Summer

by Michelle Zoetemeyer

  Chapter 65

  Saturday, 5 January 1980

  Trevor sounded so much like a girl and jumped so high that I couldn’t help but laugh. Instead of laughing with me, everyone else froze and watched as he ran around the tent brushing imaginary demons from his shoulders and back.

  “What the bloody hell was that?” Tom asked.

  Chrissy called from the backroom. “What’s going on?”

  Nobody answered her. We just stood watching the door of the tent, not game to move. I shone the torch on the front opening to reassure myself that whatever had been there was gone.

  Except, it wasn’t gone, it was still there.

  I walked slowly towards it. “Here puss, puss, puss.” The Higginbottom’s cat walked over to me and twirled between my ankles. Everyone except Trevor cracked up laughing.

  “Who’s scared of a widdle puddy tat,” Ed taunted.

  “Shut up,” Trevor snapped back.

  No one dared spoil the mood by raising the issue of the Ouija board sitting on the table in front of us. Instead, we all went to bed and pretended it had never been put away in the first place.

  Despite all the excitement, it wasn’t long before everyone was asleep and breathing regularly. Someone – I couldn’t tell who – was making whistling sounds. I thought about throwing my pillow in the direction of the noise, but I didn’t want to have to crawl over the top of everyone to get it back, so I just put up with it.

  “Tom?” I nudged him gently to see if he was awake.

  He rolled over to face me. “Yeah?” he whispered back.

  “I can’t get to sleep, can you?”

  “Well, I’m still awake aren’t I?” he said good-naturedly.

  I was pretty sure he was asleep until I nudged him. “Can I share your sleeping bag?”

  “Okay.” He unzipped the side of his sleeping bag and lifted the top open. I wriggled closer so that I could fit under the cover.

  I moved in even closer. “Thanks.”

  “That’s alright.”

  I could hear the others sleeping soundly and felt bad about waking Tom up. Raelene hadn’t stopped snoring all night. She even slept through the whole thing with next door’s cat. “Who do you think set the Ouija board back up?” I asked.

  “Probably Trevor,” he mumbled.

  That’s what I thought.

  I could feel Tom’s warm breath on the back of my neck. Rather than give me goose bumps like I thought it would, it felt good to have him so near. I’d never slept so close to someone before. The closest I’d ever been to someone else was when Mum made me top and tail with Kerrie-Anne. I couldn’t stand it. I hated sharing my bed with another person. But, it was different with Tom. I liked being snuggled in close to him. I reckon it would be even better in winter when it’s cold. At the moment, we only just got away with the sleeping bags. As it was, it was probably too warm in Tom’s sleeping bag with the two of us, but I didn’t care; I would sweat to death before I moved.

  Tom put has hand across my middle so that I could burrow into him. I spotted Hendrix lying on my sleeping bag and reached out to get him. I put him beside the pillow next to my face. I couldn’t think of a better way to fall asleep if I tried.

  Tom’s breath tickled my ear. “Goodnight Jenny.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Tom was asleep within seconds. His breathing soothed me and took away the edginess I’d been feeling. I felt myself drift off. I’ve always liked that moment that comes just before falling asleep properly. I think of it as the in-between time. I’m not properly asleep yet, but I’m no longer awake either. It’s almost as though I’m floating.

  I reckon I even dream during the in-between time.

  ***

  I felt the familiar floating sensation take over. My eyes closed and I was carried away to another time and place. I was no longer aware of the tent full of people as I drifted off. Without knowing that I’d left the in-between time behind, I dreamt that Tom and Shortie were playing totem-tennis in the backyard, only, on second glance, it wasn’t my backyard. It wasn’t Tom’s or Shortie's either. I think it was Keith Barry Oval, because the playground next to where they played looked the same. Except, the slippery dip was facing the other way and it was painted green instead of the usual metal that burnt your bum on a hot day. Caesar and Bluey were there too. They walked all the way to the end of the seesaw, but weren’t heavy enough to make it move.

  Heaps of people sat in a grandstand that’s not usually there and watched Tom and Shortie play totem-tennis. Shortie whacked the ball really hard and yelled, “four!”

  “Quick!” yelled Tom, running across the cricket pitch towards the stumps at the other end, “run!”

  Trevor bent down from where he was fielding, scooped up the ball and pegged it at the stumps. “That’s out,” he yelled triumphantly as the bails went tumbling, leaving no doubt as to his claim.

  Trevor turned to the empty grandstand. The audience that had been there only moments before was gone. Only Mrs O’Connor and Mrs Cowan were still there. I looked around to see if I could see Dianne anywhere. Instead of finding her, I spotted Tom walking towards a shiny new car. It was just like the yellow Monaro in my dad’s calendar.

  “Well, come on; get a move on,” he said, opening the passenger door and walking around to the driver’s side, “It’ll be dark soon.”

  Not the least bit surprised by Tom’s new car, or the fact that he knew how to drive it; I got into the car and closed the door.

  “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” he said with obvious pride. Then, not waiting for an answer, he turned on the radio. My favourite song was playing. I sat back in the seat and listened to the words. It felt good to be in the car with Tom. Almost like we were going on an exciting trip, only I didn’t know where we were going. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know though; I just knew that wherever Tom took me, it would be okay.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, without a hint of concern, curiosity simply getting the better of me. Tom looked at me and smiled. Instead of answering my question, he reached over and turned up the volume on the radio …“the answer my friend, is blowing in the wind…”

  I smiled back; only it was no longer Tom. Shortie stood beside me now. “It wasn’t your fault Jenny; I want you to know that,” he said softly.

  My accepting state never even questioned where he came from. On the contrary, I felt relaxed and happy. Actually, I think the word that best described how I felt was euphoric. I even know what it means. Mr Drury gave us all a word to look up and my word was euphoria.

  It means very happy and contented.

  As is often the case when I’m dreaming, I change from place to place without any regard for where I’ve just been. Without understanding how we got there, Shortie and I were standing by the creek behind my place, and Tom and his new Monaro were nowhere to be seen.

  The water ran fast and fresh, just like it does after a storm. We stood on the edge and watched the water stream past. I could no longer tell if I was dreaming or awake.

  Shortie turned and faced me. “I have to go now,” he said.

  I smiled at him. “I know.”

  “Goodbye Jenny.”

  “Goodbye Shortie,” I waved to him as he walked along the edge of the creek. When he got to the point where I’d once seen a snake, he turned and gave me one last wave. I lifted my arm to wave back, but he was already gone.

  Chapter 66

  Sunday, 22 December 1968

  Maggie closed her book and placed it on the table next to her Tarot cards. Since Peter's arrival, she hadn’t done as much reading as she’d thought she would. Preferring to be with Peter instead, they had spent a phenomenal three days making up, her initial concern regarding their ability to put the past behind them and move on, long forgotten. Maggie couldn’t remember the last time they had spent so much time together without filling their days with planned excursions and chores. When did life get so hectic, she wondered? At least the time they had j
ust spent together had not been hectic, at least not in the traditional sense. On this occasion, they had simply drifted through the days without any regard for chores, the cottage their haven, neither of them wanting to move very far beyond its lush boundaries.

  Bellbird Cottage had always been a special place for them, despite the circumstances under which they had acquired it. Thinking about how it was that she had come to own her patch of paradise, Maggie remembered her mother, dead almost four years now, and smiled with the thought that she might be watching over them. If she was indeed spying, she’d no doubt be turning in her grave at their decadent lifestyle; the late nights sitting outside sharing a joint while they discussed the wonders of the world, their unabashed lovemaking, and even Maggie’s insistence that Peter painfully tell her everything that had transpired between him and Jane. Maggie could picture the look of disapproval on her mother’s pinched face as she wagged her finger at Maggie and said, “I told you so.”

  Maggie no longer cared what her mother thought. Now, the only thing that mattered to Maggie was how she felt, and at that moment she felt good. She felt euphoric, in fact. If she hadn’t known better, she would have said that she was still high from last night, and not from the couple of joints they had shared either. It was no wonder really; it had been such a magical evening. What had started with a cool bath, both of them immersed chin deep in clear water, their legs stretched out before them, had ended with the most amazing lovemaking session Maggie could recall.

  After drying off from the bath, they poured themselves a beer and handed a joint back and forth until they were both pleasantly afflicted. At first they had been content to sit and talk, but as the effects of the grass became more intense, so did their desire for each other. They had just finished the second joint for the night, when Peter picked her up and carried her inside. Instead of putting her down on the bed as she had expected him to do, he spread a blanket on the lounge room floor and laid her on that instead.

  He spent the next couple of hours teasing her mercilessly, his soft mouth caressing every inch of her body until she thought she was going to faint from the sheer pleasure of his touch. Then, just when she thought she could endure it not a second longer, he would back off, leaving her breathless for more before taking her even higher again, until finally, she was begging him to end the exquisite torture. Afterwards, they lay on the blanket exhausted, the night air insufficient to dry their clammy skin.

  At the time Maggie had been certain that she had never loved him more. Now, with her face no longer flushed from last night’s lovemaking, but from the heat of the day, she knew that she had been right.

  “Almost ready to go?” Peter asked from the kitchen.

  She told him that she was as she raced past him and into the bedroom. She pushed her pleasant daydreams away, slipped off her kaftan and changed into something more suitable for visiting her daughter. “I’m ready!” she called, before spinning around and racing back into the bedroom to get Michelle’s Christmas present.

  Maggie came back out and handed the package to Peter, “Here, you take this while I quickly brush my hair.” She was off into the bathroom before he could say a word.

  Peter weighed the parcel up in his hand, “My god, what have you got in here?” he called to Maggie.

  “I’ll explain in the car,” she promised, joining him on the veranda, “I don’t want to be late.”

  Peter was just about to pull the front door closed, when Maggie interrupted him, “Here,” she handed him her handbag, “hold this for me; I think I left the directions to Paul’s place on the bench.”

  The routine familiar, Peter waited patiently while Maggie went inside for the directions, stopping her on her way back out to tell her that he loved her. As they got near the car, he offered to let her drive, but she declined. “I’m better at directions than you,” she explained, “I’ll navigate.”

  “Sure you are,” he laughed. Maggie was lousy at giving directions; she used her hands too much and Peter couldn’t follow and keep his eyes on the road at the same time, but she obviously didn’t want to rob him of an opportunity to drive his new car, so he didn’t argue the point.

  “So,” asked Peter as soon as they had taken off, “how long do you give Michelle before she’s telling us she’s engaged?”

  It was obvious by her response that Maggie had already given the matter some consideration. “Not for a while yet. If I know Michelle, she’ll keep Paul waiting as long as she can. You know how she is; she likes her independence too much to give in to his first proposal.”

  “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” Peter agreed. “Things sure have changed a lot, wouldn’t you say?”

  “How so?” Maggie enquired.

  “Well, once upon a time a young lady would have jumped at the chance to become the respectable wife of a budding engineer like Paul.”

  Noting his light-hearted tone, Maggie swiped him playfully across the back of his head. “Oh come on, babe, this is the sixties; strong, determined young ladies like Michelle, or should I call her Shelby, no longer need men to make them respectable. Or hadn’t you heard?”

  Peter laughed and pointed to the radio, the Rolling Stones were playing. “Oh, I’d heard alright. I guess with guys like them around, respectability is no longer a fashionable.”

  ***

  Maggie remembered her role as navigator, “I think you need to turn up there,” she pointed.

  Peter slowed the car as he approached the turnoff. “You sure it’s this one, I thought you said it was near the hospital; this road looks too narrow. What’s the street called?”

  Maggie examined the piece of paper carefully. “Doesn’t say; the note only says to turn left and follow the road up past the maternity hospital. Apparently it’s on the same side as K-Mart. Then, it’s the next right after K-Mart.” Maggie looked out of the window. “Isn’t it that street there?” she asked, pointing out the window.

  “It’s the next one,” Peter assured her as he pulled back into the traffic. “See the sign?”

  “Where?” Maggie couldn’t make out where he was pointing.

  “There, see; Western Suburbs Hospital?”

  “Oh yeah, I see it.” Maggie sat back and relaxed. Peter turned the car into the street and followed it up towards the hospital as directed. From the short distance away, the car park looked full. “Looks like they’re doing a roaring trade,’ he observed. “Just in time for Christmas, too.”

  At Peter's mention of the babies being born in time for Christmas, Maggie tried not to think of the baby she lost. In time, she would tell Peter about it, but not yet.

  Bob Dylan came on and she reached down to turn the radio up. “There,” she pointed, “just opposite the entrance to the hospital; see where that big truck is pulling out?” Peter looked to where she indicated. “See it?” she asked again, “According to the directions, there should be a right hand turn just past that truck; that’s where we need to go.”

  Peter waited for her to finish fiddling with the radio before taking her hand in his. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could just keep on driving and never look back?” he asked solemnly, taking his eyes off the road.

  Instead of answering his question, Maggie looked at her soul mate’s serious face and smiled …“the answer my friend, is blowing in the wind…”

  .

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