The First Week (20 page)

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? Before 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.

Charlie finished it off. ‘No rain today, I hope. I'm playing golf.'

None of them laughed.

‘Mum?'

‘Yes?'

‘My stuff, at Ros and Sam's place. Could you ask them to get rid of it?'

Marian was startled. ‘All of it?'

‘Well I can't use it, can I? I'm going to be in here for a while you know.'

She tried not to flinch at his tone.

‘They could sell my stuff to pay the rent I owe. They'll have to get another tenant for the room.'

‘Yes, I see.'

‘Could you just keep the books? For the moment?'

The books were the only things she'd seen that were worth anything. She'd have to talk to the girls. Pay the rent.

‘Anything else?'

‘Nah,' he said subsiding into listlessness. Marian had seen that lethargy before and put it down to puberty. But he was past puberty now. She wanted to take him by the shoulders and make him sit up. Shout at him. What have you done with Charlie? The sweet-faced little boy. The kind Charlie.

Perhaps his letter would explain.

‘Well let me know, eh? If you need anything else?'

She'd had enough. She stood up and waited. Charlie turned to Brian and held out his hand. After a fraction of a moment, Brian shook it.

‘You should shoot the kookaburras,' Charlie said. Brian backed away a step and stood, puzzled, hand still half-lifted.

Marian watched Charlie, afraid that he was going to leave the photo on the table. But at the last moment he picked it up.

She moved forward, wanting to hug him. But he had already fallen in alongside a guard who took him to the door in the opposite wall. Back to wherever it was. A cell.

Marian and Brian followed their guard back through the locked doors to the car park.

Apart from directions,
don't take the Kenwick Link
, they drove in silence to Armadale and then turned off into the hills.

Brian was making a small grunting noise under his breath and tapping his fingers on the wheel.

‘Are you okay? Do you want a break?'

‘Nah. Just thinking.'

For a few moments he drove in silence, then burst out. ‘Is he insane? Or what?'

‘I don't know.'

‘He makes me so mad.' Brian's face was red and he gripped the wheel hard.

‘Hey. How about pulling over for a while.'

Wrenching the wheel he stopped the car across a driveway.

‘I hate him,' he shouted. ‘He's a … sneak.'

It was so childish that she wanted to laugh.

‘We're stuck with this forever,' Brian said. ‘We're not going to be able to blow our noses without having to say sorry. It's us that will cop it. Not bloody Charlie. He'll do his time, thousands of dollars spent on feeding him and looking after him. But what about us?'

‘They might hang him.'

Brian jerked around, surprised out of his anger. ‘No. They don't do that.'

Of course he was too young to take hanging seriously. He was born well after Cooke. All the different murders, the fear that over-ran the city and spread even into the country. People calling children in from the yard, moving summertime beds back inside the house, locking doors that had always stood open. The relief when the murderer was hanged.

Did Charlie know that story? Was he afraid it would happen to him?

Marian was trembling, a shaking that came from her belly, as though an animal had taken possession of her body.

‘Mum?'

‘I'm cold,' she said, teeth chattering. ‘I'll put my coat on.'

She got out of the car and stood leaning against the door. Brian brought her coat and draped it around her shoulders. The kindness almost undid her.
I will not cry. I will not cry.
She shut her eyes and waited for the shaking to subside.

‘Are you okay?'

With an effort she opened her eyes. ‘Yes. That's better. Let's get going.'

Brian went back to the driver's side and they pulled their doors shut.

‘Is the heater working?' he asked. ‘I should have put it on before.'

‘Yeah. I didn't use it on the way up though. It made me too sleepy.'

‘I won't go to sleep. And we could stop for a hot drink soon anyway. Is North Bannister okay?'

‘Fine.'

Marian lay back and listened to the drone of the engine, the wheels on the bitumen. Trees flashed past. Bush, pines, bush, pines. She shut her eyes.

The dolphins were still chasing the fish in the toilet. Why don't you do something, she said to the whales. Swimming around like that, not caring.

The coffee was hot and Marian got back into the car feeling more alive.

‘What was that about kookaburras?' she asked.

‘God knows,' Brian said bitterly.

‘I thought it must be football.'

‘What would Charlie know about football? Birds, he means. He's got it in for kookaburras now.'

‘Because they're not native?' Marian tried to think with Charlie's mind. ‘The Landcare woman said they kill smaller birds and hopping mice and things.'

Brian just grunted.

They drove without speaking.

A little way after Arthur River Marian broke the silence.

‘Do you remember Mick Barnes?'

‘At the pub?'

‘Yes.'

‘Yeah. I was at school with one of his boys. Jim. They moved to Albany.'

‘Oh yes?'

‘I see Jim occasionally. Good bloke. His old man dropped dead in the front bar one night.' Brian shook his head. ‘What made you think of him?'

‘I heard a bit about the pub the other day. You know Evie?'

‘Aunty Evie? Sure.'

‘She was the barmaid for a while when Mick had the pub. Before you were born. Ancient history.'

The forest gave way to dry rolling farmland.

‘Brian?'

‘What?'

‘I'm not helping with the mulesing anymore.'

‘But …'

‘I can't stand it. There must be a better way.'

‘Well …'

‘I'm not saying don't do it. Just that I won't help with it.'

‘Mum, okay. I'm not making you. All right?'

He scowled sideways at her and they lapsed into silence again.

There was another holiday she remembered, her and the boys, without Mac. Marian had been fed up, so she packed the kids into the car and went to her mother's. Drove away from the harsh dry country, back to the valleys and hills of her childhood.

The boys spent their time in the river doing bombies and as she watched them from under a tree, Marian felt the muscles in her neck softening. She dug out her old bathers, perished and sagging, and squeezed them on. With the boys cheering, she swung herself out on a rope to drop into the river.

The water closed over her head and she moved her arms to push upwards, breaking the surface with her face, hair streaming behind her. She laughed with the sheer pleasure of it and duck-dived.