Blue Skies (18 page)

I stayed behind the blinds. Sometimes I would part two plastic slats between two fingers and peer about.

I watched my neighbour supervise her grass. I watched the afternoon cavalcade to the beach. It kept track of passing days. James's mother called in often to see Angelica. Sometimes she took the baby out with her. One afternoon she came in with a packet of biscuits. She made us tea and sat me down for a chat. ‘My dear,' she said. ‘You know I don't want to interfere. But have you thought of seeing a doctor? I do so worry about you. And I know poor James does too—though he wouldn't say as much to me, of course. But I can tell.'

‘I have seen the doctor, ages ago. He gave me a prescription for some tablets.'

‘Oh, that's good. I'm glad you're being sensible. Are they doing you any good?'

‘Well, I don't know yet. I haven't been to the chemists to get them.'

‘Why ever not, you silly girl?' She smiled kindly. ‘Well, you just give me that prescription. Go and get it now. I'll go straight off and get it done. I had no idea. You only had to ask, you know. I would have got them for you gladly.'

I pulled the prescription out of the vase. Underneath it I saw the stone. I smoothed out the crumpled paper and handed it to Mother-in-law. She took it down to the chemist.

I took the tea things into the kitchen and washed them up. I went back and took the vase from the mantelpiece. The weapon fell out into my palm. It seemed familiar. I knew its shape, felt its sharp sides. Green paint still showed on the cutting edge. I put it in my pocket.

James's mother came back with the tablets and a teething ring for Angelica. She told me she hadn't been able to resist it, they made such pretty and clever things for babies these days. She fetched a glass of water and watched closely as I swallowed one tablet.

‘Now don't you forget to take them,' she instructed. ‘These things just don't work if you don't follow the instructions. Three times a day, it says on the bottle.'

I watched, waved and smiled as she drove away, blowing kisses at her retreating form. Back in the house, I stood looking down at Angelica. She lay immobile on a bright rug inside her lobster-pot playpen. I wrapped my fingers tight about my stone—tight as I could stand it. I had it with me all the time. I kept the bottle in the vase.

Three times a day I tipped it out and swallowed one of the little blue pills. They left my body calm and still. My mind raced round inside it, looking for the way out. My thoughts settled down. They slowed themselves and drew far off. The scattered strands blended into a still calm voice somewhere close up under my skull. I found that I was falling asleep with James and not waking until morning.

‘Surprise, surprise,' said James waking up on the first morning to find me there. He got straight up and made me tea. He let me read the paper first, whistling as he got ready for work.

Day after day I lay watching him dress. The seven dwarfs trooped in technicolour behind my eyelids as they whistled off to work. One morning, as I lay giggling to see Snow White waving them goodbye, James bent over the bed.

‘Here's looking at you, kid,' he murmured, kissing me goodbye. ‘I'll be early tonight. I'm getting myself better organised. Learning not to waste my time.' He tiptoed out quietly, so as not to wake Angelica. I dreamed on.

It was very hot, getting towards noon. Angelica fretted, neglected in her stuffy room. I felt she had used up all the air in the house, and I was driven into the open. I wanted to see the beach under the empty noon-time blaze.

My neighbour was not out front, and I had nearly passed the house when the voice came.

‘Gooday, stranger. Long time no see, like they say.'

I turned to smile at her. She lugged the lawnmower towards me through small ripples of heat. Further up, the road surface boiled and shimmered in liquid illusion.

‘Just thought I'd give it a quick going over,' she said. ‘Been getting a bit unruly lately.' She unwound the flex and plugged it in just inside her front door. She came back and switched it on with her foot. Above the noise she called to me: ‘I'll give it a good soaking tonight. These water restrictions are very rough on us gardeners, I must say. No rain all summer. Not a drop. Everything's so brown and scorched. Gets on your nerves.'

I closed my eyes and saw the straight grey lines of rain behind my lids falling down on the funeral. I opened them again and watched the woman torturing the patch of earth. The metal blades bit into the reeling grass. My teeth ached with the whine of the mower, and the sound bounced back from every scorching surface.

My fingers curled round the stone—for comfort. Squeezing my eyes back shut, I again saw the straight lines of rain. Now they were falling on the small area of scrubby native growth I had once been able to see by looking out of the right windows. I opened my eyes. It was still there. It grew all around us, stubborn and messy, a heat-inspired trick of eyesight and anger. The stone was out of my pocket, tight in my hand, so tight it hurt. I raised my hand, opened my cut fingers and let the stone go. It turned slowly in the air and fell to the ground in front of the mower—a sudden flash and the poor dear just lay there, her little blue face gazing skywards, straight into the noonday sun.

There was a brief fuss in the street.

The balance of my mind was disturbed. Not that I need bother with excuses, because nobody is going to know. They didn't suspect a crime, and they still don't. She was killed by her own electric lawnmower—a freak accident. It had short-circuited of course; that was what they said. The smooth detective from the Hobart CID had taken the trouble to call in and tell me so, bending his knees to get himself down to my little woman's level.

‘Something caught in the blades and the bloody thing blew up, pardon my French. Terrible thing to happen. Nice place you've got here—I only hope this nasty business next door hasn't upset you too much.'

He squeezed my hand reassuringly, admired my breakfast bar, and left.

My neighbours were equally sympathetic.

‘She took every precaution,' they said, over and over. ‘Just shows you can't be too careful.'

That's true.