‘Isn’t it gorgeous?’ May said. ‘Your granddaughter will love that.’
Mutely, Marian accepted the toy, now in its bag, and went out feeling conned. It was a real puppy that Tara needed, not this hideous thing.
Marian should have her over more often. But Michelle might not want that.
Marian peered into the bag. Perhaps she could take the battery out and sew up the flap.
The puppy was cuddly, despite closed eyes. Tara might take to it, a friend to have beside her in bed.
Service to the Country. Through Country Women. For Country Women. By Country Women.
Marian mumbled it like a mantra now each time she came through the foyer. It had become familiar, as reassuring as the creak of the lift. Funny how quickly a place could become home.
The young woman with blue hair was standing at the foot of the stairs. Must find out her name.
‘Oh yeah,’ the woman said, looking, as usual, to the left of Marian’s head. ‘There’s a guy to see you.’ She jerked her thumb backwards. ‘In the lounge.’
Not … what was his name? Ron? Marian straightened her shoulders and walked into the lounge.
The man huddled side-on in one of the armchairs, a picture of discomfort, was Brian.
Marian touched his shoulder. ‘What are you doing here?’
Lumbering to his feet he stood, hangdog. ‘I was worried.’
She opened her mouth to speak, but he got in first. ‘Damn it, Mum. You went off on Monday and we haven’t heard a peep out of you since. What have you been doing?’
Marian hesitated. The fact that you loved them wasn’t the point, didn’t make any difference to the dragging. You couldn’t even go to the toilet on your own. Did it never end?
But already she was moving towards him, the automatic response, reassuring, putting her arms around him. ‘Sorry Brian. I should have rung. Thanks for coming.’
He patted her awkwardly on the back. ‘We missed you,’ he said gruffly, then stepped back, clearing his throat.
Marian sat down and Brian took the chair next to her.
‘When did you get here?’ she asked.
‘About four. I had to get the bus.’ He sounded grumpy and tired, and stretched his legs and shoulders.
The bus. Even the school bus had always annoyed him. Not enough leg room.
‘I left the ute for Michelle.’ But he seemed to think better of complaining. ‘She sends her love.’
‘Oh yes.’
‘She felt bad about upsetting you, Mum.’ He pulled out a large hanky and blew his nose.
‘Have you got a cold?’
‘I don’t know. Might be the air-conditioning on the bus.’ He sniffed. ‘Michelle said to tell you she could come up too if you need her.’
What for?
Brian twisted in his chair. ‘She means well, Mum, she cares about you.’
‘Oh well. It was my fault too. I was upset. It wasn’t exactly a good day.’
‘Have you seen him?’
‘Charlie? Yesterday. I’m going again tomorrow. You can come too.’
Brian drew back. ‘Uh …’
‘Three adults can go every day for an hour while he’s on remand.’
‘Should I?’
That chafing irritation again. ‘Well, he is your brother.’
‘Yes,’ Brian said unhappily.
‘It’s up to you.’
‘What would I say to him?’
‘God, Brian. How would I know? What do you normally talk about? Tell him what you’re up to. Tell him about the farm.’
Brian wiped his nose. ‘He’ll have a go at me. He hates it when I talk about the farm, says we’re doing everything wrong. The city’s given him these greenie ideas.’
What a baby he was. But he had come to find her and he always would do the right thing. It can’t have been easy for him either, caught between her and Michelle. And all the gossip that must be flying round the district.
‘Are people talking?’
Brian scowled. ‘Oh you know. It isn’t going to be easy. All that stuff in the paper didn’t help. And on telly.’
Marian’s heart sank. Instead of burying her head in the sand she should have kept up with it all, watched TV, read the papers. Better to know what you were up against.
‘Michelle made sure Tara didn’t see it. Not that she would have understood. Todd didn’t want to go to school on Wednesday, so I guess there was something going on there. Michelle kept him home.’ Brian wiped his nose again.
‘You should be in bed, with that cold. Did you get yourself a room?’
‘Yeah. I thought I’d better. I have to go back tomorrow though.’
‘That’s fine with me. We can drive together. See Charlie on the way.’
Brian sneezed.
‘Why don’t you go to bed? There’s something I need to do, then I’ll get take-away.’
What Marian wanted to do was to say goodbye properly to Ros and Sam.
Yes, and Lee.
First she found a deli with buckets of flowers out the front, bought two big bunches of jonquils and laid them carefully on the back seat.
There was no answer when she knocked on Ros and Sam’s door, so she crossed over to Lee’s place.
Lee appeared behind the screen and opened the door, just as she had the first time. But now Marian knew what to expect.
‘Come in,’ Lee said, serious, but not hostile.
Marian pushed the flowers awkwardly towards her. ‘These are for you. And for Ros and Sam, but they’re not home.’
‘I’ll get a vase. Come down to the kitchen. I’ve got family here.’
An elderly couple sat at the table. What Marian noticed first was the woman’s hair, curling round her face in silky white waves. Her eyes were dark and shrewd, but not unfriendly.
‘Aunty Rene, Uncle Dougie, this is Marian. A friend.’
Was that a challenge? Was she a friend?
Uncle Dougie sat back from the table. Aunty Rene was the source of energy in the room. It was impossible to tell her age but she held a mug in hands twisted and shiny with arthritis.
Lee spoke to her. ‘I was telling Marian about Granny. Marian lives at Tolgerup and she’s interested in the Reserve, the old days and all that.’
‘Oh yeah. You live in the town?’ Aunty Rene asked.
‘No, on a farm. Used to be one of the Hassell places, years ago.’
‘Out near Quallingup?’
‘No, the other way. East of the siding.’
‘Anditon, did you say?’
‘That’s right.’
‘I know where you mean. Yeah. My brother worked at a few places round there.’
Marian was aware of being examined, sized up.
‘Bad things happened,’ Aunty Rene said, frowning.
‘I know,’ Marian said.
And she did know, it was true.
‘I told Marian that already,’ Lee said. ‘She read an article I wrote.’
‘It was a long time ago,’ Uncle Dougie said. ‘Don’t make trouble, Lee.’
‘I’m not. But people have to know.’
Lee put a mug of tea in front of Marian. ‘Aunty Rene works with kids. These two pretty much run a refuge at their place. Uncle Dougie was a boxer, teaches kids self-defence. Girls too.’
‘Boxing?’
Uncle Dougie laughed. ‘Girls gotta look after themselves.’
‘He’s taught me a few tricks,’ Lee said. ‘It’s about confidence, showing kids that they aren’t powerless.’
Marian looked from one to the other. ‘But … fighting?’
‘He reckons you need to know how to do it, and then you won’t ever have to, isn’t that right Uncle?’
Uncle Dougie nodded.
‘Aunty Rene hates any sort of violence,’ Lee said. ‘But that doesn’t mean she believes in lying down like a doormat, either, do you?’
Aunty Rene turned to Marian. ‘You got kids?’ she asked.
‘Two sons,’ Marian said.
‘Oh yeah? What do they do?’
Marian’s heart sank. That was the question. There’d never be an escape from that question. What does your son do?
Her thoughts grew foggy. Not fog, something that pulled at every limb, dragged her down. There was work she should be doing. Somewhere.
She tried to hang onto her earlier purpose, to come and say thank you.
‘Marian’s got trouble,’ Lee said. ‘Her son’s in gaol. Remember Charlie, my friend next door? He shot some guys.’
Aunty Rene grunted. ‘That’s bad. Young fellas. They lost the way. Not enough to do.’
At least she wasn’t shocked. Another young fella in trouble. Trouble was a thing these two knew about.
Marian stopped at the door on the way out. There was something else she had to say to Lee.
‘I’m sorry about what I said the other day. When I first met you. I don’t really believe all that. I understand what you said, that it’s not up to you to help us … white people. But you have made me think.’
‘In spite of yourself?’ Lee asked, challenging.
‘Well, I can learn.’ Marian held out her hand, determined not to be intimidated.
After a moment Lee took it. ‘Then you owe me,’ she said. ‘I won’t forget. Salvation doesn’t come cheap.’
When Marian looked back from the car, Lee raised one hand in an unsmiling wave. Marian waved back and drove away, realising that she could stop holding her breath.
Leaving the car at the CWA she walked down into the city. There was a different quality to the hum tonight. Friday, the end of the week. The office workers were calling goodbye to each other, winding down in pubs and cafes. The shops were all open, windows lit up. Marian dawdled until she saw a juice bar. That was what Brian needed. She ordered orange, carrot and ginger from a cheerful woman with frizzy curls escaping from under her white cap.
‘Doing anything on the weekend?’ the woman shouted, feeding the fruit into a vibrating stainless steel cylinder.
‘Going home,’ Marian said, and realised that it was time. Time to go home.
‘Where’s home?’
‘Albany.’ Near enough.
‘Oh nice. I’ve got friends in Albany, teachers. They love it. Bob and Mary Symes. You might know them.’
‘No. I’m afraid …’
‘Of course not. It’s a city these days, isn’t it? Not like when we used to go there as kids.’
Fitting a plastic lid onto the cup she pushed it across the counter. ‘Here you are. Safe journey.’
The walk to West Perth was familiar. Marian stopped in a steamy little Chinese shop and chose at random from the noodles menu. Brian wouldn’t be fussy, with a cold. And take-away of any sort was a rare enough treat.
Back in her own room she propped the photo of Mac and Brian against the clock. The resemblance was uncanny. Both were smiling, presumably at Charlie behind the camera.
Perhaps the photo would remind him that he had a family, and that sometimes they were happy.
saturday
Marian fed money into a vending machine, notes, coins. No matter how much she put in, nothing came out. She pushed at the buttons, beginning to sweat. It’s taken all my money. That’s all the money I’ve got, she said to a woman in a sari. Let me help you, said the woman. With one beautifully manicured finger, she started at the top left of the panel and pressed each button in turn. There you are, she said, smiling at Marian. But the machine had still not delivered any food. Marian pointed to the slot. Where’s the food? The Indian woman smiled sweetly again and walked away, adjusting her sari with a graceful hand. Marian’s throat was tight and she kicked the machine, sobbing more loudly with each thrust of her foot.
She woke in a sweaty tangle of bedclothes, rolled over and pulled herself free.
Breakfast, she must eat some breakfast.
Once she’d packed her clothes she pulled the bedding straight. Someone would come to clean the room, strip the bed, but she didn’t want to think of it like that, empty.
Her knees felt shaky and she sat down abruptly.
She didn’t want to leave, that’s what it was. This room was safe.
But they were going home.
Brian was too big for the dining room and stretched in all directions off his chair. He seemed tired and uncomfortable, but wasn’t sneezing at least. He ate his cornflakes in silence and then he went to the side table and piled his plate with toast. Marian drank tea.
‘When are the visiting hours?’ Brian asked, wiping his mouth.
So he’d decided to do it.
‘Not till lunchtime. I could ring and see if we can go earlier.’
‘Yeah. Otherwise we’ll be driving all night to get home.’
Marian didn’t protest when he went to the driver’s side of the car. Let him worry about the city traffic.
Between them, with several stops to consult road signs, they found their way to the strip of bush that marked the outer fence of the prison. Not that you could see anything. The buildings were all tucked away. Like a castle in a magic forest. Dark magic. Not a castle, a dungeon.
Brian fell silent. He’s scared, Marian thought. He’d probably never been anywhere near a prison before. Being the one who knew what to do, having Brian to take care of, filled Marian with confidence.
A different guard searched them, speaking through thin lips, face unfriendly. Marian slid the photo out of her bag.
‘Can I give him this?’
The guard took it from her, large thumb in the very middle, almost covering Mac’s face. Marian moved to protest, but met his cold eyes and thought better of it.
‘Yeah. Okay.’
He hustled them through. Brian looked whiter with each unlocked door. Marian took his arm.
Charlie was sitting at a table and didn’t get up, just looked at them without smiling.
Marian bent down and kissed his cheek. ‘Hello Charlie.’ She slid into the chair beside him.
Brian stood awkwardly on the other side of the table.
‘Hi, Charlie.’ he said.
Charlie nodded briefly.
After a silence, Brian sat down.
The yellow goo was still coming out of the pink tube in the Quit poster. Today Marian wasn’t prepared to put up with it. She shifted her chair so that it was behind her.
Brian stared at the table, miserable defeat in the line of his shoulders. Charlie scowled at him.
Marian was overtaken by irritation. Well isn’t this nice. All together again, one happy family.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘Here we are. Now what?’
Brian glanced at her, surprised by the bite in her voice. He and Charlie grinned lopsidedly at each other, then looked away.
‘I’m …’ Brian started, but Charlie spoke at the same time. ‘You …’
Both men started to laugh, but bit it off.
‘You first,’ Charlie said.
‘Last time you were down, I lost it. I’m sorry. It was my fault.’
‘Thanks Brian.’ For a moment Marian could see the old vitality in Charlie’s face. But as she watched, it faded.
‘It wasn’t your fault though,’ he muttered. ‘I was out for a fight.’
‘Was that …?’ Brian was floundering with an idea.
He’s blaming himself, Marian thought. Brian too.
Charlie jerked his head away and Brian dropped his gaze.
‘I brought you a photo,’ Marian said, sliding it along the table. ‘I haven’t got one of Jeb yet. But this was in your room.’
Charlie looked at it without picking it up.
‘Bluff Knoll,’ he said, glancing at Brian. ‘Bluff Knoll with conquerors. Big men climb Bluff Knoll. Colonisers, imperialists.’
Brian scowled.
He never could think of a reply, Marian realised.
‘I prefer Toolbrunup,’ Charlie said. ‘More subtle.’
Another silence.
‘We’re going back home today,’ Marian said. ‘Do you want me to do anything? Bef
ore we go?’
‘I wrote you a letter,’ he said, eyes too bright. ‘After you were here.’
Marian’s heart beat faster. ‘Oh?’
‘It’s in the post.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I was hoping you could fix a few things for me, some money. You can put it in an account for me here. For the phone and that. I’ll pay you back.’
Was that all?
Charlie turned to Brian. ‘So how’s the family?’
‘Um, good thanks. Todd’s started school.’
‘You look after them. It’s not a good world for kids. Bad stuff happens.’
Marian stared at him and he smiled.
‘I saw your friends again,’ Marian said, willing him to respond, be human.
He glanced sideways at her. ‘Oh yeah?’
‘Lee gave a presentation at Uni yesterday.’
Something shifted behind his eyes.
‘How do you know?’
She knew more about his friends than he did now, and he didn’t like that.
She was seized with pity. There was so little for him to hang on to.
‘I went to it. I had tea at Ros and Sam’s on Thursday night. Lee and Ben were there too and they invited me.’ She tried to make it sound casual, everyday. But there was no getting around it. The world would move on without him.
The skin was tight around his mouth.
‘So how did it go?’
‘What?’
‘Lee’s talk.’
‘Good, I think. Everyone seemed to think it was great.’
‘Yeah. But what about you Mum? What did you think?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t follow it very well.’
‘I’ve had other things on my mind,’ she added sharply, nettled by his smile. Was he getting at her?
But as she wondered, his face changed, sagging into the discontented lines of a much older man.
He wasn’t as tough as he thought. And he must be realising that he’d thrown his life away.
Brian was fidgeting, running his thumb along the edge of the table.
‘Crops doing well, are they?’ Charlie asked him, their childhood imitation of a city slicker trying to sound knowledgeable.
‘We could do with some rain, mate,’ said Brian, on cue. But he didn’t sound comfortable.
The First Week Page 17
