The Penance Room

by Carol Coffey

  “Why did you not stop with your fire engine?” she cries. Spit from her mouth lands on my face and I can feel it, hot and wet.

  I sign to her, “What fire engine?” and she understands.

  “You went by in a fire engine when I needed it. You didn’t come. I was waiting. I waited and waited for someone to put out the fire!” She bursts into tears and then straightens herself up suddenly. I look over at Maria’s grandfather’s house and see no evidence that there has been a fire.

  “It’s not a fire engine,” I sign but she is not convinced.

  I take out my notepad and write her a note. “The lights on top of the truck are there because father works in the mine. They’re warning lights.”

  “Liar!” she says, unconvinced.

  “No!” I sign. “No, Maria. It is not a fire engine. There is no fire.”

  But she turns and runs away from me. I follow her and find her sitting outside her old house, crying. I put my arm around her and try to comfort her but she pulls away. I raise her face up with my hand until she looks at my mouth and I use words that I cannot hear. She is almost the only person I will do this for.

  “I am your friend and, Maria, there is no fire. Why do you think this? Is – is there something wrong with you? You can tell me anything. I will not be shocked. I promise.”

  Maria looks at me as if I am the one who is mad. “You don’t get it, do you, Christopher? Don’t you understand what’s going on?”

  I sign “No. I don’t.”

  I am unwilling to degrade myself with my terrible deaf voice for her a second time. I get up and stand over her.

  “I think Steve doesn’t want me at the house. I think he prefers for me to go to a special school,” I sign and she laughs out loud.

  “School? You’re an idiot. What’s the point in you going to school?”

  “Maria, please listen to me. I don’t want things to change.”

  “Welcome to my world,” she says before disappearing into her grandfather’s house.

  As I walk towards home, I feel sudden tears welling in my eyes and hope that I have not lost her. I raise my hand and feel the long narrow scratch along my right cheek. The cost of being Maria’s friend is rising and, while I am unsure if I will be able to afford it much longer, the cost of loneliness is much higher.

  When I arrive home, Father is talking to Bill in the office about Wilfred because he is a policeman and might know how to find Wilfred before he hurts himself. His wife is working in the local hospital so he has his naughty son with him that I don’t want to see. I briefly look into the room and sneak out again.

  I go into the Penance Room and find everybody subdued. Mother has just told them about Iren, and Victoria and Penelope are sniffing into white pressed handkerchiefs. Mina also looks sad and Martin is saying, “Poor soul, God bless her” now and then, even though he was usually the one who shouted at her the loudest when she started screaming for Aron. Jimmy’s head is down and Father Hayes is smiling into thin air and talking to himself. When Jeff arrives to talk to his father about his marriage to Kora, Mother decides that everybody needs cheering up and asks Tina to help her move everyone into the dining room for leftover cake and Li’s fresh coffee. As we sit around the table, I can see my mother is dying to know how Jimmy is taking the news of his son’s impending marriage but she continues to make small talk with the residents about the weather and of course, the arrangements for Iren’s funeral tomorrow. Bill has offered to drive as many of the residents to the funeral as he can and anyone else who wants to go can take a lift in my mother’s small car or Tina’s Ford Falcon. When my mother hears the Penance Room door closing, she jumps up and meets Jeff coming out the door all red-faced. She fears the worst and I see her swallow hard.

  “Well?”

  Jeff shakes his head. I can see the long red scar on his forehead from the accident and a deep indent in his cheek.

  “I don’t know what to make of it. He went real quiet. I was expecting him to go on a rant but he didn’t. He just sat there and said nothing. Not sure I’d understand his speech now anyway but it’s strange. I – I don’t know if it’s a good or bad sign.”

  “Let’s take it as a good sign. He could see how much Kora cared for you during your recovery so maybe he’s come around?”

  Jeff looks doubtful as he opens the front door with his good arm.

  “Looks like rain,” he says, looking towards the thundery red sky and sniffing the hot air.

  “Been listening to that for weeks now, mate!” my mother says laughing. “And not a drop. Think it’ll never happen. It’s been a strange summer, hasn’t it? Nowhere near as many storms really.”

  Jeff agrees and puts his hat squarely on his large head.

  “Jeff, I’m really glad you’re marrying my sister. It’ll be nice to be family. I know you’ll be good to her.”

  Jeff smiles shyly. “I’ll certainly try to make her happy, Emma,” he says as he makes his way down the wooden steps of the porch.

  Bill comes out of the office and briefly fills my mother in on the plans he has for finding Wilfred.

  “I’m going to phone my mates at the nearest stations and ask ’em to look out for him. Look, I know he’s a seasoned outback traveller, but he’s got to stop somewhere for supplies, so sooner or later someone will see him. Don’t worry.”

  My mother closes the door on Bill and his unwelcome son, and goes about turning off all of the lights to prepare for bed. Aishling comes bounding down the stairs smiling and ready for work. My mother laughs.

  “Oh, young love!” she jokes as she helps Aishling get the residents to bed.

  When Martin is settled in his room I go inside and sit on the hard wooden chair beside his window, ready for the nightmares to begin.

  Chapter 26

  Just as Jeff predicted, at about one in the morning it begins to rain heavily. Fork lightning lights up my room and I wake in my own bed wondering how I got here. The last thing I remember is sitting in Martin’s room watching him doze off. I get out of bed and rub my foot which is throbbing. I wonder if the rain is causing this as I stretch and pull at the stump, trying to ease the discomfort. I briefly wish that I had woken after three when my train has passed through my mind and I can return to my dreams. I feel the walls of the house shake from the thunder and I know it will be useless to try to return to sleep so I get up and walk past Aishling’s desk. She is not there so I creep along the dark hallway trying to find her. I look in Iren’s room. She is laid out on her bed and Mr Berman is sitting quietly beside her. His wife is with him. I have never met her before but I notice that she has a kind face with deep lines around her brown eyes that tell me she has laughed a lot. Aishling is also there although it doesn’t look like there is any work for her to do. She is sitting by the end of the bed, staring into space. I look at Iren and she looks younger and untroubled. Her face doesn’t look as thin and the heavy lines that made her look so old appear to have faded. There is a faint smile on her lips and I wonder if she died thinking of something good, something like Aron and the love they had for each other that lasted a lifetime. I have not seen her spirit around so I hope she is with him now and will not hang around here looking for him or for food which is the second thing she used to ask for. I go back out into the hallway and make my way to Martin’s room. On my way, I check Wilfred’s room hoping that he has returned and is safe but the room is the same way he left it. His beautiful photographs still adorn the walls and the album of sad photographs is most likely still hidden under his bed. On the wall above the bed there is a large photo of Uluru at sunset. The rock looks like it is on fire with deep red and orange hues dancing above it. On the far wall, photographs of thundering waterfalls and never-ending desert are hung on either side of a black and white photograph of Wilfred’s mother and sister with old-fashioned hairstyles and pretty floral dresses. Sometimes, when Wilfred is out, I go in and take his sad album out. The black and white photographs are mostly of post-war Berlin with dirty childr
en and blown-up houses. They are stark and it is impossible to avoid the sadness that rises up from the pages. I feel a need to look at those photos again and place my hand under the bed but find that it is gone. I immediately understand what this means. Wilfred has given up on finding beauty and has taken only his bad memories with him.

  I walk slowly and sadly to Martin’s room. I am not surprised to find him awake and cowering in the corner, silently, lest he annoy the spirits that only he can see. I sit on his bed and he looks at me.

  “Where’d ya go?” he asks. There is a long crease in his forehead so I know he is annoyed with me.

  I have no answer for him so I shrug which my mother says is rude. I am afraid to ask him who is there. I know he will get annoyed if I cannot see his tormentors.

  “Ya afraid of lightning, boy?” he asks.

  I shake my head. I am afraid of very little. Just angry ghosts and dogs.

  “We had a nag when I was young. Good worker but Christ, she was afraid of lightning storms. She’d manage to get free and run off out into the storm. Stupid horse!”

  Martin stops talking but I can see his tongue moving back and forth in his mouth.

  I take out my notebook.

  “Is that the horse that died in the fire?” I write.

  Martin reddens and starts to cough. I notice that he always coughs when he is nervous. He nods but doesn’t answer. He doesn’t want to talk about it.

  I pull back his covers and signal for him to get back into bed. The rain has made the house feel cold and I don’t want him to become ill. He still has work to do.

  “You’ll stay?” he asks.

  I sign “Yes.”

  I sit on the hard wooden chair and watch him sleep for the second time that night and when I doze off I dream of speeding trains, frightened horses and fires that I cannot put out. In my dream I am driving a fire engine and suddenly Maria is there waving at me and begging me to save her. I see her grandfather running towards me and saying “Hurry, hurry!” When I wake he is gone and so is Maria. I decide that I will find her tomorrow and make my peace with her.

  I shiver and decide to take a blanket from Martin’s wardrobe. The noise wakes him and he looks up, an expression of fear spreading across his grey face. I sign that it is okay and he lies back down. I watch his breathing ease as his chest rises and falls gently under his thin blue pyjamas. I throw the blanket on the floor and lie down beneath his window watching the beautiful lightning. I try to imagine Wilfred sleeping in a car or a roadhouse and I say in my mind, “Look up, Wilfred, look at this thing of beauty” but he shuts his eyes tight and turns his back to me as though he no longer believes in beauty any more. When I fall asleep I see him walking through the desert. The sun is beating down on him. His lips are chapped and he is lost and alone. I look up at the position of sun and notice that he is walking away from home. I try to tell him and I even use my voice, saying “Turn around, Wilfred. Come back to us!” but he doesn’t seem to hear me and keeps walking further into the desert.

  The following morning, the residents eat in silence as we prepare for Iren’s funeral. All of the more mobile residents want to go and we fill three cars with Jimmy, Martin, Penelope, Victoria and Mina. Aishling stays behind and agrees to watch the babies until Greta returns to take over. Mr Berman will conduct the ceremony like he did at Aron’s funeral.

  The rain has not stopped so Jimmy remains in the car with Martin. Neither of the men can afford to get wet but Jeff has parked the car as close to the ceremony as possible so that they get to say their goodbyes. As Mr Berman chants words that I cannot follow, I turn my eyes towards Jeff’s car and can see Martin and Jimmy talking. It is hard to know how much of Jimmy’s speech Martin can understand but he is nodding and answering and it is good to see them getting along. I start to laugh when I see Martin lift something awkwardly from his pocket. It is a small bottle of whiskey that his daughter must have brought in for him, despite my mother asking her not to. Martin takes a big gulp and then holds the bottle up to Jimmy’s lips. Jimmy drinks, they both cough and my mother turns to check on them. Greta makes her way toward the car to make sure that they are all right and there is panic between the two men as they try to hide the bottle in time. But Greta sees it and half smiles.

  “Maybe leave that for later,” she winks.

  Jimmy’s expression changes and I see him staring to his far left and away from the Jewish section of the cemetery. I follow his eyes and see that he is looking at his wife’s headstone. I walk around to the high grey stone and read her name: “Laura Young, beloved wife of James.”

  He mouths something to Martin who squints at his old nemesis, as if this will help him understand what he is saying.

  “You didn’t get along? That what you said?”

  Jimmy nods. There are tears in his eyes.

  “Christ, join the club. Didn’t get along with mine either. Bloody women. Can’t please them,” Martin says, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

  I follow Jimmy’s eyes back to the group, who are shivering in the heavy rain. He watches as Jeff takes his heavy jacket off and throws it around Kora’s shoulders to keep her warm. She tries to refuse it but when he insists she holds her umbrella up higher to cover his head and back. Jimmy stares at this mutual act of love and I can see it is something he is not accustomed to. He moves his leathery tongue around his mouth and mutters something that even Martin doesn’t catch. The funeral ends and everyone slowly goes back to the cars for the drive home.

  When we get home, Li has an early lunch ready and we all sit down to eat. My father sneaks into the office to phone Bill. This is Wilfred’s second day away from home and I know my father is thinking the worst. When he comes in and takes his seat, he looks disappointed so I know there is no news. As lunch finishes, Mr Berman asks my mother if he can speak to her and my father in private. They return to the office and sit down. I move out to the porch and sneak a look in the window.

  Mr Berman looks sad. “You know, it’s like losing my mother,” he says.

  My mother nods and touches his arm. “I know, David. She felt the same way about you.”

  Mr Berman coughs and shifts on his seat. “Anyway, it is business I wish to discuss,” he says. He is slightly embarrassed and is trying to avoid their sympathy. “You remember Mrs Levi?”

  “Yes,” my mother and father said simultaneously.

  “She wasn’t with us long,” my mother continues. “About a year or so. It must be well, fifteen years ago, more? We hadn’t been open very long.”

  “She was a widow with no family,” Mr Berman reminded my mother. “She came to Broken Hill to find her brother but she did not know he had been ill and had already died.”

  My mother is nodding. Mrs Levi’s story is slowly coming back to her.

  “When she became frail, you took her in. She had no money but this didn’t worry you. The local Jewish group asked Aron and Iren to visit her.”

  “Yes.” My mother is smiling now. “That’s when I first met them,” she replies. “But the state did pay some of her costs,” she adds. My mother was raised to be humble and she doesn’t like to be praised.

  “Even so, it didn’t cover her care. Iren and Aron were so impressed with your kindness that they asked me to ensure they came to live here if they ever needed nursing care.”

  Tears form in my mother’s eyes. “They used to buy all of Mrs Levi’s clothes, I remember. She was a sweet lady. I’m glad they felt that they would be well cared for here.”

  “So, the reason I ask to speak with you and Andy is for the Kleins’ will. As you know, I was also their solicitor as well as their friend. I don’t have the paperwork with me today and tomorrow I have to travel to Sydney for business but I thought you should know that Aron and Iren remembered you very well in their will.”

  “They did?” my father asks surprised. “We certainly didn’t expect that.”

  “Nor want that,” my mother adds.

  “Nevertheless, they were aware that yo
ur building required some work and so they instructed me that when their smaller bequeaths were settled, the rest of their assets should go to you.”

  “The rest of their assets?” Father asks.

  “Yes, it is a rough figure but I think it will be approximately $120,000.”

  Mother looks at Father and their eyes open wide. I know my mother fleetingly thinks of en suite bathrooms and a lift for Jimmy who since his last stroke has had to move into the babies’ room downstairs, but she shakes her head to dispel these thoughts.

  “We can’t take it, David. We’re so – so very grateful that they were so happy here but we just cannot. It’s too much. What – what about you? You were the closest person to them. Aren’t you disappointed?”

  “Not at all. I have known their wishes for many years now. They left me their house in the town which I have many happy memories of, and of course Aron and Iren paid for me to go to university. My uncle would not have had such money. They gave me a start in life that I would not otherwise have had. My work has made me a wealthy man. I don’t need more than this. They taught me to know what was important: my family and my community. What they wanted was to ensure this house lived on and that there was somewhere the people in this town could come when they needed help most, all people, from any country and any religion. Those were their words.”

  My father looks out the window and I know he is thinking of Wilfred.

  “I ask that you please accept their gift. It would mean that at least one of their dreams came true,” Mr Berman says, rising from his chair.

  “We’ll talk about it,” my father says quickly, opening the door and letting Mr Berman out.

  As his wife joins him in the hallway, Mr Berman shakes hands with my mother and father. He appears nervous. His mouth is dry and he licks his lips several times to moisten them. He walks into the Penance Room and begins to shake hands with all of the residents. He wishes each one health and happiness and turns to my mother. There is an expression on his face that I cannot yet read. It is as if there is something that he needs to do, something he is not looking forward to.