Elegy Page 17

Jenny felt her heart wrench. ‘If they’re not working, what are they doing?’

  ‘Who knows?’ Gabe sat up again and twisted around to push a button. The pump whined and coughed before churning, and Jenny heard the rush of water. He smiled, but Jenny didn’t. She was too busy imagining what Michael and Caitlin might be up to in some lonely paddock.

  ‘How come no one mentioned them at lunch? It was kind of weird.’

  ‘Out of sight, out of mind. The gospel according to Jim. Come on, you’ll love the next job, I promise.’ Gabe packed away the tools, but when she went to climb into the ute, he pulled her back. ‘Nope. You drive this time.’

  ‘I don’t have my licence.’

  He shrugged. ‘No cops out here. You’ve done your learner’s though, right?’

  She shook her head and he sighed, exasperated. She could see what he was thinking: bloody city kids. But there’d never been any need at home, and the traffic had always been horrendous and frightening. She’d been happy to use trains and trams, share taxis and rely on the goodwill of friends’ parents. Driving was something she’d earmarked for later, once school was finished.

  ‘It’s easy,’ he told her. ‘I’ll teach you. Out here, you’ve got to know how to drive. Go ahead, hop in.’

  ‘Do you have an automatic?’ she asked, looking for any excuse.

  He snorted. ‘That’s not driving.’

  Sighing, she slid behind the wheel. He laughed at her attempts to reach the pedals, before bending to adjust the seat. Crouching, he tapped her ankle.

  ‘Right pedal’s the accelerator. Middle’s the brake. Use your right foot for both. On the left is the clutch. You push down on that with your left foot when you want to change gears, then ease off and accelerate with your right. Got it?’

  She nodded, bewildered. He leaned across to place her left hand on the gearstick. She could feel his warmth and it reminded her of that terrible afternoon at Paul’s party. She pressed back into the seat.

  ‘Four gears plus reverse, standard aitch. Middle’s neutral …’ The instructions kept coming and she tried to concentrate, but it was hard when he closed his hand over hers, taking control and squeezing it on the knob of the stick. Other thoughts were crowding in – thoughts about Kylie and what she’d said about Gabe. Strange and disturbing.

  ‘What’s that?’ Jenny asked, pointing at the other, smaller lever behind it.

  ‘Don’t worry about that. It’s in four-wheel now, just leave it.’

  ‘Okay.’ Thank God. One gearstick was enough.

  ‘You ready?’ Gabe asked.

  ‘No.’

  He laughed and moved around to the other side, climbing in next to her. ‘You’ll be fine. Don’t worry, you can’t hit anything out here.’

  ‘That’s comforting.’

  ‘Okay, start it up.’ He guided her through each step, and, with a sudden lurch, they began rolling across the grass. But Gabe hadn’t finished. ‘Relax your hands. More revs, otherwise you’ll stall it. See that needle on the left of the dashboard? That’s your tacho. You want to get that up a bit before you change gears. Come on.’

  He helped her with the gear change and they bounced again before picking up the pace. It was hardly smooth, but at least they were still moving.

  ‘You’re a natural,’ he told her. ‘Five minutes and already you drive better than Cait.’ Jenny grinned her pleasure, and he laughed. ‘Yeah, thought you’d like that. Okay, we’ll do a few laps while you get used to it, but keep away from the fence and stay in second. Watch your revs. It’s not a road and you can’t go too fast.’

  He was patient, even laughing when she almost hit the only tree in the whole paddock, and lounged beside her, one arm draped over the back of the seat, his fingers brushing her shoulder as she drove slowly back to the shed.

  ‘God, that was so much fun,’ she said, finally jerking the ute to a standstill. ‘Can we do it again? Please?’

  ‘Next time.’

  Inside the shed, he heated water in an old urn and stowed away all the tools. She watched him scoop some powder into a couple of oversized bottles.

  ‘What’s that for?’ she asked.

  ‘You’ll see,’ he replied, pouring the warmed water into the bottles. He capped them with big rubber teats, gave them both a good shake and handed one to her with a smile. ‘Feeding time at the zoo.’

  They walked up a rise behind the shed to a rough wooden fence. Inside the small enclosure were two calves curled together on a thick bed of straw. Gabe climbed over the fence and got them to their feet. They nosed him curiously, all legs and ears and liquid eyes.

  ‘Oh, they’re so cute,’ cried Jenny.

  He grinned. ‘Get in here. They won’t bite.’ He showed her how to hold the bottle. ‘Hang on to it tight. They’re stronger than you think.’

  He laughed as she wrestled with her calf, trying to keep the bottle at the right height and angle while it pulled on the teat, nudging it forwards and then seizing it again in a game of tug-of-war.

  ‘Where’s their mother?’ she asked, once she had the hang of it.

  ‘Died. Real bugger, ’cause she was a good one. But at least we got these two.’ He was matter-of-fact about it, but Jenny felt pity for the little creatures.

  ‘I thought animals were born in the spring,’ she said. ‘Isn’t it a bit cold for them?’

  ‘Nah, and this way they’ll be ready for the spring grass. Besides, Nero takes his job pretty seriously. Rain, hail and shine.’ His admiration for the bull was evident, and Jenny smiled.

  ‘What was your mum like?’ she asked him. ‘She must’ve been something, with you and Caitlin – well, you know what I mean,’ she finished, awkwardly.

  He laughed. ‘Because Jim’s such an ugly old bastard?’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

  ‘That’s okay, he is. Honestly, I don’t remember her. Never even seen a photo. Jim got rid of them all when she left. Guess it was his way of dealing with it.’

  ‘Don’t you miss her?’

  ‘Not really. You can only miss what you know, right? And Barb’s been great.’

  Like Michael, there was no regret or self-pity. Life was what it was, and there was no use crying about it. No wonder Gabe had so little time for her tantrums.

  Once the bottle was drained, Jenny and Gabe climbed out of the yard and stood by the fence to watch the calves gambol about. Jenny wished she could do the same. It was cold – not the cold of Melbourne but deeper, bone-chilling and aching. As Gabe had predicted, her coat was useless against the wind; she stamped her feet and shivered.

  There was no I-told-you-so. He just moved behind, opened his jacket and wrapped it around her. She leaned back into his warmth and he rested his chin on the top of her head. But as effective as it was, it did nothing for her feet and she shuffled to keep the blood moving.

  ‘I know one way to get you warm,’ Gabe murmured, and she turned in his arms, startled. He cocked one eyebrow and grinned at the expression on her face. ‘Why, Jennifer Lawson, shame on you. I meant the woodbox needs refilling.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, embarrassed. ‘Sorry. It’s just … I thought …’

  ‘I know exactly what you thought,’ he said, and laughed all the way back to the house.

  After the wood was stacked, they wandered inside to find Barb by the woodburner, sifting through a mountain of receipts and logbooks. Jim was nowhere to be seen. Gabe made them coffee, then led the way up the narrow staircase to the attic. The space was a single large room with slanting walls that followed the roofline. Two unmade beds occupied a corner each, a long desk with an old computer and a few books lined one wall, and a ragged sofa squatted against another, beside an overstuffed wardrobe. It was untidy and lived-in and had that stale, musky smell of boys. Gabe picked up bundles of dirty clothes and threw them into a hamper, apologising for the mess.

  ‘Not used to having guests up here,’ he said.

  ‘What, no girls?’ she teased, not really wanting to know.
/>   ‘Nope. You’re the first. Kind of ironic, huh?’

  Though she knew what he meant, all she heard was the insult. Wasn’t she good enough for him? ‘Barb won’t mind that I’m here?’ she asked, picturing her own mother’s outrage.

  ‘Why would she? It’s not like we’re doing anything. And even if we were, we’re old enough.’ His smile deepened into a grin. ‘I bet Kylie and her friends’d have a field day if they knew. Maybe you should tell them, just for fun.’

  He sat on his bed while Jenny took the sofa opposite. It didn’t feel right sharing the bed, and she didn’t want to sit on Michael’s. That would have been too weird. Except, of course, weirdness was relative now.

  ‘Didn’t know they had computers on the Ark,’ she said, pointing to the desk.

  ‘Yeah, well, we have a crappy internet connection here and Jim’s not real big on technology. This is the best we can do. Anything more, we use the ones at school.’

  ‘Uh-oh, no online porn for you then,’ she joked.

  ‘No need,’ he said, and laughed when she pulled a face.

  She moved the conversation to safer ground. ‘How’s the study going?’

  This time he was the one who grimaced. ‘Bloody school.’

  ‘And what about your research? All those books you borrowed from the library?’

  He shrugged. ‘Read some of it. Real creepy shit too. Took them back last week.’

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask about Miss Big Boobs, but she swallowed it down again. ‘Why are you bothering, anyway? I mean, if Michael and Caitlin are getting on and everything’s all rosy, why not just ask them?’

  ‘Maybe. But where’s the fun in that?’

  She nodded at the computer. ‘If I were you, I’d be getting on the internet.’

  ‘Yeah, but the best time to do that’s late at night, and I’m –’ He frowned and stared across at the dark screen.

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘I just remembered something,’ he replied with a tight smile. ‘Might be important.’

  ‘Sharing’s a good thing, Gabe. Healthy.’

  He shook his head. No smile. ‘Not this time. Sorry, hang on a sec.’ Fishing in his jeans, he pulled out his phone and checked a message. Frowning again, he typed a quick reply and pocketed it again.

  ‘Planning a date?’ she asked. For God’s sake, Jenny, leave it alone!

  ‘No, it’s Pete. Wants to see me later,’ he said and then grinned at her. ‘Besides, one girl a day is enough for me.’

  ‘Not what I’ve heard,’ she shot back, then cringed inwardly. It was the sort of thing her mother would’ve said.

  Gabe studied her for a minute. ‘You know, there’s this folk music festival next weekend. Annual thing. The music kind of sucks, but there’s a fair on the Saturday night at the showground, if you want to come.’

  Jenny had already seen the notices in town; apart from the visit to the farm, Chris had talked of nothing else all week, and if Gabe had asked her earlier – before the driving lesson, when his hand had held hers and she’d felt something she shouldn’t have, before all her digs about girls and porn, which she couldn’t seem to hold back but now wished she had – she would have jumped at the chance. She glanced sideways at Michael’s bed, and she knew Gabe saw. ‘I don’t know. We’ll see.’

  ‘Sure. We can talk about it later.’ He didn’t sound put out, and she didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved. There was a rumble and the crush of gravel as a heavy vehicle approached the house. Gabe checked the window. ‘Michael and Cait are back. Punishment must be over for the day.’

  ‘Can you take me home now?’ she asked, rising from the sofa. ‘I really don’t want to see Michael.’

  ‘Jen, he’s my brother. You’ll have to face him sooner or later, so you might as well get it over with.’

  She tried to make her coffee last as long as possible, but eventually had to admit her cup was drained, and followed Gabe down the stairs. She could hear Michael talking, his deep tone so like Gabe’s, but seeing him again made her realise how different they were. He didn’t seem surprised to see her, and Jenny felt awkward that he might know she’d been upstairs, in his bedroom, with his brother; she hoped he wouldn’t jump to any wrong conclusions. But she needn’t have worried because, apart from a quick greeting, he showed little interest, which was just as hurtful. Caitlin was beside him, lovely in a white sweater and pale jeans. Jenny knew next to nothing about fencing, but even she wasn’t so ignorant as to believe the two of them had been doing any kind of farm work.

  ‘How’s the fence coming along?’ Gabe asked. ‘Great Wall of China was built quicker than that.’

  Michael smiled. ‘You know how it is. If you’re going to do something, do it well.’

  Gabe gave a curt nod. ‘Sure.’ Caitlin backed away and left the room, and Gabe watched her go. He turned back to Michael. ‘I’m going to run Jen home and then stop by Pete’s. You want to come?’

  Please no, Jenny prayed.

  Michael glanced at her, then at Gabe. ‘Nah, I’m pretty knackered. I’ll just hang here.’

  ‘Yeah. Thought you might,’ Gabe said, grabbing his keys off the bench.

  Jenny thanked Barb for lunch and Michael bid her a vague goodbye. She paused at the door and looked back to see that Michael wasn’t doing the same. She realised then why Gabe had insisted she stay. She was surprised to feel only a little regret.

  I thought I could not breathe in that fine air

  That pure severity of perfect light –

  I yearn’d for warmth and colour which I found

  In Lancelot

  ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, ‘Guinevere’

  XIII

  Gabe had always considered himself a pretty straightforward guy. The truth might cut, but lies were like boreholes, dredging up piles of shit. He’d always been honest about everything – who he was and what he did – but today he’d lied. The last time he’d done it had been to protect Michael; today it was to protect Jen.

  Maybe there’d been no need. After all, she’d been the first one to piece it together and he was fairly sure she still believed it. But when he’d told her at the pump that he didn’t know what Michael and Cait were up to, it’d been a straight-out lie. Gabe knew. He’d known for two days. So he’d suggested the driving lesson to loosen her up, to get her to stop obsessing about Michael and the town and all the gossip; a chance to give her some fun, and an opportunity to relieve his guilt. But then suddenly it’d become something else. He’d felt it and he knew she had too. And for a second, as they’d sat together in the ute, he’d wanted to teach her a whole lot more. Other things. Better things. But he couldn’t. It’d be such a mistake. So he’d lied about that too.

  They didn’t talk much on the drive back to town. He glanced across a few times, but she just stared out the window, chewing her lip like she always did when something upset her. The way things were going, he thought, she’d be lucky if she had any lips left. He knew she was thinking about Michael, knew she’d finally understood that he’d moved on and he guessed she was hurting a bit.

  She wasn’t like the other girls, was nothing like any girl he’d known. When she relaxed she was fun – and funny – and she was smart too, but out here, around Kincasey and away from everything she’d known, she was completely out of her depth. She was one of the most uptight people he’d ever met – more like her mother than she knew or was willing to admit – but he’d never tell her because she also had a hell of a temper. Being with Jen was never boring, and around Short Town that was pretty much the highest compliment you could pay someone. He liked Jen – a lot – and that bothered him.

  When he pulled up outside her house, she didn’t move to get out.

  ‘Thanks, Gabe,’ she said. ‘I had a great day. Really.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She opened the door with a sigh. ‘Back to it, I guess.’

  He tapped her shoulder. ‘Hey. Everything’ll be all right. Things will ge
t better, I promise.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. Takes time, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Okay. See you.’ But she just sat there, as though waiting for him to say something or maybe do something. So he didn’t budge either. He wouldn’t cross that line. He couldn’t.

  ‘Go on, out you get. I’ll call you.’

  She stared at him. ‘Will you?’

  ‘Yes.’ It was the best he could do.

  After stopping in town to refuel, he drove on to Pete’s, and it was already dark by the time he arrived. Pete came out to meet him, rugged up in a sheepskin coat and carrying a couple of beers, and Gabe followed him to the long wooden table that filled one end of the verandah.

  ‘It’s bloody cold,’ Gabe complained. ‘Can’t we go inside?’

  ‘Better not. Mum’s in there.’ The warning was left hanging. Pete held out one of the stubbies, but Gabe waved it off.

  ‘So what’s up? Couldn’t you’ve just phoned?’

  Pete shook his head and swallowed more beer. ‘You heard about Casey?’

  ‘Shit. What now?’ Gabe asked, his heart sinking. He thought he’d dealt with that problem, but the holidays – not having to see him at school – had blunted him to the fact that Casey would always be a total prick.

  ‘He’s at the hospital. Arm’s all infected. Been there the last couple of days.’ Pete stared at the bottle in his hands. ‘I guess Michael really did a number on him, eh?’

  Remembering the feel of Casey’s arm when he’d smashed him against the wall, its heat and pulpiness, ready to burst, Gabe felt no pity; Casey had had it coming. But he gave a quick shiver, and he knew it wasn’t because it was cold. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I guess he did. What’s it to do with me?’

  ‘Today he came off the heavy-duty drugs and he’s been talking.’

  Gabe didn’t say anything for a moment, but he knew where this was heading. ‘And you know all this because …?’

  ‘Mum worked a shift there today and she looked after him,’ said Pete.

  Pete’s mother worked part-time at the local hospital, not just for the money but because it gave her access to all the goings-on in town. When she wasn’t probing people with hypodermics, she was probing them for information, and she was bloody good at doing both.