Central to Nowhere

by D. J. Blackmore

  He began to scrape the vegetable peelings into a pail for the hens and prepared to go outside. He had cut all the vegetables and put them in a baking dish. The zucchinis and corn had been put into saucepans ready to be cooked. He gave her a smile before he walked out the door.

  ‘If you need me, all you have to do is call.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Whenever.’

  It sounded like a promise. She turned as Michael bounced into the kitchen. He still wore the wig.

  ‘The old man and woman are here!’ He hadn’t mastered their titles. It didn’t stop his appreciation or enthusiasm.

  ‘Your grandma and granddad?’

  Michael nodded. He began an ad-lib jig, clown curls dancing. Yes, he was in the way. Yes, she needed to pull the roast beef from the oven, but his joy was contagious, and so was his smile. She giggled at his antics.

  ‘How about you go and say hello to your grandma and granddad, then come and give me a hand in the kitchen? I’ve got dessert to prepare and I need an extra pair of hands. You like whipping up cream?’

  Michael shrugged. ‘Don’t know.’

  ‘Would you like to learn?’

  ‘Yep, and do you want me to ask my dad if you can ride my circus pony?’

  Ivy’s response was definite; resounding. ‘Ah, no, thanks. Appreciate the offer, though. Did Daddy say you are okay to ride her?’

  Another shrug. ‘I don’t remember. But she’s like one of the horses the monkeys rode, only bigger. The monkeys had little waistcoats on.’

  ‘Well, do you think you’d better ask your dad before you jump on the horse again?’

  ‘She took care of me. She’s clever. She told my dad where I was.’

  ‘He was very relieved when he found you. He was afraid you were hurt. We all were. He loves you very much.’

  ‘Mum doesn’t love him. She said she’d come back, but she hasn’t.’

  Ivy busied her hands. Looked away. Would Rachael honour her word? Would she really come back and take Michael away? An image of Adam suffering his son’s loss a second time came to her mind and she knew it would throw him down like a flash flood. Ivy looked at Michael. He shifted his weight. Ivy squeezed his small hand within her own.

  ‘Maybe that circus pony is here to cheer you up.’

  He thought about that for a moment and then turned at the sound of footsteps and left. The little boy had crept into a place close to her heart. She knew she would remember Michael with fondness long after the summer.

  She yearned to change her past. But then that would erase the memories that touched her like a tiny caress. She had almost been a mother. In her heart, she still was.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Adam closed his eyes on a mouthful of roast beef. He had heard it said that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. He didn’t think that was true. He remembered the one cook he had employed after Rachael left. She had been big, brash and busty, and he certainly hadn’t fallen in love with her even though she could make a mean casserole—in fact, he’d been a tad intimidated by her. So when she had left, he’d been content to share the cooking between RJ and himself.

  Jack was good with cattle and horses, had been around them since he’d been a toddler, but Adam didn’t think the kid could manage more than Vegemite on toast. A bit like Rachael, he supposed. Not that he expected a wife to be able to cook—a wife was so much more than what she could rustle up with her hands and a frypan. But Rachael just didn’t want the partnership they’d had.

  He looked over at RJ now. The stockman wasn’t sure what to shovel into his mouth first. Adam wondered if the farrier-cum-cattleman was even listening to the conversation shared around, because he hadn’t looked up from his plate. He just shook his head every now and again, as though he’d never tasted food so good.

  His dad, on the other hand, hardly ate. It was like he didn’t know what to do with the food in his mouth. He rolled the meat around as the minutes rolled on to the quarter hour. Adam knew on account of the clock’s chime. He looked at his mum. Her eyes were weary, and he wondered if she was getting enough rest at night.

  ‘Are you going to eat some of your vegetables, love?’ She took Dad’s knife and pushed the potatoes a little further to the centre of his plate. He didn’t answer her, so she forked some pumpkin into his mouth, along with the wad of meat.

  ‘We just picked that pumpkin out of the garden this morning, didn’t we, Michael?’ Adam said to make conversation.

  Michael nodded. Adam saw that Michael was battling his own demons with the pumpkin. The young fella had cleaned up the meat and potatoes, so there was nothing wrong with his appetite. It was just the orange stuff he didn’t like.

  And like his mum had coaxed his dad, Ivy prompted Michael to open his mouth. Michael pulled a face and swallowed.

  Ivy said, ‘You know, when you pour some more hot gravy over the top and mash it all up together, it tastes really good.’ Michael watched her demonstration, mixing the lot with his fork, before she encouraged him to try it.

  ‘My grandfather built this house.’ Adam’s dad looked around the dining room: at the wallpaper, crimson flocked. Like the family room, the ceiling was high, panelled in hardwood, and painted white. Trevor stretched his neck to look up, his jaw working. Adam ran a hand down over his clean-shaven jaw and neck.

  He hoped his dad had swallowed that meat.

  ‘Don’t know who picked the horrible wallpaper, but it wasn’t here in my grandma’s day.’

  ‘We did, Trevor love. Don’t you remember? You weren’t keen on it then, either, if I recall,’ she mumbled.

  His dad frowned at her, continued to work his jaw. ‘When Grandma was alive, she’d let swaggies sleep in the shearing shed. Take them out their tucker and then in a few days, after helping around the place, off they’d go again. The swaggies used to put a rock on the gate post to let other people passing by know that there was good food and a clean bed.’

  Then Trevor began singing. It was a song that Adam had never heard before; an old song from Trevor’s past. His father’s voice soared to the ceiling and swelled to fill the room. Trevor’s big bony hands rested on the white tablecloth, a visible reminder of his long gone strength. His wedding band was a rosy gold hoop that still shone, even though the memories of the day might have faded.

  But Grace hadn’t forgotten her promise made a generation ago, even if Trevor often did. In that moment, his dad remembered, and he took his wife’s hand in his own. Adam’s mum’s cheeks were bright. Her eyes sparkled like dance hall lights as she swayed in her chair with the tune.

  And his dad’s voice rang out like Adam had rarely heard—strong and clear. They all looked on as the music of his voice drifted on the air. Adam could almost imagine days gone by.

  It was the first time RJ had looked up from his dinner. He sat open mouthed now, pushing aside his empty plate. Ivy had stopped mid-fork from feeding Michael mash like he was a baby, and time stood still while they took a step back into his father’s past.

  And then all at once the music was stopped. His dad looked around dubiously, as if at a loss for why he was here.

  Anticipative of an outburst, Grace squeezed her husband’s hand. ‘You’re back with us now, Trevor. Back with your family.’

  Trevor still looked confused. ‘Who’s that?’ He gestured at Ivy in a stage whisper to Grace that none of them could fail to hear. Ivy put down the fork.

  ‘I’m Ivy. We met before.’ She smiled but her voice was unsure as she continued, ‘We’ve met a few times, actually. I’ve come over from Sydney.’

  ‘You’re one of them.’

  Ivy sat up straight and put her hands on the table like she wanted to get up and go away, or else press herself against the walls and disappear.

  Trevor’s mouth worked like he was gathering phlegm.

  ‘People from Sydney
are no different to us,’ his mum said. She had turned crimson, too.

  ‘Dad’s old school when it comes to people from the Big Smoke,’ Adam’s mouth quirked.

  ‘Now listen here, young man. This is my house, and my father’s before me …’

  ‘I’m just explaining that people from the country can be slow to accept change. No need to get worked up, Dad.’

  ‘I don’t like your tone, and I don’t know who invited you, but I won’t stand for it. Talking to a man like that, and in his own home.’

  Michael had begun to cry. Grace waved the napkin in her hand like a white flag.

  ‘Trevor, sit down. Sit down.’ But his father didn’t listen to her pleading. She pulled on his arm, but he yanked free of her hands, pushing her into Michael, who fell off the chair and onto the floor.

  Ivy picked up Michael and calmed him. Trevor marched around the table towards Adam.

  ‘I think you’d better leave the premises, right now, don’t you?’

  Anticipating the worst, RJ stood up fast, accidentally knocking his chair back. Unperturbed by the commotion he was causing, Trevor tried to push away RJ’s restraining hands. He lashed out and together, Adam and RJ had to tackle the old man to the floor, surprised at his strength. They restrained him and he bellowed like a bull.

  Later, he cried like a baby as Grace soothed him in the family room.

  Much later, they put him into Adam’s bed. Trevor was ashen. His mouth was shut tight, but Adam saw the mortification that he tried to hide with a shaking hand to shield his eyes.

  ‘I’m not tired.’ He was embarrassed now as Grace attempted to tuck him into bed. The tantrum had left him penitent, but she wouldn’t be budged.

  ‘Well, I’m tired, Trevor. It’s been a long and tiring night. Everyone else is going to bed too, and so can you, unless you want to walk all the way home. Adam invited us here for dinner and to stay the night. He’s offered us his bed and is going to sleep on the lounge. The least you could have done was be civil.’

  And with that, she turned away and pulled the blind down with an angry tug. Adam stood there waiting, and when his mother closed the door on his now sorry and confused father, Adam held his mother in his arms as she mourned the loss of a man she had loved for decades. The husband she had known so well.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Ivy set out dessert on the table.

  ‘What’s lemon meringue pie?’ Michael asked his dad.

  Adam tasted and swallowed. ‘You haven’t tried it before? You don’t know what you’ve missed.’

  ‘Kind of like a little piece of heaven.’ Ivy closed her eyes, swallowing the tangy pie.

  ‘Way too little,’ Adam agreed with a grin, polishing his share off. His attempt to revive the happy atmosphere fell a little flat; it had left the house the moment the singing had stopped.

  After Jack and RJ had gone to their beds, and the coffee cups had been drained, Adam took Michael up for his shower. The little boy came back smelling like baby powder. Michael hugged his grandma goodnight, gave Ivy a little wave, then Adam took his hand and ushered Michael up to bed.

  When Adam returned, he was solemn-eyed, his voice serious.

  ‘Mum, you can’t do this anymore.’ Adam turned his mother from the sink where she stood drying the dishes. She looked from Adam to Ivy, flicked her son in gentle reproof with a damp tea towel, deliberately misinterpreting his meaning.

  ‘After a delicious meal like that, do you think I’m going to let the girl wash up alone?’

  ‘I can help Ivy at the sink, Mum, but that’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.’ Adam pushed a hand through his hair. ‘You can’t look after Dad for much longer.’

  She looked at Adam as though she was appalled. ‘Until death us shall part, that’s what we said. They were our vows. I made a promise, Adam. It’s something only death can break.’

  ‘No one says you can’t love him anymore. Just that you can’t be his live-in carer. He’s as strong as a bull, and I don’t want to see you hurt. You need help.’

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, Adam! You know he would never hurt me. You know that!’

  She put her head in her hands. Adam took the tea towel and sat her down at the kitchen table. He took the chair opposite hers.

  ‘Dad’s changed, Mum, and you know it. He’s not the same. Sometimes he’s his old self, but those moments are becoming rare. Soon they’ll be like hen’s teeth.’ Adam tried to make her smile but he was too full of his own sorrow. ‘I’m afraid that you might get hurt. I don’t want to see that happen.’ He leaned across and held his mum’s hand.

  ‘I don’t want to let him go. He’s a part of me.’

  ‘You struggle to wash him, feed him, and now you can’t even talk to him without something happening like we experienced tonight. I know it’s not the first time, either. Last time you were here, the same thing happened, only this time it was worse, much worse. You need to think about putting him into respite. You need some respite.’

  ‘But what will I do all day? I can barely remember life before I met your father.’

  ‘You can still visit him. You can go every day.’

  ‘But what’s the difference with that and him staying at home?’

  ‘The difference is that when you’ve had enough, you can leave, and get some rest for yourself.’

  ‘Oh, Adam, you make it sound so cruel.’

  ‘No, Mum, it’s just a sad fact. Alzheimer’s has got hold of Dad. He’ll deteriorate to the point where you just can’t cope anymore.’

  ‘It’s not like how it was when we were young. Marriage was a bond that no one could break, and no one did. You wouldn’t understand.’

  She flung it at him. Adam looked down at his hands.

  ‘You know, Mum, that’s just not fair. I know what marriage is all about, but it’s a commitment between two people, not just one, and it wasn’t my choice that Rachael left. But you know, even though she went and took my son, what was the good of her being tied to me, if she didn’t love me?’ He shook his head. ‘The truth is, you can’t make anybody love you. You know what it’s like, Mum—just because you’ve got a bigger backyard than everyone else, doesn’t always mean you’ve got more loose change in your pockets. When she worked that part out, she got sick of me.’

  Ivy asked, ‘Do you think she’ll come back and get Michael?’

  ‘I hope not.’ Adam smiled weakly. ‘Soon as she got the money she was after, she cleared out again.’

  His mum was aghast. ‘Did you give her money? What did she want it for?’

  ‘Owed someone. She asked for one-thousand, and trusting fool that I am, I told her where to find it. She took that, and everything that was in the drawer and I haven’t seen her since.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought that was like Rachael.’ His mum sounded mildly offended. Almost like Adam had it wrong.

  Adam shook his head impatiently. ‘Yes, it is, Mum. It’s exactly like Rachael. You think you know her, Mum. You don’t know her at all.’

  Adam threw the rest of his coffee back and grimaced. Grace sat forlornly, shaking her head. ‘What do you do?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Adam admitted. ‘What do I do?’

  They all turned to find Michael standing at the door.

  ‘I can’t sleep.’

  ‘Why not, mate? What’s wrong?’ He pulled Michael onto his knee.

  ‘I’m afraid the old man will come and get me.’ Adam, Grace and Ivy shared glances.

  ‘What old man? The one in the moon?’ Adam made light of what had passed.

  Michael shook his head. ‘The one that sings.’

  ‘Oh, him? We put him to bed without any dessert.’

  ‘That’s what happens when you be bad.’ Michael waggled his finger.

  ‘So, what are we going to do to help you go to sleep?’
Adam smoothed Michael’s hair off his forehead.

  ‘How about a cup of warm milk?’ Michael nodded at Ivy’s suggestion.

  ‘Yes.’

  Adam said a quiet word in his ear.

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘Would you like me to read you a bedtime story?’ his grandma asked.

  Michael’s face was a blank page. He shrugged, palms upwards. ‘Don’t got no stories.’

  ‘Well, when you come into town next, I’ll have a few waiting for you.’ Adam’s mum cupped the little boy’s cheek.

  ‘We’ve missed you, Michael.’ Adam’s voice was thick and echoed his grandma’s touch. Ivy heated the milk, setting it down, and Michael settled against his father to drink it.

  He said dreamily, ‘I can’t remember you from before.’ He turned to look at his father. Michael looked bereft. Adam tried to encourage his son with a smile, but Ivy saw sadness in Adam’s eyes.

  ‘That’s all right, Michael. I remembered you. I never forgot, not for one day. And we’re going to make up for all the time you’ve been gone.’

  Michael breathed a big sigh and rested his head deeper into his daddy’s chest. Then even as Ivy watched, the little boy’s face relaxed into the forgetfulness of sleep. She wondered at how easily children could be soothed. And then she was startled to realise the rocking motion of her own body, as if there was an imaginary infant she lulled.

  ‘Out like a light,’ Adam whispered.

  A candle snuffed out.

  Ivy turned away and gathered strength. She pushed away the past and reminded herself to focus on the here and now.

  Much later, after the house was quiet, Ivy stood on the high verandah that faced out the back. She took in the fragrance of the night: soil damp with dew. Silver grass made moist. A breeze sighed through the stands of corn, rattling the leaves. The scarecrows followed moonlight, the cornstalks shook in the play of shadows as the voice of the little willy wagtail sang in the night.

  A shadow flickered and Ivy’s heart thumped as she thought it was an intruder again. It was probably a trick of the light—she tried to reassure herself with that—an illusion cast by nothing else but shaking shrubs thrown by the moon. Still, she quickly made her way inside and was sure to lock the door behind her. She felt her way towards the front door to make sure it was also locked and bolted. After glancing towards the front room, where she knew Adam would be sprawled over the sofa, she tiptoed back up the stairs.