‘Jonty’s here,’ he says. ‘We’re down the back watching a DVD. Thought we’d wait until you got here before ordering.’
Alice nods, hoping her fluttering heart is not on display. It feels a bit like a bird inside her chest, trying to get out.
‘It’s just us.’ Tom shuts the front door behind her. ‘Dad has gone to Melbourne for the weekend.’
This piece of news registers as a faint jolt of disquiet inside Alice. She’d been counting on Luke being there to make things easy.
‘Straight down there.’ Tom points down to the end of the hallway. ‘You look nice,’ he adds almost curtly as he follows her towards the back of the house.
‘Thanks.’ Alice is so keyed up that she can hardly get the word out, but the terse compliment pleases her. It took her near enough to an hour to get ready. It wasn’t just the bath with special stuff she’d never used before, but working out what to wear. In the end, she’d gone with quite ordinary things – jeans and a white knitted top she’s found in the sale bin of a local store. She worries that she is too fat for jeans, but the top has lace around the neckline and it really suits her. She decided in the end that wearing it with a skirt would make her look like the local librarian’s assistant.
Alice looks around at the large generous furniture, the colourful shabby cushions and the general messiness and feels oddly at home. The house at Pitt Street was like this, much smaller but with the same lived-in feel. Tom’s house has nothing of the style and opulence of her grandmother’s beautiful home but it’s way more comfortable.
A few empty beer stubbies sit on the kitchen bench, along with a half-finished one, but nobody is there watching the blaring television. So where is her cousin? She sees the vague shape of someone outside the big glass sliding door on the back verandah. When Tom taps the glass she sees it’s Jonty, bending over a dog. Somehow he looks younger than the nervy, battered young man who had turned up at the pub. Tom and Alice watch Jonty come inside and carefully shut the sliding door behind him.
‘Hello,’ he smiles tentatively, ‘Alice!’ His eyes move quickly back to Tom. ‘She’s lame. Got something in her foot.’
‘I know,’ Tom grimaces. ‘I was meant to take her to the vet this morning. The old man will be dark!’
‘I might be able to get it out,’ Jonty says.
‘Okay.’ Tom takes a swig from the half-finished stubbie and then turns to Alice with a shy smile. ‘You like a drink?’
‘I’m okay, thanks.’
‘But you’ve gotta have one.’ Tom protests. ‘We bought champagne for you.’
‘Girls like champagne!’ Jonty cuts in with a laugh. ‘I told him that.’
‘Oh!’ Alice flushes. ‘Okay then. Is it a celebration?’ They both seem surprised by her question.
‘Always something to celebrate, Alice!’ Tom says dryly, not meeting her eyes as he heads to the fridge, pulls out a green bottle and proceeds to tear off the silver foil around its neck.
Jonty turns his attention back to the old dog looking in at them through the glass with big mournful eyes. ‘I’ll have a go at it now while there’s light,’ he tells Tom. ‘Okay?’
‘I’m a dickhead for forgetting poor old Bess,’ Tom admits to Alice. ‘Take a seat, why don’t you.’
‘You got any tweezers?’ Jonty yells from outside.
The next half hour is taken up with the dog. Alice watches Jonty lift the dog onto an outside bench and proceed to examine her paw. Sure enough, something is imbedded in the flesh between two of her pads making the surrounding area sore and swollen.
‘Looks like a long shit of a prickle,’ Jonty mutters to himself, reaching for the tweezers in Tom’s hand. ‘Let’s get it out.’
Initially old Bess is suspicious. She whimpers and growls as Jonty probes deeper, even makes a few angry snaps to remind him she has teeth. Unfazed, Jonty gently pulls the offending matter out, piece by tiny piece. In spite of herself, Alice is fascinated. Not just because she loves animals, and this dog seems like such a gentle lovely creature, but seeing her cousin up close like this is . . . oddly illuminating. His hands are lean and strong and capable, and his profile in that late afternoon light is sharp and handsome. Tom is standing close on the other side of Jonty with his hand on the dog’s head. He’s distracted, whereas her cousin Jonty is totally engrossed.
‘You’re a good old girl, Bess.’ Jonty mumbles the words softly, as though he has forgotten about the other two even being there. ‘So brave! You were brave as a puppy too, chasing cars. We’re going to get you up and running again, and no one will be able to hold you back.’ All the while he’s pulling the prickle out, bit by difficult bit. Bess whimpers occasionally but she also wags her tail. Alice can see she trusts Jonty.
‘This has been cramping your style, hasn’t it?’ Jonty whispers as he pulls out the last offending piece, ‘but we’ve got it all now.’ He straightens up and shares a smile with Tom and Alice. ‘I reckon that’s it.’
Tom puts a hand on his shoulder. ‘You should have done vet science, Jonty!’
‘Man, I should have done a lot of things!’ he replies, and they both laugh.
A warm glow rushes through Alice. Watch someone with a child or an animal, Alice, her mother used to tell her, and you’ll see what kind of person they are.
‘I need a bandage,’ Jonty orders. ‘A bit of old sheet will do. And have you got any antiseptic?’
‘I’ll go look.’ Tom heads off down the hallway and Alice puts her hand on the dog’s head. When Bess turns to lick her, Alice smiles and tickles her behind her big soft ears.
‘She likes you.’ Jonty bends to pick stray hayseeds out of the dog’s long coat. ‘You got a dog?’
Alice shakes her head ruefully. ‘I’ve never had a pet, have you?’
‘We had farm dogs.’
‘Did you love them?’ It’s a girly question, she knows, but she needs suddenly to find out more about her cousin.
‘Oh, sure,’ he mumbles distractedly, picking at seeds in the dog’s coat. ‘The dogs were good.’
Tom brings back the bottle of antiseptic, cotton wool and a piece of clean rag. Jonty cleans the wound and bandages up the paw securely.
‘I think it will be okay,’ he says, lifting the dog down. They all watch her limp off. ‘So that will be a hundred bucks, Mullaney, and bring her back for a check up next week and I’ll charge you another hundred.’
‘Thanks, Jonno,’ Tom grins.
‘Did someone mention a drink?’
Tom opens the green bottle. There is a loud pop as the cork flies to the other end of the room, making the overweight grey cat on the couch sit up and growl.
Alice laughs and squats down to entice the cat over for a pat. ‘Come here, puss. Come on!’
But the cat looks back disdainfully through half-closed lids, as though she wouldn’t dream of it in a pink fit.
‘Don’t take it personally,’ Tom smiles at Alice, ‘she plays hard-to-get.’ He fills three glasses and hands them out.
Jonty takes his glass and holds it up to the light before gulping down the lot.
‘Hey!’ Tom pours him another. ‘It’s meant to be sipped not guzzled, you ingrate!’
‘Here’s to it, then.’ Jonty holds one finger out daintily in the parody of a lady, and raises his glass.
‘To what, Jonno?’
‘I dunno, to us, I suppose.’
‘That’ll do,’ Tom clinks his glass with Alice’s and smiles.
Alice takes her glass over to the couch and sits near the cat. Sensing a new, comfortable seat the cat deigns to get up, stretch and then come to sit on her lap.
‘Told you it wouldn’t take long.’
Alice smiles. She runs her hand along the cat’s sleek, glossy coat and turns to her cousin, who is kneeling in front of the stereo flipping through CDs. ‘How’s your mother?’
Jonty frowns. ‘Not great.’
Alice nods, meets his eyes for two seconds and then looks away. The cat’s tail is swishing wa
rningly. Why did I ask that?
‘Did you . . . know my old man at all?’ Jonty asks casually as he slips a disc into the player and adjusts the volume. A wild percussion instrumental track blasts into the space between them. Alice doesn’t recognise the music, or like it much, but she’s glad of it nevertheless.
‘No,’ she says stiffly, continuing to pet the cat. She has plunged the conversation into dangerous territory and she’s unsure how to get out of it.
‘Lucky you.’ Jonty plonks himself down into the armchair opposite her.
‘But I heard about him,’ Alice adds. From my mother, is on the tip of her tongue, but she stops herself in time. ‘Every now and again we’d hear stuff, you know.’
‘All good, no doubt?’ Jonty says sarcastically.
Alice doesn’t know what to say to that, but a heavy, frantic desire simply to know hits her without warning. She wants to ask this cousin of hers, Why? Why would Jed have done such a thing? Does Jonty know of any reason why his father would kill her mother? She looks up at Tom who is leaning against the bench, champagne in hand, staring thoughtfully at both of them. She has a bizarre feeling that he knows what she’s thinking. But just being here with both of these guys is strange enough for Alice. How could she possibly ask more questions?
Tom orders the pizza and the boys talk about football and whether Ned is any good, and Alice sits quietly listening. The champagne has hit her empty stomach with a whoosh and now it’s radiating out into her limbs, making her feel relaxed and ready for something to happen. Almost anything would do.
The cat suddenly stops purring, jumps down from Alice’s knee, stretches languidly and then saunters over to Jonty.
‘I guess I offer a superior service,’ Jonty says dryly as it leaps onto his lap. Alice laughs. Holding the cat in one hand, Jonty goes outside for his cigarettes and Tom refills her glass.
‘White suits you,’ Tom says to her shyly. ‘I like that shirt or . . . whatever it is.’
‘Thanks.’
He hovers for a moment or two before putting the bottle on the coffee table next to her. ‘Way better than the red cardigan.’
Alice laughs, feeling herself flush as she remembers being in that darkroom. So he’s thinking of it too? A rush of excitement makes her heart race, but she doesn’t dare look at him. Jonty comes back in.
‘So, have you seen your father since he got . . . went inside?’ Alice asks, not sure why she wants to know. Her voice sounds oddly forced. Too loud and slow, as though she’s talking to someone who can’t speak the language properly.
‘No,’ Jonty frowns, ‘and nor has Mum. That’s one good thing that has happened. My mum isn’t going to have anything to do with him any more.’ He looks up suddenly and smiles at Tom, ‘Remember when Lillian wanted to kill him?’
There is a moment of panic between the three of them as his words sink in. Alice watches Tom’s face drain of colour, and then the swift blush of embarrassment on her cousin’s face as he realises that he has said the wrong thing. The comment about Lillian, out of the blue like this, has shocked her but she’s not in the mood to take offence. Her cousin has put his foot in it. So what? Everyone does that. In fact, right at this moment, Alice decides that she really likes him. Her cousin Jonty has an impetuousness about him that feels like honesty.
My mother loved him, so why shouldn’t I?
‘You mean down at the caves?’ Alice says lightly. ‘I remember her saying that she’d like to throw your father down one of the caves one day!’
‘So she told you, too?’ Tom asks.
Alice stares back at him and gulps. Why does he look so serious? ‘But she didn’t mean it!’ Alice’s quick laugh is strained. ‘I mean . . . she couldn’t mean it!’ Neither of them is looking at her now, and it makes her feels like the kid sister who knows nothing.
‘Right,’ Tom says carefully.
‘No,’ Jonty adds calmly, ‘she wasn’t serious.’
But something about the way they are purposefully not looking at each other, makes Alice think the exact opposite. Her mother seriously wanted to kill Jed van der Weihl? But that’s just too . . . crazy.
Thankfully the mood breaks when the doorbell rings.
‘Food!’ Tom grabs up his wallet and runs for the door. Jonty looks after him thoughtfully, the cat draped around his neck.
‘She used to get into moods,’ Jonty tells Alice, ‘and say some . . . funny things.’
‘Yes,’ Alice breathes, ‘she did.’
‘I guess you’d know that better than me,’ Jonty adds with a sad laugh.
‘I guess I would.’
Within half a minute, Tom is back with four brown boxes. ‘Come on you guys!’ he grins. ‘Where do you want to eat? At the table or in front of the TV?’
‘Hey, Tommy!’ Jonty is in the kitchen getting a fresh beer. ‘Why don’t we jump in the car and have ’em out there?’
Tom dumps the boxes on the table. ‘Where?’
‘The caves!’ Jonty’s face is suddenly ablaze with enthusiasm. ‘It’s good out there! Remember? Won’t take long. Wrap the pizzas in a blanket or something.’
Tom hesitates and then smiles. ‘But it’s going to rain.’
‘So?’
‘And I’m too pissed to drive.’
‘I’m not.’ Jonty turns to Alice. ‘What do you say?’
Alice doesn’t want to go, but she doesn’t want to be the one to throw cold water on the idea either. Maybe she should go with the flow. Maybe all this – whatever the hell it is that is happening here – would be easier outside in the fresh air. They’re both looking at her now.
‘Okay,’ she says.
‘We’ll need coats,’ Tom calls cheerfully, ‘and I’ll make some coffee for the thermos.’
Alice feels as if she is in a movie. Jonty is driving too fast, but she doesn’t care. She is squashed between them in the front seat, the music is up loud and the countryside on both sides is fantastic, a shining green velvet blanket. The cows and little sheds, even the trees are dotted over it like toys. A surge of strange wild joy runs right through her. All those black clouds are piling up across the sky are wonderful! It’s just like a painted backdrop for some great and momentous drama. Okay. I’m ready for it! Alice thinks. Bring it on. And I want to play the main part.
Tom begins to sing along with the old Chilli Peppers hit ‘Californication’, and Jonty hums and drums his fingers on the steering wheel, nudging Alice every now and again when he wants her to look at something. First its half-a-dozen horses galloping along a nearby fence, then a group of beautiful black-and-white cows, with their calves, staring out across the highway. When a mass of tiny birds dip and swoop across the road in front, they both laugh. She feels the champagne swimming in her veins and wishes she knew the words so she could sing along with Tom.
Here she is, scooting along the highway with two guys – both of them good-looking, and one of them fancies her! How did that happen? The delicious smell of pizza is filling up the cabin. They’re going out to some pretty spot in the bush to eat and drink, to talk and . . . she is eighteen years old and this is what she’s meant to be doing.
Jonty and Tom reminisce about old times: the stuff they got up to with their classmates during excursions and football matches! She wishes she had those kinds of memories herself. Why hadn’t she gone out with girlfriends to lonely weird places to climb rocks and hang off edges, to drink and throw pies at each other, to play jokes on teachers and compete over impossible physical feats? Her childhood was made up of sedate netball games, on-and-off friendships and tame little parties where everyone was home by eleven. So damned boring, in comparison! Even her mother would sometimes gently encourage her to branch out a little. You know I trust you, Alice. Stay as long as you want. You don’t have to be home at a certain time. But she never did stay out late. She never dared do anything much at all.
‘Have you been out to the caves before, Alice?’ Tom holds out a handful of lollies that he’s found in the glove box.
She takes a couple and he lifts his arm and puts it around her as though it is the most natural thing in the world, then smiles into her face. Their noses are only inches apart.
‘I came with my mother once,’ she offers.
‘Me too,’ Tom laughs. ‘What is it about the caves and our mothers? They all love the place. Mine said she could feel the spirits or some crap!’
‘So did mine,’ Alice says shyly.
‘What perfume are you wearing?’ Tom whispers so that Jonty, who is still singing and thumping on the steering wheel, doesn’t hear.
‘Youth,’ she whispers back.
‘It’s nice,’ he says shyly. ‘I usually hate perfume but it’s nice.’
‘I stole it from my grandmother,’ Alice whispers back.
‘Did you?’ He pretends to be outraged.
‘It is so expensive,’ Alice starts to giggle, ‘and she’s too old for it.’
Tom smiles at her giggling. He runs a finger up her arm to her elbow and leaves it there.
‘How old is she?’
‘Ninety-two!’
Tom throws his head back to laugh. ‘You are completely within your rights to steal it.’ He picks up a stray strand of hair and pushes it behind her ear. ‘No ninety-two-year-old has the right to wear Youth!’
‘Glad you agree!’
‘Okay you two,’ Jonty chimes in, ‘what’s going on?’
‘Shut up and drive!’ Tom orders and then peers around Alice to check the speedo. ‘You’re doing 120, Jonty.’
‘So, I’m just the chauffeur am I?’
‘In a nutshell, yes, mate. And slow down!’
Alice is giddy with all this. It’s just happened so quickly and . . . perfectly that she can barely keep up. What will the twins say? She has to stifle a laugh, picturing Sylvia’s face when she hears the news. He had his arm where? So . . . how many times did he touch your hair? What about Eric? She throws her head back and closes her eyes. Definitely. She’ll tell Eric. He likes you, Eric had told her after that time in the pub. It’s in his eyes.
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