The Lost Summers of Driftwood

by Vanessa McCausland

  ‘I truly don’t know the answer to that.’ She took another sip of her beer. It was warm now and it mixed with the thick smoke in the air to make her feel ill. ‘Is it just me, or is it getting even more toxic out here?’

  Asha stood and walked down the steps of the veranda, shielding her eyes against the glare. ‘Maybe we should go inside. I feel like it’s a hopeless fight at this stage. If the fire comes, it comes.’

  Phoebe wondered if Asha was only talking about the bushfire. But when she searched her face, she realised that Asha had no idea what had already been lit.

  CHAPTER 12

  They fell asleep that night draped in damp towels, their skin still smeared with ash. The electricity had failed, so they lit candles and then blew them out. The naked flame felt dangerous. No one wanted to be alone in the hot, close night so they all slept in the lounge room. Phoebe was dirty and hungry, but a physical peace eased along her limbs as she lay in the makeshift bed of cushions beside the coffee table. All the tension felt like it had been flushed out by the intensity of the day. The fire had roared right to the riverbank on the opposite side, but the sparks had not crossed the water. And then, like sorcery, the wind had changed. Sometimes simply surviving made everything make sense. Even Jez and Asha had fallen asleep turned in towards each other on the sofa. After their chat, Phoebe had felt the tension between her and Asha slacken, loosen and fall around their feet. She let sleep come now, content in the knowledge that they were all safe and maybe, just maybe, they were friends.

  The morning dawned like a gift—blue clouds and the smell of rain on the horizon. It gave them all an energy that the orange heat had sapped. When the first rain sounded on the tin roof of the veranda they ran outside to lift their faces to the sky. Steam rose up from the soil and the clean smell filled their nostrils.

  There was work to be done as the earth cooled. Phoebe swept burnt leaves and ash from the hardwood floors until her arms ached. Asha cleaned the smoke film from the grimy windows. Jez saw to getting the power back. Tommy and Jenna drove into the Bay and brought back two kilos of freshly cooked prawns, which they all ate with their fingers, ripping fresh bread off uncut loaves. It was after the third bottle of white wine had clinked its way to emptiness and the clouds had peeled back to reveal a tentative afternoon sun that the Texan suggested a swim in the river.

  Had she not been so hot and exhausted, Phoebe might have hesitated, toes curled over the edge of the jetty. She’d have thought she could never swim in this river again, let alone right here, so close to where Karin had nearly drowned as a child and then supposedly walked into the water as an adult. But Phoebe thirsted for the water, as though it was a tonic for her body. As she pushed off into the cool green she realised that for the first time in ages she felt okay. Good, even. Cleansed. The charred trees on the opposite bank were like burnt matchsticks poked into the ground. The smoke had seeped into everything; it was in their hair and on their skin, but with it had come something Phoebe had not expected. She thought back to her life in Sydney. All its deadlines, its small, needling stressors. The feeling of inadequacy that one social media post could incite. But here none of that mattered. It didn’t even exist. All that existed were the people in front of her, the daily necessities—safety, food and rest. Time idled along on its own, and Phoebe had given up reaching for her absent mobile phone to check and control it.

  Feeling the coolness envelop her body she finally understood what made Karin come back here and make a life for herself. Their mother and Camilla had judged her so harshly for it. What would she do? How would she meet someone decent? Wouldn’t she be lonely? And all the time, it was her sister who had it right. She was the one closer to the heart of what actually made a person happy. It was her sister, with her meaningful job and much-loved house, who had the better life.

  It struck Phoebe deeply, this knowledge. She felt it as the river ran over her, through her. She felt her smallness against the pull of the current and it made her heart swell with gratitude at living. Karin wasn’t an unhappy childless spinster, just as she had never been an unhappy child or wayward teenager. She was an easygoing, warm person who loved nature, treasured old things, and was a member of a small community.

  Their very last conversation drifted into Phoebe’s mind.

  ‘I think I’m going to get a dog Phoebs.’ Karin’s voice was warm with excitement.

  ‘It’d make me feel better,’ said Phoebe, clucking her tongue. ‘I’ve wanted you to get a dog ever since you moved there.’

  Karin made a sound that even though they were on the phone, Phoebe knew meant she was rolling her eyes. ‘It’s perfectly safe down here. Which you’d know if you ever visited.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m so slack. Work has been so busy. So many events at night at the moment. I’m buggered. I promise when I can take my next lot of holidays I will come.’

  ‘We can buy prawns and eat them on the jetty, and drink all the free champagne you’re going to bring me out of Grandma’s gorgeous vintage glasses. I’m saving them for a special occasion. I just found a set of six of them wrapped in newspaper on top of the fridge. I have no idea why they were stashed there. They’re absolutely exquisite, Phoebs. Worth an absolute fortune.’

  ‘Random. I think Grandma was pretty eccentric. Dad said she was exactly like Camilla, but nicer.’

  Karin laughed. ‘Poor Cammie.’

  ‘It’s strange how we never thought Grandma was weird when we were kids. We just thought all grandmas sunbaked topless.’

  ‘While drinking from her Waterford crystal champagne glasses, in the middle of the bush. Anyway, I’m saving them for a special occasion so you’d better get your arse down here.’

  Phoebe changed the subject so she wouldn’t feel so bad about not visiting. ‘I don’t think you should get a puppy, more of a mature dog. You’re too busy with the shop to raise a puppy.’

  ‘No, I’ve talked to the shelter and they’re keeping an eye out for a lovely dog for me that needs a home.’

  Phoebe sighed. ‘Knowing you, it’ll be missing its front paws or something and end up needing twenty-four-hour care.’

  ‘Funny you should say that. There was one special-needs dog called Jack that they think—’

  ‘No!’ Phoebe laughed. ‘I’m not letting you get a special-needs dog, Karin. It needs to look after you.’

  ‘Why? I’m perfectly fine.’

  I’m perfectly fine. Those words would never leave Phoebe now. The innocent ring of them. She had no text messages left to pore over—Karin rarely used her mobile. So the sound of her sister’s sweet voice tolled in her head like a bell. I’m perfectly fine. I’m perfectly fine. And two days later you were perfectly dead.

  The sound of a dog barking from across the river pulled Phoebe back to the present. She was getting cold. She swam back to the jetty and pulled herself up the ladder. Jez was standing with Harry in the shallows as Tommy and Jenna watched on from the jetty. They were talking, their brows furrowed as if discussing something stressful. It had been a hard twenty-four hours and Tommy had taken the brunt of the responsibility for saving their homes. He must be mentally exhausted. Phoebe could just make out their voices, loud and urgent whispers on the warm breeze. She froze on the ladder, not wanting to poke her head up and interrupt what was obviously a strained conversation.

  ‘Just for a few more days. Maybe the week. Look, Harry is so happy,’ said Jenna.

  ‘I can’t. Work’s too busy.’

  ‘But he and I could stay. There are plenty of extra hands to help out. You can come back on the weekend.’

  ‘No, I told you. You’re not staying here without me.’

  ‘But why? It’s so much easier for us to be here with the others. You’re hardly home. Your hours are not family friendly. It’s—’

  Tommy thumped the wood. ‘We’re not going over this again. I said no and I meant it.’ He got up and Phoebe could see him shielding his eyes, surveying the river, as though the jetty was a boat moving through t
he water that demanded his attention.

  ‘We’ll leave after dinner,’ he said and started down the jetty, the sound of his boots loud. Tommy never wore bare feet. Even as a kid, Phoebe remembered he was always shod, as though ready for anything at any moment, as though not willing to feel the sand between his toes.

  She felt bad for Jenna and wondered why Tommy was being so insistent. Maybe he was extra protective of Harry, or he was worried there would be more fires. She supposed all couples had their sticking points. She and Nathaniel had certainly had theirs.

  Phoebe snuck up onto the jetty when she was sure Tommy had gone. She sat down a little bit away from Jenna and returned what she thought was a sad smile. She could tell Jenna didn’t feel like chatting and they sat in companionable silence, letting the afternoon smooth out around them.

  ‘Are you okay with him for a bit longer?’ Jenna called to Jez, who was now picking shells off the sand with Harry. ‘I’m just going up to the house for a moment,’ she said.

  Jez gave her the thumbs up.

  If there was more tension between Jenna and Tommy, the tension between Asha and Jez seemed to have shifted, as if the proximity of destruction had created a certain peace. Phoebe felt relaxed and welcome. It was as if the defending of Driftwood had conferred a place for her in it. She stretched her legs and noticed how brown they had become. Her skin hadn’t been that colour since she was a child, playing on this same jetty.

  ‘Gosh, you’re brown as a berry,’ said Flick. She sat down and swung her legs over the side.

  ‘You know, I was just thinking that. I totally forgot about sunscreen. It seemed a low priority these past few days.’

  Flick cocked her head. ‘It’s interesting, despite what we’ve just been through, you seem much more relaxed than when you first arrived.’

  ‘Do I?’ Phoebe felt a flush creep up her face. ‘It took me a while to leave the city behind. And not having my mobile beeping at me, and, I don’t know, things being . . . simpler.’

  Flick nodded. ‘Back in Sydney I used to pay my psychologist nearly one hundred dollars an hour to get the same benefits that I get from sitting right in this spot. Just look at Harry. Jenna says he’s a different child when he comes here.’ She squinted into the sun overhead. ‘It’s to do with being closer to trees, grass, his little feet running on the earth, you know? The more I think back to my old life, the more I think I can never go back. I feel like this place is healing my chronic fatigue. I mean, I still have crashes when I can’t get out of bed, but it’s rare now.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me, that you’re getting better here.’

  ‘I was so much lonelier in the city. Here we have a little community. You should come to the markets in the churchyard one weekend. You’ll feel it for yourself. And you said it before—it’s about simpler things. I have a fulfilling life contributing to the garden, writing bad crime fiction. Though my lawyer self sometimes balks at how slow my life has become.’

  Phoebe thought about what it would be like to leave her job and set up a life here, even if just for a while. Could she actually be brave enough to do it? She imagined the judgement from their mother and Camilla. Saying goodbye to the security and the kudos of working for Joet et Halo. But looking at Flick, her face still trained towards the sun, she thought maybe she could.

  ‘You’re a writer? And a lawyer?’ Phoebe had imagined Flick as a professional sportsperson, with her athletic physique.

  ‘Worked in child protection for many years. The kind of job that can burn you out.’

  Phoebe felt an intense shame mixed, strangely, with envy. Her own job was so vacuous, so pointless compared to what Flick had dedicated her life to. Phoebe had got the marks to study law, and had contemplated it seriously, but the women of her family were all so creative. She’d spent her whole working life attempting to be like them, without a thought to what was actually important to her. ‘Why did you leave? Was it the chronic fatigue?’

  ‘That, and disillusionment. It was rewarding but heartbreaking too, because you don’t always get justice. Things aren’t always fair. It’s hard to handle, especially when kids are involved.’

  Phoebe shook her head. ‘I can imagine. Can I ask you something weird?’

  ‘Sure, I’ve seen some weirdness in my life, I can tell you.’

  ‘You must have been pretty good at reading people?’

  Flick shrugged. ‘Well, you could see the creeps a mile off. And believe me, there were a lot of those.’

  She shuddered, and Phoebe wondered what horrors Flick must have witnessed. It was no surprise her body had given up on her.

  ‘No, but I mean . . . did you ever read someone, read a situation wrong? Did you ever doubt your own judgement?’ asked Phoebe.

  Flick stretched her legs out and looked thoughtful. ‘I know what you mean. Like was there someone who I thought was guilty who was actually innocent, or vice versa?’

  Phoebe nodded.

  ‘Mainly, I think I was right. I’ve always had . . . my mum used to call it my “Flick-o-meter”. I’ve always been able to judge people pretty well.’

  Phoebe thought of Flick and Asha’s friendship. Maybe she had grossly misjudged Asha at the start.

  Flick turned to Phoebe and smiled warmly. ‘Take you, for example. You probably don’t see how amazing you are. You’re beautiful and smart, and always look incredibly put together, even if you’re wearing thongs. It’s infuriating.’ She laughed.

  Phoebe laughed too, flushed and confused. ‘Really?’ She shook her head. ‘You should see my sisters and my mum. I’ve always been the dag of the family.’

  ‘Wow, your sisters must be knock-outs.’

  Phoebe paused with the realisation she was still referring to her sisters in the plural. She felt vulnerability catch around her shoulders and she drew them inwards.

  Flick must have noticed because she hesitated. ‘Or, you don’t like talking about it?’

  Phoebe shook her head. ‘It’s not that. I just . . . I still say sisters, when now I have only one.’

  Flick remained quiet, allowing Phoebe to go on.

  ‘You know my sister committed suicide?’ Phoebe was shocked at how easily it slipped out of her mouth.

  Flick’s eyes flashed with sympathy, and she twitched her lips in the way Phoebe had noticed many people did when suicide was mentioned. It was almost like a suppressed grimace.

  ‘I did hear that,’ said Flick. ‘It’s so sad. I’m sorry.’

  ‘It was right here. Well, just up at the cottage’s jetty. It’s so weird saying that out loud.’

  ‘This place will always be special then, won’t it? In a sad way.’

  Phoebe nodded.

  ‘It must be so hard, knowing in retrospect that someone you were so close to was suffering, likely had a mental illness and you couldn’t help,’ said Flick.

  Phoebe bit her lip in frustration. ‘That’s the thing. I don’t think she did have a mental illness. I know the stats. I’ve read them for myself. Ninety per cent of suicide victims are mentally ill, but with Karin . . . I just . . . you know, I knew her. She was my best friend.’

  Saying it out loud made the spear of constant sadness twist a little harder in her chest and her voice wobbled. ‘I feel like no one else knew her quite like I did. We didn’t speak every day but that was because of proximity, and life, you know? But I still knew her. We still called each other every weekend. I knew what her week looked like. I knew what she was eating for dinner.’

  ‘That’s why you asked me if my instinct about someone was ever wrong. You have an instinct about your sister.’

  Phoebe felt her eyes prick with tears. ‘She was wise, you know, in that way some people are? They seem to get what the essence of life is and they’re more content because of that.’

  ‘Mmm. Maybe she was actually a really sensitive human being. I consider myself an HSP. Highly Sensitive Person. A lot of chronic fatigue sufferers and deep thinkers are.’

  ‘Yeah, I know what
you mean, and she was sensitive, but Karin also had this practical side to her. It kept her from dwelling on things too much, unlike me. It kept things simple. Well, I thought they were simple until what happened . . . happened.’

  ‘So, you’re left feeling like you never really knew her?’

  Phoebe shook her head and gazed out to the river. It was that still time, where the afternoon hovered on the cusp of dusk. ‘I don’t know. I spoke to Ginny, our neighbour, and she said some things about Karin that I didn’t know about and that really threw me. But Ginny didn’t think Karin was the type of person to take her own life, and deep down I don’t either. She cared so much about people, I just know she would never have wanted to put us all through this.’

  Wendy came up behind her and crouched, putting a warm hand on her bare shoulder. ‘Thinking about your sister?’ she asked softly.

  Phoebe smiled a sad but grateful smile. ‘I’m always thinking about my sister.’

  Flick squeezed her forearm.

  The Texan clapped behind them. ‘Righto. That’s what all you Aussies say, isn’t it? The barbecue is fired up. Who wants steak, who wants chicken? Is everyone having . . .’ He affected a bad Aussie accent. ‘Snags?’ and the sound of their laughter echoed across the water.

  Phoebe felt a pulse of uncertainty. At what point was she going to overstay her welcome? A few short days ago she couldn’t have imagined feeling so comfortable. But her place was just up the road. There was no reason to stay another night, or even for dinner. But she wanted to, desperately.

  ‘I should probably head back to my place,’ she said.

  Flick and Wendy both hooked their arms through hers.

  ‘We can walk back up together after dinner,’ said Wendy. ‘You’re part of our little community now,’ she said.

  ‘You are,’ said Flick, nudging shoulders.

  Phoebe felt a lump rising in her throat and she swallowed it down. ‘As long as it’s not too much trouble.’