Tobe smiled around the burning joint, saying nothing. After a while, he passed it back. This time, I had a little more luck. Tobe drummed a beat on the wooden frame of the seat as he waited, the dull gold ring on his left hand clicking loudly, tick-tick-tick. He shifted back and forth, tapping his feet, whistling something complicated and tuneless. You could almost see the manic energy leaking out of him, a far-too-familiar sight.
I passed the joint back, and then Red and Blue appeared as if from nowhere, running across the now empty oval, chasing each other yet again. Still smiling around the burning joint, Tobe called them over and they promptly headed our way.
‘Good boy, good girl.’
They lapped at the water in their bowl and then collapsed in the shade, panting madly. Only moments later, they were curled up side-by-side, eyes closed, still panting. Tobe reached out. With one hand he gave Red a scratch, with the other he passed me the burning joint.
‘I’m glad you made it back for the game,’ I said, taking another long drag. ‘It wouldn’t have been the same.’
‘Cheers, Bill. It’s been bloody ages since I’ve seen us get thumped—I’d be kicking myself if I missed it.’
‘So how’d it go out there?’ I asked, passing the joint back. I had put in a few requests before he left, and was keen to know if he had had any success.
‘I just got back from out south-west,’ he said, shooting me a wicked grin. ‘Had to go see a man about a dog, and got stuck longer than I thought I would.’
‘What happened?’
He looked me in the eye and took a drag on the joint, stretching the moment out. ‘Not much,’ he said, smirking through his signature smile.
In the background, the crowd started to stir as the two teams marched back onto the oval. Once more, the car horn sounded. Red twitched in her sleep, her paws kicking. Blue farted. I barely paid them any attention.
‘Come on, mate,’ I said.
Tobe took another drag. The game started. I ignored it. ‘Well?’
‘All right, all right, all right,’ he said, passing the joint back. ‘The last few days I was there, it rained.’
I was so surprised that I almost dropped the joint. ‘Real rain?’ I asked. ‘Not just a shower of bird piss?’
‘Real rain, you bet.’
‘Rain rain?’
‘Rain rain.’
I actually raised my eyebrows.
‘For a whole night and some of the next morning. Five inches, maybe six.’
This time, I did drop the joint. I picked it back up, leaned forward, looked in Tobe’s face for any sign of bullshit. He smiled brightly, his eyes flashing with excitement.
‘Did you manage to check the books? We haven’t seen something like that in …’ I thought hard and gave up. I couldn’t remember ever seeing rain like that.
‘It’s been forty-odd years. I looked it up and I still don’t believe it.’
‘Any idea where it was coming from?’
‘I had it at my back all the way home.’
I looked at him again. We had been mates so long that neither of us could get away with lying to the other.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me …’
Two
The remainder of the game was nothing but a vague haze. Tobe roared and cheered with the crowd, but I barely noticed him—I was lost in a fool’s dream, rolling fields of the greenest grass passing by my mind’s eye. Lush and brilliant, they were a colour that no longer existed, faded pictures and crumbling photographs the only proof that it had ever existed.
I let preposterous hopes lull me into a waking sleep. I could almost hear the whisper of rain.
The blaring horn that signalled the end of the game didn’t rouse me—I watched blankly as a couple of First Country folk wandered onto the field and helped the players clean their cuts and scrapes, washing them down with tea-tree oil. People mingled, shook hands, slapped each other on the back. At some point I realised that the oval was empty and that the crowd had disappeared.
‘Bill, mate, are you all right?’
I flinched, surprised by Tobe’s voice.
‘It’s just that, ah, you haven’t said anything in a while.’
I slowly looked around and caught his eye. He was genuinely concerned, and I couldn’t help but smile.
‘It’s a bit of a shock, that’s all,’ I said, finally finding my voice.
‘Better get to the pub then, a few drinks will fix that.’
I struggled to wrench myself out of my seat, made it to my feet, picked up my pack, slung it on my back. ‘Okay, let’s go.’
‘You’re a funny bastard, Bill. You know that?’
I shrugged.
‘Fair enough,’ Tobe said. ‘So, I guess you want a ride …’
I scratched my chin, pretending to think about it. ‘That’d be great.’
‘No worries.’ Tobe nudged Blue with his toe. Both dogs woke suddenly and looked at Tobe pitifully. ‘Come on.’
They didn’t move.
‘What are you waiting for? Bloody Christmas? Come on!’
They begrudgingly bounded up, stretching themselves flat and yawning wide. Tobe turned away. The dogs and I followed him around the empty oval that was already mourning the disappearance of the life it had so briefly felt.
It took no time at all to make it to Tobe’s ridiculous bike.
I gingerly lowered myself onto the cracked wooden bench seat, and he shoved his strongbox at me. A rasping, dirty wind was picking up. I pulled my glasses off, tucking them in a pocket.
‘Comfy?’ Tobe asked.
‘Very fucking funny.’
‘Right then, away we go …’
The bike shuddered as Tobe pushed hard to get us moving. Inch by painful inch, we picked up speed. Red and Blue ran ahead; they knew that traffic wasn’t really a problem. Dust and grit constantly flew into my face. I kept my mouth shut, clenched my teeth to stop them from chattering, closed my eyes, hoped that it would be all over soon.
By the time Tobe brought us to a halt, the dust on my face was so thick that it fell in drifts from my beard.
I brushed away as much dust as I could, and then awkwardly hopped off the bench seat. The pub loomed over us, an ancient, red-brick building with a wide wooden veranda. It had never looked so inviting—I heard the low hum of happy conversation and laughter, the clink of bottles, the clang of tin cups being knocked together. From the direction of the beer garden came the howl of a homemade guitar, the smash-bang of a drum kit made from scrap. A couple of other dogs lay under the veranda; Tobe made sure that the old horse trough on the footpath had a dribble or two in the bottom, and then ordered Red and Blue to join them.
They begrudgingly did as he said. None of the other dogs stirred—it was too hot for trouble.
‘After you,’ Tobe said, waving me forward. ‘Age before beauty.’
I smiled to myself as I hurried through the doors. Dirty air washed over me, heavy with the smell of booze and wood smoke and sweat, thick with a combination of bush tobacco, wild weed, and meat roasting on a spit. Excited and boisterous voices fought against the music bleeding in from outside. The First Country team sat with the townsfolk team at the biggest table, reliving the game without having to suffer the arrogance or embarrassment they must have felt out on the field.
Everyone looked happy.
‘Mate, shit, I forgot my strongbox. I’ll be back in a tick,’ Tobe said abruptly.
I turned to say ‘no worries’, but he had already gone. I turned back, keen to congratulate both teams on the game, immediately got caught by the buzz of excitement and the sheer mass of people, and completely forgot about Tobe.
I was lost in the frantic mess of happy people and loving every minute of it. Eventually, I managed to prop up at the bar.
‘Howdy, stranger.’
Louise winked at me, her drawl as ridiculous as a summer cloud’s promise of rain. You name it, she does it—publican, bartender, bouncer, town counsellor, secret keeper.
&
nbsp; ‘So, what’ll it be?’ she asked.
‘Anything wet.’
She poured a shot of rotgut tequila. ‘Bill? Sorry to ask, but have you got anything to chuck in?’
My mouth fell open; I had completely forgotten. Louise read the embarrassment in my face—no one likes being a bad neighbour—and winked again.
‘Don’t sweat it,’ she said. ‘They’re on the house.’
I pushed the drink away.
‘Don’t be an idiot.’
She pushed the drink back. I didn’t pick it up.
‘Please.’
She only said it once; that was enough. And then she looked me up and down. I knew she was licking her lips, metaphorically if not literally.
‘Anyway, you can fix me up later. If you know what I mean …’
I feigned outrage, pretending to look shocked, and we laughed long and hard. What we had suited us both, what we shared satisfied. There was no need to give it a name.
‘Cheers,’ I said, picking up my drink.
‘Cheers.’
Time passed quickly. It wasn’t often that the whole town came together; everyone was too busy just trying to hang on, but they all had shown up and were getting along. From every nearby district and shire, from every town that had somehow managed to avoid the Creep’s attention and died away to almost-nothing anyway, from half a day’s walk away to maybe a week’s worth or more, we had all made the hike. And yet even though the room was packed, no one approached the wall opposite the bar. It was covered in a length of plain hessian, but we all knew what lay behind it: faded photographs, crumbling newspaper clippings, long-forgotten letters, suicide notes, eviction orders.
It was our wailing wall, so that we would always remember. Sometimes, though, it was okay to forget.
The sun slowly set, the bullshit flowed, the booze ran like manna from heaven and everything was right with the world. Max and Maxine—twins, all that was left of the oldest family in town—brought their primitive brand of music to a frenzied crescendo, stopped it dead, and then joined the party. Lanterns were lit. The moon started to rise. A bonfire outside was set ablaze in a wide, shallow pit lined with rocks. The whole time, Tobe’s news spread like a virus. Everyone reacted the same way, rapidly moving from shock to joy to cynicism, telling anyone who would listen that they had better not get their hopes up, that it’s best to save them for a rainy day.
And always a wink or an elbow in the ribs.
When I went outside to take a piss, I found Tobe sitting by himself under a gnarled, long-dead oak tree. He didn’t see me at first; he was staring into space, bathed in moonlight, his face blank, perfectly still. Each time he blinked, it seemed the biggest movement in the world. He didn’t look happy or sad; he looked empty, scarily so. I quickly did my business and then coughed loudly. He instantly came back to life, hurried over, hugged me tightly, led us back inside.
I kept a drunken eye on him and he took advantage of it, thrashing me at pool.
Giving up on him, I dawdled away. I saw everyone: Sheldon, the town waterman, who challenged me to a game of cards and took me for all I was worth; Louise, who caught me standing alone under the stars and swept in for a kiss; Cathy Ng, the mad postie, dressed in a tattered dressing-gown, who hugged me awkwardly. I tried again to congratulate the football players, only to feel a hand on my shoulder stop me in my tracks: Old Man Veidt, looking down his nose at me, resplendent in an old-fashioned suit that was in good repair. His wife stood next to him, an image of old-world glamour in a well-preserved evening dress that would have fetched plenty in trade if you could find the right buyer. They were the oldest folk in town bar Sheldon, who was older than the rocks in the earth. They smiled toothlessly at me and yet somehow still looked smug.
‘How did you like the whiskey?’ Old Man Veidt asked.
In his accent, it came out as ‘viskey’. I looked at him blankly.
‘So, the viskey, ja?’
I had no idea what he was talking about.
‘Tobe told us he shared it vith you. Very kind of him, dear boy. It vas gift, for a favour.’
This time it was Old Woman Veidt who spoke—she shared the same accent. But this time it all made sense. I didn’t know what to say; I didn’t want to abuse their generosity.
‘It was good. It had been a long time.’
Diplomatic, I hoped. They both smiled without any warmth.
‘He is strange one, your friend Tobe. Always so busy-busy-busy helping people. Sometimes I vonder …’
I tried to butt in; I had known him the longest, only I had the right to criticise him. But she just rode over the top of me.
‘I think he needs us more than we need him.’
Old Man Veidt, sensing my discomfort, subtly took hold of her elbow, shutting her up. ‘Shall we move outside?’
I was glad for the change of subject, and we staggered out to the bonfire. We shared some of their vile whiskey, sipping from a hipflask, watching the hippy kids who lived up in the hills play their drums and sing in their borrowed voices. Some of the First Country folk sat on the opposite side of the fire, watching hard. They laughed occasionally, shook their heads, smiled sadly, making obvious their respectful yet scornful amusement. The Veidts and I ended up getting caught by the hippies’ beat—we took to the patch of bare earth that was our dance floor. When I ached enough, I walked away, drinking and talking with whomever I found myself next to.
I found myself back at the bar. Louise leaned towards me. Short and stocky—a full head shorter than me—she didn’t make it that close. You could see in her eyes that she had done far too much laughing and far too much crying, and had far too many glasses of long-reserved bubbly.
‘I love this bloody town,’ she said, rapping her knuckles on the bar, knocking my drink into my lap.
I looked down, laughing. A stain had bloomed in my crotch, but what did it matter? Appearances didn’t mean much, that world was long gone. Louise looked at me, eyes bloodshot, unaware of the mess she had made.
‘Where was I?’ she asked.
I shrugged.
‘Shit … Um … That’s right, I was right here.’ She rapped on the bar again. ‘Right where I should be. Now, look, I love this bloody town. And I love the people. Everyone comes in here, sooner or later, and I know everyone’s name and everyone knows mine. I’m good to them all, whether I like them or not. And I do my best to make them comfy. It’s my way of saying thanks …’ she waved around the room, gesturing at everything and nothing, ‘… to the town.’
I blearily looked up at her. ‘So, why leave?’ I was well on the way to being drunk, my vision a little blurry, my voice a little slurred.
‘Bill, I’m not like you or one of those families out the back of Bourke.’ She poured a glass of bubbly from a bottle that had been locked in a dusty glass case behind the bar for as long as I could remember. She cracked a fresh bottle of rotgut tequila, poured me a shot. ‘All I’ve got left is the pub. And I’m out, I’m done, my bore’s run dry. No more water, no more pub.’
‘But …’
‘There are no buts.’
‘Hang on,’ I said. ‘The town would help you out, everyone would pitch in.’
‘Sure they would. But I’m no burden. Never. So, catch you later.’
I couldn’t contain my frustration. ‘Fuck, Lou, don’t do that.’ I looked her in the eye, beyond the sadness and the tears. ‘Let me help. Come work my place with me.’
She didn’t answer.
‘I’d love the company …’
She smiled—a tiny, flickering thing. ‘Now, why go and ruin a good thing?’ She winked.
I decided to let it go, for the moment. ‘So, what’s the plan then?’
‘Don’t really know. Probably hit the road and hope I get picked up and shipped to the camp. After that, if I’m lucky, head up to the line.’
The Brisbane line. The southern-most border of ‘civilised’ Australia, sealing off the majority of the population from the desiccated wasteland tha
t some of us still called home. Unexpectedly and desperately depressed, I tried to find something to say.
‘Don’t,’ she said. She started to cry. She turned and looked away, pretending to inspect the empty liquor shelf behind her. ‘I don’t want to leave. But as much as I love it here, I’ve got no choice.’
I could barely hear her. She turned back, tried to smile, made it happen. She placed the bottle of tequila on the bar, filled our glasses to the brim. We drank. Around us, the party grew wilder still. Louise and I knocked off a second shot, and then another and then another. Our spirits soared once more.
After a while, I kissed her on the cheek and got to my feet. I started to sway, shook it off, and cruised through the bedlam.
Much later, Tobe and I headed out behind the pub to smoke a joint in private, dragging Louise with us. She got us singing a song that was old news when I was a boy, and we ended up sprawled on the bonnet of a rusted-out Holden that had given up the ghost next to a wild garden of cacti and succulents. They broke up the bare earth, some ten feet tall and strong and proud, some in great bushes of spikes and spines, some with bright flowers in all the colours you can imagine. We shared the joint in silence, staring at the stars—three little monkeys sitting in a row and grinning in the moonlight.
In no time, my mind started to wander. I was pretty drunk, pretty high, and pretty happy.
Tobe and Louise started talking excitedly, their words slurred. Still lost in the stars, I tuned them out and listened to the wind, the dim hubbub spilling from the pub. The sky was bright, the full moon getting closer. I started counting the shining needlepoints of light.
At some point, I tuned back in to Tobe and Louise’s conversation. He spoke softly; she ummed and aahed.
‘… take over? You know me, I love this place, I’d hate to see it go. Hell, when I’m around I’m in here every night. You know, I’ve already got a couple of ideas for the old girl. If you knocked down …’
I walked away in a happy daze, made my way back to the fire, which had now burnt down to glowing embers. Someone I barely recognised—one of the Kumari kids from the border properties, who mostly kept to themselves—heaved dead twigs and dried leaves onto the embers. They flared up and the Kumari Kid (as I promptly, drunkenly dubbed him) tended them well, the fire blazing, sparking, reaching for the sky.
The Rain Never Came Page 2
