort yourself out.’

  ‘Mum? You home?’ Tansy was sitting on the floor in front of their giant television, watching a Netflix documentary about natural birth. ‘Mum, you need to come and see this. It’s horrific.’

  Lou stood in the doorway. ‘You don’t need to worry about that,’ she said, but she didn’t put her bag down. ‘They’ve got really good drugs these days.’

  ‘I can’t believe you went through all this to have me. And I’ve never even said thank you.’ Tansy looked over her shoulder. ‘Did you have to have stitches?’

  ‘Mmmm,’ said Lou, fiddling with her keys. ‘Seven.’

  ‘No wonder you get so upset when I forget Mother’s Day.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘I’m never going to take you for granted again,’ Tansy promised. ‘I’m just going to think of your perineum whenever I get annoyed with you.’

  Lou would normally have found that funny, but right now . . . ‘Tans, are you okay on your own for a bit longer?’ she said, slipping her shoes back on. ‘There’s something I forgot to do in town.’

  The bell downstairs kept ringing, even though Melinda had buzzed whoever it was in. ‘All right, all right,’ she muttered, twisting out of her yoga pose and thumping unzenlike down the stairs. ‘Calm yourself.’

  She couldn’t see a head through the narrow strip of glass above the door — not Nick or Clint then. Melinda’s tread grew heavier as she reached the bottom steps. It had better damn well not be Lou. Melinda hadn’t made a decision about the money, was still spinning from the sheer bloody cheek of it. After all she’d done for her. And it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours. Lou could keep her bloody shirt on. Melinda stalked across the hall and flung the door open.

  ‘Oh!’

  Aimee stood on the footpath, pale-faced and red-eyed and looking a bit lost. Melinda took a step towards her, heart soaring. Lou and Melinda would probably never speak a civil word again, but Aimee was her cousin.

  ‘Come in, come in,’ said Melinda. ‘Why didn’t you let yourself up? God, I’m so pleased to see you. Are you okay?’

  Aimee stayed where she was in the street. ‘I’m not coming in.’

  ‘Why not?’ Melinda asked, her stomach slowly turning over.

  ‘I’m only here to tell you to stay away from my husband.’

  Melinda’s building was smack in the middle of Hensley’s main street; you had to pass it to go anywhere. Teenagers and shopkeepers and nosy mums shuffled around Aimee, heads craned as they tried to figure out what was going on.

  ‘I saw him leave here. Last night.’

  ‘Aimee.’ Melinda dropped her voice. ‘Nothing happened.’

  ‘You have to move on now,’ Aimee said, voice monotone as though she was reading from a bad soapie script. ‘Because you never did. You came back here for him, but he isn’t yours any more. He’s mine. And you’re ruining things for us.’

  ‘Funny,’ Mel muttered. ‘Lou thinks I came back for my dad.’ Why was everyone suddenly trying to psychoanalyse her?

  Aimee cocked her head to one side. ‘When did you speak to Lou?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter.’ Melinda went to grab Aimee’s arm, then thought better of it. ‘Look, if you won’t come upstairs, at least come inside.’

  Aimee allowed herself to be guided into the downstairs hall. She stood stiffly at the foot of the stairs, right next to the umbrella Melinda had hit her husband with.

  ‘Everything okay down there?’ Melinda’s PA poked her head over the banister. ‘Do you want me to make coffee?’

  ‘We’re all good, thanks.’ Melinda considered her options as she waited for the office door to close. The only thing she could really do was agree. Agree and disarm. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I probably have been leaning on him a bit lately.’ Because she couldn’t tell Aimee that Nick kept turning up here, to her; it would kill her. What was it her dad always said? Be honest, not stupid. ‘But that’s all it was. A bit of support. Me wanting a bloke to do things around the place, listen to me have a whinge.’

  ‘But he’s supporting you instead of me,’ said Aimee. ‘Listening to you instead of me. And that’s fucking up things for my family. You’re fucking up my family.’

  ‘O-kay.’

  ‘I know you think you gave him to me, but you didn’t. He didn’t choose you, he chose me. He didn’t want you. So stop trying to steal him back.’

  Was Melinda just supposed to stand around taking everything that anyone felt like throwing at her? ‘Now hang on —’

  ‘What kind of woman makes a move on her friend’s husband while they’re in hospital? Who does that?’

  ‘I didn’t —’

  ‘What kind of woman tries to turn a friend’s husband against her? Discredits her? He won’t listen to a word I say about Pete’s accident, thanks to you. Won’t even let me mention it.’

  ‘But, Aimee, I haven’t done that.’ Melinda tried to keep her voice gentle. ‘You’ve done that yourself, with your history —’

  ‘Just because I was crazy once, doesn’t mean I’m still crazy.’ Aimee grabbed Melinda’s umbrella and jabbed it in the air.

  She was doing a pretty good impression. Melinda twisted out of the way. It would be complete karma if Aimee were to poke her eye out with it. This was more action than her umbrella had seen in years.

  ‘You can’t keep judging me on something that happened years ago. It’s not fair. But you keep reminding him. Making him doubt me. I can’t even show him I’m right.’ She prodded the umbrella angrily at the mat, making little holes in it. Melinda grabbed the handle and tried to wrench it off her.

  ‘Okay, that’s enough now. I’m sorry you and Nick are having issues, but you can’t pin them all on me. You’re not exactly blameless.’ Honest but not stupid, but not everyone’s bloody punching bag either.

  ‘Ha!’ Aimee’s laugh bordered on the hysterical. Her hands slipped as she clutched the umbrella fabric. ‘What would you know? Actually, don’t tell me. You probably know everything.’

  ‘I know you’re not supporting him enough. You’re not doing anything to help him fix your financial situation.’ Melinda tugged.

  ‘I know how
to support my husband, thank you very much.’ Aimee tugged back.

  ‘Really? Then why does he need to keep coming here to talk to me?’

  Aimee’s mouth fell open, a perfect O. Whoops. But Melinda was on a roll now. She gave a final yank, stumbling backwards as Aimee let the umbrella slip out of her hands. ‘You don’t want to help him because you’re deliberately keeping your life small. Safe. You always have. Shutting down anything that might mean change, so you don’t get scared. But you can’t keep living like that. It’s not fair on Nick. It’s not fair on your kids.’

  ‘Don’t you talk to me about my family. Yours is completely dysfunctional. Look at your dad. Look at your brother.’

  They were Aimee’s family too, technically; it made no sense. Melinda stared down at the misshapen spokes of her poor umbrella. ‘Why does everyone keep banging on about my bloody family?’ She tossed the umbrella into the corner of the hall; it knocked a little chip of paint off the wall as it landed.

  ‘Because you bloody idolise . . .’ Aimee stopped. ‘Lou mention them as well, did she? Ha.’

  ‘What?’

  Aimee looked strangely triumphant. ‘What, you never guessed?’ Almost smug. ‘I nearly said something when you were standing in your kitchen, being all righteous about whoever got Tansy pregnant. About going after the father. Because you know who got Lou pregnant, don’t you? Oh, come on. It’s written all over Tansy’s face. Matthew. Your precious, useless baby brother.’

  ‘She’s never said.’

  ‘She probably thinks you know, though. I bet she thinks you’ve known for years and haven’t bothered to do anything to make him step up. Just kept sending him money. I bet she hates you as much as I do.’

  Lou walked carefully through the tiny cemetery, navigating the clusters of weathered stones, trying not to step on anyone. The late afternoon was thick with screeching corellas, judging her from on high. Somewhere a lawnmower rattled and choked.

  They were right up against the low stone wall, her mum and dad. Lying side by side, not touching, a respectful distance apart, as they had been in life. No show of affection just because we’re dead. Lou sat cross-legged on the stubbly grass beside the marble headstones.