Wood Green

by Sean Rabin

  He stood up and stretched. His back was sore and his eyes felt tired. He knew he probably needed glasses, but a visit to the optometrist would have to wait until he had more time. In the hall he listened for the plod of Lucian passing through the house like a sleepwalker. When he heard only silence, Michael peeked inside Lucian’s bedroom and found him dozing in the chair beside the window. The blanket that usually lived on top of Lucian’s bed was soaking in a bucket, so Michael searched around for the old dressing gown that Lucian was so fond of wearing. He found it hanging on the back of the bedroom door, in front of an old photograph that he had never noticed before. He draped the dressing gown over Lucian’s lap then carried the picture to the hall. It was the first he had found in the house that featured a face he recognised, but it was not Lucian he saw in the middle of the five uniformed men standing arm in arm on the streets of Saigon. The face staring back with a cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth was his own. Michael rushed to the bathroom and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Then the photograph. The mirror. Then the photograph. It was uncanny. A thinner version to be sure, but it was unmistakably his face.

  89.

  Penny tapped the bell to announce that two lunches were ready to be picked up, and waited for Paul at the service counter. Why do you think I would do something like that?

  Paul inspected the plates as if he needed to check Penny’s work before he served it to his customers. It just seems strange to me, that’s all.

  You think I have that much influence in this town?

  Paul rearranged a lettuce leaf then carried the plates into the pub.

  Penny started to pack up the kitchen while she waited for Paul to return and finish the argument that had begun as soon as she arrived at work. Penny had not suspected anything was wrong. Matthew was back at school, over his small cold, her car had started on its second try, and Mrs Harding had finally agreed to call a plumber to fix the dripping taps in the bathroom. All was right with the world. Then bam! The moment Paul walked downstairs he had started levelling accusations at her about trying to ruin his life and destroy his happiness.

  What are you talking about? asked Penny.

  Don’t pretend you don’t know.

  Actually, I really don’t.

  I told you he wouldn’t hit me again and he hasn’t.

  So this is about Carl?

  Of course it is. He’s quickly going broke because of you.

  What have I got to do with it?

  Because you told everyone in Wood Green not to shop at the general store, didn’t you.

  No. Of course not.

  Don’t lie to me Penny, you’re no good at it.

  Paul, I never said a word to anyone. And why are you being so rude to me?

  Because if you don’t stop it he’s going to leave and I’m going to be alone again on this bloody mountain.

  I’m not doing or saying anything. What happens at the general store has nothing to do with me.

  Then why is no one shopping there anymore? Tell me that.

  I have no idea. I bought some butter from Carl just yesterday. And I see people going in there all the time.

  Not as many as before though. You’ll have to admit that.

  How should I know? I’m not sitting around watching who goes in and out.

  Carl says that some days he’s not even close to covering his costs.

  Well he’s got to give it time. It’s only been a few weeks.

  Still, it doesn’t make any sense. And if I find out you’re telling people not to shop there I’ll…

  You’ll what?

  Jesus, said Paul as he turned and walked into the pub. You’re supposed to be my best friend.

  And you’re supposed to be mine, she called after him.

  The tension between the two of them persisted all day, and as a result Paul poured beer with either too much head or too little, while Penny cooked as if it were just a job. Only when the last plates from lunch were going through the dishwasher did Paul return to the kitchen.

  I’m sorry for talking to you that way, he said. I don’t want to fight anymore.

  Penny stood with her arms folded, leaning against the sink, refusing to speak.

  It’s just that Carl said he thought it was strange how so few people were coming in, even for things like bread and milk. And I remembered what you said that time he hurt my eye, about sending him bankrupt, and I guess I just put two and two together and got five. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise.

  Penny could see how Paul was suffering. You’re in love with him, aren’t you?

  Paul shrugged. I suppose. I feel like rubbish most of the time, I can’t pour a beer to save my life, I’m yelling at my best friend, and I’m imagining things that aren’t real. Yep, I’d say I’m in love. Either that or going crazy.

  It’s often a fine line.

  I always thought it was supposed to make you happy.

  That’s just the marketing.

  Paul nodded. He didn’t know what else to say but still wanted to talk.

  There’s nothing you can do, said Penny. If Carl can’t make the general store work then it’s not your fault…or mine for that matter. He wouldn’t be the first. You of all people know how many owners it’s had. And Tim and Maureen were the best. Carl can’t expect it to be the same straight away. It took them years to get it right. Remember what it was like when they first arrived?

  Paul shook his head.

  Well I do. And they had each other to share the load. Carl is on his own. Of course he has you, but you’ve got your own business to run.

  He’s tried to find someone to work part time, but he says there’s no one around here who wants a job.

  Well that doesn’t sound right, does it? This is Tasmania. There are always people who need work.

  That’s what I said.

  What’s he offering for wages? The people I know who need a job are not school kids looking for extra pocket money.

  Yeah but he’s just starting out. He can’t afford to pay top money.

  I don’t think anyone around here would be expecting anything more than fair wages. It’s what you’ve always paid me. We’ve not been put on earth for Carl’s benefit.

  I know, I know. But I can’t help feeling that people are ganging up on him. They’re such a closed-minded bunch in this town. They never like anyone new. Least of all some poof from South Africa.

  Penny put away the last of the plates and threw her apron in the laundry bag. I don’t know anything about that. But I do know they’ve never had a problem with their publican being gay.

  90.

  Try to eat a little more if you can.

  Lucian shook his head. He was sitting on his couch in the sunroom watching the wind bend trees and scatter leaves across the backyard.

  Michael finished his own bowl of pasta then carried the dishes to the sink. Are you warm enough?

  Yes, thank you. Don’t let me keep you from your work. I’m perfectly happy sitting here.

  It’s okay. I’m pretty much done for the day.

  So early?

  I’ve been doing extra work at night.

  Yes, I suppose I’m not a very exciting companion to live with these days. Early to bed. No appetite. And sleepy as soon as I wake up.

  Shall I put some music on?

  Not at the moment. I’m enjoying listening to wind blow down the chimney.

  Would you mind if we talked a little?

  Not at all. What would you like to talk about?

  I’ve found something, and I don’t quite understand what it is.

  May I see it?

  Michael returned to the sunroom with the photograph he had discovered on the back of Lucian’s bedroom door.

  The author’s thumbs caressed the frame as he stared and smiled and muttered that he could never bring himself to get rid of this one.

  What do you mean?

  Lucian held up a finger, briefly closed his eyes, then pointed to each of the five faces.
Bill, Nick, Lucian, Frank and Jerry. How’s that for a memory. More than forty years on and I still know their names.

  Had Michael not been preoccupied with another matter he would have been impressed. You say that’s you in the middle there?

  Of course it is. Well an earlier version of me. Who else could it be?

  You don’t think there’s a resemblance with anyone else?

  Who do you have in mind?

  Well, me, for instance?

  Lucian glanced back and forth between Michael and the photograph. I can see that. But I’d be worried if there wasn’t by this stage.

  Sorry?

  You’re already at least twenty-eight, if not thirty.

  I’m thirty-four actually. But what has that got to do with it?

  Here, you should put this in the garbage.

  Michael suspected that Lucian was slipping into another episode of confusion.

  Maybe I’ll keep it a little while longer.

  You can’t stop what’s happening, so why try? he said as he handed back the photograph. That’s what all of us have been told right from the very first one.

  The first what?

  Lucian of course.

  I thought you were Lucian?

  I am.

  Maybe it’s time you had a lie down.

  There’ll be plenty of time for that soon enough. You need to listen to what I’m trying to tell you.

  Okay. But perhaps you should rest first.

  Put that photo in the garbage. It’ll only confuse matters. I can tell you everything you need to know. There’s no need to go snooping and digging. Nothing has been hidden from you. What would be the point of that?

  All right, don’t get upset. This is nothing important.

  Upset? Of course I’m upset. No one wants it to end. Especially after so much effort. In 1992 this moment seemed like a lifetime away. But twenty years feels pretty short when you’re at the end of it. Do me a favour and don’t waste your time like I did. Too much fooling around with women and drugs. Thought I had all the time in the world. But take the advice that was given to me when I was in your position. Buckle down. Do the work. It’s what all of us have been striving towards, and now it’s up to you to bring it home. I doubt there are going to be any more. And the rest of us have worked too hard for you to mess it up. You’re the closing chapter. If it’s going to work then you’ve got to come through for us. We need a strong finish, otherwise it’ll all have been for nothing.

  Bring what home? Who are these others you’re talking about?

  Lucian scrunched his face with impatience. Others. Others. Seventy-two, and the one you’re holding in your hand.

  Listen. You’re not making any sense. All I need is for you to tell me how I came to be in this photograph.

  But it’s not you.

  I thought you just said it was.

  No I didn’t. I said it was Lucian.

  91.

  1958 – On the morning of your first day at school you inform your teacher how unfair it is that Ursula is not allowed to attend with you. She has been crying, you say, as if no further evidence is necessary to prove the injustice of the situation. At lunchtime you walk the mile and a half home to tell Ursula that it will soon be over, and find her playing happily with your aunt. For a moment you feel betrayed, as if she has lied to you, or forgotten you, or simply replaced you. But then you feel relief that Ursula is going to be all right. You return to the playground and tell your teacher how your sister has stopped crying, and receive a smack with a ruler as punishment for leaving the school grounds. Ursula says she is never going to a school that gives out smacks, and your father insists the teacher did the right thing. Ursula declares that before she is sent to school she is going to run away and marry a king who will let her lock all the teachers in a dungeon and throw the key in the moat. Beneath the dinner table you hold Ursula’s hand to prevent her from growing too angry as it always makes your father angry as well. After dinner you describe the games you played, and the new friends you made. How the smack was not so hard. Certainly not as hard as Father’s. But Ursula insists she will never go to school, and if anyone tries to make her she will call the police and have them taken to jail. You lie down beside her and feel the anger pulsing through her limbs. You try to make her think of something else, tell her stories about your mother. The way she smelled of apricots, or the funny names she called you both. None of it is true. Your mother died when you were too young to remember anything about her. But the stories have become as real as any memories might be. Lying by her side is the only way to get Ursula to sleep when she is upset, and often you wake up next to her in the morning. Your father says it must stop. That soon it will be time for the pair of you to grow up. But until you depart for army training you remain the person Ursula says goodnight to last of all. And for weeks after you ship out she cannot sleep until she has rolled one of your shirts into a ball and placed it on the pillow beside her head.

  92.

  From the reading chair beside the bedroom window Michael watched Lucian’s eyes gradually close. It had been the same every day for the past two weeks, ever since Lucian had insisted he wanted nothing more than to stay in bed and listen to Michael read aloud from the notes he had written. Lucian said he had forgotten almost everything about his life. The places he had been. The people he had known. He wanted to be told what he had done with his time. And asked questions about the books with his name printed on them. Who were the women he had married? Had he been a good husband? And why were there no pictures of his children and grandchildren for him to look at? To Michael it felt as if their roles had been reversed. Instead of interviewing Lucian about his life, Lucian was interviewing him. And Michael was surprised at how many questions he could answer with authority. He realised that this was the moment for which he had been hired. The task he had spent months preparing for. To recount to Lucian the story of his life. The remarkable things he had achieved. And every day, at almost the same hour, Michael watched Lucian fall asleep with an expression of satisfaction on his face.

  93.

  Lucian lay perfectly still and covertly scanned the details of Michael’s face. Does he know? Does he even suspect? Has he noticed any irregularities? Surely he must have seen the hairs growing out of the pores at the end of his nose. The size of his ears increasing? I’d be surprised if he’d failed to notice something like that! Too busy writing perhaps. He’s clearly been bitten by the bug. And once you start down that road you can never turn back. Lucian closed his eye and listened to Michael reading the details of his life. It was intoxicating. Even the events from before 1992 were vivid in his mind. As real to Lucian as if he had actually been there. Was this how it had felt for the one who had listened to the first forty years? Or had the second Lucian suffered from a sense of regret? Of being short-changed? In the end did he judge the sacrifice as too great for what he had received in return? Lucian doubted it. He too had given up much, but knew he would do it all over again if offered the chance. Michael would be the same. He won’t try to fight it. He was born for a deal like this. Why else would he have agreed to come down here to take such a job? With no family or wife, what did he have to lose? A life of teaching books that other people had written? No, he wanted it. And who knows, being the last there was always a chance he might get more time than any of us. Imagine that? Living as Lucian for longer than twenty years. I thought for a minute it might be me. That somehow I had won the lottery. But no. There needs to be a fourth. There has always needed to be a fourth. Does he realise? Maybe I should tell him more. I can feel the time approaching. Faster than I expected. Perhaps it’s because he’s ready. I can hear it in his voice. Reading those details like he knows them by heart. As if they were already part of his bones. Maybe I should warn him? But if I don’t will it even matter? Won’t he just know? The same way I did? Or did I? Hard to remember that far back. Memory is flagging. Too many spliffs. Again Lucian partially opened an eye. I can see it’s already happening. He’s
lost some weight. Too late to change anything now. I wonder if he suspects? But wouldn’t he have asked? Hasn’t mentioned that photograph again. Stupid mistake not to throw it away. Sentimental old fool. Nearly spoiled everything. Can’t say I’m surprised he found it. I faintly recall doing something similar. All those clothes. Who could resist trying them on? Now I can’t even remember who that person was. The name has been completely erased from my mind. Naive to expect it to still be there. Lurking some place for me to find. An old portrait hidden in the attic. Once you break with your past like that you can’t go back. And why would you want to? Happy to be Lucian. Worth absolutely everything. Had a blast. Had a blast.

  94.

  Rachel closed the stall door and sat on the lid of the toilet as she scrolled through her phone messages and texts. They were having cake in the office to celebrate the intern’s engagement, and she refused to pretend it was cause for a celebration. Not that Rachel had met the groom to-be, but after hearing stories about his gym business; fast new car; how he had less than two per cent body fat, and an uncle on the local council, she felt sure she already knew what the world could expect from him. He would have that intern impregnated before the end of their honeymoon, after which she would be pressured into giving up her job and any chance of the career she had spent the past four years and $30,000 trying to achieve. All for the thrill of staying at home to take care of a child and its father. The same man who would likely start screwing around three months before the baby was born, if he wasn’t already. Then there would be a second baby almost straight away, if not twins, and at the same time his business hours would grow steadily longer, and his nights out with mates later and later. She would have suspicions, but only when he left his phone at home by accident would her fears be confirmed. And only then would she realise that the cake they had sliced and passed around the office had been full of ashes. The burnt remains of her wasted potential.