Elegy

by Jane Abbott

  But the photo bothered him too, because the story was incomplete. He hadn’t made it to the shed that day in time to see what had happened, what the slut had seen to upset her; his timing had been less than perfect and now he had nothing to show for it. He had no proof. And he’d need proof to bring down Webster. Proof and time.

  His arm throbbed and he rubbed it again, wincing at the prick of those thousand pins –

  prick, prick, prick

  – as he reached for the printed photo. Stopping short to stare at his arm, which was bubbling, simmering, red lava on the boil, he watched in horror as his skin burst, pop, pop, whimpered in fear at the thick mess of maggots that wriggled and tangled and crawled out of him and spilled onto the floor. Oh God, get them out!

  Leaping up to stomp and grind them to a paste, Todd shook his arm wildly, brushing at the worms still clinging and gnawing.

  But they were legion.

  Woman’s mind

  Oft’ shifts her passions, like th’inconstant wind;

  Sudden she rages, like the troubled main,

  Now sinks the storm, and all is calm again.

  JOHN GAY, Dione

  XII

  Chris rode in the back of the car, overexcited and unbearable. Jenny’s father didn’t say much as they passed through the double gates and up the long drive to the small house staked by pines. He didn’t comment on the simplicity of the place or on its rough beauty. He’d been there before, so knew what to expect.

  At the time he hadn’t mentioned visiting Michael, who was a patient deserving the same confidentiality as any other, but perhaps it was Gabe’s invitation to lunch that had finally prompted Dr Lawson to break his oath and voice his concerns.

  ‘It was strange,’ he’d told Jenny the previous night. ‘He was comatose, though there was some resistance in his limbs when I lifted them. I thought it was drugs. Still do, to be honest – don’t look at me like that, Jenny. I should’ve taken a blood sample, but the family were too protective. I never saw Gabe. I do remember the girl watching me the whole time. She wouldn’t leave the room. Very odd. And later, when everyone started talking about him and that other boy, the one whose arm was broken, and that video – yes, I saw it; so did your mother – and then with all your behaviour … Well, you can understand, can’t you?’

  She could. Now she knew. This was something they shared, she and her dad, though they hadn’t yet talked about it. Not really. She and her mother had shouted and screamed and cried, but her father had said little, hanging his head, avoiding their eyes and their accusations, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was. He’d always been the one Jenny had talked to when she was down, when things went wrong. And he’d always known how to bring her mood up again, had always been the fun one, always ready with a joke and a laugh. It’d been a long time since Jenny had seen her father laugh.

  ‘Do you miss her?’ she asked him suddenly, and he glanced at her, surprised. ‘The woman you had the affair with, whatever-her-name-was. Do you miss her?’

  ‘Helen,’ he said, then frowned. ‘I don’t think this is the time, Jenny.’

  ‘Then when? Because I’m trying to understand too, Dad. Two years. I need … Just tell me, please? Do you miss her?’

  He bowed his head and rested his arms on his knees. ‘Yes, I miss her.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you stay with her? If you miss her then you must’ve loved her, which means you can’t love Mum any more.’

  ‘Oh, Jenny,’ he sighed. ‘You’re so young.’

  ‘I’m old enough to know that what you did was wrong.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you still love Mum?’

  He took his time, looking at the floor, at the fireplace and then at the door. ‘One day you’re going to meet someone special and you’ll fall in love. I’m not talking about all your teenage crushes; I’m talking about real love. Passionate, head-over-heels, soulmate love. It’s real, Jenny. It exists. You’ll want to spend every single moment with him. Or maybe her.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘Your heart will skip a beat every time you look at him. Every time you hear his voice, you’ll think you’ve never heard anything more wonderful. And every time you touch, it’ll feel just like that first time.’

  ‘Are you talking about Mum or her?’ she asked, dreading the answer.

  ‘Both.’

  ‘No. You can’t love someone like that and then love someone else the same way.’

  ‘Yes, you can, because after a while all that starts to fade. The love stays, the connection’s still there, but the rest?’ He shook his head. ‘You’re under pressure at work, the kids are sick, you’re tired and grumpy and worried, and it’s just this endless routine. And you don’t have time for it. You don’t have time to touch, and your heart doesn’t skip that beat.’

  Jenny stared at him. ‘I hope that never happens to me.’

  ‘I love your mother, Jenny. Of course I do. We have you and Chris and twenty-five years of memories. You don’t throw that away, not if you can help it. But –’ He broke off and shrugged.

  ‘But you don’t believe in monogamy.’

  He gave a crooked smile. ‘One person for everyone? No, I don’t believe in that.’

  She couldn’t look at him because she knew he was wrong. Hoped he was. And just because he couldn’t hack it, just because he’d given up hope, it didn’t excuse what he’d done. Other people – other couples – stayed together. Were they all too bored or tired or fed up to go looking for anyone else? Or were they actually happy? Maybe they understood how much effort they had to put in to make it work and weren’t too scared to try. She thought of her and Michael. And Michael and Caitlin. Yin and yang, Gabe had called them. Destined and fated, maybe cursed. If any of it was even true. But it was hard to know what was true any more.

  ‘So if you love her that much, why not throw all this away? Why leave her and not us?’ she asked. Why make us come all the way out here? she wondered.

  ‘Because at the time it seemed the right thing to do.’

  ‘And now?’

  He looked so miserable she thought he might cry. She’d never seen her father cry. She didn’t want to. ‘When your mother found out, Helen left me. I haven’t spoken to her since. But your mother didn’t believe it was over, so coming here – getting away from the city – was the compromise I agreed to.’

  ‘Except it hasn’t worked,’ Jenny said. All they’d done was spread the misery and the blame.

  ‘No, but give it time.’

  Hadn’t Gabe said the same thing? But how much time was enough? Stop making this all about you.

  ‘I’m sorry, Jenny. I’m sorry you found out this way and I’m sorry we took you away from your friends. Maybe it would’ve been easier for you to deal with in Melbourne, when they were around to help.’

  A few weeks earlier she would’ve agreed with him, but that was before Gabe had told her what she needed to hear, rather than what she wanted to. ‘And if you can’t make it work, what then? Was moving here all for nothing?’

  Her father sighed. ‘I hope not.’

  ‘Thank Christ that’s over,’ Jenny said, as she and Gabe stood by the house watching her father drive away. ‘I didn’t think they’d ever leave.’

  Gabe smiled. ‘Your dad’s all right. Just looking out for you.’

  ‘Is he? I’m so over everyone sticking their noses in. I’m over this place. I hate it.’

  He blinked. ‘Whoa. Someone forgot to take her happy pills this morning.’

  ‘Seriously, Gabe. Whoever called it Short Town was a freaking genius.’ He didn’t reply, and Jenny scuffed the gravel with her shoe before sighing. ‘I ran into Kylie and some of the others in town yesterday and they were awful. They kept going on about the party and you helping me, said someone had seen us at church on Sunday and then your bike at my place. Seems like everyone’s put two and two together and come up with five.’ At his blank look, she said, ‘Haven’t you heard? You and I are big news.’

  G
abe laughed. ‘So? They’re idiots and it’s not like it’s the first time. Probably won’t be the last.’

  ‘You don’t get it,’ she said. ‘You’re Gabe Webster. Everything you do is just fine, but it’s different for me. You’re a legend and I’m the slut.’

  ‘I thought you’d be used to that by now,’ he teased.

  Jenny didn’t laugh. And she hadn’t laughed the day before, when Kylie had jeered behind her on the high street, ‘Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Ping-Pong.’

  They’d grouped around Jenny, edging her to the shop window. It was the numbers game – three against one – and they were feeling safe. Sophie wasn’t there.

  ‘What’s wrong, Ping-Pong? Don’t recognise your own name?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Jenny asked, and wished she hadn’t.

  ‘You know, Michael, then Gabe, then Michael again. And now? Oh, whaddyaknow? It’s back to Gabe. What is it with you and the Websters, anyway?’

  ‘Mind your own business.’

  ‘No, you mind yours! I heard you copped it big time when your mum found out you’d been slagging all over town. You shouldn’t tell lies, Ping-Pong. People don’t like it.’

  ‘They don’t like bitches either,’ Jenny pointed out.

  ‘Or drunks,’ Kylie hissed, and the other girls laughed. She leaned forwards, all venom and spite. ‘You don’t belong here. You’re a slag from the city, with all your fancy I’m-better-than-the-rest-of-you crap. You’re not one of us and you never will be.’

  But if she’d thought Jenny would be upset about that, she had another think coming. Not one of them? What a relief! ‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ Jenny shot back, holding her own.

  Kylie smiled. ‘How about this then? We’ve got another bet running on how long Gabe gives you. A few weeks is his limit, but I’m guessing with you it won’t even be that long. So enjoy it while it lasts, Ping-Pong. ’Cause after that you’ll be on your own.’ And she’d walked away, her friends drifting in her wake like pond scum.

  Now, standing beside Gabe at the farm, so removed from it all, Jenny still couldn’t see anything to laugh about. ‘It’s pathetic,’ she said. ‘Don’t these people have anything better to do?’

  ‘Not really. Look, we’ve been living under the microscope for years. From the first moment Michael showed what he could do, and all of Cait’s weirdness, we’ve given them more to gossip about than anyone else. You’re an excuse, a new reason to talk. Before you, it was Scotty – you know, a ranga and gay? Christ, I’m surprised he didn’t top himself before they were done with him. And when Raj moved up here, he copped it big time because he’s Muslim. Then when there’s no fresh meat, they go back to picking on poor old Stodge again. I told you, take it slow and feel your way.’

  ‘I’m going snail pace, Gabe, and it’s still not working.’

  He didn’t agree or disagree, but his eyes narrowed. ‘Are you going to let this ruin our day? Because I really don’t want to spend the afternoon bitching about Short Town, so maybe I should take you home.’

  His sudden coldness was brutal. ‘No. I just … Okay, you’re right.’

  He smiled, and her fuss was forgiven. ‘Good. Come on, let’s see if Barb needs a hand.’ As they wandered back to the verandah, he elbowed her and grinned. ‘So, I’m a legend, huh?’

  She swatted his shoulder. ‘Don’t let it go to your head.’

  Jenny had been to the farm many times, but those visits had always revolved around Michael and the waterhole and, later, the shed. This was the first time she’d been inside the house, the first time she’d really been welcomed and accepted, and she had Gabe to thank for it. In fact, if she thought about it, she had Gabe to thank for her first visit too.

  Jim came in minutes before lunch was ready and didn’t say much. It was the first time Jenny had met him too, having only seen him from a distance once before. He was quiet and gruff and looked much older than she’d imagined, creased and worn. He and Gabe talked a bit, about farm stuff mostly, before he fell to silent chewing. Jenny watched Barb, trying to see any resemblance to Michael and finding none. He must have taken after his father, she decided. He and Caitlin never showed, and there was no talk of them either. It was almost as though they didn’t exist.

  After the table was cleared, Gabe handed Jenny a white puffer jacket and a pair of gumboots. ‘Put these on,’ he said. ‘You’ll wreck your shoes and it’s getting colder outside.’

  ‘Whose are they?’ she asked, pulling on the boots. They were a little big but comfortable enough.

  ‘Barb’s. She won’t mind. The jacket’s an old one of Cait’s. She doesn’t wear it any more.’

  Jen handed it back. ‘My coat’s pretty warm. Thanks, anyway.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. It’s just a jacket.’

  ‘Really, I’m fine. It’s not like I’m not used to it. It gets cold in Melbourne too,’ she told him.

  He shrugged and opened the screen door. ‘Not like here. But it’s your choice.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

  ‘Thought you might like to get a taste of farm life,’ Gabe said. ‘It’s not all riding bikes and swimming, you know.’

  They climbed into the ute and drove up to the biggest shed, where he slid the huge door aside. Jenny gasped. It was an Aladdin’s cave, every available space filled with tools and machinery, hoses, pipes, bits of metal, boxes and crates. A huge mower took up one corner, an old tractor rested by another door. Gabe’s road bike sat proudly along a wall. Workbenches were studded with clamps and vices, and other motorbikes, some in parts, lined the other walls. Old tyres and lengths of timber filled the rafters, where tiny sparrows chittered and flitted.

  ‘Wow,’ she said. ‘How do you find anything in here?’

  ‘Easy, if you know where to look.’ He rummaged around the rows of shelves, selecting what he needed. ‘Grab that toolbox. No, the orange one.’

  They drove out through the paddocks until he finally pulled up to a large metal box resting on a small rise above a wide brown-water dam. It looked out of place on the wild, undulating land, as though it’d been left there by mistake. A couple of raised solar panels tilted their black faces to the sun.

  ‘Pump’s broken,’ Gabe explained. ‘It feeds the water to the troughs further up the hill. I hope it’s something simple and there’s not a kink in the line.’

  Jenny mumbled something, pretending she understood what he was talking about, and watched him pull back the pump’s cover. ‘How big is this place?’ she asked, and felt a faint surprise that she had never thought to ask Michael. What had they talked about? She couldn’t remember and that saddened her.

  ‘Nearly a couple of thousand acres,’ Gabe replied. ‘Not huge, but it’s the last of the big ones this close to town. Pete’s place is around five hundred, the McIntyres’ nine or so. The rest’ve been sold off and cut up. Anything too small and it’s hard to make a decent living off it.’

  ‘Must be worth a bit, then,’ she said, gazing around at the acres of space.

  He laughed. ‘Around here the bigger it is, the less it’s worth. Or the harder it is to sell, anyway. Costs a bundle to subdivide, and all those people coming up from the city aren’t looking to farm. They just want their small plots and their nice houses, their getaways from the rat race. It’s a shame in a way, but you can’t fight it.’

  ‘Will you take over from Jim?’

  ‘Always thought I might, but I reckon he’ll sell up before then. One of these days he’ll get an offer he can’t refuse.’

  ‘What will you do then?’

  Gabe lay on his back on the dirt, trying to get at something under the pump. ‘Buy my own place, I guess. Further out, though.’

  ‘Oh.’ Jenny couldn’t imagine moving any further out. ‘You love it here, don’t you?’ she asked him. ‘Living in the country, the whole farm thing? Michael never seemed to care too much, but you really love it.’

  ‘What’s not to love? It’s not the easiest work, bu
t I’d rather this than a town job any day. And the world’s always going to need farmers.’

  ‘The simple life, huh?’ she joked.

  He cursed as the wrench slipped. ‘I’m a pretty simple guy, Jen. Fresh air, cold beer, plenty of sex –’ She nudged his thigh with Barb’s boot, and he laughed. ‘Seriously, you should try it sometime.’

  ‘Maybe I will, Gabe. I’ll send you a postcard.’

  Wriggling out from under the pump, he sat up and grinned. ‘Well, if it reads “Wish you were here”, I’ll know he’s not doing it right.’

  ‘Funny guy,’ she said, and toed him again, harder.

  ‘Hand me that screwdriver, will you? Phillips head, blue handle.’

  She gave it to him and he ducked down again. His jacket and shirt rode up and she saw the line of darker hair on his stomach arrowing down into his jeans. She’d seen him wear less, at the waterhole, but then she’d been too busy looking at Michael to pay much attention. Now she stared, remembering Gabe’s wide chest and muscles and, feeling herself blush like an idiot, thankful he couldn’t see her, she searched for something to distract her. ‘So where are they?’

  ‘Who?’ he grunted.

  ‘Michael and Caitlin. How come they’re not around?’

  ‘Jim’s got them putting up fences. Been at it most of the week. At first I thought it was a stupid idea, throwing them together to sort out their shit, but I think it’s actually worked. Good ol’ Jim, eh?’

  Yeah, good old Jim, she thought morosely.

  ‘I reckon they’re cheating, though,’ Gabe continued. ‘They don’t look like they’ve been working too hard.’