Desert Fish (18 page)

‘It's fine,' I say. ‘It'll be okay. And I'm not frightened.'

‘Well you should be,' Pete says. He puts his head in his hands and makes a sound that could be a cough or a sob. He doesn't know how to believe me.

But it's true. I'm not afraid. Behind my burning eyelids I'm already replaying the closeness of him, his hands over me adjusting the seat. His breath on my face and his arms either side of me, like an embrace. He's seeing me as if I'm coming into focus. I know it. I am bringing him back to me.

I always looked for fish in our river but I only ever saw the tiny guppies on the waterfall, and the eel in the rock pool that time. My mother went on about the bull-routs with their venomous spines but that didn't stop her swimming in the river with my dad after he finished with Mrs Martin. They were starting afresh and I knew she would do anything for him. Soon after it ended we'd passed Yvonne Martin in the street and my father didn't so much as glance at her. My mother was triumphant with his arm around her narrow waist.
See Gilly, love knows where it belongs. I told you, didn't I? That woman has nothing I want.
I felt her thrill of pleasure. I knew she would replay that moment to herself – his choosing her – over and over.

But I had seen Yvonne Martin with my father. I'd heard how he called her Vonnie and I'd heard them in her room that time. I knew enough to understand that something had passed between them that my mother couldn't have.

My mother did everything with my dad, for weeks. Months. They went out dancing. She had his friends over and they cooked outdoors. And she swam in the river with him. It wasn't drying out then. It was thick and full of water.

But I mustn't think of that. I am in my desert now, with Pete. Even with my dry tongue and my swollen hands, recalling the water makes me feel as if I'm drowning. I clench my hands. I curl the bitten pink nails into my palms. That girl has gone now. She has vanished. I have come to the desert with Pete. We are here together and I have brought all my love for him.

 

The baby's eyes were closed and had a sealed look about them. Two of the nurses had brought her in. They were watching me as they moved about the room changing the empty beds. I knew I should hold her. I should at least try. I loosened the blanket and saw that her fingers were curled in, her hands balled shut, holding on tight to nothing.

Resting her weight on one arm, I worked loose the knot in the cap the nurses had put on her. It was another of the things Nora had brought home. When it was undone I removed it and looked at her hair, how it grew along her skin, clinging like a fern on a shaded wall. She was so clean. When I'd bathed her that first time there was a thin clot of blood caught in the fuzz of her hair. It had made me nauseous. But now there was nothing of me on her. She could have come from anywhere.

She was quiet. I could feel the breath moving inside her body, but it was so shallow it was barely there. If I leaned in and pressed my face to hers, I'd get the sense of its warmth, its slight damp, but I didn't because I was afraid of the strength hidden there.

I watched her eyes move, flickering beneath the marbled papery lids. The angry blotches on her skin, raw and new to air and touch. And how old she seemed. As if somehow she knew everything about me.

Outside a light rain began to fall. When I looked out the paving stones were freckled with it, and the steamy smell of water meeting hot concrete caught in my throat. I turned back and the baby's eyes were open, her mouth too. I had to look away: they were dark and frightening places, full of the inside of her. She blinked and gasped and I put her down.

‘When is your husband going to see this baby of yours?' The red-haired nurse was beside the bed. I hadn't heard her cross the room.

‘He should be here soon,' I said. ‘His sister had to tell him, but he's up north. He's hard to get hold of.'

‘Oh.' I wondered if I heard doubt in her voice.

‘I thought he'd be here today,' I embellished. ‘I hope he's okay. He has a long way to drive.'

She smiled warmly. ‘I'm sure he'll be fine. It's hard when you've just had a baby. There are all these new things to think about. You mustn't worry about him.'

She left the room.

The baby made a sound like a sigh. Her eyes were still
open and she moved her arms as if to reach for me. But I didn't touch her because when I looked at her I could only see Pete leaving.

 

It was Nora who made him go that second time.

I didn't know what to make of her after the night with the romper suit and the key. She talked to me a little more in the days after. She didn't seem so annoyed at my being around. She even asked me to do the odd bit of housework.
If you've a moment today Gilly, could you give the bathroom sink a wipe?
Or,
I'll be late back today. Could you bring the milk in when it's delivered, Gilly?
Their milk came in bottles. They had a metal carrier beside the front door that the bottles were placed in. I felt better having something to do in that house. I felt as though I lived there. But although I now had a key and could come and go as I pleased, I couldn't bring myself to go further than the front porch. The view through the warped front window made the street seem dangerous. And the thought of being out of the house when Pete returned to it unsettled me more than anything else.

Two weeks after that night in the kitchen, Nora knocked on my door again. It was the same as the first time, with Pete there tired from working so late and her pouring drinks, talking quickly and deliberately. She gave me a crocheted blanket this time. ‘One of the girls at work gave it to me,' she said.

‘I asked you not to mouth off about it,' Pete said.

‘Mouth off about what?' Nora asked.

Pete was silent. He'd barely touched his drink.

‘I'm not mouthing off,' Nora said. ‘But I'm not pretending it's not happening, either.'

I fiddled with the decorative trim on the blanket.

‘Run along and put it in your room, Gilly,' Nora said.

I rose and did as she told me. I folded the blanket into the bottom drawer of the oak dresser. When I came back Pete had left the table.

‘He's gone to bed,' Nora said.

I wasn't sure whether to sit or return to my room.

I picked up Pete's glass and emptied it into the sink. Then I put the rim of it to my lips where his mouth would have been and I closed my eyes. I wanted to follow Pete down the hall, like when he was at my house. I wanted to sit on his bed while he rubbed at his neck with a towel and tell him not to worry about Nora. It would all be over soon. I wished he'd look at me when we were in a room together. I could meet his eye and convey to him that I understood. But I knew why he wouldn't. I was a different girl with this baby inside me. It was a different body I was in and he couldn't be near me like this. The baby was not going to bring him back to me. Not in the way I had hoped. It had helped me find him and now its job was done.

I opened my eyes and put the glass down and turned. Nora was watching me and I couldn't tell if what was in her face was pity or contempt. I took my own drink from the table and emptied it.

‘Leave the glasses there,' Nora said. ‘I'll wash them.' Her voice seemed to come from far away.

‘Okay,' I murmured.

I went to my room.

 

Something in her voice that night made me think Nora might let things lie. But a week later she gave me a three-pack of singlets in palest green and another romper suit, made of a towelling fabric. And then three nights after that she called me in to open a parcel containing a flannel outfit that was open-bottomed and tied across the baby in a kimono style (‘so you can change a nappy without taking the baby's clothes off, Gilly', she said).

I resigned myself to her knock at the door and each time I followed her into the kitchen because I wanted to see what Pete would do. He was uncomfortable and I was too, and I wanted to find a way to convey to him that this feeling was mutual. Sometimes I went just because I knew I wouldn't see him at all if I didn't.

Are you awake, Gilly?

Yes.

Come and have a drink with us.

It became something of a ritual. Maybe twice a week. Occasionally more.

I'd go in the kitchen and she'd push the parcel across the table. Sometimes it would already be there, waiting on my chair. ‘Shandy?' she'd offer, holding up a bottle of beer. I didn't always. Sometimes I only wanted lemonade.
I'd down the drink first and then fumble with the string or the tape or whatever was holding the thing together. I'd mutter my thanks and I'd look across the table at Pete, beneath my lashes, waiting for him to meet my eye, share the discomfort with me. He never did. His legs would be crossed lazily, his drink in his hand, his body turned away from me.

What do you think then, Pete?
Nora might say.

Just leave it, Nora.
Or,
I don't really care one way or another
.

On and on it went. Until one Tuesday near the end of October Nora stood and barked, ‘It's a baby she's having, Pete.'

Pete had come home early, right after dinner. He'd brought the milk inside and put it on the table. Now Nora leaned in over the top of the bottles and lowered her voice. ‘She's just a kid. And that baby'll need looking after. It'll grow out of these things in a matter of weeks and then it'll need more. I'm paying for this, so if I ask you what you think, I want you to say.'

It was booties that night. White with lemon ribbons. Hand knitted and purchased from a church craft shop. I concentrated on my lemonade. The bubbles fizzed in my nose and burned my throat.

‘Nobody asked you to, Nora,' Pete said. ‘Nobody asked you to buy anything. And I'll tell you what I think when I'm good and ready.'

It was as if I wasn't in the room with them. They had their own way of speaking to each other and I was used
to that: the feeling that I was somewhere just outside of someone else's private talk. But this night was different because the private talk was about me. I had a knot in my throat and the lemonade I had drunk seemed to rise in my stomach.

Pete left his drink there, his smoke still burning in the ashtray. He didn't even use the bathroom. He just slammed his bedroom door.

I waited there, shaking a little, keeping still so as not to cause any further disturbance. I couldn't lift my drink to my lips for fear of spilling it. I sat there until Nora said, ‘I'm finished now, Gilly. Why don't you go to bed?'

I stood. ‘Why are you doing this, Nora?' I asked.

‘Doing what?'

‘Trying to make him unhappy. You're making it worse.'

‘“Make him unhappy”. You think that's what this is about?' she said. ‘From your point of view, I don't think it could get any worse.'

‘You're jealous,' I said. ‘You're jealous because it was just you and him and now there's me as well. You're pushing him away from me. Why can't you just leave it be?'

‘Gilly,' Nora said. ‘I can promise you I'm not jealous. And nothing I'm doing is pushing him anywhere.'

‘If you'd leave things be, it'd sort itself out.'

‘It won't sort itself out,' she said. ‘You two will just go on pretending nothing's happening until …'

She didn't finish.

I stamped my foot. ‘It's none of your business, Nora,' I shouted.

Nora stood and drew her breath in sharply. She snatched the bottles of milk from the table. They clinked and rattled her anger around the quiet room. She opened the door of the fridge and when she'd put the bottles in she slammed the door and turned.

‘Don't forget where you are, Gilly,' she said. ‘This isn't just Pete's house you're living in. And he's not the only one inconvenienced by this whole affair. So I'm afraid as long as you're here, it
is
my business.'

I didn't ask her what she meant. I crept along the hall. There was no sound from Pete's room. It was as if he'd gone already.

For four more days he continued to leave the house at six and come home late enough that I couldn't stay awake listening for him. I was certain he was staying away so that Nora couldn't keep up her spiteful ritual. But then that weekend he didn't come back at all.

Nora knocked on my door. It was late, but I knew she wouldn't call me in to the kitchen because I hadn't heard Pete come in. So I was more curious than anything else.

‘He's gone,' she said, standing there in the doorway.

‘Where?'

‘Your guess is as good as mine. He didn't say.' She leaned into the doorframe and pulled at her ear thoughtfully.

There was a tightening in my abdomen. The baby shifted and suddenly I needed to pee. I pushed past Nora and closed the door of the bathroom behind me.

She was still standing there when I returned.

‘You needn't worry,' she said. ‘He'll be back. He always comes back. It's just a matter of when.'

‘You don't know how long he'll be gone for then?'

‘No idea.'

‘Well what am I going to do?'

She laughed. It came out low and mirthless. ‘Well at least you've got plenty of stuff for that baby when it comes.' She stepped aside so I could get into my room. ‘And a roof over your head,' she added. ‘It could be worse.'

‘Could it?' I asked. ‘Could it be worse?' I was on the verge of tears and I didn't want her to see. ‘How do you know he'll be back?'

‘He always comes back,' she said. ‘This is his home.'

‘Where do you think he's gone? You must have some idea.'

She shrugged. ‘Not really, no. Sometimes when he leaves he doesn't know either. He'll have a job somewhere. Or he'll find one quick smart. He'll come back when it's done. Or when he gets tired of it.'

‘Right,' I said. I wasn't sure if I believed her, but I found it reassuring that Nora didn't know where he was. It meant we weren't so far from each other in how Pete chose to treat us. And if he always returned to her, why wouldn't he return to me?

I got into bed and pulled the cover up. I squeezed my eyes shut. ‘Turn the light out, Nora,' I said. ‘I'm tired.'

‘Goodnight, Gilly,' she said. How strange my name sounded coming from her. I listened to her footsteps;
she dragged her feet a little, up the hallway and into the kitchen.