Fire in Summer

by JH Fletcher

  The plunging mill race outside the window gave no comfort. I shall have to fight him. But with what?

  She took a deep breath, willing strength back into her legs, her heart. I have Jeth. My life is here. My love is here. I shall stay. And Walter will stay with me.

  Good, she encouraged herself. Another deep breath. Good. She felt braver. But fear remained, like rot.

  Jeth came home. Afraid there was nothing he could do, she had not intended to tell him about her visitor but Jeth, who missed little, knew at once that something was up.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I had a visitor …’

  Out it all came.

  ‘I told you before. He can’t do anything.’ Jeth was good in a crisis; there were times when Kath thought she loved his strength as much as the man. ‘He tries anything like that, we’ll get the law on him.’

  As he had also told her before. However, there remained one problem. ‘What about Walter?’

  Jeth admitted he did not know the situation regarding Walter. ‘We’ve lawyers coming out of our ears, down in the city,’ he told her. ‘I’ll have a word with one of them, see where we stand.’

  The word, when it came, was not good. Walter was under age, and Hedley had rights. Which the courts would enforce, if application were made.

  ‘Does that mean he can take my son away from me?’

  That wasn’t clear. The lawyer had told Jeth that the court tended to favour the mother in such cases, but might grant Hedley access to his son. Which, he had said, seemed only reasonable, in the circumstances.

  ‘Meaning because I walked out on him,’ Kath said bitterly. ‘Did he ask why I did it?’

  ‘I hope it was because you love me,’ Jeth said. Which was true, of course it was, and now more than ever. But for that alone, however precious, she would not have done it. Did not have the words to say it to him in a way he would understand.

  ‘You know I love you.’ And meant it, every word. But …

  That night, for the first time, she was not with him when they made love. She even thought to say no, but was afraid how he would take it. In any case, she wanted it, too, the reassurance if not the physical act more important to her than ever. Yet tonight not even Jeth’s ardour could fill the space between them. He knew it, too, his sensibility for once something she could have done without.

  He paused, looking down at her. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Nothing.’ But he did not deserve that. ‘Emily’s visit upset me a bit, that’s all.’ More than a bit. It had come between them, even here.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ she told him. ‘Nothing.’ It took the zing out of things, all the same.

  Jeth had been under pressure at work but, two weeks later, decided he could spare the time to go to the beach for the weekend.

  Kath was all in favour. ‘Be good to have a break …’

  Apprehension had become a fact of life; she told herself again and again that Hedley was not the sort to go to the courts, that he was a man who believed in sorting out his own problems, but anxiety remained.

  They drove down on Friday evening. Walter stayed at home; he was fifteen, now, and had got himself a girlfriend. He said there was a concert they wanted to go to. Kath had been nervous about leaving him, but Jeth had told her she was imagining things. ‘Hedley’s not going to kidnap him. Walter’s too old for that, anyway.’

  He was right, of course.

  The sun was setting when they arrived. Kath unlocked the door and went inside. ‘Hullo, house.’

  They unpacked the boot, walked hand in hand along the beach, came back again. Before leaving home Jeth had phoned the local fish shop and reserved a snapper. They had collected it on their way through; now brought it out, triumphantly. While Kath showered, Jeth lit the fire. They had a fish barbeque on the deck, a bottle of wine to help it down, a slice of cheesecake out of the freezer to round things off.

  ‘It’ll make me fat,’ Kath complained. But polished it off, just the same.

  He kissed her. ‘Tastes good, though.’

  Whether he was referring to the cake or the woman was not clear — perhaps both, Kath hoped.

  The night was velvet, the sky heavy with stars. In the reeds, cicadas fizzed, from the beach came the boom of the waves. The coals had burnt down to a companionable glow; a warm breeze kept away the mozzies. For the first time, Kath dared think of the future. Even to speak of it, which was even more daring.

  ‘I’d like us to live here full time, one day.’

  ‘I guess I’d have to talk the owners into selling it to us, first.’

  Which was not the issue. ‘Are we going to be together always?’ Perhaps it was the wine that made her so forthright.

  ‘Is that what you want?’

  It weighed upon her that he should even ask. ‘You know it is.’

  ‘And if the future meant South Carolina?’

  ‘Where you go, I will go.’ And laughed apologetically, this Australian who even now found it difficult to strip her feelings naked for another person, even for the man she loved. As she said it, she felt a qualm at the thought of turning her back upon her own place, but suppressed it at once, most resolutely. ‘I think it’s in the Bible, somewhere,’ she said.

  ‘Some place,’ he corrected her.

  She stared. ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Some place. Not somewhere. If you’re going to live in the States, you’ll have to start learning the language.’

  The blood was hot in her face. ‘You mean …?’

  He grinned lazily, took her hand in his, playing with her fingers. ‘Sure. Why not?’

  Joy filled her, making it possible to mimic him, even about this. ‘Sure. Why not…’ She was crying, laughing. ‘How romantic can you get?’

  ‘I’m a southern gentleman,’ he told her. ‘We’re as gallant as all hell, but romance isn’t our forte.’

  ‘You know that’s not true.’ But would not let it go. ‘You want me to go and live in America, you might at least ask me nicely.’

  ‘Sure,’ he agreed. ‘Why not?’

  ‘You,’ she informed him, ‘are impossible. I shall need to punish you.’

  ‘Sounds promising,’ he said.

  ‘Come on.’ She took him by the hand and led him down the steps to the path, followed it without difficulty in the starlight, came out at length on the sand. The rollers wielded their hammer along the beach; she could feel the ground shake. She kicked off her shoes and ran, Jeth after her. He caught her soon enough.

  Naked, they lay amid the probing tongues of the surf. The thunder of the water filled her heart, her mind, every particle of her being. She felt herself surge upon the crests of the waves; their voice encompassed the universe; they filled her as Jeth filled her, her cries like birds in the salt night.

  ‘Turn over…’ And rode him, feeling the fiery heat of their linked bodies as the cold water, the rumbling commentary of the surf, lifted her out of the earth, out of her being. And at length deposited her again, so gently, on the sand.

  ‘South Carolina sounds good,’ she said. ‘If you don’t kill me first.’

  ‘What a way to go,’ said Jeth.

  No lack of zing, this time around.

  The next day was fine. They decided to explore down the coast. A few miles from Cape Jervis there was an old mill, with a road off to the right. They followed it, came to a scattering of houses around a tiny bay. Green, moss-smooth cliffs were gnawed by rocks, grey and brown, their feet in beds of brown seaweed. The lone finger of a jetty pointed northwards. In the crevices of the rocks grew cushions of thrift and button daisies. On the far side of the jetty, a rough track skirted the cliff.

  They followed it, came to a sea-girt neck of pebbles running out to a fanged outcrop. At the far end was the wreckage of a corrugated iron building, smashed by the sea, rusty panels of green and brown paint pocked by salt and wind. Rails formed a ramp running from the building into the water. To one side the flung ruin of an open boat teetered amid a festoon of weed and r
ock. There was the smell of brine, the lonely calling of gulls. They stopped and looked about them.

  ‘Hey,’ Jeth said, ‘this is some place. We should bring some food down here some time. Have ourselves a picnic.’

  Instead they paddled along the edge of the water. Halfway across the bay they could see someone swimming. The figure came closer, hauled itself on to the metal platform below the jetty. It was a man, water cascading off him. He climbed the steps, seized a towel, began to rub himself vigorously.

  ‘What’s it like?’ Jeth asked him.

  ‘Wet. But good, if you go for that sort of thing.’

  ‘I certainly do. Is it safe?’

  ‘There’s a bit of a rip around the ebb. The rest of the time it’s safe enough.’

  ‘I’ll bring a costume, the next time we come,’ Jeth told Kath. ‘See if I can get across to the far side.’

  ‘You need to be careful,’ she told him. ‘One of these days you’ll go too far.’ But was untroubled; she had seen him in the water, knew how good a swimmer he was.

  They went back, had an early supper, slept in each other’s arms, the next day drove home.

  ‘It was wonderful,’ Kath told him. ‘Wonderful.’ She had scarcely given Hedley a thought while they’d been away, but nothing had been resolved. He was still there in her mind and, as soon as she was back at the mill, she put on apprehension again like a cloak.

  ‘You meant what you said? About America?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘What about Walter?’

  ‘Are you sure he would want to come?’

  Perhaps not, she thought. Walter had his own life to lead. It seemed barely credible, but soon he would be making his own decisions about life.

  ‘I’ll talk to him about it,’ she said. Did so. Sure enough, Walter did not want to go.

  ‘I like it here, Mum. What would I do over there?’ Besides, there was Alison, the same age as himself. Whom Kath had difficulty in taking seriously, although it seemed Walter took her very seriously indeed.

  ‘You’ll have to go back to your Dad,’ Kath warned him, ‘if you don’t come with me.’

  If she had thought that would change his mind, she was wrong. ‘I can handle it. Besides, you won’t be going yet, will you?’

  ‘Not until the Centre’s finished.’ Which was still a year away.

  Jeth was in constant contact with Charleston. Two months later, his senior partner flew out. To press the flesh, as he put it. There was a meal with the State Premier, to which Kath was invited. He shook her hand, called her Mrs Douglas. They haven’t briefed him, she thought. It didn’t matter; in fact, it made her feel good. Made her feel real.

  The senior partner took her aside, asked how she felt about moving to South Carolina.

  ‘Looking forward to it.’ As though it were the most natural thing in the world.

  ‘Jeth’s told me so much about you,’ he said. ‘We’re all looking forward to having you on board.’

  Another southern gentleman who believed in gallantry. Compliments all round.

  The southern gentleman flew out. Apparently the visit had been a huge success. ‘He thought it was great,’ Jeth said, and gave her what her mother would have called a bold look. ‘Thought you were great, too.’

  He was triumphant. Kath could sense his heat; knew how they would celebrate tonight. Which they did.

  Another two weeks and they went back to the beach. Kath tried to get Walter to come with them, but he had other things on his mind.

  Don’t go getting yourself in any grief over that girl …

  Had the sense not to say it, although no-one could stop her thoughts.

  The weather was a lot cooler, but still fine. They walked the beach, in the evening ate indoors, during the day sat on the deck and read the papers. How domesticated could you get? wondered Kath, and was content.

  The following morning, Sunday, the weather had changed.

  They woke to a grey and shell-burst sea, the waves racing and racing in sudsy scuds of foam. There was a smell of rain in the air. The radio spoke of clearing skies but, for the moment, it was a day without sun and with a mean sting in the wind: not one for lounging around. They got in the car and explored down the coast.

  They drove into the Deep Creek Forest, watched dark-pelted wallabies along the cliffs, spotted, far below, a sea lion turning in a froth of bubbles and emerald-green water.

  It was a joyous day, despite the cloud and wind. They crossed the peninsula to a sheltered coast and blue skies patched with cloud, arrived at length at the secluded cove they had visited before, the jetty pointing its stone finger at the horizon, the pebbles along the sickle beach grating in the suck and surge of the waves.

  A hundred yards from the water, there was a caff of sorts, surrounded by trees. It was open but empty. They ordered coffee from a sullen-faced woman behind the counter; they never had much luck in the caffs they visited. The coffee came in big brown mugs that the woman slammed upon the counter like a declaration of war; they took no notice, but carried them to a corner table.

  It was more store than cafe; goods, from biscuits to cans of kerosene, were stacked on floor and counter, behind which the woman brooded, her face thunderous.

  The door was flung wide to admit a yelling surge of children, arms and legs like weapons, voices bruising the silence. With them was a woman in her forties, in her manner more wolf than shepherd, with aggressive nose and breasts that hectored most threateningly, and a voice to crack ribs. Jeth and Kath watched in disbelief as she fuelled chaos by her vociferous and unavailing attempts to create order.

  The mob climbed over the neighbouring tables, spilling noise and sweet drinks. Jeth stood up. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ Before I murder the lot of them.

  Kath went with him, trying, unsuccessfully, not to laugh.

  Jeth favoured her with a glare. ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘You are.’ Which did not please him. She tucked her hand under his arm. ‘But I love you.’

  The simplest, most profound thing: it melted him, as she had hoped. He put his arm around her. ‘That’s all right, then.’

  Out of nowhere, desire made her shudder. He felt it in her; in himself, too, perhaps. He grinned. ‘Not even you would try it here.’

  There were a handful of people on the jetty, staring at the sea. Kath’s body would not have cared, might have gloried in an exhibitionism that she had never before suspected, but her mind accepted that it was impossible. All the same, she slanted her eye at the passers-by and felt him quickly, defying the world and its conventions.

  Now it was Jeth’s turn to laugh. ‘You’ll have us in jail.’

  ‘Might be worth it, at that.’

  The wind still blew, but the clouds had rolled back and the sun was warm. There were white horses far out but, within the sheltered cove, they had no teeth.

  ‘I haven’t had a proper swim in weeks,’ Jeth said.

  They walked down the sloping shingle beach. The pebbles gleamed where the tide had gone out, there was a strong smell of seaweed, and Kath wished very much that he would not swim here. Yet said nothing, not wanting to nag.

  On the far side of the cove, bathed in sunshine, a wave toppled in a welter of foam.

  ‘I reckon I’ll give it a go,’ he decided. He changed in the car. Together they walked along the jetty to the flight of rusty iron steps running down to the platform where they had met the swimmer on their previous visit. Behind them, the gaunt cliffs leaned towards the water in a baleful scream of gulls.

  ‘Be careful,’ Kath said.

  A flash of teeth, of sunlight on the tanned face. ‘Nothing to it.’

  He ran down the steps, hand light on the rail, he waved up at her, he plunged into the water.

  Kath stood, and waited. His head emerged from the waves, ten yards from the jetty. He began to swim, powerful strokes that drove his muscular body through the water. He made good progress. Kath watched, swam every yard with him, telling herself to stop being
ridiculous, that Jeth was a strong swimmer, that within the cove the sea was sheltered, that she had seen him swim in far rougher conditions without having any problems. It made no difference what she told herself; apprehension had sunk its teeth into her and would not let go.

  He was halfway across, his head little more than a dot now, hidden repeatedly by the waves. He was two-thirds across. He was there. Standing on the wind-chilled jetty, Kath could not tell whether he actually touched the rocky base of the cliffs or not, but saw that he had turned and was coming back again. Now that he was heading towards her she could make out distinctly the rhythmic rise and fall of his arms as he swam. Any minute now and he would be back again, safe. She sighed with relief. How stupid to get in such a state about nothing.

  34

  HEDLEY

  1957

  Hedley had been to a land sale. It was only a couple of hundred acres, but they adjoined some of his own land and Hedley wanted them.

  He warned the bank manager — no worries there — went to the auction and stood at the back. The auctioneer practised his sing-song patter, at the right moment Hedley flicked his finger. Had to flick it a few more times before it was over, which didn’t please him, but in the end it was knocked down to him, as he had known it would be. He signed the papers, exchanged a few words with the other people who’d come, went back to the empty house.

  Seven months now since Kath had done a runner. He had not attempted to get in touch with her, had not made up his mind what to do about things, at all. So far as Kath went, he couldn’t have cared less, but Walter was a different matter. At the time he’d been as angry as Satan, angry enough to smash the furniture, although of course he never had. Instead had gone out to the sheep and shared his thoughts and feelings with them.

  Funny things, sheep. People underestimated them. They were dumb, of course, but there was a measure of companionship in them that he’d never found with other animals.

  She had no business taking the boy. That thought drummed in his head. He stood outside the house and turned slowly on his heel, eyes brooding on all he could see of the land he owned. Some men pretended they did everything for the next generation. To hell with that. The land was his; the next generation could take care of itself. All the same, Walter was his, too.