‘I’ve got wine in the fridge,’ said Pam.
‘For the ladies,’ added Karen, glancing over her shoulder at Gary.
‘I’ll have one too,’ said Mick.
‘Never met anyone less ladylike than you, mate,’ said Gary.
Pam thought it might have been the first time she’d laughed since the accident. Eight days. Was that too soon?
Gary and Karen brought the story of the funeral and the missing mechanic. It was understandable, Karen had pronounced, that Ray Druitt wouldn’t go back to work for a while. Who on earth would, given what happened.
‘I’ll say one thing about him,’ said Gary. ‘He’s a bloody hard worker. Good at what he does. And that means I really need someone to replace him—even a couple of blokes. Right now I don’t know if he’ll be back in a week or never. Going to have to sort something.’
Pam had marvelled at Gary’s nonchalance. Thinking that a bereaved father would only take one week off work seemed highly unlikely. Gary had four children of his own, surely he could use his imagination. ‘Did you go back to the house after?’ she asked.
Karen shook her head. ‘Invitations weren’t extended. We said a few words at the church. I don’t think they took much in.’
‘Did you know many people?’
‘Not really. There were a lot of kids,’ said Gary. ‘Half the high school, I’d say. Otherwise, family, by the look. Out of towners.’
‘What about the bikies?’ said Karen.
‘Oh yeah, the bikies.’ Gary laughed. ‘Don’t know if they were family or friends.’
Pam looked over at Mick. His eyes were fixed on Gary, probably thinking the same thing as she was: bikies were nothing to laugh about.
‘I heard he used to be in some gang when he was young,’ Karen piped up. ‘Reformed now. Got religion or something.’
‘Don’t know about that,’ said Gary. ‘Might have reformed from religion as well. I think he’s one of those people who likes rules, but prefers to make them himself. Not really a joiner, if you know what I mean.’
Pam suddenly felt exhausted. She’d been sleeping poorly all week, and drugging herself intermittently with sleeping pills hadn’t seemed to help a great deal. She wondered if having people over had been a good idea. Not that she’d had much say in the matter, given they’d invited themselves.
Karen’s voice came at her from left field. ‘Are you all right, sweetheart?’
‘Oh Karen,’ she said, turning to her friend. ‘Do you really want an answer to that question?’
‘I do.’ Karen waggled her head towards the back door. ‘Come on, I need a ciggie.’
Outside, Pam had told Karen in a quiet voice about meeting the Druitts earlier in the week before the funeral. Then she told her about the phone calls.
‘What does Des Robinson say?’ asked Karen. She offered a smoke to Pam, who didn’t smoke and simply shook her head, rendered mute out of astonishment that Karen, her friend for over thirty years, had either forgotten this fact or was trying to convert her.
‘He’s keeping an eye on things. There’s not a lot he can do if we can’t prove it’s them. And even then. I’m hoping that it will quieten down soon. They can get rid of some of that anger.’
‘That could take a while,’ Karen said bluntly.
‘You think so?’
‘Gary says Ray is like a dog with a bone. Obsessive. He tracked down some guy they used to work with because he took a tool with him that wasn’t his. Wasn’t Ray’s either, just belonged to the workshop. He drove down to Melbourne to get it back. Who does that sort of thing? Imagine being confronted with a big lunk like him. What was it? A monkey wrench. All I’m saying is that someone like him might not let this go. Especially if he decides not to come back to work. He’ll just be there, at home, stewing away.’
Pam couldn’t think of Ray as a big lunk. Lunk made him sound stupid, and he was far from that. ‘God, I don’t imagine he could keep doing it. Really? I think I’d want distraction after a while. Not to have to keep thinking the same thoughts over and over.’
‘Yeah, but you’re not him, are you? Gary also says he has a chip on his shoulder.’
‘That’s true, he does,’ said Pam.
‘Not a good combination then, is it?’
‘Jesus, Kaz, you’re supposed to be my friend.’ Pam let out a small laugh.
‘I’m being your friend, doll. You need to keep an eye on that bloke.’
‘How?’
‘Keep calling Des. Write everything down. Tell everyone you know what’s going on. Look, it might all drop away, like you say, but it’s terrible to put you through this. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.’
‘Maybe it’s not him. Them.’
‘God, who else would it be?’ Karen took a long drag on her cigarette and blew a waft of smoke out in front of them. They watched it slowly disperse into the cool afternoon air.
Pam thought about that conversation now as she listened to the phone ring, wondering who might be on the other end. Karen had been right. More than a month it had been and still the calls kept coming. If anything there were more of them, and, to Pam at least, they seemed more targeted. They often came in the daytime when she was home alone. The days when she wasn’t at work and the kids (for all intents and purposes) were at school. They were full of unbelievable obscenities and the last few had included vague but menacing threats. The voice was muffled and it was almost impossible to tell if it was male or female, or even if it was always the same person. More recently excrement of unknown provenance (looks like dog shit, smells like dog shit, Mick had said) had been left on their front steps during the night, and her car egged twice. Suddenly it all felt too much and something rose up in her. An unbridled anger. She’d felt sympathy for the Druitts for weeks, turned the other cheek and allowed them their venom without reproach because it felt morally reprehensible to do otherwise, but today, standing here in the cool darkened hallway, she saw the absurdity of it all. Their attempts to shame and cower her, her family. ‘Fuck you!’ she said to the phone.
When she answered it, primed already to deliver a fusillade of expletives (very un-Pam but, hey, she was in the mood now), it turned out to be Cathy. ‘Just wondering if you are coming down this afternoon?’ she asked, referring to their yoga class.
Pam swallowed. She wouldn’t have said this was a good day, a strong day. She could easily have gone back to bed and curled up in the foetal position, but in the end what good would that do? When would there ever be a right time for her to go out and face the world, start breathing again? Why not go to yoga? Breathing was something they did a lot of there.
‘Yeah,’ she said finally, ‘I will come.’
‘Sure?’ asked Cathy.
‘Don’t ask me that,’ said Pam. ‘Ever.’ They both laughed.
For the first week after the accident Pam had scarcely left the house. Apart from visiting Scott she had largely stayed indoors, sending Simon out on errands and occasionally Mick. After ten days she had gone back to work, dipping her toes in the world of small-town interactions and beginning some kind of normal routine. She knew sooner or later she would run into someone from the Druitt clan, and when that happened it would simply be a stroke of ill luck. But going to yoga was different. Reggie was a stalwart there. She and Janice had been the first people to take up Aurora’s classes. Pam had to be prepared for whatever might come her way when she returned. A couple of weeks before, Cathy had told her that Reggie had taken a couple of weeks off too. Neither she nor Janice had turned up, said Cathy optimistically.
‘I thought you liked them,’ said Pam.
‘God, Pam. I don’t like them if they stop you from coming. If they behave like arseholes.’
Pam had shrugged. ‘Well, that was Ray and Maxine. Reggie might be fine. She might just ignore me.’
‘Yeah,’ said Cathy, ‘who knows how she’ll be. She’s a funny one.’
Then, two weeks later, Cathy announced that they had rejoined the
class, wordlessly slipped in slightly late, then left again before the others were off their mats. ‘It was weird. They were quiet. There was no eye contact,’ said Cathy.
‘Perhaps they were wondering if I’d be there,’ said Pam. ‘They might feel safe and think I’m not coming back.’
‘Yeah. Or perhaps they were easing themselves back in. Well, Reggie. Perhaps she didn’t want to have to deal with, you know, sympathy, curiosity. Questions.’
That’s what Pam thought too as she drove down to the town hall, that she was going to ease herself in. She didn’t want to have to deal with sympathy or curiosity or questions either. The curse of small-town living. Virtually everybody knew about the accident. Virtually everybody would have some kind of opinion, want to say something. Above her, strangely emblematic, the sky was full of fat dark clouds that had brought sporadic skiffs of rain. As she’d set off, drizzle had covered her windscreen and blurred her view, but by the time she got to the car park it was hosing down. There were half a dozen cars outside. She had to park twenty metres from the door and make a run for the building with the yoga mat held over her head.
Inside, ten or so people had occupied the usual spaces, quietly talking, laying their mats out. Pam stood at the front for a moment, damp, errant drips sliding down her body onto the wooden floor. Her eyes deliberately skimmed over the group until they alighted on Cathy’s waving hand. She didn’t register anyone else as she made her journey in squeaking damp shoes to the place Cathy had saved for her until a figure that she instantly recognised as Reggie leaned out of the group towards her, hissing, ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’
Behind her she could hear Aurora’s voice, sharply school-marmish. ‘Is everything all right?’
Pam kept moving, stepping behind the group. She could sense Reggie’s body twist, her laser stare follow her. ‘No, everything is not all right. I want to know what she’s doing in this class.’
Pam looked up then and saw Cathy in front of her, like a beacon of hope standing on her blue mat, a strange look of urgency on her face. She put her hand out as though she was going to save Pam from drowning.
‘This class is open to everyone, Reggie,’ said Aurora firmly.
Reggie’s voice boomed out. ‘I don’t think you should let murderers in.’
Pam turned then, took in the whole group from her vantage point at the back corner. Heads swivelled between Reggie and Aurora. A couple glanced her way, then back again as though they were watching a footy ball being punted down a field. Someone murmured something that Pam couldn’t hear. Friend or foe. Pam felt her stomach lurch at the hint of division.
‘Reggie,’ said Aurora, ‘if you have a problem with anyone in this class, please deal with it outside. This is a place to relax and de-stress. I’d just—’
‘That’s right. So she shouldn’t be here. You know I can’t be here with her. I’m not going to de-stress if she’s around. Get her out.’
Pam could feel Cathy step closer to her, her body leaning forward, on alert, hostile. ‘Pam has as much right to be here as anyone,’ she said loudly.
‘You think? Don’t you have any conscience?’ Reggie swung around and was staring at Pam now, her voice fragmenting. ‘You should just leave. I should be able to enjoy this class without the woman who is responsible for my nephew’s death standing right behind me.’
Pam was still holding her mat. She looked across at Aurora. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t realise …’
‘That’s your catchcry, isn’t it?’ shouted Reggie. ‘Just like Ray says. Always playing the innocent. The victim.’
‘I think you should bugger off,’ said Cathy sharply. ‘Pam hasn’t done anything.’
‘What would you know?’ shouted Janice.
‘What would you know?’ Cathy shouted back.
‘Ladies!’ Aurora yelled, her voice somewhere between crowd control and terror. ‘Please. Let’s—’
‘If you let her stay,’ Reggie said, turning back to Aurora, ‘you’re siding with them. And I will leave this bloody class and never come back.’
‘I’m going to go,’ said Pam, who was now thinking that she had been blind, over-ambitious, naïve and plain stupid to have come here. She had imagined it might be uncomfortable, but she hadn’t envisaged a slanging match, spitting hatred. What an idiot. Why wouldn’t she get that, after everything else that had been sent her way? Would she never learn? She took a step to her right, around the back of Cathy. Not the most direct route out of the room, but the one farthest away from Reggie.
‘No,’ said Aurora, holding up her hand. ‘You stay put, Pam. Reggie, this has nothing to do with me or this group. This is between you and Pam. And while you are here, you need to put that on hold, because this space is for all of us.’
Reggie, mouth downturned, stared from Aurora to Pam and shook her head. ‘I knew this would happen. There’s a closed circle in this town, one that we don’t get to belong to. People like you don’t have to answer for anything. You are always protected.’
‘No one is protecting anyone,’ said Aurora looking at Reggie, but still holding her hand up to Pam.
Reggie laughed. ‘You just can’t see it, can you?’
‘Reggie, you are a valued part of this class, but I can’t deny someone else a space because you have issues with them.’
‘Issues!’ Reggie screamed the word. ‘You’ve got to be joking. Someone died. That’s not an issue. That’s a bloody tragedy.’
‘Pam wasn’t there,’ shouted Cathy.
‘She’s responsible for that little scumbag.’
Pam took a few more steps towards the door, but Cathy caught her by the arm. ‘No, don’t let her push you out.’ Then she looked around the room and said, ‘Who thinks Pam should be expelled from this class?’
‘God, Cathy, no,’ said Pam, feeling the weight of judgement falling around her. A quiet murmur went up and Pam slid from Cathy’s grip, but she couldn’t avoid Aurora who stood firmly in her way.
‘You’re not leaving,’ she said. ‘I refuse to be bullied and blackmailed into letting you go.’
‘Well, it’s clear then, isn’t it, whose side you are on,’ said Reggie. She bent and picked up her mat and Janice followed suit, walking then to the bench and shoving their clothes into bags. Reggie pulled on her coat but carried her shoes and socks, not in any mood to spend time putting them on. ‘You will regret this,’ she spat at Aurora as she marched past. ‘I thought you were decent. But you’re just the bloody same as them. Shame on you. Just watch your classes go tits up now.’
At the door, Janice turned and surveyed the room. ‘No one want to come with us?’ She let out a strange little laugh, like something from a pantomime, before disappearing though the door with Reggie. Pam wondered for a moment if Janice was the full quid. What the hell had she just seen?
Aurora put her hand to her forehead, looking like she’d been stricken by a terrible headache. A couple of the other women in the class stepped forward. One put her arm around Aurora’s shoulder, another asked her if she was all right. Others turned to Pam saying roughly the same thing, radiating sympathy, a shared indignation. Cathy at her side whispered, ‘Jesus, Pammy. I’m so, so sorry. I should never have … I just didn’t imagine … That was horrible.’
Aurora put her head back and looked up at the ceiling. ‘I really don’t think I handled that very well.’
‘It wasn’t your job to handle it,’ said Pam. ‘I shouldn’t have come. It was stupid. My fault.’
One of the women next to her, an older woman called Bev with a head of white hair and a mildly cynical look on her face, said, ‘You can’t do anything with someone like her. I’ll tell you something for nothing, she’s a troublemaker. If I had to choose I’d have you any day. Good riddance, I say.’
‘That’s only because you’ve known me since I was knee-high.’
‘Exactly,’ said Bev. ‘I know who you are, where you come from, and I have no idea who she is. And, what’s more, I have no desi
re to know who she is. Someone who behaves like that.’ She shook her head. ‘Terrible. Terrible.’
‘But she, her family, they have gone through some awful stuff.’
Bev’s eye’s widened. ‘Darling, you’re not responsible for that. They want to blame someone. That’s how some people are.’
Aurora closed the door left open by Janice and took her place at the head of the group again. ‘Apologies to you all for that disruption. If anyone wants to go, I’ll completely understand. But for those who want to stay, I hope you’ll be able to get into the class and, well, get some benefit from it.’
Murmurs ran around the room, but no one made a move to leave. Pam wasn’t sure whether to read this as an act of solidarity or of resignation (what had happened had happened). Either way, no one had shunned her. Surely that was a good enough outcome. ‘You start, I just need a moment,’ she said, pointing vaguely outside.
When she went out into the corridor she saw the main door was open, left like that by Reggie and Janice as they stormed out. She peered gingerly outside before she closed it. It was still raining, and muddy pools had formed in the worn, potholed areas of the car park. She wasn’t sure if any cars were missing. She didn’t want to look too closely, try to remember what kind of cars they drove. Blue Commodore? Green Laser? Perhaps Reggie and Janice had gone, or perhaps they were sitting in one of the cars, one that she couldn’t see so clearly through the misty rain, planning some act of sabotage or fuelling each other’s anger. At least there was no sign of them. She closed the door, snibbing the lock for good measure. She didn’t imagine anyone else would be coming in now. And bugger it if they did.
Life Before Page 20
