Macbeth and Son (15 page)

Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand?

(
Macbeth
, Act II, Scene 2, lines 59–60)

Luke sat down in his seat, trying to get his breath back. Patrick turned round and gave him a thumbs up. Over by the window Megan was grinning.

‘Well done, Luke,’ said Mrs Easson. She looked a bit stunned, as though she wasn’t sure if she was congratulating him for his honesty or his talk. ‘Excellent. Really excellent.’

It was over, thought Luke. Or was it? He glanced at Megan.

No, it wasn’t over yet. One lie down, and one still to go. He had to tell Megan that Sam couldn’t—wouldn’t—help.

He
had
to tell her, as soon as English was over…

Someone knocked on the classroom door. ‘Message for Megan and Patrick Fisher. They’re wanted at the office.’

Mrs Easson nodded. ‘Off you go, Megan, Patrick.’

What was wrong? Were their parents okay? Luke peered out the window as Patrick and Megan hurried along the verandah and up towards the office.

‘Well,’ said Mrs Easson, ‘I don’t know if any of us will be able to concentrate after that. But we do have some more talks to get through…’

It seemed an age before English finished. Luke gathered his books together as his classmates passed him one by one.

‘Good on you, Luke.’

‘Yeah, mate. Well done.’

‘Thanks,’ muttered Luke. He didn’t know what else to say.

Half of his mind was on Megan and Patrick. Were they okay? What was going on?

Now they’d all gone except Jingo. ‘Hey, Luke!’

‘Yeah?’

‘Did you really refuse the scholarship?’

Luke nodded. ‘I posted the letter before school.’ He frowned. ‘I haven’t told Mum and Sam yet.’

Jingo was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘I don’t think I’d have been able to do what you did today. It took guts.’

‘Thanks, Jingo,’ said Luke, touched.

He followed Jingo out of the classroom.

There was no sign of Megan or Patrick on the bus. No one knew where they’d gone either.

The house was empty when he got home. Mrs T would be out getting the groceries today. There was a note from Mum on the bench, where she knew he’d find it when he looked for something to eat.

Gone to Sydney with Sam. Back tonight.

Love, Mum.

Luke opened the fridge and took out a carton of milk. There was the rest of last night’s chicken there too. He’d grab something to eat then ring the Fishers…

Just then the phone rang. Luke put the chicken back and picked up the receiver.

‘Luke?’ It was Megan. Her voice was…different. Excited.

‘What’s wrong? Is everything okay?’

‘Everything’s wonderful! Turn on the TV!’

‘What—’

‘Have to go! I want to watch it too! Just wanted to say thank you! Thank Sam for me too!’

‘What—’ The phone went dead.

Luke raced over to the TV and switched it on.

Cartoons. Why would Megan want him to watch cartoons?

Unless it was something on another channel. Luke switched them frantically, barely noticing what he was doing. Why hadn’t she said which one?

And suddenly there she was, on the screen, in the Fishers’ orchard, with her parents and Pat behind her.

‘I…it’s been ours for over a hundred years,’ she was saying. ‘Some things are important. Some things are worth fighting for. It’s not just our farm that’s threatened. It’s anyone who is growing food that people need, running a family business, people like us coming up against big companies that can force them out. People need to know that they can rely on their council or their government to protect them. People need to know who they can trust.’

My words, thought Luke. Megan’s using my words.

The scene changed. It was the Mayor. He looked harassed and embarrassed and defensive. ‘Certainly no decision has been made…Environmental considerations are always important…’

‘Then you don’t think this resort will be approved?’ The interviewer wasn’t Sam. It was a woman.

It’s a different station, Luke realised. Not Sam’s at all.

The Mayor gulped, staring at the camera. ‘Of course, I can’t make a decision myself. That’s for the Council. But if I were a betting man I’d say it was very unlikely.’

The interviewer turned to camera for the wrap-up. But Luke wasn’t listening. He had to thank Sam, apologise to him…or something. He picked up the phone again and dialled Sam’s mobile.

‘Hi, you’ve called Sam Mackenzie. I’m not here at the moment…’

The answering machine. Should he leave a message? The beep went before Luke could think what to say. ‘Sam, it’s Luke. I…I’ll call back later.’

He turned back to the TV. The Mayor’s face had vanished. In its place a shot of the Fishers’ farm appeared, taken from the high point near the rock where he’d sat with Megan, while the program’s credits rolled. It was a shock to see the rock like that, on a TV screen. It looked so different that it was almost as though he’d never seen it before.

How could he possibly have thought he could leave the farm and go to St Ilf’s? He’d go to agricultural college eventually, perhaps spend a gap year who knew where. But Breakfast Creek was the heart of his life. His country.

And it had taken Megan to show it to him.

There was the sound of a car outside, then Mum’s voice and Sam’s in reply.

What was Luke going to say to them? What
could
he say?

‘Luke? Are you there?’

‘Here, Mum.’

‘Oh, Luke.’ Mum was carrying a giant pizza box. It was hard to read her expression. Sam stood behind her, holding a bag of groceries. ‘The school called me a few minutes ago.’

‘You mean St Ilf’s?’ But they wouldn’t have the letter yet, Luke realised.

‘No, it was Mrs Easson. She said you gave the most wonderful talk she’s ever heard in all her years of teaching. Luke, I’m so proud of you.’

‘Mum…I’m sorry about St Ilf’s…’

Mum’s voice was choked. ‘I never wanted you to go away to Sydney anyway. Just to have a chance…the sort of chance your dad never had.’

‘I’ve got all I want right here,’ said Luke, without hesitating.

‘Oh, Luke. Come here.’ She hugged him hard. The pizza box began to crumple, sending a dribble of melted cheese down Luke’s front. But it didn’t matter. ‘That stupid school, sending you the wrong paper…’

So Mum didn’t know Sam had been behind it—even if he’d never meant it to go so far. Luke met Sam’s eyes. Sam’s face was carefully bare of expression.

No, thought Luke, Sam wasn’t Malcolm, the thief, the betrayer. And if he wasn’t Macbeth the hero either—well, who was?

Sam did his best. Which was more than most people ever tried to do, Luke realised. And today, at least, Sam’s best had been pretty good.

‘Thank you,’ he said to Sam.

‘Ah.’ Sam’s voice was suddenly…what? thought Luke. Friendly? Normal, not the ‘I’m on show’ voice? Relieved? But sort of proud of himself too. ‘So you’ve seen it.’

‘Yes. It was wonderful! Was it you? I mean, did you…’

‘Just pulled a few strings,’ replied Sam, and he definitely sounded proud of himself now. ‘Still have a few contacts in the opposition. They did an okay job, didn’t they?’

‘Yes,’ said Luke. So did you, he thought. But he didn’t say the words. He didn’t need to.

‘I’ll just put this in the oven,’ said Mum tactfully, as she tried to smooth out the crumpled pizza box. ‘Celebration tonight! Oh, blast the thing, it’s all gooey. Well, maybe we can go out. The Fishers might like to come too.’ She took the groceries from Sam and disappeared into the kitchen. She was humming again.

‘Luke, mate, I’m sorry,’ said Sam. ‘You know I didn’t mean—’

‘It’s okay,’ said Luke. And if Sam hadn’t exactly said what he was sorry for, well, that didn’t matter either. Because it
was
okay. ‘And I really like the bike,’ Luke added.

This time Sam’s grin was genuine. ‘Hey, mate, maybe I should get another one for me to ride too. By the way,’ he added, almost too casually, ‘I’ve put in a bid for the resort land. Guess they won’t be wanting it
now. Might get it cheap. Thought you and I could sort of toss around a few ideas about what we might do with it.’

‘Wagyu cattle,’ said Luke automatically.

‘Way what? Look, mate, we’ll talk about it tonight, okay? I need to go get changed out of my city clothes.’

There was a pause, then Sam said, ‘We did good today, didn’t we? You and me?’

‘Yeah,’ said Luke. ‘We did good. Thanks, Sam.’

‘Thank
you
, mate,’ said Sam. He hesitated, as though he were going to hug Luke too, but didn’t quite know how. He slapped his back instead, and headed off to change his clothes.

Peace!—the charm’s wound up.

(
Macbeth
, Act I, Scene 3, line 36)

It was warm on the rock, despite the wind’s cold breath on their cheeks. It was as though the rock had sucked in the summer’s heat and stored it for them till winter.

Megan’s legs dangled over the edge next to Luke’s. ‘So you’re not going to St Ilf’s?’

Luke grinned. ‘Nope. The Headmaster wrote a letter back, saying how I’d been so honest that they’d still like to have me. But I want to stay here.’

‘For
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow
,’ quoted Megan. ‘
To the last syllable of recorded time…
’

How much of that play has she memorised? thought Luke. He could only remember a few lines.

Weird chick. But nice weird. At least he understood what she was talking about.

‘I’m glad you’re staying,’ said Megan. ‘
Really
glad, I mean.’ The look in her eyes was one he’d never seen there before.

‘
I’m
glad I’m staying too,’ said Luke.

How would she react, he thought, if I kissed her? He put his arm around her, felt her lean towards him.

It didn’t quite work out as he’d expected. Her lips were warm and really soft, but he could have done with an instruction manual—like a tractor manual, but for kissing. How long was it supposed to last?

But it was still a bit of heaven.

They said nothing for a while. Who’d have thought it? Luke wondered vaguely. Would those two little kids playing Explorers all those years ago ever have imagined they’d be here one day doing this? He’d never thought he could feel like this…but at the same time it was almost familiar too. I feel like Lulach did when he met Thora, he realised. My heart’s been filled, and I never knew that it was empty.

What would Lulach have thought of this world? he thought suddenly. Or Shakespeare?

‘
Life…a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing
.’ No, thought Luke. Shakespeare’s words were great. But he was wrong. Life was good, very good.

‘It’s a great play, though,’ said Megan, as though they’d been talking about it all along. Her arm was around him now too.

‘Yeah,’ said Luke, surprised. ‘I was just thinking that.’

‘Those lines of Lady Macbeth’s…
all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand
,’ she quoted.

Megan had nice hands, thought Luke. They’d done things. Pruned trees, turned pages…‘You really like all that stuff, don’t you?’ he asked.

Megan grinned. It was a bit like Thora’s grin in his dream. ‘Yep.’

‘Even though Shakespeare lied?’

‘Sure. He was a brown-nose
and
a great writer.’

They both laughed.

Maybe Sam’s like that, thought Luke suddenly. Not good, not bad, but a mix of both.

‘You know what?’ said Megan.

‘What?’

‘I’m going to write a play about Macbeth one day. But a true play, not a lie.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Yeah. We need to remember things. Like how a lie can become the truth for four hundred years.’

An eagle circled down to look at them, wondering if they were small enough to eat, then soared slowly up above the valley.

Finally Megan asked, ‘Did the St Ilf’s Headmaster say who’d given you the exam paper?’

‘Nope,’ said Luke. He shrugged. ‘Maybe it was an accident.’ Or maybe it wasn’t, he thought. But that was the Headmaster’s business.

Things were okay with Sam now. He made Mum happy—and she liked looking after him. Luke just hadn’t worked out that it was that way around before.

Sam had bought the land from the resort people too. Luke suspected Sam had wanted to give it to him; he’d heard Mum in the kitchen telling Sam firmly, ‘Not until he’s twenty-one!’

Sam was up for some award at the Logies this year. Luke and Mum were going down to watch, and Luke would get his first dinner jacket for the night.

Suddenly he had an idea. ‘Um…’ he said to Megan.

‘Um, what?’

‘Would you like to come to the Logies? Sam’s up for an award.’ He crossed his fingers, hoping that Sam could get another ticket.

‘Hey, really? Cool.’

Luke supposed she meant yes. Maybe Sam could get two extra tickets, so Patrick could come as well. It was going to be a bit difficult, Luke thought suddenly, going out with the twin sister of your best friend…

‘So,’ said Megan at last, ‘do you think the dreams will ever come again?’

He’d told Megan about the dreams too. It felt good to be able to talk about things like that.

‘No.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Dunno. I just am.’

‘Why did they happen to you, do you think?’

‘I don’t know that either!’ Luke grinned. ‘I’m glad they did, though. But now it’s the end.’

Megan smiled as Luke took her hand. ‘Unless,’ she said, ‘it’s the beginning.’

The dream had gone. The past had vanished. But the future looked very good indeed.