The Stranding (10 page)

Straining against the light, he waited for the flipper to sail again, and was crazily excited that it seemed closer, close enough to clearly see the knobbles along its rim and the flash of white beneath, to almost feel the slap of it smashing the water, the spray flying into the air. He found he was holding his breath, waiting for the whale to appear again, waiting for some other sign.

When the whale rolled, raised its tail fluke from the glistening waters and slapped it down with a tremendous splash, Lex was gasping and nattering aloud like a boy. He laughed and sang into the warm up-breeze, a surprised surge of excitement tingling through him. When a puff of spray shot into the air amidst the waves, he whooped and hooted.

A whale’s exhaled breath.

He didn’t drink any wine that day.

Eight

A week after Jilly’s visit, Lex’s mother, Margaret, arrived at the Point. It was late afternoon, and he was down on the beach when he saw her car up near the house. Occasional whale sightings over the past few days had interrupted his melancholy over Jilly, but today had been a bad day and he was on his third bottle of wine and in no state to entertain. He hadn’t even showered.

He tossed the bottle up above the high tide mark, to collect later, and splashed into the water to wash his face. Margaret was on the deck when he came up from the heath.

‘So, is this it?’ she called. ‘Am I at the right house?’

‘This is it,’ he said. ‘Go on in out of the wind. I’ll bring your bags in.’

By the look on her face he knew it was going to be a difficult visit. She had obviously come with an agenda. He could depend on his mother for that much. She never did anything without a self-fulfilling purpose.

Inside, she gave him a crisp motherly hug. She was a tall woman, quite robust of build, but she was shrinking as she aged and didn’t look nearly as formidable as she had when he was a boy. There was that brusque way she had of appearing to judge everything around her all the time. Lex could tell immediately that she didn’t like the place. She pulled her sunglasses off her nose and put them on the coffee table.

‘Quite a location, darling,’ she said, peering around the lounge room. ‘But it’s a dreadful road. You’ll have to get the local council to do something about that. I thought my car was going to shake to pieces.’

‘Welcome, Mum. I’m glad you’ve come. Cup of tea first, or would you like to see your bedroom?’ He was amazed how sober he felt.

‘I suppose you’d better show me around the house. You can’t really be thinking of staying here for long though, darling. I mean, this really is the end of the road. The house is so hot, and it’s only spring. Don’t you have any fans?’

‘The onshore breeze is my fan, Mum. It comes most nights.’

‘Let’s hope it comes soon.’

Lex led her down the corridor. ‘You can have this room next to mine. It’s got a great view. You might even consider sleeping with the curtains open. There’ll be a moon tonight and you’ll be able to see the waves rolling in.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ she said. ‘Some Peeping Tom might look in on me.’

Lex put her suitcase on the bed. ‘As you said, Mum, this is the end of the road. No one comes here.’

He made a pot of tea and sat down on the couch while his mother settled into her room and rearranged her image in the bathroom. It seemed to take forever. He had forgotten her mortgage on the bathroom in the mornings at home, and how the rest of the family had to organise themselves around her and shower at night when the bathroom was free. Except for those nights when she had been out with a lover and had to ‘refresh’ before she slipped into bed with their father, both of them pretending nothing had happened.

‘Mum, you don’t have to go to any trouble,’ he called out. ‘It’s only me.’

‘Darling, I couldn’t live with myself if I looked like a hag.’ She came into the room carrying a
Vogue Living
magazine.

‘Old age is going to hit you hard.’

‘I intend to age gracefully. There are plenty of plastic surgeons around these days.’

‘Don’t tell me, you’ve booked in for a facelift.’

‘Not yet, but I’m considering it.’ She looked down on him with distaste. ‘You look like you could use a shower, darling. Or are you saving water? I saw the signs about the water restrictions as I was driving down here.’

‘I’ll have a shower. Just for you.’

She sat on the couch against the side wall, back to the sea, and flicked through her magazine. ‘I brought this with me because I figured they wouldn’t sell any worthwhile magazines in the local newsagency.’

‘You’d be surprised.’

‘Yes, I would be. I can’t believe you’re living here, Lex. This is so out of character for you. So below you. I mean, really, this place is just a holiday shack. Surely you miss your lovely house back home. You and Jilly did such a good job on it.’

‘It was all Jilly. She was the one with taste.’

‘Men always rely on women for taste. It’s only natural.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Oh darling, don’t take offence. Of course you have good taste. It’s just that there’s something about a woman’s touch, isn’t there, in making a house feel like a home.’ She was looking at him over her bifocals. ‘Darling, you really should take that shower. You look a wreck. The rural life is not treating you well. Looks like you’ve been drinking too.’

‘Can we get into this later?’ Lex ran a hand through his greasy hair. ‘You’ve barely walked through the door.’

He heard running feet on the stairs and Sash burst in.

‘I knew you had a visitor,’ she said, puffing. ‘I ran all the way from the house.’ She stared at his mother.

‘Sash, this is my mother. She’s come down from Sydney to see me.’

He saw his mother frowning down her nose at Sash. Her eyebrows were question marks.

‘Shouldn’t you be home helping your mother?’ Margaret asked.

‘Mum told us to get out of the house.’

‘Well, there isn’t room for you here.’ Margaret set her magazine down. ‘I’ve just arrived and I haven’t seen my son for weeks. Lex can play with you another time.’

Sash nodded and turned quietly out the door.

‘Thank goodness for that,’ Margaret said when she was gone.

‘You could have been a bit kinder,’ Lex said.

‘I haven’t the patience for children any more . . . Although, if you had another one, of course that would be different.’

His mother had never been good with children. God knows, she had been a shocking mother. He and his sister had brought themselves up, with his father being barely functional most of the time. It wasn’t until Lex was a teenager that he understood why his father sat alone with a bottle so much and hardly engaged. The only time he lit up was when Margaret was around, and then he was like a clown show, stumbling over himself to be interesting. Of course, he was always in competition with the latest lover. Always the boring husband. Never quite good enough. He was such a small, weak man. Later Lex understood that Margaret had made him that way. Before Margaret, his father might have been different.

Lex grew up determined not to be like his father. But then for many years he was just like his mother—womanising, juggling multiple partners secretly. It was the trap of his childhood: a fear of attachment, a fear of giving in, lest he became his father. Trying to stay above it, he focused on the challenge of the conquest, gathering about him a treasure chest of charms. But when a woman got that look in her eye, that gleam of devotion, it struck a chill in him and he would run again, chasing himself into another relationship, another bed, another body. His life was going to be like that over and over, until Jilly stopped him.

Margaret adored Jilly, of course. She was a fine match for his mother—someone Margaret couldn’t stomp on. Jilly was too assertive for that. And Margaret admired Jilly’s flair, her eye for fashion and design. Jilly kept Lex in smart clothes and made sure his image lived up to his public persona. It wasn’t something Lex cared about all that much, although he’d been happy to finance it if it kept Jilly happy. Yes, Margaret must miss Jilly and her strong, decisive ways.

It wasn’t until they were well into their second bottle of wine that evening that Margaret started in on him.

‘Darling, you really must tell all. I just can’t bear not knowing what you’ve been up to.’

The face she turned on him was demure and persuasive. It could have been the expression she used for her lovers when she wanted to know something. It sickened him.

‘There’s so little to tell.’ Lex evaded her by filling their wine glasses.

‘There must be plenty to tell. You’ve been here nearly two months now.’

She smiled and patted his hand. He should have guessed that she had planned out her tactics.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked. Her tone had shifted to the inquisitive.

‘Nothing.’

‘Well then, how long are you going to stay here?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Darling, I understand you need a break from all that went on. But when you get it out of your system, you could try again with Jilly. Perhaps you could have another child. I know Jilly wants you back.’

‘Mum, when you sent Jilly down here, she made it very clear she wanted nothing more to do with me. She talked about settlements, not second chances.’

His mother’s face hardened. ‘She’s lost respect for you, has she?’

Lex topped up his glass so he wouldn’t have to keep looking at her. His mother could be so cruel.

‘Well,’ she huffed. ‘All I can say is it’s a shame you didn’t make better use of her visit. It took me a lot of effort to persuade her to come down here to see you. It looks like I wasted my time.’

‘I’m not coming back yet, Mum.’

Margaret raised her eyebrows. ‘You’ve more to do down here, have you? More drinking? More playing with other people’s children?’

Lex attempted to ignore the dig. ‘I thought I might get a job.’

‘A job!’ Her voice was shrill. ‘I didn’t know they had any openings down here for journalists.’

‘I’m sure they don’t. I’ll do something else.’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know. I might work on a farm or something.’

‘What!’ Margaret stood up, furious, and then sat down. ‘Oh, just pour me another glass of wine. I’m too drunk to drive home so I might as well get smashed. My highly educated son’s going to get a hick job on a farm.’

Lex topped up her glass. ‘It’ll be okay, Mum. I just need a bit more time.’

In the morning, he packed her into her car and watched her drive away. There was more than the usual distance between them and they both knew she wouldn’t be visiting again soon.

In Merrigan the next morning, collecting his newspapers, Lex asked the newsagent, John Watson, where he could buy binoculars. It was a long shot. He would probably have to drive up the coast to a larger town.

‘Sam Black might have some down at his tackle shop,’ the newsagent grunted.

‘There’s a tackle shop in town?’

‘You’re obviously not a fisherman.’

‘Not yet.’

John Watson didn’t smile. ‘It’s behind the supermarket, ’round the back near the loading bay. If he can’t help you, he’ll know where to send you.’

Lex walked down the street, around the dog-leg corner and skirted the car park to the west of the supermarket. The tackle shop was a ramshackle old store tucked behind the garbage hoppers. No wonder he hadn’t seen it before. As he opened the door and let himself in, a plastic frog at floor level croaked.

It was dingy inside. Fishing rods of varying sizes poked out of a wooden rack along one wall and a long wooden counter ran along the other. A big white freezer by the window was crammed with packets of frozen bait. Leaning up against the counter, a young bearded shaggy-looking man was examining a fishing reel with a short wizened fellow that Lex assumed must be Sam Black. Both men turned to look at him briefly without smiling then turned back to the reel. Lex pretended to examine the fishing rods for a while before approaching the counter.

‘What can I do for you?’ Sam Black asked. His voice was raspy and his glance was aimed at Lex without quite connecting, so it seemed like he was talking to someone else in the room. Lex hesitated.

The other guy sniffed loudly and hawked to clear his throat. ‘You deaf or something? Sam asked you what he could do for you.’

‘Sorry,’ Lex said. He tried not to flush with annoyance. ‘I’m looking for some binoculars.’

Sam pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, mumbled something and doddered towards the back of the store.

‘He’s just seeing if he’s got some,’ the young man said, fiddling with the reel.

His skinny bum was half hanging out of an old pair of loose faded jeans and his back was thin and slabby. Lex could see the bones of his shoulder blades poking through the thin material of his faded shirt. His hair was long and scraggly and he smelled smoky and unwashed.

‘You new round here?’ the guy asked, squinting at him. He leaned forward to get a closer look at Lex’s face. ‘I’ve seen you before. You drive a Volvo, don’t you? I’ve seen you down at the servo. Pumped your petrol for you.’

Lex remembered now the young barefooted man at the local service station grimly pumping the petrol without saying a word. Lex had tried to nod and smile at him, but the guy had avoided eye contact.

‘I’ve just bought the house at the Point,’ Lex said.

‘Ah,’ the scrawny guy said, scratching at his leg. ‘The Wallaces place.’

There it was again. The implication that the house shouldn’t be his. Lex was beginning to feel irritated by it. Pity he hadn’t met any of these Wallaces so he could set them straight. The house had been fairly purchased. He shouldn’t have to feel guilty about it. Lex shifted his weight, hoping Sam Black would return soon from the depths of his storeroom. This guy was smelly and kept examining him like he was a flea. The less time he had to spend standing near him, the better.

‘Sam, I’ll come back tomorrow,’ the scraggly guy yelled. He coughed up a glob of spit and swallowed it back down again. ‘Gotta get back to work.’ Scooping his reel off the counter, he took a wide berth around Lex and sloped out the door.

Sam Black scuffed back to the counter carrying three cardboard boxes.