I must have been in the cubby longer than I thought, because my bum had gotten numb. I’m not usually able to sit still for too long without fidgeting, but it didn’t seem to be a problem today. Dad always says I have ants in my pants when I fidget, but no matter how hard I try not to, I do it anyway.
I put the book on the milk crate and went outside for a stretch and a walk around. Without realising when the change had taken place, the bright afternoon had turned dark, and the air smelt like it was about to pour. It felt like a southerly storm was on its way, so I decided to stay in the cubby and wait for the rain. I love the sound it makes on a tin roof and I especially like the way it smells. Come to think of it, there isn’t anything I don’t like about southerlies. They’re always such a treat after a hot day.
***
The afternoon was almost over, but I knew that Mrs O’Reilly would still be inside gasbagging with Mum, so I figured I had some time left before being called in for tea. For the time being, I was happy to just lie on my back on the car seat, listening to the rain fall. It started lightly at first, but before too long it was so loud I could talk to myself without hearing what I said.
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what Heaven was like. I was pretty sure that it was in the sky somewhere, but I didn’t know how far up you had to go to get there. I wondered if it was raining in Heaven also. I hoped it was, because Shortie liked the rain too. I felt a drop of cool water on my face. When I opened my eyes, I could see the water leaking in through a small hole in the tin above where I was lying. The harder it rained, the faster the drops fell. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth, letting the rain drip in. It tasted like the water from Uncle Harry’s tank. It tasted nice.
I don’t know how long I lay there drinking in the drops; ten or fifteen minutes maybe. Not that it mattered either way. I had all the time in the world and nowhere else I needed to be. Not like Shortie, his time had already run out.
Even though I still felt sad for Shortie, part of me felt good. It was probably wrong of me to think so at a time like this, but I felt content lying in the shelter of the cubby, tasting the rain, smelling the delicious fragrance of the storm-drenched bush, and hearing the thunder crash somewhere close to Heaven. I thought it was odd how things could be bad and good at the same time.
The rain stopped as fast as it started. I got up from the seat and walked outside. It looked as I expected. The black clouds were still hanging above the world like a blanket, but everything beneath it was bright and fresh. I could see a rainbow forming where a patch of cloud had separated, letting the light in. The plants sparkled with droplets of water, and the ground was dark and muddy instead of its usual dustiness. I walked away from the back fence and deeper into the bush. Even though the rain had only lasted a short time, I knew the creek would be running fast and deep.
The closer I got to the creek, the louder the sound of running water became. I walked through the scrub, not caring about the water flicking me and drenching my clothes. I sat down on a log next to the creek, my bare feet muddy from the walk. I deliberately left my thongs in the cubby so I could feel the mud squelching between my toes. Besides, it was too much fun knowing that Mum would do her lolly if she found out I was walking through the bush with no shoes on.
In spite of the torrent of water streaming past, it was somehow quiet and peaceful by the creek. The usual noise of the cicadas couldn’t be heard, the rain must have scared them off. Across the creek from where I sat, a flash of colour caught my eye. I looked over and saw a bright green snake sliding up the trunk of a tree. I’m not scared of snakes, especially the pretty tree snakes, which are harmless. The snake didn’t look scared of me either. It just stopped and looked straight at me. It didn’t slither away quickly like snakes usually do when people are around. It took its time and slowly snuck around to the other side of the tree and out of sight.
The clouds started to break up and the sun crept back in. I could see tunnels of light shining down into the bush, making everything look like a scene from a calendar. A shaft of light shone directly onto a Blackboy sticking up from its grassy base. The halo of light around the tip made it look like a wizard’s magical staff. Behind the Blackboy, a bright red Flame Lily stood proud and tall, lighting up the landscape with its Chinese lantern glow.
A beautiful green and black butterfly flitted past. It wasn’t like the usual orange and black ones that come from the silver chrysalises that hang from the trees in the school grounds. This one was much bigger and had bright peppermint green wings. It landed on a clump of cut grass next to me. Like the tree snake, my presence didn’t appear to bother it. It fluttered from blade to blade taking no notice of the sharp edges that thought nothing of cutting a person for daring to touch them.
For the second time in an hour, joy took over from the sadness I felt at losing a friend. Actually, it wasn’t so much joy I was feeling; it was more a sense of privilege. I felt privileged to be part of the mysterious world that is the bush. I’ve always enjoyed being in the bush and discovering its delightful secrets, but today it felt different, somehow. It felt special, like I belonged there and wasn’t just some kid traipsing through it. For a moment, I actually let myself believe that I was a part of it all, just like the snake and the butterfly. I never wanted to leave.
Until now, I wouldn’t have believed it was possible to feel so much well-being and sadness all at the same time. Only this time, the sadness I felt had more to do with knowing that I had to go soon than it did with Shortie. Not that I didn’t feel sad about Shortie; I did. More than that though, I felt a sense of loss at having to leave the magic of the bush behind.
Chapter 32
Sunday, 1 December 1968
Peter was in hell. The day was turning out far worse than he could have believed possible. He was still getting over the shock of walking into his kitchen and seeing Jane sitting there, looking picture perfect and smiling demurely at Stephen as though he were the love of her life. Then, to make matters worse, Roger had been in his ear from the time he had arrived with one lewd comment after the other about Jane.
At first Peter was disgusted at his brother for the things he said. Roger was way too old to be showing an interest in Jane. But, then again, who was he to talk? He’d done much more than show a passing interest in the girl, for Christ’s sake. What’s worse, it was because of his egotistical schoolboy behaviour that she was now standing in his backyard, having a barbeque with his family, and dating his son. Peter was furious. What the hell was she playing at anyway? Watching her with Stephen, Peter knew the answer to his question. She might have managed to convince everyone else that she had a genuine interest in Stephen, but Peter wasn’t fooled. He didn’t trust her or her motives for a minute. On top of that, her fake sincerity and smug looks were really getting on his nerves. Peter was certain that if he were to look over to where she was sitting, deep in conversation with Rebecca and Mark, she would be looking straight at him. She had deftly positioned herself in such a way that, no matter where he was within the yard, she was able to look at him without causing suspicion.
“Check out the love birds, will ya?” Roger said, pointing his cigarette in the direction of the three couples sitting around the card table in fold-up chairs. “Just as well Susan’s not here, she’d definitely be feeling like the odd one out sitting there with that lot.”
Peter looked over. Michelle and Paul sat huddled in close with their backs to him. Mark and Rebecca sat opposite Michelle and Paul, and Stephen and Jane were positioned beside them in such a way that while Stephen’s back faced Peter, Jane only needed to turn her head slightly to the side to catch Peter's eye, which she did the moment he looked across. She gave him a knowing smile that, for all intent and purpose, could easily have been meant for Stephen. Only, Peter knew differently. He diverted his eyes from the group and silently prayed that Roger would not say another thing about Jane.
“You must be proud of young Steve, scoring himself a looker like that.” Rog
er nodded at Jane with admiration.
Peter resisted the urge to snap at Roger with a remark of his own. Instead, he mumbled a reply and excused himself from the table. He could see Maggie and Mary in the kitchen and went to see if he could be of any help. Hell, he’d have gladly scrubbed the house from top to bottom if it meant that he didn’t have to listen to his brother carrying on like a pathetic teenager.
“Here you go,” offered Maggie, handing him the tray of meat, “you may as well get started on that.”
Thankful for the diversion, he carried the tray outside. He got as far as the back steps when Maggie called him back. “Don’t let your father near the barbeque, will you? I don’t want everything tasting like charcoal again,” she warned.
“Then you’d better keep Roger away from it too,” Mary added sourly. “He always manages to ruin everything he touches.”
Watching Peter cross the back yard, Maggie smiled when she spotted the kids, huddled in a group, talking. “Has it occurred to you Mary that our kids are all grown up? Just look at them out there; each of them with their respective girlfriend or boyfriend. It really makes me feel old.”
Mary sighed. “Yeah, I know what you mean. It won’t be long before they’re married with families of their own.”
Maggie feigned shock. “Oh, for goodness sake, don’t say that! I’m not ready to be a grandmother yet.” Mary had no idea how much Maggie had meant it. Maggie was absolutely horrified at the idea of having a child of her own as well as grandchildren. She couldn’t believe that she hadn’t considered the possibility before. After all, it wasn’t like it was totally out of the question.
“What’s that Jane like?” Mary asked interrupting Maggie’s imagined quandary. “She certainly looks like she has Stephen wrapped around her little finger.”
Maggie laughed at Mary’s uncharacteristic criticism. “She seems like a nice girl actually. But, it’s early days yet; Stephen only met her last night.”
“Really?” Mary sounded surprised. “I never would have guessed. She seems very possessive and clingy for someone that’s just met him.”
Maggie hadn’t really noticed. “You think?” She looked at Stephen and Jane through the window. As though on cue, Jane leaned in closer to Stephen and kissed him on the neck.
“See,” Mary said, somewhat righteously, “she’s all over him. If you ask me, I think she’s a bit forward.”
“Well, she is a fairly confident young lady,” Maggie conceded, still not sure of the point Mary was making. “Peter's known her for a while. She’s one of his students – or I should say, was one of his students. She finished recently – but Stephen only met her last night at the Warner’s party. She was going to a ball with Charlene Warner. Charlene’s boyfriend is also one of Peter's students.”
Mary nodded her head slowly. “Hmm, it’s a small world, isn’t it?”
Without responding, Maggie suggested that Mary look out the window. She did so to find Roger holding up a beer can, and turning it upside down to indicate that it was empty. Deliberately misunderstanding him, Mary shrugged her shoulders and looked away.
Within seconds he came bounding in. “Bloody hell woman, you can’t be that dumb, surely.”
Mary held her ground. “No Roger, I’m not that dumb, but I am busy, and I’m not your servant.”
Maggie was shocked at Mary’s stern response. Mary was usually far more amenable than that. Come to think of it, Maggie couldn’t remember the last time Mary stood up to Roger. Maggie tried to conceal her smile. She didn’t want to inflame the situation by letting Roger think they were both in on the act. Besides, Mary seemed to be managing the situation nicely on her own.
To Maggie’s surprise, instead of snapping back, Roger sidled up beside Mary and put his arm around her shoulder. “Aw, come on love, don’t be like that.”
Mary shrugged his arm off her shoulder and took a sideways step away from him. Roger looked at Maggie curiously; as if to say, what’s wrong with her, but Maggie just raised her eyebrows and turned her mouth down to let him know that she did not have an answer.
Mary picked up the pot of tea and put it on the tray with the cups and saucers. Then, ignoring Roger’s pathetic pleas entirely, she huffed outside with the tray.
“God, what’s up her nose?” Roger asked as soon as she was out of earshot.
“Well,” offered Maggie, “I’m not really sure Roger, but I’m guessing it has something to do with the way you treat her like a barmaid.” Maggie didn’t really think Roger’s current behaviour had anything to do with Mary’s mood. Maggie had already sensed from Mary’s comments about Jane that something was up, but she couldn’t resist giving Roger a hard time.
Roger looked at Maggie as though she were a simpleton. “Nah,” he scoffed, “I’m always like that, she doesn’t mind.”
Maggie opened her mouth to speak and thought better of it. There wasn’t much point saying anything to Roger. She doubted that anything she said would make a difference anyway. Roger had been an inconsiderate husband for as long as Maggie could remember, and it was unlikely that anything had changed in the past week or so.
Thinking that Maggie was about to tell him what the problem was, Roger continued to question her. “Come on, you girls are as thick as thieves with this kind of stuff. You sure you don’t know what’s up?”
Maggie raised her eyebrows at Roger. “What kind of stuff?”
“Well, you know; girls’ stuff.”
It took all of Maggie’s resolve not to laugh in Roger’s face at his lack of understanding about the female species. She couldn’t recall the last time she was accused of partaking in girls’ stuff and came to the same conclusion that she always did whenever she had conversations with Roger. The guy was a moron. Likeable enough as brothers-in law go, but a complete moron nonetheless.
Roger gave up questioning Maggie and grabbed a couple of beers from the Esky. Maggie laughed when she heard him walk outside and offer Mary a beer in the nicest, most condescending voice he could muster. Maggie followed Roger and Mary outside with a stack of plates and cutlery. Paul was beside her in an instant, offering to carry them for her.
Now, thought Maggie, here was a bloke that could teach Roger a thing or two. Maggie declined his offer, but looked at Michelle approvingly. Michelle definitely had better sense when it came to picking men than her Aunt Mary. Come to think of it, Maggie thought that all the kids had picked well, Rebecca included. Mark had been Stephen’s best friend for as long as Maggie could recall. He was almost family – but not so family that Rebecca couldn’t go steady with him. Maggie was pleased for Rebecca. Mark was a nice boy who would do well by her.
As for Stephen, Maggie was delighted with the way things appeared to be progressing with Jane. Despite Peter's concerns about their age difference, Maggie did not think it was an issue. Besides, Peter was seven years older than she was; he was hardly in a position to be talking about a three-year age gap.
Maggie suspected that Peter didn’t really have an issue with Jane’s age. Rather, she put his lack of enthusiasm regarding their burgeoning relationship down to nothing more than a father’s concern for his son. She didn’t think he had anything to worry about though and assumed he would get over it before too long. What's more, she wasn’t really sure why he appeared to be so concerned. It seemed to Maggie that Jane was just as taken with Stephen as Stephen was with her.
Mary poured three cups of tea and set the teapot down with a thump. Maggie was pleasantly amused at Roger’s attempts to win Mary over and wondered what it was that he had done to get Mary offside. “What’s up love?” Roger whispered to Mary, none too quietly.
“Nothing,” she snapped, “stop pestering me and drink your beer.”
Sensing something was wrong, Peter called to Roger to come and give him a hand. Oh great, thought Maggie, there goes the meat. Reading her mind, Peter gave her a wink and handed Roger the tray. “Here hold this will you mate; the meat’s ready.”
On hearing Peter t
ell Roger the meat was cooked, Maggie got up. “I’ll go get the salads,” she called.
“Why don’t you let me give you a hand,” suggested Jane who was on her way inside.
Mary shot Jane a filthy look before turning back to her tea.
Maggie was baffled. What had Jane done to cause Mary to look at her that way? It occurred to Maggie that Mary was cranky so infrequently that she couldn’t remember what she was like when she was, and as unlikely as it sounded, Maggie was beginning to think that Mary must be the type to take her anger out on everyone around her when she was in a bad mood.
Peter looked across at Jane and Maggie as they started up the back yard. Jane gave him a winning smile then called to Stephen. “I won’t be long with your beer Steve, I’m just giving your mum a hand.”
Stephen waved to Jane to indicate that he had heard her. As soon as she was out of sight, Peter heard him ask his sister, “So, what do you think?”
Roger answered Stephen’s question as though it had been directed at him. “I’d say you’ve done well for yourself mate. Not only is she a good sort, but she’ll get you a beer as well.”
Stephen nodded, never said a word, and then turned back to Michelle to await her response. Mary turned and glared at Roger. “Why don’t you act your age, for Christ’s sake?”
Upon hearing Mary’s response and seeing the look on her face, Peter busied himself scraping the barbeque plate. He wasn’t game to look at her again in case it made the situation worse. He had never heard Mary sound so angry before and wondered what his brother had done to upset her.
Roger blundered on heedlessly. “What are you blabbering on about woman? I was just paying young Steve a compliment. Ain’t no crime in that, last I heard.”
Summer Page 24
