He made it to the flat rock at the top of the ridge and stood there, gazing out to the horizon as he caught his breath. A part of him wanted to shout up at the sky, the way people did in movies. He wondered whether it’d feel any good, or if he’d just feel like a goose . . . throwing his arms open and yelling at the top of his lungs. Nuh, he’d feel like a goose. Joe started to laugh at himself, out loud, and when he heard himself laughing, it made him laugh more, and before long he was laughing so hard he couldn’t stop, and tears were streaming down his cheeks, and his stomach ached as he cried like a baby, slumped over on the flat rock.
A sudden squawk and the flapping of wings startled him. Joe looked up to see the pair of black cockatoos swoop past. He took a deep breath in and out again, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. He watched the cockatoos. He felt drained, but oddly at peace.
Joe wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there when Mim suddenly appeared in his line of sight.
‘Mim, is everything all right?’ He went to get up but she stopped him.
‘Yeah, I saw you head off up the back,’ she said, sitting down on the rock beside him. ‘I thought you might like some company.’
‘How did you know where to find me?’
She smiled faintly. ‘This is where the track leads to, Joe.’
They sat there together for a while in silence. Mim was easy that way. There was no need to say anything, you could just sit.
After a time, she leaned her head on his shoulder, and it occurred to Joe that maybe she hadn’t come up here to comfort him. He put his arm around her. This must be tough for her. This had been her whole life for the last few years.
‘How are you, Mim?’
‘I’m okay.’
‘Really?’ he said, looking at her.
‘I’m not the one who’s dying, Joe,’ she said plainly. ‘I don’t want him to suffer any more. It’s gone on too long.’
‘This has been hardest on you.’
‘No,’ she denied. ‘It’s been hardest on Dad.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘I do,’ she said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. ‘But it’s actually been a privilege to be with someone at the end of their life. Especially someone you love so much.’
Joe was watching her. ‘You didn’t have much time with him when you were a kid, did you?’
She shook her head. ‘But we’ve caught up.’
‘Is this a private party or can anyone join in?’ said Will as he appeared in the clearing.
‘Only if you’re good-looking,’ said Joe. ‘But we’ll make an exception in your case.’
Mim laughed.
‘Don’t encourage him,’ said Will.
‘How did you find us?’ asked Joe.
‘Mim left a trail of breadcrumbs.’
They shifted across and Will sat down on the rock next to Mim. ‘And so this is Christmas,’ he announced.
‘It’s Boxing Day, actually,’ said Joe.
‘Why is it called Boxing Day anyway?’
‘It was traditionally the day employers and landowners gave gifts or money to their employees and the poor.’
‘That doesn’t explain why it’s called Boxing Day,’ said Will.
‘I think there were boxes involved somehow . . .’ Joe mused.
‘Well, that’s cleared that up then.’
‘Were you actually trying to lose us, William?’ Hilary declared as she appeared in the clearing above the ridge, with Corinne right behind her.
‘If I’d been trying, you wouldn’t be here, sister,’ he said ominously.
Hilary wiped her brow with the back of her forearm. ‘Whoo, I’m getting too old for this. No wisecracks,’ she added quickly.
‘I’ll just say, Joe was up here first,’ said Will, ‘and he’s got at least ten years on you, isn’t that right, Hil?’
‘Oh, shut up, will you.’ Joe reached across Mim and clipped his ear. ‘I’m four years older than Hil. Four, okay? Then the rest of you came like an assembly line, every two years.’
‘I wonder why they waited the longest after they had you, Joe?’ Corinne pondered out loud as she plonked herself on the ground near his feet.
‘Because they were worried about spoiling their perfect record, Crinny,’ Joe answered her. ‘And then they did all right, up until Will came along.’
‘Oh, good one, bro,’ said Will, affecting a hearty chortle.
‘Okay, that’s enough, boys,’ said Hilary, getting their attention. ‘Listen, I wanted to mention . . .’ she hesitated. ‘I called the college, and Gregory. I told them I wasn’t sure when I’d be back. I’m not leaving, until . . .’
Everyone knew what she meant.
‘We don’t have to get back for anything,’ said Corinne, her voice wavering. ‘We’ll stay too.’
Will clenched his hands together. ‘I have to go down to Sydney for the production I told you about, for the fringe festival. I’ll have to be away for a couple of days at least, but I might be able to organise someone –’
‘It’s okay, William,’ said Hilary. ‘I think we’ll have some notice, we can’t all put our lives on hold to sit here waiting. You should go, do what you have to do, and we’ll keep in touch, constantly, I promise.’
Joe was silent, staring down at the ground.
‘Joseph,’ Hilary said carefully, ‘you obviously have to get home to Sarah. Maybe you can both come back in a day or two, if she’s up to it?’
He shook his head. ‘She doesn’t want to come up here, it’s freaking her out. I don’t know what to do.’
‘Don’t worry, Joe, we’ll keep in touch,’ said Corinne.
He glanced around at them. ‘You all understand what happens when Dad goes onto a permanent ventilator?’
Heads nodded around the circle.
‘If he is intubated they can stabilise him,’ said Hilary, ‘make him comfortable, relieve his pain, and he can die peacefully at home, with all of us around him.’
‘But he won’t be able to speak to us any more,’ said Joe. ‘He’ll slip into unconsciousness, and eventually into a coma.’
Corinne sniffed, and Joe reached over to give her shoulder a squeeze.
‘But,’ Hilary added, ‘the alternative is –’
‘I know. Too horrible to contemplate.’ Joe sighed. ‘I just hope we have some time.’
‘For what, Joe?’ Will said bluntly. They all turned to look at him. ‘I mean, what are we talking about here? He’s had enough, hasn’t he told you that? Because he’s certainly made it clear to me.’
They were all silent as they mulled over his words.
‘You know what I think?’ Will went on after a while. ‘We haven’t got over the shock of losing Mum the way we did, so we can’t let go of Dad. But it’s time. We have to let him go to her.’
‘Do any of us really believe that?’ Joe asked. ‘Dad doesn’t even believe in an afterlife.’
‘But Will’s got a point,’ said Hilary. ‘Maybe he’s not going to be with her, but he doesn’t really want to be here any longer without her.’
‘He told me the last thing he could do for Mum,’ Mim spoke up, ‘was to make sure we were all going to be okay.’
‘Then we have to let him know that we will be,’ said Joe, resolved.
Saturday night
It was one of those gorgeous summer evenings, warm and balmy, with a clear sky and a light breeze, so Jo decided to wear flat sandals and walk to the theatre. Angie was performing in Will Bannister’s troupe, in a production that was slated to be part of the Sydney Fringe Festival. They were holding a brief preview season, by invitation only, so they could tighten up their act in front of a supportive audience. Angie had been rehearsing constantly in all her spare time over the past few weeks. Although Jo imagined she must be exhausted, every time she had spoken to her she had been struck by her boundless enthusiasm and excitement for the whole thing. Jo couldn’t help but be happy for her, and she was not going to weigh her down with her own privat
e miseries. Angie knew what had happened with Joe, of course, but after the initial debrief, Jo had played it down, claiming to be relieved they had not got in any deeper. As far as Angie was aware, Jo had moved on.
As she approached the old workshop it looked much the same from the outside, despite all the working bees Angie had participated in. There was improved signage though, probably provided by fringe festival funds. It looked quite professional, in an indie sort of way. But as she stepped through the door things were quite different. Black partition walls had been arranged to form a kind of foyer, and there was even a reception desk cum box office of sorts. She handed her ticket to a smiling girl with an electric blue slash through her black hair and a stud just below her lip.
‘Seats aren’t numbered, so sit wherever you like,’ she said happily.
Jo walked through into the main area and was genuinely surprised by the transformation. It was actually beginning to resemble a real theatre, of sorts. The grunge had been largely eradicated, along with the smell, thank God, which had been replaced with the lingering odour of fresh paint. Most of the walls had been painted black, and a variety of old theatre posters were hung at intervals around the room. The seating was arranged in the same right-angle fashion as before, defining the stage which was still at floor level. But there were many more seats, and the last few rows were raised. Very flash. Professional theatre lighting had been installed on tracks above the seating, and Jo noticed an impressive-looking sound desk positioned behind the last row.
She wandered on past the stage area towards the back of the building, where there was quite a crowd milling about, drinking wine from real glasses, by the looks of it.
Then Jo saw him. And there was a woman standing beside him. She felt the panic rising in her chest. She wasn’t prepared for this; it had occurred to her that Joe might be here, just not with her. She wanted to turn and flee, but Angie had phoned only this afternoon, checking to make sure she was definitely going to be here tonight. She had to stay, so she had to find someone she knew, anyone. Her eyes scanned the crowd; she didn’t suppose Angie would be out here before the show.
‘Jo,’ she heard his voice and saw him approaching at the same moment that she spotted Oliver coming through the entrance.
‘Oh there he is,’ she said in Joe’s general direction without actually looking at him. ‘Excuse me, won’t you?’
She dashed headlong at Oliver.
‘Well, hello petal, this is a lovely surprise,’ he greeted her, clasping her hands.
‘I’m so glad to see you,’ she gasped. ‘Will you be my date?’
‘What’s going on?’
‘I just don’t want to be alone.’
He took her arm in his. ‘Okay, but no funny business afterwards, I’m not that kind of a fella.’
Jo smiled gratefully. But as they turned around, she saw that Joe was standing expectantly, waiting for them. And she was still beside him, naturally. She was quite beautiful; she had dark hair, of course, and an English rose complexion, and she was much taller than Jo. Damn, why did she wear these flat sandals? Sarah was long and slender and graceful, even her baby bump was elegant. They looked good together, they made a striking couple.
‘Hi,’ Joe said as they drew closer. He was gazing at her a little blatantly; he really shouldn’t do that.
‘Well, hello there, Joe,’ Oliver greeted him. ‘I wouldn’t have picked you for a theatre lover.’
He smiled faintly. ‘My brother’s in the company.’
‘Ahh,’ he nodded.
The woman was looking at them curiously. ‘Hello,’ she said.
‘Sarah, these are my friends, Jo Liddell and Oliver . . . I’m sorry, I don’t know your last name, Oliver.’
‘I don’t need one, like Cher, or Bono,’ he said, extending his hand to Sarah.
‘This is Sarah Parrish,’ said Joe.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Sarah, shaking Oliver’s hand.
She spoke beautifully, of course. Damned English accents always sounded so classy.
‘And Jo, is it?’ she said, offering her hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’
Jo briefly took her hand, and then looked away, pretending something had caught her attention.
‘I didn’t expect to see you here,’ Joe said, claiming it back.
No, she supposed he wouldn’t have.
‘Angie’s performing tonight,’ Jo explained. ‘Will didn’t mention it?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘But we’ve, uh, we’ve been distracted lately.’
‘How is your dad, Joe?’ she asked, genuinely concerned.
She saw the pain flitter across his eyes as he shook his head faintly. ‘Not so good.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.’
A sad, meaningful look passed between them. ‘What about your mother?’ he asked.
‘She’s doing all right. She’ll be finished the treatment this week.’
‘Do you think they might have a soda water, darling?’ said Sarah, planting a possessive hand on his forearm.
‘Would you like a drink, petal?’ Oliver asked Jo.
‘No, I think I’d rather take our seats,’ she said. ‘Catch up with you later.’ She took Oliver’s arm and steered him away.
‘I can’t wait to hear all about this twist in the saga,’ said Oliver under his breath.
‘In a minute.’
Jo surveyed the seating options. She didn’t want to risk ending up anywhere near them, so she led Oliver into a row where they were virtually surrounded.
When they had sat down he turned to her. ‘So what was that about? Is Mr Joe married after all?’
‘As good as,’ she said.
‘Well what do you know,’ he pondered. ‘I thought he was one of the good guys, but he’s been lying to you all along?’
‘No, he wasn’t,’ she shook her head. ‘It’s a long story.’
‘Well go on, out with it.’
Jo glanced around before looking at him directly. ‘She was his girlfriend when he was based overseas, but they broke up and he came home. She showed up on his doorstep pregnant . . . I guess it was a couple of months ago now. It’s his.’
Oliver’s eyes were wide. ‘He didn’t know about it when he left?’
She shook her head.
‘And there’s no doubt it’s his?’
‘Apparently not.’
‘Well,’ he declared, ‘this is like an episode of a bad soap.’
‘Tell me about it.’
Oliver became thoughtful. ‘He’s being very noble and all, but a tad old-fashioned. Does her father have a big shotgun?’
‘That’s the long story,’ said Jo. ‘Suffice to say that if they can’t make a go of it, she’ll move back to England to be close to her family, and Joe’s child will be on the other side of the world.’
‘Makes weekend access a bitch.’
‘Exactly.’
Oliver shifted in his seat. ‘Still, surely there must be some other way to deal with this?’
‘If you come up with one, let me know,’ Jo said wryly.
He touched her arm. ‘I’m sorry, petal.’
She glanced at him sideways. ‘So am I.’
A gong sounded a few times, and the seats began to fill rapidly. Jo wanted to know where they were sitting but she didn’t want to look, or be caught looking, more to the point. She scanned the crowd discreetly, eventually spotting them in the section perpendicular to them, in exactly the same row. She met Joe’s eyes before she could look away; he was gazing at her with a yearning she could feel from here. He really had to stop doing that. She glanced at Sarah beside him; she was watching Joe and just then she turned her head to see what was so absorbing him. Jo looked away quickly, linking her arm through Oliver’s. She wasn’t fooling anyone – Oliver could set off a gaydar at fifty paces – but she was glad she had someone to hang onto.
And she was even gladder when the house lights dimmed and the spotlight hit the stage area. Her heart missed a beat as Angie a
ppeared in the middle of the empty space, alone. And from then on Jo was mesmerised. Her friend, her dear, self-deprecating, modest, beautiful friend held the audience in the palm of her hand as she delivered the most exquisite monologue, speaking of love and loss and heartache, and inviting the audience to come with her on the journey they were about to take.
And the audience went with her; Jo had a feeling Angie could have led them anywhere. She watched in awe as her friend laughed and cried – real tears – and sang, with a sweet, pure voice, and became a child in one scene, an old lady in another. There were other actors sharing the stage, and they were good, very good, this was a far superior production to the previous one, but Jo couldn’t take her eyes off Angie. She commanded the stage with a confidence Jo never knew she possessed. It was a revelation.
‘Is it just me,’ Jo whispered to Oliver during a scene change, ‘or is she really, really good?’
‘She’s really, really good, but then I don’t know if it’s just me?’
The whoops and cheers Angie received at the curtain call confirmed that they were not alone. Jo tried to catch her eye, but she doubted Angie could make her out in the sea of faces. She would find her later, and hug her, and tell her she was amazing. And in the meantime she would have to try to avoid Joe. But that was going to be difficult, she realised, when she saw him waiting in the aisle as she and Oliver made their way out of their row.
He was smiling, the first genuine smile she had seen on his face all evening. ‘Angie was fantastic,’ he said. ‘I had no idea.’
‘Me neither, and she’s my best friend.’
‘You haven’t seen her perform before?’
‘Only in ads, mostly.’
‘Which one was Angie?’ Sarah enquired, appearing at his side.
Crossing Paths Page 44
