Bookmark Days (15 page)

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well your little rendezvous wasn’t a secret when he’d finished. I’m surprised your ears aren’t still burning.’

‘Hoppy phoned Les Carrington?’

‘Hard to believe, I know, but you heard me right. Apparently the thought of his only granddaughter camping with Les’s grandson was enough to blow his fuse.’

I sat on the grass beside the basket of clean laundry. ‘What’s that got to do with him? Why does he have to make such a circus out of it?’

Nan glanced around. ‘Your grandfather and Les were mates. They grew up together, and worked together and went to war together. They came back from the war and selected property together. Unfortunately, when they fell in love, they fell in love with the same woman.’

‘Really? They both fell in love with you?’

Nan snorted. ‘No, not me. Marilyn Pearson. Marilyn Carrington, now.’

Katie sat beside me on the grass. We were little kids again and it was story time. I had a feeling that the story we were hearing wasn’t suitable for little kids, that’s why I’d never heard it before. It would have wrecked my head. Even at sixteen with my enormous understanding of the world (ha!) it was still doing me in.

I wondered how Nan felt. Her eyes were still soft and loving but she’d just told us that she was second choice.

‘That’s so mean,’ I said.

‘Oh no, this was years before I came on the scene.’

‘So Hoppy is jealous of Les because he got Marilyn?’ Katie asked.

‘I’m sure he was, at some stage, but it was Les who was the jealous one. Never trusted Hoppy. Never left his wife alone with his old friend for fear he might . . . well.’

I wished Nathaniel were there. I wished he could be a little kid with us and have his skin prickle and his ears scream for more words. I was madly tucking the story inside, hanging on the details. I wanted to remember everything, for my own sake and so that I could retell it to Nathaniel and get it right.

‘So, on February the third 1968 the district had the worst fires we’d ever had. The roads were cut. Marilyn Carrington and her little boy Les Junior couldn’t get home. She made it as far as our place and we offered to put them up for the night but she wouldn’t have a bar of it. They slept out in her car. When she got home and told Les where she’d been, he was furious. He was certain Hoppy had had his way with her while he was fighting fires. No amount of pleading or explaining would calm him. He’d made up his mind and the guilty party was none other than Edward Hoppy Stanton.’ ‘Hoppy, you stud!’ my cousin said. ‘Did he do it?’

‘Katie!’ I barked, and slapped her arm. I wanted to know but I would never have asked. Especially like that.

Nan laughed. ‘He’d never talk to me about it even if he did. Oh, he’s a good man and we’ve had a lot of wonderful years together. He’s very private. Matters of the heart perplex him, I think. It was Marilyn who told me that they hadn’t been together that night and I believe her.’

There was a moment of silence as we took it all in. It felt like leaning on the thin ice in the stock trough. It was kind of creepy. I don’t think it’s healthy to spend too long thinking about your grandparents having a love life. Imagining Hoppy and Marilyn having an affair made me feel ill. I shook my head, trying to escape the images.

‘So you kids might like to think you’re the first people who’ve ever been in love but I can tell you for a fact that it’s all been done before. Not that you need to know the details. I’ve probably said too much all ready. I’m a deadly gossip when you get me going, aren’t I? Lord help me if a word of this gets back to Hoppy. You know what I’m saying?’

Katie and I nodded together.

In the light of Nan’s story, I could see again that Nathaniel and I were part of a much bigger game. It had nothing to do with us. Didn’t really have anything to do with our parents, either. I felt armed for battle. I might be only a small part of this family saga but I felt an overpowering urge to clear the air.

CHAPTER 23

My cousin’s last night on the farm was our traditional barbecue. Lamb shanks and chops, flies and mosquitoes, wood smoke and beer. Hoppy sat in a plastic chair and ignored me but I didn’t care. That was his problem, not mine. I’d had my paradigm shift. His would come. Besides, I was obsessed with the walkie-talkie. I kept it in my pocket and I stole away at five-minute intervals to listen intently to its crackle. Nothing. I guessed there was a possibility that they wouldn’t work over the distance between the houses. When the time was right, I needed to get up high – maybe on top of Chooka’s old cubbyhouse or maybe the roof of the machinery shed – to maximise the signal. And to make sure nobody else could hear me.

Katie had packed most of her stuff. If I was obsessed with the walkie-talkie, she was obsessed with her emails. It was as though she was getting ready to enter her other world, putting her mask back on again.

‘You’ve left already,’ I told her.

‘What? Don’t be silly.’

‘You have. I can see it in your eyes.’

She drew a huge breath and slumped in the computer chair. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’

I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook. ‘You can’t leave yet. I need you
here
, with me, coach.’

She patted my hand and checked the clock on the computer. She looked at me, eyes wide open. ‘It’s time. Are you ready?’

My throat grew tight. The air seemed to vanish from the room. ‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ I peeped.

We made a beeline for the shed. Dad was cleaning the barbecue and he stopped as we passed.

‘Where are you girls off to?’

‘Just going to the shed,’ Katie said.

We kept walking. Saved again. If I’d had to speak right then I would have sounded like a cartoon character.

‘Just a minute,’ Dad grumbled. ‘Come back here.’

‘What?’ Katie said. Her hands were on her hips. I hoped it was too dark for Dad to see her attitude.

‘Come here.’

I walked back.

Dad looked at the seat where Hoppy had been then took me by the arm.

‘I know what you’re up to,’ he whispered. ‘If you don’t have any luck with the walkie-talkie you might like to try the radio in the big tractor. The channels are the same.’

He patted my head.

‘Thank you,’ I whispered.

He nodded.

Katie held the walkie-talkie while I turned the two-way in the tractor on. The clock clicked to 9.15 and the voice was there.

‘Good evening, Avril. Can you hear me? Over.’

‘As if you were sitting in the same tractor. Over.’

‘I wish,’ he said. ‘Good to hear your voice. Over.’

‘Same. Katie’s here too. Over.’

‘Jacob says hi, Katie. So do I. Over.’

Katie, perched beside me in the cab of the big tractor, turned the walkie-talkie on and tried to say her own hello but it squealed and howled as soon as she pushed the button. She turned it off.

‘Sorry, missed that. Say again. Over.’

I gave her the handpiece and she tried to hand it back. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what to say. What do I say?’

‘Push the button and say hi,’ I instructed.

‘Hi!’ she said, and threw the microphone at me.

We eventually discovered that the walkie-talkie worked fine, just that we couldn’t use it right beside the tractor’s radio. Katie got out of the tractor and – several kilometres away – Jacob went to the shed so the two of them could talk on another channel. The two-way radios were the closest things we had to mobile phones and I suddenly understood their appeal to Katie. Nathaniel and I talked for three and a half hours on the tractor radio. We had the sort of conversation we’d never been able to have while we were actually together. There was no country music or grumpy grandfathers to get in the way and we talked about sheep and canola and water and music and the Show. He said his dad was probably coming home from hospital the day after. He said his mum thought I looked nice at the Show. To begin with I felt paranoid that other people were listening in, but the fear faded. Katie and Jacob eventually butted in to say their goodbyes and went to bed. We kept talking. We talked about food and we talked about the future. We talked about tractors and we talked about the past. I told him the story Nan had told me but I didn’t use any names.

‘Hello?’ a gravelly voice cut in.

I swore. Thankfully I didn’t have the button pressed.

‘Look out,’ Nathaniel said. ‘It’s the devil herself. Over.’

‘Oh yes, I’m the devil all right,’ Marilyn said, and laughed.

Had she heard what I’d said? How long had she been listening? That wouldn’t happen with a mobile-phone conversation.

‘I wanted to add my two bobs worth. Over.’

‘I get the feeling you’re going to whether we want you to or not. Over,’ Nathaniel said.

‘Take no notice of him,’ I said. ‘The devil is always welcome on this channel. Over.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You’re a darling. It’s all true. The fires, the love story, the works, but there is one little bit of information that puts it into a better perspective.’

She didn’t say ‘Over’ and the silence that followed her transmission felt as big and dry as the whole country. I was hanging there, waiting for rain.

‘The woman who came between the two men wasn’t as surefooted as she thought. She married one, but three weeks after the wedding had to see for certain if she’d made the right decision. It was very hard on Hoppy. Very hard.’

If the first silence was as big as the country then the silence that opened up after that bombshell was as big as space itself. Was she confessing to having an affair with Hoppy? If you had opened my skull at that stage you would have seen a lot of blue sparks and smelled melting plastic. It was the final piece of the puzzle but it wasn’t something flat on the table when it was done. With that last piece in place the puzzle stretched and unfolded in every direction. She’d married Les but a few weeks later had to ‘see for certain’ that she’d made the right choice. Did she then sleep with Hoppy? How else would you find out? Perhaps they only kissed? Perhaps they hugged and they just knew. Perhaps they held hands or stared at each other over a cup of tea and knew things were as they should be. Poor Hoppy. He wasn’t just angry with the neighbours, he was heartbroken. Suddenly he didn’t seem so silly and stubborn. Even his attitude to Nathaniel and Les Senior’s attitude to me made a kind of twisted sense. The feud was how the men dealt with their pain.

‘And had she made the right choice? Over,’ Nathaniel asked the airwaves.

‘Yes,’ came the croaky reply. ‘She had. But that was when the men stopped talking and when you stop talking the anger has nowhere to go and it starts sucking things into its orbit. That’s why she slept in the car during the fires. Her husband refused to believe her and the whole thing flared up again. Their children got sucked into the battle. Not the grandkids though, it seems. Watch where you step, that’s all. There’s my two bobs worth. I’m going to bed. Over and out.’

‘Thank you!’ I yelled into the microphone. Thank you thank you thank you. After the sparks in my head faded and I’d waved the smoke away, I felt bigger somehow, as if my lungs hadn’t really been full until I breathed that next huge breath. Marilyn had plucked a splinter I’d had since before I was born and the relief was enormous. The hatred that ate away at our families finally had a reason to be. It was as old as the hills and it should have been squeezed out years ago but it finally made sense.

‘Still there? Over.’ Nathaniel said.

‘Certainly am,’ I said. ‘She’s an amazing woman. Over.’

‘That was never in doubt,’ he said. There was a long pause but I could hear that he still had his button pressed. ‘So are you. Over.’

It was dark in the cabin of the big tractor, but if you’d been standing outside I swear you would have seen me glowing. The darkness and the distance made me bold. I was speaking to a microphone, not a person. ‘You’re pretty amazing yourself. Over.’

My heart was playing a new tune; an up-tempo young country number. I danced around on my seat in the tractor.

Nathaniel was laughing when he pressed the button again. ‘You know, this is going to sound totally weird considering I’ve only known you . . . what . . . a week? Officially. Over.’

‘Hmm? What’s that? Over.’

‘I’m in love.’

And my heart changed key into the chorus. I wanted to sing along but it was all so new that I didn’t know the words. I didn’t know the words but it was already my favourite song of all time so I screamed and jumped about like a spring lamb that has just discovered its legs.

‘In love? That’s nice, Nathaniel. Who with? Over,’ I teased.

There was a hiss of static then silence. I’d torn it. I’d said the wrong thing. Never, Avril – and I mean
never
– make a joke when someone bares his soul to you. You’ll sound like an idiot. He’ll just want to . . .

‘Just you, Avril. Over.’

Suddenly every cell in my body buzzed. It started off as a little tingle then I knew what it was like to be hit by a wave at the beach. I held my breath and I couldn’t speak. I could only let the thing wash over me. Around me. Through me. It
was
the most beautiful . . .

‘Are you there? Over.’

And then I was fighting for air to make the words I so desperately wanted to say. It was the perfect moment on a perfect night.

‘Me too. I love you too, Nathaniel.’

CHAPTER 24

I was an emotional wreck the following morning. I had a massive grin on my face that wouldn’t budge but I was bawling my eyes out as Katie was leaving. I’d never cried when she was going before, not even when I was a little kid. How stupid was that?

Katie was crying, too. ‘I thought
I
was supposed to be
your
coach but I think it’s been the other way around,’ she said.

‘That’s totally daft. We feed off each other. We’re cousins, we’re allowed to do that.’

‘Yeah, and we point it out when the other person is being an idiot.’

I could only agree.

She grabbed my hand and kissed it. ‘You’re the best.’

We hugged.

‘I’ll miss you,’ I said.

All aboard.

‘Email!’ Katie screamed through the window as their car swirled dust on the drive.