Matt had been surprised when he realised how much he craved her comfort. It felt like a long time since he’d felt such a need for her, but he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind since the accident earlier in the day. He’d tried a couple more times to call but each time it was the answering machine that had picked up. A near accident wasn’t the sort of message to leave.
The kitchen was empty so he called out, but there was no reply. He checked the lounge and saw Anna sleeping on the couch. Matt smiled gently and watched her for a while, wanting to reach out and stroke her face. He extended his hand then remembered what Kate had told him about Ella being sick. He decided to let Anna sleep.
Matt kissed his fingers and pressed them gently to his wife’s forehead, then went in search of dinner.
Chapter 22
Royal Adelaide Hospital, 1970
There was a noise, an irritating noise. Almost like the mosquitoes from the jungles in Vietnam, persistent and annoying. It seemed to be coming from a long way away.
Jimmy lay there listening, trying to work out what it was. He preferred the darkness to the pain and memories. His recollections were kept at bay when he was heavily medicated, and the pain in his leg – a constant reminder of that dreadful day – was just a dull throb.
The guilt over Min-Thu’s death had consumed Jimmy during his fever-filled months. He could vaguely remember calling her name. His brow was soaked with sweat as he tossed and turned in the small military hospital. His dreams had been filled with her; her smile, her hair, her mouth, as she tried to produce words and sounds which were foreign to her. Then, the nightmare would become reality as he saw over and over her sightless eyes, bloodstained face and Kimbo, trying to protect him from the sight no human should see.
A high nasal voice pierced his thoughts.
‘Bloody hell, I haven’t driven all this way to see him sleep. Can’t you wake him up?’
A quiet murmur answered, sounding protective. He started to drift away again, but there was a strange sensation on his hand. He couldn’t place the feeling, and then it tightened around his fingers.
‘Uncle Jimmy?’ a familiar voice said. ‘Hey, Uncle Jimmy, it’s me.’
Sandy. It was Sandy. Jimmy opened his eyes and struggled to focus. He tried to say something, but his tongue felt thick and clumsy. He hoped he’d squeezed the small fingers before the darkness claimed him again.
‘Hey, Uncle Jimmy.’
Six months later Jimmy was sitting in his chair as Sandy let himself into the kitchen. He saw the boy wrinkle his nose.
‘The air smells a bit stale in here. Can I open a window?’
‘Do whatever you want,’ Jimmy muttered, turning away. He squinted as the curtains let in the bright afternoon sunlight and he looked out to a small cement patio and high asbestos fence. He tried to remember the last time he’d shifted from his chair, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t sure anymore what it felt like to have the sun touch his skin.
It wouldn’t have been like this if he could walk properly. If it didn’t hurt to walk. No, the truth was that he didn’t feel like getting out of his chair. He wanted to sit in the chair forever, to drink whisky until he didn’t jump at shadows, until he no longer saw Min-Thu, dead.
As he watched Sandy move around opening windows he found himself envying the boy. So young, strong and undamaged.
Sandy came around after school every day, although Jimmy couldn’t fathom why. Jimmy knew he wasn’t much company, and there was nothing welcoming about the tiny council flat he was now living in. Meagrely furnished, dark and cramped, it could only be described as gloomy – which suited Jimmy’s mood perfectly.
It wasn’t as if he had made no effort. When he’d finally become well enough, he’d tried to look up his old mates – the ones who hadn’t gone to Vietnam. But many had turned away from him, as if they blamed him for the unpopular war. And the others were just living their lives as if there was no war. They had neat and tidy houses, nice cars, good jobs, children even. And here he was, a crippled, broken man – and all he’d done was follow the government’s bidding.
‘Uncle Jimmy?’
Jimmy snapped his head up to see Sandy looking at him questioningly.
‘What?’
‘I asked if you’d eaten today.’
‘Probably. I can’t remember. But I need another drink.’ He held his glass out. Sandy took it, but Jimmy could sense his reluctance. Somewhere deep down he knew he was acting just like Margo, but by hell it was easier than facing everything. Sandy would have to get used to it.
‘Come on, boy. One more glass won’t hurt.’
‘How about I cook scrambled eggs? I saw some eggs in the fridge.’
‘Just a drink, lad. Helps make the day go quicker,’ he added feeling the need to justify his actions.
Jimmy watched as Sandy sloshed the amber liquid into his glass. He reached for it and raised it to his lips greedily, drinking it down in quick sharp sips. Each one burned on its way to his stomach, but it was a good feeling.
‘So,’ he said, trying to think of a question to ask his nephew. He knew he should make an effort. ‘What’d you learn at school today?’
‘Something about fractions. Did some reading, stuff. Not much.’ Sandy shrugged.
‘Who’s your best mate these days?’
‘Haven’t got one.’
Oh, that hurt. If he’d asked the lad the same question two or three years ago, he would’ve said his Uncle Jimmy.
‘Well, you gotta play with someone while you’re there.’
‘Nup, I just hang out by myself.’There was a long silence. ‘Uncle Jimmy?’The boy’s voice was soft.
‘Mmm?’
‘What’s wrong with your leg?’
‘War wounds, lad.’
‘Does it hurt?’
Jimmy smiled grimly and tried to take another sip, but realised his glass was empty. How could you explain to a ten-year-old that it hurt all the time? And it wasn’t the physical pain that he minded so much as the memories the wound revived.
‘Sometimes. I think I’ll have another drink.’
‘Why are you so sad, Uncle Jimmy? Because your leg hurts? Can I help get it fixed?’
‘Another drink, boy.’ Jimmy’s voice took on a sharp edge.
When Sandy didn’t move Jimmy looked up to see a strange look of defiance and vulnerability on the boy’s face.
‘Do you think we’ll ever drive trucks together? You promised me.’
Dimly, Jimmy recognised he was asking for reassurance. A guarantee the plans they had made would eventuate. Jimmy would come out of this dark pit he was in, full of alcohol and memories, and once more become the caring uncle he had been.
But he couldn’t guarantee it. The future? He didn’t care if it never came. Why was the little idiot even asking? His hand curled around his glass, tight. His anger sudden and fierce.
‘What are you waiting for, you little dipshit?’ he snarled, watching with a certain amount of satisfaction as the boy recoiled from the insult. ‘Do as you’re bloody told and get me a drink.’
There was a choking sound and then Sandy began to cry.
The guilt he felt only made Jimmy angrier. ‘Stop yer snivelling and get me a drink.’
There was no movement except for the shaking of the boy’s shoulders.
‘Which bit don’t you understand?’ Jimmy tried to stand up but pain shot through his leg and he fell back into the chair with a groan. Overcome by rage and frustration, Jimmy hurled the glass at his nephew, and there was a dull thud, then a screech as it connected with his forehead.
The wound began to swell, blood seeping from the opening above his eye and Jimmy, even in his addled state, could see the anguish on the boy’s face as he backed out of the room. He held out his hand to Sandy.
‘Bloody hell, lad, I’m sorry. I didn’t –’ ‘No!’ Sandy screamed at him. ‘I trusted you, Uncle Jimmy. You said I could always count on you. But look at you – you’re no better than Mum. You’r
e a drunk.’ Then, with a mixture of blood and tears running down his face, he stumbled to the door.
Sickened by what he had done, Jimmy rocked back and forth in shock and disbelief. ‘Oh me lad, I’m so sorry,’ he choked out between heaving sobs. ‘I’m so sorry.’
But the boy was gone.
Chapter 23
Anna woke feeling deliciously aroused. She’d been dreaming of Sam, his fingers running down her neck, soft kisses dropped on her shoulders. In the wakefulness of sleep, she tried to slide closer to him and moaned softly. She stretched and turned over to face him, trying to mould her body to his.
Then her brain kicked into gear.
Sam! What on earth was she thinking?
She realised Matt was lying next to her; she hadn’t heard him come home last night. She watched him sleeping for a moment or two, then her stomach constricted as she wondered if she had actually moaned aloud.
Horrified, she slipped out of the bed, hoping Matt wouldn’t wake until she had composed herself. She padded down the hallway to the bathroom to splash her face with cold water.
Leaning over the bathroom sink, she cupped her hands under the icy water and threw it onto her face. Then she looked in the mirror.
‘Great friend you are,’ she muttered. ‘Kate has been the only support you’ve had and now you’re dreaming about her husband. What is wrong with you?’
Outside the toilet door banged and she knew Matt was up. Grabbing a towel she scrubbed at her face, trying to wipe the dreams away before she had to face him. And that’s what it was, she reminded herself – a dream; not real. Don’t be so ridiculous, she scolded herself. A few kind words and she’d gone weak at the knees. Pathetic!
Banging around in the kitchen, she turned the kettle on and went to check on Ella as Matt walked down the passageway.
Anna smiled. ‘Hi, I didn’t hear you come home last night,’ she said and held out her arms for a hug, feeling like a fraud.
‘You were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you.’ Matt stepped past, ignoring her outstretched arms. Her smile slipped away, replaced by a mountain of guilt. Was it possible Matt could have read her thoughts?
She peered into Ella’s room. Her daughter had her arm flung over her eyes as if to keep the sunlight out. This was the reason Anna was able to stay sane, she reminded herself: a gorgeous daughter who relied on her for everything. Anna knew she would do anything for Ella – no matter how exhausted and wrung out she was.
Anna shut the door and went to the kitchen. Matt was already sipping his first coffee, his head buried in a motorbike magazine.
There were five empty beer bottles on the counter, a half-empty bottle of rum and a dirty plate. That explained the mood. He must have one hell of a hangover. Not exactly the start to his holidays Anna had hoped for.
She went to the bench and saw her cup sitting next to the kettle, empty.
‘You could have made me a coffee,’ she said.
‘Mmm?’
‘I said you could’ve made me a coffee.’
‘What?’ Matt finally looked up.
‘A coffee, Matt,’ Anna snapped. ‘Would it have been so hard to make me one while you were getting your own?’
Matt threw the magazine down, picked up his cup and walked over to the window.
Anna took a deep breath. ‘So,’ she said in a conciliatory tone, ‘what do you think you’ll do today?’ There was no point starting the day off on the wrong foot.
‘Don’t know. I’ve never really had two weeks of holidays before. It was never like that on the farm. There was always work to be done.’
‘Kate suggested we head out to their place today and grab some sand for Ella’s sandpit. She said we could use their trailer.’
‘Oh yeah.’
There was another of the long silences and Anna decided she just couldn’t bear it, so she left the room.
She went outside and walked around the backyard she had put so much effort into over the past few months. She snapped the dead heads off the daisy bushes and pulled a few weeds. When she got to the back corner, she looked at the nearly finished sandpit, smiling as she admired her own handiwork.
The sleepers which she’d bought secondhand had been heavy to shift, but she’d enjoyed the burn of her muscles from the effort. As she’d belted in the steel posts to hold the sleepers together, she’d felt alive. She was doing something. Moping about in the house wasn’t good for her. She needed to be active, out in the fresh air.
Anna lifted her head as she heard Ella begin to wimper.
‘Mumma! Mumma!’
She waited for Matt to go to Ella, but the noise intensified. Running inside, Anna passed Matt, who was sitting again at the kitchen table, immersed in the magazine, oblivious to Ella’s cries.
‘Morning, little one,’ Anna said, picking up the little girl to comfort her. ‘Did you have a bad dream?’
‘Mummy, you were crying.’ Ella hiccuped as she snuggled into her mother’s neck, her sobs subsiding.
‘Crying? I haven’t been crying, darling.’
‘You were in my dream.’
‘No, no, Ella! Mum doesn’t cry. Come on, let’s get you some juice.’ Anna hugged her daughter, wondering what vibes she had given off the night before to make her daughter dream something so close to her own emotions.
In the kitchen, she got out a cup and filled it with orange juice.Then she turned on the TV in the lounge, placed Ella in front of it and stormed into the kitchen to confront her husband.
‘Did you hear Ella just now?’ Anna demanded.
‘Yeah, but I don’t know what to do with her,’ Matt answered. ‘She doesn’t really want me anyway.’
‘Oh, Matt, of course she wants you – she’s a bit shy with you because you haven’t spent any time with her lately, that’s all.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m busy.’
‘Too busy for your own daughter? Have a think about what you just said, and see if it makes sense.’ Anna slammed some bread into the toaster and stood at the counter shaking her head and watching Matt. He had yet to raise his head and look at her.
‘So will you come to Sam and Kate’s today?’ she asked, daring him to say no.
‘Yeah, might come for a drive.’
‘Well, we’ll leave in half an hour,’ she said, glancing at the clock. She fixed Ella’s breakfast and went to sit in the lounge with her.
***
Kate’s kitchen smelled of baking as Anna pulled up a stool and watched Kate buzz around the room with an energy that she wished she had.
‘How was your time in Adelaide?’ Anna asked, horribly conscious that she was sitting in Kate’s kitchen pretending to be a good friend, when she’d been dreaming about her husband.
‘It was lovely. I had such a great time with Dave and his family. His girls are so beautiful. I was relieved to get home in one piece, though. I suppose Matt told you about yesterday?’
Anna snorted. ‘I was asleep when he came home and he just about drank the bar dry judging by what was left on the bench this morning. I reckon he’s got a bitch of a hangover – he’s not talking and he’s in a foul mood. Why? What happened yesterday?’’
‘On my way to Adelaide some idiot in a black car decided to pass when he shouldn’t have and ran us both off the road. I was really lucky that I didn’t clean up a tree. I couldn’t believe it when Matt got out of the truck – I was in such a state; I was so glad it was him and not some stranger.’
‘Bloody hell, Kate, he didn’t tell me any of this,’ Anna gasped. ‘You poor thing!’
‘All fine now, but I have to admit, it scared the hell out of me.’
Anna went around the bench to give her friend a hug. ‘I can’t lose you too,’ she said, feeling such remorse that while she had been enjoying Sam’s comfort and support her friend had almost been killed. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered in her mind.
‘What’s wrong, Mummy?’ said Ella, appearing in the kitchen.
‘Hello, darling, where have you com
e from? I thought you were playing on the verandah.’ Anna released her friend and lifted Ella up to give her a cuddle.
Ella reached up and patted her hair. ‘I thought I heard a sad voice,’ she said.
‘Well I didn’t hear anything. Did you, Kate?’
‘Nothing sad around here, Miss Ella. You need to come and sit here on the bench and help me stir this mixture. I’ve got to get this cake made for when your dad and Sam come back for smoko and my arms aren’t strong enough. I think your help will be just what I need.’
Ella’s face lit up and she quickly tried to clamber onto the bench.
‘I’m going for a walk around your garden while Ella helps you. Can I grab a few of those Easter lily bulbs?’ Anna asked.
‘Sure, here’s a bag for them.’ Kate handed her a plastic bag.
Anna walked around the stone house which was decades old, stopping to smell a rose blooming out of season and brush her hand over the lavender plants Kate had planted along the side of the house. The countryside was moist and clean from the morning’s fog, even though the sun was out. In the distance she could hear the front-end loader growling as Sam and Matt loaded up creek sand for the sandpit. Her gaze swung over the horizon; she was feeling despondent. She hadn’t known she would miss the farm so much – and she did. Some of her anger with Matt probably stemmed from his refusal to see that he didn’t have a monopoly on grief.
Anna shook her head. No – no wallowing, she told herself. It was worrying that Ella had been talking about crying and sadness. She had to make more of an effort to appear upbeat. She found a shovel and started to dig out some of the bulbs. It wasn’t long before she heard Kate and Ella giggling behind her and she swung around. ‘Boo!’ she yelled.
Ella’s throaty giggle became a full-blown laugh.
‘Boo, Mummy!’ Ella called back and ran out from behind a bougainvillea, her arms outstretched.
Anna grabbed her around the waist, and gently pushed her to the ground. She blew raspberries on her tummy, while Ella laughed and kicked her legs in the air. She’d make sure her daughter never saw her pain, Anna vowed to herself.
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