Purple Roads

by Fleur McDonald

It was a comfort knowing that Anna was so loyal to him and tried to do all the things that kept him happy. Matt struggled to remember when he told Anna last how much he appreciated her, even though her attitude towards his quest to find the thieves annoyed him. He couldn’t remember the last time. He would have to do it tonight.

  Forcing himself to get out of the car, he mustered a smile as he flung open the front door.

  ‘Hi guys, I’m home!’ he called.

  Anna ran out from the laundry.

  ‘Hi!’ She reached up to give him a kiss. ‘Good trip?’

  Matt nodded as he dropped his bag. ‘Where’s Ella?’

  ‘Asleep - she’s had a big day at Grandma’s house.’

  ‘She’s been at Mum’s? Why?’

  ‘Kate and I went to the races in Clare.’

  Gazing at his wife in surprise, Matt realised that even though she was wearing shorts and a baggy old T-shirt, she had makeup on and her hair was up. How pretty and young she looked, he thought. How untouched by their misfortune.

  ‘Matt.’ Anna touched his arm and it took all his willpower not to draw away. She really had got on with her life, it seemed, while he was still hurting. Had they really grown so far apart?

  ‘Matt, Kate and I saw Alec Harper at the races.’

  Matt swallowed. ‘So?’ he asked. Turning away, he picked up his bag and headed towards the bedroom.

  ‘He had Jasper with him.’

  Matt stopped. Was she trying to hurt him with the reminder? Surely she wouldn’t be that cruel. ‘So what, Anna? He’s not my dog anymore.’

  ‘Well, actually, he is.’

  ‘What?’ He spun around to face her.

  ‘Kate and I took him off the back of Alec Harper’s ute.’

  Matt stared at his wife as if she’d gone mad. ‘You took him from Harper’s ute? You mean you stole him?’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t say stole, more like took him for his own good. Matt, you’ve got to come see him,’ Anna said urgently. ‘Alec was by the track flashing his money around while poor Jasper was tied up in the sun on the back of the ute. He’s been hitting him, I’m sure of it - he cringed when I patted him. His feet have sores all over them. I took him to the vet and got some cream, but he needs lots of rest and -’ ‘Well he won’t be getting it here.You have to take him back, Anna. What were you thinking, stealing someone else’s dog?’

  ‘Didn’t you hear me?’Anna demanded.‘He’s being mistreated. He needs us and he’s in our laundry now. He knew me, Matt - as soon as he heard my voice his ears pricked up and he just about wagged his tail off.’ Anna was pleading now, but Matt was having none of it.

  ‘No, Anna. Take him back. Take him back now.’ There was a pause as he looked at his wife and wondered if he really knew her. ‘I’m going for a shower.’ He went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Sinking onto the floor, he sat with his head in his hands. He half hoped Anna would follow him; he could start a fight then, yell at her, rant and scream. Maybe it would make him feel better.

  Then he heard the front door slam, making the window above the basin rattle. Anna was gone.

  Slowly he rose up and turned on the taps. Stripping down, he could see the change in his body. He’d gone from being trim and muscled to slightly flabby. Roadhouse food and lots of time spent sitting still would do that. The V-shaped tan on his neck had faded and instead of both arms being tanned now it was just his right, the one that rested on the door of the truck as he drove. He was a truckie not a farmer. It used to be that he was tired from the daily physical activity - the burn of his muscles when he lifted something too heavy or the fatigue after a hard day in the sheep yards. Now he was just tired; it was easier to sleep and not think than it was to live this half-life. He found himself missing the smallest things - his hand straying down to pat his loyal mate; running a wire along a fence and feeling the heaviness of the wire strainers in his hand; the smell of rain; driving to his favourite spot and watching the sun set.

  Matt stood under the hot water and concentrated on the hard jets of burning water hitting his face and chest. But his thoughts kept straying to Jasper. Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore. He dried himself, got dressed and went to the laundry door.

  ‘Jasper?’ he said quietly.

  He heard the thump of a tail and pushed open the door.

  Jasper whined with pleasure at the sight of his old master. He tried to jump up, but was hindered by his sore feet. Matt dropped to the floor, his arm around the warm body.

  ‘Jasper,’ he muttered, burying his face in the dog’s rough coat. As he stroked Jasper’s head and fondled his ears, Matt realised how much he’d missed him. How much he needed him.

  ‘What’s he done to you, hey?’ Matt asked softly. ‘Sit, boy. Let me look at you.’ Matt ran his hands over Jasper’s body. He could feel a lump over the rib cage, which hadn’t been there before. When he probed the area, Jasper whimpered. Broken rib.Too skinny.

  ‘Anna was right, wasn’t she? He’s been hitting you, old mate.’

  Jasper thumped his tail. His tongue hung out of his mouth and he seemed to be smiling. Matt smiled. ‘Yeah, buddy, I’ve missed you too. But I have to give you back. You were sold.’

  As if Jasper understood Matt’s words, he slumped to the ground. With a huge sigh, he put his head on his paws and moved his eyes to look up at Matt.

  Master and dog sat together for a while, then Matt heaved himself up, went out to the hall and pulled out the phone book. He found Alec’s phone number, dialled and listened to it ring and ring. He almost hung up; at least he could tell himself he’d tried to return Jasper.

  ‘Hello?’

  Caught off guard, Matt cleared his throat. ‘Uh, hello? Is that Alec Harper?’

  ‘Yes.’ The voice was cold and unfriendly.

  ‘Um, Alec, it’s Matt Butler calling.’

  ‘Yes?’ He was impatient now.

  ‘I’ve got my - uh, your dog here. He -’

  ‘How the hell did you get him? He went missing at the races. I assumed someone had stolen him.’ His anger crackled down the wire.

  ‘I’m not sure how my wife came across him. I guess she found him on the road.’

  ‘Bullshit. He was chained in the back of the ute. I saw your wife at the races today – she must have taken him. As far as I’m concerned, this is a matter for the police.’

  Matt frowned. ‘I don’t think so, Alec,’ he said evenly.‘If my wife did take him from the back of your ute – which I’m sure she didn’t – I think Jasper’s injuries speak for themselves. I will return him to you, because a deal’s a deal, but let me tell you this: if I see Jasper in this condition again, I’ll report you to the RSPCA.’

  ‘Report me? Piss off. I expect you to return the mongrel today.’ He hung up.

  ‘Shit.’ Matt slammed the receiver back into the cradle, breathing heavily. ‘Why did I go and bloody ring him?’ His hands clenched into fists.

  The door opened and Anna came in, pushing Ella in her pram.

  ‘Daddy!’ The little girl clapped her hands.

  ‘Hello, baby girl!’ he said, then murmured to Anna in an undertone, ‘Jasper is Alec’s now. He bought him. You should have just let it be.’

  ‘Let it be? He’s your friend, Matt! You can’t let him be treated like this.’

  ‘I’ve already rung Alec.’

  Anna’s hands flew to her face.‘You haven’t! Matt, why?’

  ‘He has to go back.’ Matt turned away.‘I don’t like it any more than you do, but don’t you see? If I don’t give him back, it makes me no better than whoever stole our fertiliser.’ Looking over his shoulder he saw the telltale redness in Anna’s eyes. He sighed, put his arm around her and squeezed her gently. Then he went to the laundry and called Jasper, who followed him to the ute.‘I’ll be gone a while,’ he told her.

  He left Jasper chained to his kennel near Alec’s house without bothering to go in and make his presence known to the dog’s owner. It was hard enough to be leaving hi
s dog behind, but to be treading on soil that had once been his was messing with his head. Jasper watched him go, his tail drooping. Matt knew the dog wouldn’t understand why his old boss was leaving him behind or that his tears had overflowed as he drove away.

  Entering the pub, Matt walked straight up to the bar and ordered a Coke.

  ‘One Coke coming up,’ Joe said and pulled out a glass.

  ‘Oh, make it a beer, Joe – a bitter, please. Only got to walk across the road, don’t I?’

  Matt sat at the end of the bar, his back against the wall, and sipped his beer slowly. Joe didn’t try to talk to him, and neither did the two old blokes staring at the TV screen fixed to the wall.

  As the pub started to fill, Matt ordered another beer and tried not to think about Jasper, but the more he tried not to, the more memories of Jasper wormed their way into his mind. The good things they’d done together, the companionship.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to see Sam. His face coloured as he remembered the way he spoke to his friend the last time he saw him.

  ‘G’day, Matt,’ Sam said.

  ‘Sam,’ he said, nodding to hide his discomfort. ‘Beer? I’m just about to get another one.’

  ‘That would be great. How’re Anna and Ella?’

  ‘Fine. All good.’ Matt held out a ten-dollar note to catch the publican’s attention. When he did, he asked for two middies.

  Joe lined them up, Matt took them and held one out to Sam. ‘I’m sorry . . .’

  Sam held up his hand. ‘Doesn’t matter, mate. It’s forgotten. All I want to say about that is try not to be too hard on Anna. She’s a huge support, even if you don’t realise it now. So tell me, what’s been happening?’

  Pleased not to have to dwell on their last meeting and trying to put Jasper to the back of his mind, Matt found himself telling Sam about his last trip away. When he had finished he knew there was no other way around it. He had to ask Sam about the farm.

  ‘All good out there,’ Sam replied. ‘We’re cleaning out a few dams and catchments while we’re waiting for the opening rains. Anyway, look, I’d better make a move. Kate will string me up if I’m late home tonight.’

  ‘No worries, mate.’

  Sam clapped him on the shoulder. ‘It’s good to see you out and about again.’

  ‘Nothing better than one off the wood,’ Matt joked, raising his glass. He had to hide that he felt on the inside like crying. Matt ordered another beer and looked around for someone else to talk to. He needed to keep his mind busy and he didn’t want to go home just yet.The pub was filled with raucous laughter and people lined up at the bar.

  Mark Chambers, a merino stud breeder, brushed past him and accidentally spilled the beer onto Matt’s shirt.

  ‘Ah shit, sorry, mate,’ said Mark. ‘Oh, g’day, Matt. I’ve been thinking about ringing you.’

  Matt couldn’t think why so he just waited for him to continue talking.

  ‘I know you had that fertiliser nicked a while back and I heard you didn’t get much help from the cops.’

  Matt stiffened and tried to move away. This was the whole reason he had avoided everyone for so long.Then Mark rushed on and Matt got the message that Mark was just as apprehensive about discussing the incident as he was.

  ‘I wanted to let you know that I had ten bales of top-quality wool taken from my shearing shed about three weeks ago. The best wool I’ve ever grown! It left me feeling pretty crook, so I can only imagine how you’d be feeling. Ah, hell, I’m not saying this right.’ Mark ran his fingers through his hair as words tumbled from his mouth. ‘The cops haven’t been that helpful to us and I thought you should know that you’re not on your own. I’d better get going, looks like our crew are going in for tea.’ Mark turned away.

  ‘Wait a second, Mark.’ Matt found his voice. ‘When was this?’ He felt in his back pocket for a little notebook and a pen.

  Mark frowned a little. ‘The exact date?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Oh I think I noticed it on Australia Day. No, it was the day after. We’d spent Australia Day in Wallaroo with friends and two days later I had to go to Adelaide for a meeting, so I was going to take the bales down on my truck. I went to load them the day after Australia Day, but I was ten bales short.’

  ‘Who else knew that you’d been shearing other than the contractor?’

  Mark shrugged. ‘Anyone could have known. Julie could have told her friends, I’d have told mine, the shearers could have told theirs!’

  Matt thought for a moment. ‘Did you notice anything strange around the farm before it happened? Like, oh I don’t know, a car you didn’t know or did any strangers knock on your door?’

  Mark was shaking his head slowly.‘Nope, nothing like that.’

  Matt scribbled in his notebook and out of the corner of his eye he saw Mark make a hand signal to someone across the room. He glanced up and realised that Mark needed to go. His wife wanted to order a meal.

  ‘Thanks, Mark,’ Matt said, shaking his hand.

  ‘No problem, give me a call if I can help in any other way.’

  Matt pondered on the information.The only time he felt truly alive was when he was thinking about investigating the thefts.

  This was just what he needed to take his mind off Jasper.

  Chapter 15

  1968

  Jimmy opened his eyes and realised he was at the base camp. He’d been here for two days and was due to head back out into the jungle tomorrow. He yawned and stretched, all the time listening for sounds of the war; sounds that might have changed overnight and could indicate danger. Nothing. It was quiet except for the shuffling of men around him.

  He rolled out of his makeshift bed. What he wouldn’t give to sleep in cool, crisp cotton sheets instead of this grimy sleeping bag thrown on top of a camp bed.

  He was tired, tired of this bloody war, tired of living like an animal and just plain bone tired. He picked up the letter he’d been trying to write last night and looked at what he’d written so far.

  G’day, young fella,

  How are you going over there in Australia? How’s your mum? Hope you’re both doing well.

  I’m back at base camp at the moment. I’ve had two days off and will be heading out again tomorrow.

  Jimmy sighed. It wasn’t much of a letter, he knew, but how could he tell Sandy about the fighting? How could he tell an eight-year-old that he had seen a boy of the same age lying on the ground, his mother leaning over his lifeless body, screaming? He was so sick of the screaming – screams of anguish, screams of pain, screams of torment. So many screams you’d swear you were in hell.

  He picked up his pen only to throw it down straight away. He ran his hands over his face once again and swore softly. Snatching up his toiletries bag, he headed for the showers. A shower and shave would clear his head.

  As he walked to the communal showers, Jimmy thought about tomorrow with a mixture of dread and excitement. He liked being with his mates, but it was injury and death which frightened him. He was scared of not being killed instantly. His dreams were haunted by things he’d already seen: the shrieks of men without legs, who’d walked through booby traps, men being shot, hurt and dying, but not yet dead. Men who had loved and would never be the same, wishing it was them who had died.

  Then, there was Sandy. The thought of someone not looking out for the lad was what kept him awake at night and left a feeling of cold dread in the pit of his stomach.

  As the water trickled over him, giving sweet relief from the humidity, he ran through his mental list of things he had to do that day.There was his washing, of course. And he had to restock his pack with rations and ammunition. He’d better test fire his gun, too. At the back of the base camp was a large, deep hole where the men went to test their weapons to make sure they were working properly – if they failed in the field, it could mean death.

  On the last patrol Jimmy had been on, they were waiting on orders to move out when someone heard a crack
ing of sticks and a rustle behind them. The whole platoon had spun around, rifles raised, only to see a water buffalo.They’d all laughed quietly, not wanting to admit they’d had the bejesus scared out of them.

  Ah! He could write about that for Sandy.

  He turned off the shower, dried himself and headed back to the Hootchi he shared with one other soldier. The tent was surrounded by sandbags piled waist-high to absorb any stray bullets or a grenade attack. Of course, if bombs fell from above it was a different story . . .

  When my platoon was out last week, we saw a water buffalo. It was really huge – a bit like a bull. We also saw three snakes. There are some funny-coloured ones; bright green ones that match the trees and bushes, and . . . there’s even a type that looks like my paisley shirt! There’s also cobras over here, so we have to be pretty careful when we’re out walking through the rice fields.

  I’m going to have breakfast soon. Have I told you the food is crap? Not like the fish and chips we had the last week before I left. I dream about those fish and chips!

  I can tell you today’s menu without even going to the mess tent. We’ll be having eggs; powdered eggs or eggs brought in from America. Can you believe they ship eggs such a long way?

  The army injects the fresh ones with ether, so they stay fresh. I know it works, but the eggs taste disgusting – like nothing but ether! And there will probably be baked beans. You’d be right if you were here, because I know you love baked beans.

  Today I’m going to be restocking my pack . . .

  Jimmy trailed off there. He didn’t want to talk about testing his weapons, or about how the medic would be coming by later to check his feet for tinea or blisters that could get infected. His crotch would be looked at too. There was no room for dignity with a war going on.

  Anyway, I just wanted to say hi and let you know your Uncle Jimmy loves you.

  Jimmy rolled the pen around in his fingers and recalled the day he’d told his nephew he was off for a second tour of duty. The dirty little face had lit up when he’d seen Jimmy pull up across the street, and Jimmy had dreaded breaking the news to this boy who was at once so fiercely independent yet still so reliant on his uncle’s visits.