Lunch with a Soldier

by Derek Hansen

  Nothing happened.

  His torch failed!

  Billy spun around to grab the ladder and climb out when he realised there was no problem with the torch. The problem was with him. He still had his eyes shut. He froze, opened his eyes, but was still as blind as he’d been with them closed. The darkness was absolute. As quietly as he could he pressed his body back up against the wall, even though he knew his precautions were futile. He’d given away his position. There was no doubt at all in his mind where Grant had his rifle pointed. The only question was, would he use it?

  Billy sucked in air but had trouble forcing it down into his lungs. The bands around his chest made the effort painful. In an act as courageous as any he’d ever undertaken, he extended his arm again and depressed the button on his torch.

  His nightmare exploded into life.

  Billy opened his eyes expecting to see his veranda posts and hear the kelpie snoring under the steps. He couldn’t understand why the darkness was so absolute. It had happened before on nights when there’d been a heavy overcast and it had taken time for his eyes to adjust, but sooner or later the veranda posts always materialised, sometimes barely discernible but always there. Something else was wrong and it took him a moment to realise what it was. The silence. The absolute silence. That was wrong, very wrong. There was always some sound: wind, creaking boards, something contracting or expanding, something moving — a mouse or a rat. There was always something. Why couldn’t he see? Why couldn’t he hear? Where was he? Why couldn’t he remember going to bed? To Billy’s horror, memories slowly resurfaced and he fought the urge to throw up.

  Terror washed over him as remembered where he was, why he was there and what he had to do. He realised that he must have passed out, but for how long? Where was his torch? He felt about wildly with his hands, brushed something smooth and metal and grabbed it. He pointed it upwards. He needed to know the way out was still open, needed to know he hadn’t been buried. His finger pressed the button and relief flooded through his body. But there was another demon still to face because he had to be sure. He slowly turned the torch so that it pointed back along the tunnel.

  The rifle was in the same position, out of reach, and the hands were palm down. Only the face was different. But everything else was the same.

  Chapter Thirty

  ‘My God, Billy, are you all right?’

  The concern in Linda’s voice made him wonder whether something had happened to him and he hadn’t realised it.

  ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

  That was exactly what he had seen. A ghost he thought he’d buried long ago. He’d climbed out of the shaft and collapsed onto a heap of mullock alongside it, staring wide-eyed at the sky until both his heartbeat and breathing had slowed to something approaching normal. Lying there exhausted had reminded him of the times when he, Neil and Rodney had rested from their underground explorations on probably the same mullock heap, staring up at a blue sky without a single worry in the world. It had taken a couple of rollies to regather his wits.

  ‘How’s Rodney?’

  ‘Not good.’

  Rodney lay on his back on his bed, one side of the sheet stained with blood and Betadine antiseptic. Billy couldn’t tell if he was asleep, unconscious or had his eyes closed in pain. Linda had done her best and stuffed gauze into the wound in his side in an attempt to stem the blood loss and bound the dressing tightly with a crepe bandage. Even so, her efforts seemed hopelessly inadequate. Rodney’s breathing was worryingly shallow. His face was grey.

  ‘We’ve got to get him to hospital.’ Linda sat by his bed, holding his hand helplessly. ‘I don’t know what else to do.’

  ‘I’ll go ring the doctor.’

  ‘Where’s Grant?’

  Billy hesitated. So much depended on how she responded.

  ‘Grant is dead.’

  Her eyes widened in shock and she dropped Rodney’s hand back on the bed. She seemed lost for words. As though aware of Billy’s gaze she turned away from him, covered her face and started sobbing.

  ‘The roof of the shaft collapsed and fell on him. Maybe he accidentally kicked over one of the supports.’

  Or maybe — more likely — he triggered one of Rodney’s dad’s booby-traps but Billy didn’t want to think about that. All his focus was on Linda. He couldn’t tell whether she was crying from shock, a sense of loss or with relief. He waited for her to say something, anything, knowing that whatever she said could determine whether there was still hope for them.

  ‘It’s all my fault,’ she said eventually. Her voice was soft and full of remorse, or was it shame? Billy had to strain to hear her and couldn’t tell. She kept her face buried in her hands and wouldn’t look at him. ‘I should’ve signed straightaway.’

  Billy turned and walked out into the night. Yes, she should’ve signed straightaway. Grant would still be alive and so would Bella and Rodney wouldn’t be knocking on death’s door. The fresh air was a balm and the vastness of the sky a comfort. He flicked his torch on and headed for the trail that led back to Linda’s, already missing the company of his dog, missing the touch of the wet nose on his hand letting him know he wasn’t alone. It occurred to him that the trail hadn’t existed before Linda moved in and wondered how many times Rodney had walked over it. How many times had he worked on the garden? Was that often enough to make a trail? He thought of the way the trail fanned out in a delta where it reached the stony ridge above Linda’s and guessed that in daylight he’d find cigarette butts and marks where Rodney had sat or lain down to watch her go about her business. If he could possibly have managed a smile he would’ve. Rodney wasn’t a sneak or a Peeping Tom, but Billy suspected he was totally infatuated and had been for some time. How many women like Linda had ever given Rodney the time of day? How many had taken the time to talk to him, understand him and care about him? No wonder he’d rushed over so quickly after hearing the shot. But did Rodney know Linda any better than he did? Did either of them know Linda at all?

  Billy hung up Linda’s phone and walked wearily to the fridge. All the beer was gone. He made himself a mug of tea instead and slumped down at the table where only a few hours earlier he’d been in love and Linda had agreed to move in with him. It seemed a lifetime ago. He thought of the police sergeant down in Walgett, who’d listened incredulously to his story and was now waking up the doctor and the ambulance crew. How would the sergeant go at explaining what had happened? Even to him it all seemed unreal, improbable, more like the plot of a movie except that in movies everything ended happily and the good guy got off with the girl. He thought about walking back to Rodney’s to see if there was anything he could do for his little mate, but realised he’d be more help waiting down at Stony Creek Road to guide the police and ambulance. Christ Almighty, he wished that he was back on his own veranda with his feet up on the rail. There was so much to think about — and so much he didn’t dare think about. If he’d ever needed a white-out, he needed one now.

  He tried to gather his thoughts and project forward rather than backwards but too much had happened to let go easily. His mind pinballed from thought to thought. Rodney lay badly wounded. Bella lay dead right outside the screen door. And Grant lay dead and all but buried in the mine. Billy grimaced as his mind flooded with nightmarish memories and fears but also with questions that begged answers. Old mines were hellishly dangerous but why had the roof collapsed right then? Was it just bad ground or something else? Had Rodney or his dad removed the supports to use elsewhere? Did Grant knock over a support in his panic or did he fall victim to one of Rodney’s dad’s infamous booby-traps? In the end it didn’t matter. Grant was dead. And as far as he was concerned it didn’t matter what Grant had done or intended doing. Nobody deserved to be buried alive in that suffocating darkness. Just the thought made Billy’s hands shake and sweat bead on his forehead. He forced himself to his feet. He needed to go outside, to see the expanse of the sky again and feel the vastness of the outback. Besides, there were thing
s that had to be done.

  Realising that the police would probably want to see Bella’s corpse to substantiate that part of his story, he could do no more than make preparations for her burial. He covered her with a hessian bag, took a mattock from the shed and chipped a deep enough hole in the flinty soil to accommodate her body and allow a reasonable cover. He collected stones to place over her grave, not so much as a memorial but to prevent Rodney digging there. But then it occurred to him that Rodney might have no reason ever to dig there again or tend the garden. The house didn’t need a gardener if Linda didn’t need the house. And she didn’t. Not any more. She didn’t need the house and he had no idea whether she needed him, or ever had. Was the Linda who’d pledged her love and shared her bed already gone from him, and had she ever really existed? All he knew for sure was that her going would leave a far bigger hole in his life than the one she’d filled.

  He checked his watch. It was almost 1 am and time for him to drive down to Stony Creek Road to meet the police and the ambulance. He missed his dog.

  The ambulance left with Rodney on board just on 2 am, with the intention of taking him directly to the hospital in Walgett. The police left shortly after, having decided that not much could be accomplished until daylight. The sergeant knew Billy well enough to know that he wasn’t given to lying and had no trouble with his story, particularly after Linda’s corroboration. But he was more accustomed to dealing with violent assaults, drunkenness and petty theft. Knowing that a more senior and experienced team would probably fly in from Sydney or drive up from Dubbo to investigate, he wanted his report to be both thorough and accurate so it would bring him credit not criticism and maybe even a transfer back east. He arranged to come back at nine when Billy could walk him through the chain of events from the time Grant first appeared at the flyscreen door.

  Billy drove Linda home in his ute but was unsure how to proceed once he’d got there. So much had occurred he wondered if they’d both benefit from a little breathing space. In the end Linda denied him choice.

  ‘Stay with me, Billy. Please.’ She put her hand on his arm as though to prevent him leaving. ‘Please,’ she repeated.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  Billy didn’t know how to answer.

  ‘Stop it! Don’t do this to me, Billy.’ Linda’s voice was weak from weariness but there was no doubting her desperation. ‘Don’t you think Grant’s hurt me enough? Don’t let him take you away from me as well.’

  Billy got out of the ute and walked around to her side. When he opened her door she fell into his arms.

  ‘Hold me. Please, Billy.’

  Billy held her but without conviction. Linda began crying softly.

  ‘Let’s go,’ said Billy. ‘We can talk better up at the house.’

  Halfway up the drive Linda gave in to her weariness and despair. Billy handed her his torch and carried her the rest of the way. She buried her face into his shoulder and kept it there as he climbed onto the veranda and stepped over Bella. He put her down gently beside the table. For some reason he wanted her sitting in the same chair, with everything the same as it was before Grant had appeared. ‘I’ll make you a cuppa.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Linda slumped in the chair, put her elbows on the table and buried her head in her hands.

  Billy put water in the kettle and switched it on. Doing something stopped him from thinking. He put two heaped teaspoons of tea into the pot and took two mugs out of the cupboard. He looked under the sink and found an empty apricot jam tin that Linda had kept for him to use as an ashtray. Despite everything he felt a pang of regret. The washed and scrubbed tin was an act of affection from the Linda he used to know and hoped still existed. There was some cause for hope. She hadn’t mentioned the contracts or made any comments about recovering and destroying them. Then again, what would be the point? Under the circumstances, no court in the land would uphold them. He took the milk out of the fridge for his tea and cut a slice of lemon for hers. There were questions that needed answering and he wanted the truth. One lie, one evasion, and not even prison walls could keep him there. He poured the tea and took both mugs out to the table. Linda looked up as he placed her mug in front of her.

  ‘Shoot,’ she said lifelessly. ‘Ask me anything you want, anything at all. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.’

  ‘I don’t know where to begin.’

  ‘Begin anywhere you like.’

  Billy reached into his shirt pocket for his tobacco and began to roll a cigarette. The familiar action gave him time to assemble his thoughts into some kind of order. The jam tin down by his feet was a reminder of what was at stake.

  ‘Tell me about your accountant.’

  ‘Al? I hope one day you’ll meet him, Billy. You’d like him. He’s been a tower of strength for me and, to be honest, I couldn’t have got by without him. Al’s one of my best friends, Billy, but he’s not my lover. Not now, and not for a long time. We did have an affair that lasted about three weeks when he first joined the company. He helped me so much I think I took him to bed out of gratitude, but that was no basis for a relationship. We were both relieved to get back to just being friends.’

  ‘And Dubbo?’

  ‘Purely business. Nothing personal, Billy, but I kept our meetings there a secret from everyone. I made no exceptions. It’s the only way to keep secrets. By the way, how did you know where I stayed?’

  ‘Jimmy told me. He saw you there, in the dining room.’

  ‘And you didn’t bother to tell me?’

  Billy shrugged.

  ‘Why, Billy?’

  ‘Maybe I was frightened of what you’d say.’

  Linda shook her head sadly at his lack of trust.

  ‘You had nothing to be frightened of.’

  ‘I’m sorry. What about the other things Grant said?’

  ‘You’re going to have to be more specific.’

  ‘Your ruthlessness and ambition.’

  Linda realised her tea was getting cold and took a couple of sips.

  ‘I’ve already told you about my ambitions, Billy, and my determination. They have limits, despite what Grant said. I’m not ruthless or heartless.’

  ‘That’s not the impression I got when Grant had his rifle pointed at me.’

  ‘I’m really sorry for that, Billy. I never thought for a moment that he’d shoot. He’s a bully but he’s not a killer. You’ve got to understand the effect his sudden appearance had on me. Just seeing him brought the whole nightmare back. He could have come through the screen door holding flowers instead of the rifle and I still would have been quaking in my boots. He’s beaten me up, Billy, bashed me for no good reason other than that he was on a power trip and it made him feel good. He wanted an obedient, subservient, frightened little wife to wait on him and that’s what he turned me into. For years I had no idea what to expect when he walked in the front door. I never knew whether I’d get a kiss or a thump in the ear. Do you know what it’s like to live like that, Billy? Have you any idea what it’s like to live in fear?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Billy softly.

  ‘He’s a coward, Billy … was a coward. He’d taken everything from me — my self-respect, self-confidence, my notion of who and what I was — and he’d taken away all hope that things would ever change, ever be better. Just sitting there on the sofa, listening to him goading and taunting me, brought it all back. When he wanted me to sign so he could take my company away as well, something inside me just snapped. I decided it was time to make a stand. I’ve never been able to defy him, Billy, never stood up to him before, and you have no idea how much courage it took. When he pointed his rifle at you and threatened to shoot you, I nearly died.’

  ‘You nearly died?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Billy. Perhaps I wasn’t thinking very rationally; in fact, I almost certainly wasn’t. All I knew was that I was never going to give in to him again and I was certain, absolutely certain, that he didn’t have the guts to shoot you. At that p
oint I didn’t care if he turned the rifle on me. But I didn’t even expect that. I thought he’d just hit me again, like he always did. I never thought, never imagined for an instant, that he’d pull the trigger and shoot poor Bella. Oh, Billy, if I’d thought that would happen I’d have signed. I’d have signed anything. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Is there any truth in anything Grant said?’

  Linda bowed her head.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I lied, Billy. I did lie in court, just like he said. I broke my collarbone and cut my head exactly the way he described.’

  ‘You lied in court? Christ Almighty! No wonder you came up here to hide.’

  ‘Hear me out, Billy. I lied to get even with him. I lied to get even with him for bashing me, for humiliating me with his affair with Sharna and for causing her death. I lied first to the police and then the lie took on a life of its own. I thought maybe I’d retract in court, once it was clear that Grant would pay for what he’d done, but then his barrister twisted the truth and blamed all of Sharna’s bruises on her clumsiness. Yes, she was accident-prone. She was headstrong and impetuous. She never walked where she could rush, but it was ludicrous to suggest she caused herself all those injuries. He bashed her, Billy, just like he bashed me. He bashed her and caused her to hit her head. He caused her death. All along the prosecutor maintained my evidence was crucial to gain a conviction. How could I change it? If I retracted my statement Grant would walk, and he deserved to be punished. I’m not proud of what I did, Billy. And I never thought for a second that Grant would get six years.’