The Last Road Trip

by Gareth Crocker

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘You haven’t asked him?’

  ‘Not lately. It’s really none of our business. If he wants to tell us, he will.’

  ‘Aren’t you at least curious? I mean what’s the big secret? Why Cape Town and why does he absolutely have to be there by New Year’s Day?’

  ‘Look, all I know is that he’s had this trip planned for over a year. Whatever’s in Cape Town is very important to him.’

  ‘Which makes it all the more intriguing. You don’t think that maybe he has a … uh … you know?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well … like a … child maybe?’

  Elizabeth pulled a face. ‘Oh come on, Rosie. There’s no chance of that.’

  ‘Hold on. Just think about it for a minute. How much do we really know about the early part of Jack’s life? He was a journalist before he got into publishing. He would’ve travelled a fair amount. He could’ve had a child with another woman years ago. Before he even met Grace.’

  ‘If Jack had a child, that person would be the centre of his life. I’d bet anything on it. Anything. There’s no way he’d be an absent father.’

  Rosie considered Elizabeth’s point and then conceded it. ‘You’re right. Then what else?’

  ‘I couldn’t even fathom a guess. And you shouldn’t even bother trying. Just forget about it. It’s Jack’s business. Just like Hopetown was yours.’

  ‘Touché,’ she replied, and then decided to change tack. ‘Lizzie?’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ she replied, unfolding a blouse. ‘Mind if I ask you a personal question?’

  ‘You always ask me personal questions.’

  ‘I know. But this one’s more personal than normal.’

  ‘It’s not about my fictional relationship with Jack, is it?’

  ‘No. You’re free to keep denying that all you like.’

  ‘Good. Then go ahead.’

  ‘Are you nervous about Sutherland? About going home?’

  The question caught Elizabeth off guard. She looked down into her lap and, as had become something of a tic of hers, smoothed out the creases in her creaseless skirt. ‘Honestly? Yes, I am.’

  ‘Is that why we’re staying here in Victoria West? To buy you some time?’

  Elizabeth nodded.

  ‘What are you so nervous about? Specifically, I mean.’

  There were a few ways Elizabeth could’ve answered the question. She went with her first thought. ‘Ghosts.’

  ‘Ghosts?’

  ‘I left home on very bad terms, Rosie. And I never got the chance to make up for it. I was never able to put things right. To tell my parents how sorry I was for the way things ended between us.’

  ‘We all have regrets.’

  ‘Not like this. I forced my parents to send me to Paris straight after I finished school. I was impossible. Had all sorts of stupid thoughts in my head. Completely self-absorbed. So staggeringly foolish, it beggars belief. All I cared about was getting away. And before I had a chance to grow up properly, to realise what I was doing, both my parents passed away in the space of a few months.’

  ‘Oh, Lizzie, I don’t think that—’

  ‘To tell you the truth I don’t even know why I’m going back. Maybe to punish myself.’

  Rosie considered that. ‘Was it a happy home when you were younger?’

  ‘More than happy. It was very special. Better than any child could’ve hoped for. I was extremely fortunate. Which makes what I did all the more unforgivable.’

  ‘Then maybe that’s part of the reason you’re going back.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘To reconnect with those memories of when you were young. To be able to touch and feel those times and places when everything was still good.’

  Elizabeth looked back at her friend and was suddenly struggling to draw breath. ‘I— I don’t know. Maybe there’s some truth in that. I just wish there was a way to atone for what I did. To tell my mother and father how sorry I am.’

  ‘Come on, Lizzie, even if you were half as bad as you claim you were – and I seriously doubt that – they know how sorry you are.’

  ‘Why? How would they know?’

  ‘Because they’re your parents and they obviously loved you a great deal. Nothing you could’ve done as a teenager would’ve changed that. Nothing.’

  Elizabeth whispered her response. ‘I broke their hearts when I left. I know I did.’

  ‘No, Lizzie. I don’t think so. What you’re doing now … this is what’s breaking their hearts.’

  ‘What—’

  ‘Put yourself in your mother’s position. How would you feel if you knew that your daughter had been torturing herself all these years? Wouldn’t that hurt you? Wouldn’t you want your daughter to be at peace? To know that she was forgiven? To know how much she was loved?’

  Elizabeth tried to absorb what Rosie was saying. ‘But I— I don’t think you can … you can’t really—’

  ‘Just think about it, Lizzie. Maybe it’s time to lay it all to rest? You need to start forgiving yourself.’

  Elizabeth stared up at her friend, quite unable to believe what she was hearing. She had never considered it from her parents’ perspective. At least not in this way. ‘How did you come up with that?’

  ‘I know.’ Rosie smiled. ‘I’m hugely insightful. What can I say? Fat people have superpowers.’

  Elizabeth stood up and embraced her. ‘All right, enough of this. We don’t want to ruin your make-up. You better hurry up and get dressed. Jack’s going to be here in like ten minutes.’

  Elizabeth wiped her cheeks. ‘Are you sure you and Sam don’t want to join us?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure. We’re both looking forward to an early night. This bloody heat’s exhausting. Enjoy your evening,’ she said, rising up and heading for the door. ‘And whatever happens tonight, Lizzie, please don’t do anything you’ll regret tomorrow.’

  ‘What are you—’

  ‘Don’t get yourself pregnant, is what I’m saying.’

  Elizabeth reached for a pillow and hurled it at Rosie. ‘Just get out of my room,’ she said, unable to suppress a smile. ‘There’s something very wrong with you.’

  Rosie ducked to avoid the pillow and then reached for the door.

  ‘Rosie.’

  She turned around. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She smiled and then offered her an exaggerated wink. ‘Second base. No further. You hear me?’

  Thirty-six

  Jack’s guidebook had offered up only a single sentence to describe the old movie theatre. It stated simply that Victoria West boasted a 1950s-style movie theatre that was popular among locals and tourists alike. This, Jack decided, was like describing Concorde as a pacey sort of aeroplane with a pointy bit at the front.

  As they stood out on the sidewalk, neither Jack nor Elizabeth seemed capable of conjuring up the words that would do justice to what they were looking at. The grand old theatre loomed over them like an immense jukebox, adorned with thick tubes of resplendent neon light. A fluorescent rainbow flickered in a timed sequence up to the theatre’s name – The Galaxy – which revealed itself in a starburst of dazzling silver and blue. The lights were so bright they glowed up into the night in a haze of colour, as if a Roswell-style spaceship had landed in the Karoo. The main sign was flanked by two smaller signs designed to carry the name of the film that was running that week.

  ‘Oh my word,’ Elizabeth said, pointing. ‘Look!’

  The left-hand panel read Welcome, Jack and Elizabeth. The right-hand panel carried the name of the film that was currently being featured.

  ‘Pretty Woman. That’s my …’ Elizabeth whispered.

  ‘Favourite film? Yes, I know. I’m incredible.’

  ‘Thank you, Jack,’ she said, kissing him on the cheek. ‘Thank you. This is wonderful.’

  ‘Don’t give me too much credit. I just chose the film. Wasn’t that difficult,’ he replied, enjoying the moment. ‘Than
ks for suggesting the detour.’

  Elizabeth returned her gaze to the theatre’s grand façade. ‘How can a place like this exist all the way out here?’

  ‘There’s more to this town than you know. Wait until I tell you about my afternoon.’

  She looked at him and waited for him to elaborate.

  ‘That’s for later. Let’s go inside.’

  As they pushed through a pair of freshly polished brass doors, Elizabeth felt her breath catch. The theatre’s reception area was adorned, floor to ceiling, with a plush navy pinstriped carpet – the sort that sucked the echo from a room. A chandelier hung beneath a black ceiling pinpricked with small silver globes, intended to resemble stars in the night sky. The left-hand side of the room was fitted with glossy wooden counters where patrons could buy their confectionery. Opposite was a glass ticket booth.

  ‘This is insane,’ Jack heard himself say.

  Dead ahead of them was a grand wooden staircase that led straight up to the black-and-gold theatre doors. The scent of warm popcorn danced with Dean Martin as he sang ‘Everybody Loves Somebody’.

  ‘Oh my God, Jack. Just look at this place.’

  There were so many things that competed for their attention. An old popcorn vending machine stood against one wall. Framed black-and-white movie posters were festooned across the room between old cigarette adverts. Jack’s gaze skipped to a pair of tall and grandiose marble lamps and a series of neon signs announcing that the theatre had Stereophonic Sound, The Best Features in all the World and that patrons were Welcome at the Galaxy Movie Palace.

  It took Jack a while to realise that they were completely alone in the theatre. Or at least that was what he thought, until a voice called out to him.

  ‘Evening, Jack. This must be Elizabeth. Welcome, both of you, to The Galaxy.’

  Jack turned and saw Henry sitting in a corner of the ticket booth. ‘Henry? Is that you?’

  ‘Indeed it is.’

  ‘Where’s the owner? Did he allow you to open for us? I’d really like to thank him personally. And you, of course. This place is unbelievable.’

  Henry strode out from behind the booth and bowed slightly in Elizabeth’s direction.

  Elizabeth nodded back at him. ‘I’m guessing that you’re looking at the owner, Jack. Good evening, Henry.’

  Henry smiled at once. ‘It’s true. Sorry I didn’t say anything earlier, Jack. I thought it would be fun to play it out this way.’

  Jack nodded and then shrugged to indicate that it was Henry’s prerogative to play it any way he damn well pleased. ‘You’re just full of surprises, Henry. Very well played, indeed. But how have you managed this?’

  ‘I can’t take much of the glory for it. My job here is simply to keep the old girl going. My father built The Galaxy from the ground up. It took him the better part of twenty years to complete. It was more than just his hobby. It was his pride and joy. After he passed, I stepped in and have been trying to keep the doors open ever since. As you might imagine, the place doesn’t make much money. In fact, I use what’s left of my father’s money to keep it going. I can only run the lights for an hour or so each night. You simply wouldn’t believe how much electricity it soaks up. But it’s worth it. This is a special place for me and for the town, I think. There’ll come a time when I’ll have to close the doors. But not yet. Not for another year or two, if I’m lucky.’

  Jack regarded Henry closely and could see how much it hurt him to acknowledge that The Galaxy was living on borrowed time.

  ‘If you don’t mind me asking, how did your father do it?’

  ‘He used to travel to America and England on business and, whenever he had the chance, he would find something from the old theatres to ship back home. The neon alone cost him an absolute fortune. I live in fear of it being destroyed by the town’s teenagers. If any of it gets damaged, I won’t be able to repair it. I just keep hoping it doesn’t happen.’

  ‘Henry, I don’t think I’ve ever set foot in something quite as extraordinary as this. It really is something else.’

  ‘That’s very good of you to say. Thank you, Jack.’

  ‘Are you expecting more customers tonight?’

  ‘Not at all, Elizabeth. Tonight is just for the two of you. And it’s The Galaxy’s great honour to screen your favourite film. I hope Jack got that right.’

  ‘Oh, he did,’ she nodded.

  Henry bowed his head again before glancing down at his watch. ‘We have a few minutes until the curtain goes up. How about a glass of wine?’

  Inside, the theatre was a vast and luxurious black chamber. Large curtains hung in front of the screen and on each of the walls – partly, Jack knew, to help with sound insulation, but also to add a further sense of drama to the room. The seats, numbering well over five hundred, in an upper and lower tier, were upholstered in ornate navy and silver cloth. Each chair was fitted with a swivel headrest and a smooth wooden tray that unfolded out of the armrest.

  ‘I can’t get my head around this place,’ Elizabeth said, as they took their seats. ‘Thank you for making this happen, Jack. I’ll never forget tonight.’

  ‘Neither will I,’ he replied. ‘It’s magical. It’s a pity Rosie and Sam decided not to join us.’

  Elizabeth nodded and then rested her head against his shoulder. Her mind flashed back to her conversation with Rosie. As much as she had refuted Rosie’s assertions, the truth was that she had been in love with Jack Everson for the better part of a year. But until this moment, she had never even considered saying anything to him. She knew how much he still loved and cherished his late wife, and she was determined to respect that.

  And yet, sitting beside him now, with her face pressed against his warm shoulder, her resolution faltered. ‘You’re a wonderful man, Jack,’ she murmured. ‘Thank you for bringing me on this trip.’

  Jack turned to her and kissed her gently on the forehead. ‘Thank you for coming, Lizzie. I couldn’t imagine any of this without you.’

  Feeling a warm glow spread through her face, Elizabeth was suddenly gripped by a deep yearning to tell him the truth. To let him know what was in her heart. The wine, combined with the enchanting setting, was stripping away her resolve to keep her feelings to herself. Before she even realised it, her lips had parted to speak. She had just whispered his name when the main curtain rolled up and sound boomed through the theatre.

  ‘What was that?’ Jack asked, turning to her.

  ‘Nothing,’ Elizabeth said, staring back at him. ‘Just looking forward to the film.’

  Thirty-seven

  The next morning at breakfast, after Jack had finished telling the story, there was a long pause before Elizabeth spoke. ‘I think that’s just about the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.’

  Rosie offered Jack a sideways look. ‘Christ, Jack.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I know it’s pretty heavy going first thing in the morning, but I wanted you all to know about it before we left.’

  ‘And this Klaus fellow took his life a couple days after the funeral?’ Sam asked.

  ‘According to Henry.’

  Jack then remembered about the suicide note and shared the missing detail with them. Elizabeth’s shoulders seemed to slump even further.

  ‘I’d like to see it. This tree man,’ Rosie said.

  ‘So would I.’

  Jack glanced over at Sam, who nodded back at him.

  ‘Actually, I was hoping you’d feel that way because I was thinking we could do one better. Henry tells me that every year he and a few of the townsfolk head out to the island to paint the tree man. And, well, as I saw yesterday, the fellow’s looking a little worse for wear. You know how strong the sun is down here.’

  ‘You want us to paint it?’

  ‘That’s what I was hoping, Lizzie. Before we head out this afternoon.’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied at once. ‘Yes.’

  Jack watched as both Rosie and Sam nodded their agreement.

  ‘Wonderful. Because Henry’s al
ready offered to take us. He has a small boat.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Actually, Sam, the paint’s already in the car. I was thinking we could go out now.’

  ‘That’s our Jack,’ Rosie said, draining the last of her coffee. ‘Always one step ahead of us, and always on a crusade.’

  ‘I don’t think this quite qualifies as a crusade.’

  ‘Oh come on, Jack. We’re even boarding a boat for this one. We should all be wearing tunics and blue paint on our faces. Maybe one of those helmets shaped like a nineteenth-century postbox,’ she said, and then added: ‘When you think about it, we’re like Pensioner Vikings.’

  ‘And she’s back,’ Jack smiled.

  An hour later, they were standing in the thick mud on the edge of the island, staring up at Klaus’s extraordinary creation. Now that Jack knew the story behind it, it seemed even bigger than before.

  ‘He did this on his own? In a couple of days?’

  Henry turned to look at Rosie. ‘We’re still trying to work out how he managed it.’

  ‘The scale of it,’ Elizabeth whispered. ‘It’s so tall.’

  ‘We think he used some kind of rope pulley system. He was a very clever man. Built his farm pretty much by himself.’

  Pilot stared up at the tree man, barked softly, and then began to wag his tail. Jack leaned over and stroked the Labrador’s neck.

  ‘I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose a child,’ Elizabeth replied.

  Picking up on the significance of her words, Jack glanced across at Sam, who was gazing at the sky.

  They spent the next few minutes inspecting the structure, absorbing it, alone with their thoughts. As thin wisps of cloud wafted in overhead, they created the illusion that the tree man was slowly moving, trying to march his way off the island. As if in search of the little girl he had failed to keep safe.

  Henry nodded and then clapped his hands together. ‘Well, we should probably get started. Before it gets too hot.’

  ‘I’ll start unloading the equipment,’ Jack offered, and headed for the boat.