The Road Back: A Novel

by Di Morrissey

  ‘What are you doing this afternoon, Georgie?’ Mac asked her as she polished off her cake.

  ‘Well, not eating, that’s for sure. I’m off home. Thanks for lunch, Dad. I’ll leave you two to talk newspapers.’ She shook Chris’s hand. ‘I meant what I said about a book. Keep digging and let me know if you think you’ve got something. If you have any questions, give me a call.’ She handed him her business card, kissed her father on the cheek and left.

  ‘Another coffee?’ said Mac.

  ‘Why not? What do you think about the idea of a book?’ asked Chris.

  ‘It sounds good to me. No harm in putting together what you can and letting Georgie see if anyone bites. As she said, these are prominent men. They’ll have some sort of pulling power.’

  ‘You must be glad to have her home.’

  ‘I am. I confess I miss her mother, so it’s good to have Georgie around. She’s got a dinky little house in Balmain that she paid a ridiculous sum for. Not that I see all that much of her. She likes to deal face to face with the people she’s representing, so she tends to zip about the country all the time. Very independent young woman. Career-focused. But Chris, if she takes you on, she’ll do a good job. She’s a hard taskmaster, but she knows her stuff.’

  ‘I have to say, Mac, I’m rather taken with the idea of doing a book. Something I can get my teeth into. My foray into freelance journalism got short shrift, so this idea appeals to me.’

  ‘Well, go to it, lad, and if you need me, feel free to ask. But trust Georgie. She’ll rip into you if the book’s not measuring up, but she also has the knack of making you see your story from quite a different angle. Anyway, if you like this book idea, give it your best shot.’

  *

  ‘Do you realise you haven’t stopped talking about the book since you got home last night and now for . . .’ Susan glanced at her watch, ‘half the morning?!’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Chris, grinning as he sipped his coffee. ‘I’m just so enthused about the idea. I doubt I’ll turn into a fulltime author, but if I have a book published it could open a lot of doors. I’m so glad I had lunch with Mac. I had a great day seeing old friends. I needed the break. Now I think I feel keen enough to be beaten by the boys at golf next Saturday.’

  ‘Great. I’ll be out for the day too. That’s the day David Moore will be here to help with our Landcare creek project.’

  ‘Really? Well, I could talk to him a bit more too, if he has time. Is he staying over?’

  ‘I offered him the guest cottage. Our Landcare group is very excited that someone with an international reputation is coming to give us some advice on restoring that poor old creek.’

  ‘Terrific. And what’s Megan up to today?’

  ‘She’s going out to Mollie’s. She so loves her riding lessons.’

  ‘I must go out and watch her sometime,’ said Chris. ‘Now I can’t keep up with all her activities.’

  ‘You’re right. If she’s not riding or playing netball or part of a debating team, she’s practising in the school orchestra. And there’s that jazz band that she’s joined with a couple of her friends. I’ve heard them play. At this stage all I can say about them is that what they lack in the way of talent is made up for by sheer enthusiasm. I’m so glad she’s got herself involved in all these projects. They certainly keep her busy,’ said Susan.

  David Moore arrived on Friday afternoon and suggested he take them all out to dinner to repay Susan’s hospitality.

  ‘Oh, I have a school orchestra practice,’ said Megan. ‘Thank you anyway, Mr Moore.’

  Chris hesitated, then said, ‘Thanks, but if you don’t mind, I think I’ll stay in. I’m working on a plan for a book I’m thinking of writing.’

  David raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re writing a book? That sounds interesting.’

  ‘I’m sure Chris will fill you in when he gets the chance,’ said Susan.

  *

  When Chris got up the next morning Susan and David were ready to leave.

  ‘We’re off. I’m not sure when we’ll be home but do you think you could do us a barbecue tonight? There’s plenty of meat in the freezer and it’s all labelled, so you just need to defrost it. David’s kindly said he’ll supply the wine, but will you get some fresh sourdough bread from the bakery? That would be good.’

  Chris waved a hand. ‘Leave it to me. I’ll get it before I head off to golf.’

  Megan appeared in the kitchen dressed in the stretch jeans she called her riding pants, a T-shirt and an old flannel shirt of Susan’s. She was carrying a riding hat and wearing some battered riding boots that Mollie had given her. ‘Hi, everyone. Any porridge?’

  ‘Sorry, darling, no time. Have some cereal with a banana,’ said her grandmother.

  ‘I’ll make you some porridge,’ said Chris.

  ‘I don’t have time to wait for that, thanks Dad. Gotta go. Why don’t you come out to Mollie’s this afternoon and see me and Squire in action?’

  ‘Love to, sweetie. Depends what time we finish golf.’

  ‘Okay, whatever. Have a fun day, Bunny,’ Megan added as Susan, holding a piece of toast, gathered her things and she and David, looking slightly bemused by all the early morning activity, headed out the door.

  ‘See you all later,’ she called back happily.

  Chris watched his mother walk to her car. Even though she was wearing well-worn moleskin pants, boots and a pale blue shirt with a navy sweatshirt knotted over her shoulders, her expensive sunglasses pushed up on her head, Chris noticed that she’d taken great care over her make-up and was wearing her pearl earrings. He glanced at his daughter and smiled to himself. What his mother wore might be described as country chic, but Megan looked downright country. Apart from her multi-coloured nail varnish, there was no evidence of any trendy favourites or brand names. He wondered what Ruby and her Sydney set would have said about this transformation.

  ‘Have a good day, Megs. I’ll try to get out to see you, honey. I won’t linger at the nineteenth hole with the boys, just tote up my losses, pay up and leave.’

  ‘Dad, maybe if you played more, you wouldn’t always lose,’ said Megan, cheerfully.

  ‘You have a point there,’ agreed Chris.

  He stuck to his plan, and while he enjoyed the golf, Chris excused himself early, saying he wanted to head out and see his daughter’s riding lesson.

  Driving to Mollie’s farm, he marvelled again at the beautiful countryside, mellow in the late afternoon light. The shadows had begun to lengthen across the hills, and all the paddocks were lush, glowing emerald from recent rain. A sense of permanence and stability filled the valley as it sat at the edge of the ancient rainforest, while the nearby ranges concealed cascading waterfalls and uncharted territory. And tucked beneath those ranges in the crevices of the landscape, small villages and communities were filled with people leading full lives.

  He turned off to Mollie’s farm and headed up the rutted driveway to the farmhouse.

  He parked the car and headed down to the paddock, where he could see a small knot of people. He smiled proudly as he looked at Megan on horseback, confidently trotting around the makeshift arena.

  He continued to watch her from a distance, trying to reconcile this straight-backed girl, head held erect, legs tightly hugging the flanks of the sturdy horse as she bounced in unison with the movement of the animal, with the girl of just a few months ago, hunched over her laptop, slouching around the house, slumped on the sofa watching a video or playing with her phone. Chris saw that his daughter had suddenly become someone with different priorities. She was still determined, quick-witted and funny, with intriguing tastes and interests, but now Chris knew she was more grounded and seemed happier with her life.

  He walked towards the others and watched Mollie giving Megan directions, but then he was surprised to see that to one side of the paddock, leaning on the rails, were his mother and David.

  He joined them. ‘This is a surprise, seeing you both here. How’s she doing?’
>
  ‘We finished early enough to come over. Aren’t you thrilled, Chris! Look at her. Who’d have thought it! Surfer girl to horse rider in such a relatively short time. I’m so proud of her.’

  ‘You’d think she’d been born in the saddle,’ added David.

  ‘Of course, she still likes to go surfing at the nearby beaches, so she hasn’t given surfing away entirely,’ Susan told him.

  Chris said nothing as he lifted his arm to let Megan know that he was there, but she was concentrating so hard she didn’t notice.

  ‘She has a good seat, holds herself well,’ said David.

  Chris nodded in agreement, but suddenly he felt inexplicably miffed by David’s presence, although he couldn’t work out why. A few minutes later, Megan joined them and she hugged Chris.

  ‘I’m so pleased you made it, Dad. I’m getting trotting sorted out and I love cantering. Mollie says I should learn to jump, when she thinks I’m good enough.’

  ‘Do you want to do that?’ asked Chris.

  Megan nodded. ‘It would be the best ever.’

  ‘What do you think, Mollie?’ Chris asked as Mollie walked over to join them.

  ‘She’s a good student, Chris. Only have to tell her something once. So when I think she’s ready, I’ll be happy to teach her to jump.’

  Susan smiled at Megan. ‘Can David meet Squire?’

  ‘Yep. I have to brush him down and stuff. You can watch if you like.’

  So they all hung over the paddock fence to watch Megan expertly unharness and groom the placid Squire.

  David turned to Chris. ‘I saw your article. Thanks for including me. Brought back a few memories.’

  ‘It wasn’t even half the original piece I wrote. The paper slashed it back for space, as they do. I actually wrote a lot more about you and your work than was published,’ said Chris.

  ‘Never mind. But I thought what I read was interesting. That period of Indonesia’s past is fast becoming ancient history.’

  ‘Chris is going to write a book about it all,’ said Susan.

  Chris wished his mother hadn’t said that, not before he had formulated clear ideas about what he actually wanted to say. ‘Yes, I think there’s a bigger story there. Essentially it will be about the four of you and your time in Indonesia and how your careers developed after that, if you have no objections. So, if you think of anything, anyone to interview, any anecdote, do let me know.’

  ‘That’s very flattering. I don’t feel that I have done anything special to warrant being part of a book. Will people want to read it?’

  ‘Chris is getting an agent. He’s spoken to her already and she assures him that people will be interested,’ Susan explained to David.

  ‘I hope that’s right. She hasn’t read anything yet,’ said Chris.

  ‘Well, best of luck,’ said David. ‘If you still want to do a story about Core Creek Organic Farm, let me know. I’ll be happy to give you some contact details.’

  ‘Thanks, but I’m a bit disillusioned with freelancing at present, so I’m concentrating on this book idea.’

  ‘It’s starting to get dark, so we’d better get home and clean up before we have that barbecue,’ said Susan. ‘See you back at the house. Bye, Mollie, see you next week at book club.’ With a wave, Susan and David headed back to Susan’s car.

  ‘Do you want a ride home, Megs?’

  ‘No thanks, Dad. I have my bike. I’ve just got a couple of things to do for Mollie. I’ll see you there.’ She gave him a big smile. ‘David’s nice, isn’t he? Bunny said they had a great day cleaning up the creek. That’s good, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure he had a lot of useful advice for them all,’ Chris said primly.

  ‘Daaaad . . . I meant about Bunny and David!’

  ‘What about them?’ Chris glanced at her.

  ‘That they like each other and want to do stuff together. I mean, you can see he adores her!’

  ‘Rubbish. They’re just old friends. You’re being a teenage romantic.’

  Megan chuckled. ‘C’mon, Dad, I think it’s lovely she has a special friend.’

  ‘I think you’re reading too much into this. It’s not the beginning of some romantic entanglement,’ said Chris, although privately he wasn’t so sure. ‘Be careful riding home on your bike. I thought you looked very at home on a horse.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’

  As Chris walked to his car, he wondered why he hadn’t noticed the interaction between David and his mother. He knew he was being silly, but he felt out of sorts about it. Perhaps somewhere in his head, he couldn’t help but feel that Susan was being disloyal to his father. The only man he’d ever seen his mother relating to was his father and since his death it had never occurred to Chris that she would ever feel remotely interested in the company of another man. But, he reasoned, she was a free agent. If his mother chose to enter into another relationship that was entirely her prerogative. But then, he rationalised to himself, this was probably just a brief interlude brought on by their recent reconnection. Soon David would return to his travelling and his work and the life he’d lived these past decades, and Susan would continue her full and contented life in Neverend. There was probably nothing in it at all.

  Chris’s thoughts circled back to himself and the way his world had narrowed. He was becoming insular, where once he had been engaged in a broader way. He couldn’t bring himself to think of Neverend as just a backwater, but still, it would be good to involve himself in a project which would expand his horizons. Yes, he decided, he was looking forward to the challenge of writing this book.

  As Chris drove Shaun’s courier van, he found his mind continually drifting to other places, events and imagined scenarios. He felt as though he was experiencing a parallel universe; sometimes it was an era that had existed before he was born, a time and place which had come alive through his mother’s Indonesian stories and photos. Other times, Chris felt that he was running up against his own childhood, for as he drove around the district, he realised that little had changed in the Henry Valley and surrounding hills. Even Neverend had hardly altered in the last forty years. Then he would be drawn back to the present as he tried to apply himself to the book he had committed to write. This was at once challenging and daunting, but Chris knew that he had to seize the opportunity that Georgia had given him. This book would be the way forward.

  About a week after David’s visit, Chris was nearing the town at the end of his shift when his mobile phone rang. It was Megan.

  ‘Dad, can you pick me up from Mollie’s, please? She’s been going through some of her old things and she said I could take what I wanted. I can’t carry it all back home on my bike.’

  When Chris arrived at Mollie’s farm, he stared at the saddle, boots, bridle and stirrups, what looked to be an oilskin coat, two riding hats and a saddle blanket.

  ‘Megan, what do you want with all this equipment?’

  ‘Dad, you never know when this might come in handy. Riding is a serious business,’ Megan told him gravely.

  Chris was amazed by his daughter’s enthusiasm for riding, but as Susan had pointed out to him a few days earlier, it was likely to wane when the next trend beckoned.

  ‘Teenagers tend to move from one craze to another,’ she’d said. ‘Who knows what will be next? Come the Christmas holidays, it could be back to surfing or kayaking along the river.’

  Chris helped Megan put the riding gear into the back of the van, but the thought that he and his daughter might still be here next year and maybe the year after that, or even longer, depressed him. It made him feel as though he was going backwards. It wasn’t that he didn’t like being here – for a while now he’d recognised what a pleasant lifestyle Neverend offered – but increasingly he was missing a serious career, a sense of achievement and being someone whose work was recognised and valued. He knew that if he was honest his feelings were partly about his ego and the status his career had given him, but the fact was that he felt he was stagnating. He was over fo
rty years old and had a very hazy future. He tried to push these nagging thoughts to one side. Book, book, book, focus on the book, he told himself.

  The research for the book was progressing. Evan and Mark had been very cooperative and Evan had even sent him a few personal notes and letters he had written of his time in Indonesia. Both had been pleased to speak with him on the phone, and had returned his emails so willingly that Chris didn’t feel as though he was intruding on their time and memories. Alan Carmichael, however, was proving to be much more elusive. Since their phone conversation, he hadn’t acknowledged any of Chris’s overtures. Chris was beginning to realise how fortunate he’d been getting even that brief interview with him for the magazine article.

  That evening, Chris looked out of Susan’s living room windows at the soft folds of the hills, mellow in the late light of day. The weather was cooling and a thin wisp of smoke coming from the far end of the valley caught his eye. Chris vaguely recalled the long bike rides he’d taken with his mates on the narrow dirt roads that linked the old farms in that out-of-the-way area. He recalled Archie Doyle, a mate from school who’d lived on one of the small farms, and remembered going out to his place one day to pick apples from a heavily laden tree. Archie was a good footballer and had left to go to Newcastle to try his luck there. Chris wondered what had become of him. He’d have to ask Shaun, Duncan or Alex about him. They’d know.

  Megan was tired and dirty and smelled faintly of hay and horses as she bubbled with the news of the day’s events.

  ‘Aaaaand, Ruby is so jealous about Squire, she says she’s always wanted to ride. First I’ve heard of that. But I promised that next time she comes up she can have a go.’

  ‘Are you are going to have a shower before dinner? You can’t come to the table like that,’ Chris commented.

  ‘In a minute, Dad. Actually, that reminds me, Ruby wants me to go down to Sydney, for her birthday. She’ll be fifteen and that’s huge.’

  ‘That’s nice of her. When is this extravaganza?’