The Stranding (19 page)

Above the high tide mark, he scooped a hole in the dry sand and set a small fire in it. Callista was silent and he was unsure of her mood. She watched him with folded arms as he crouched over the wood and touched a match to the crushed newspaper to light it. Then she sat down on the sand and he sat beside her and watched the eager flames licking at the grey wood. Even though it seemed incongruous sitting in shorts by a fire, he was enjoying the leaping crackle of the flames and the smell of smoke. Perhaps this had been a good idea. And the wine wasn’t too bad either. He was using it more in moderation these days. Not needing to wipe out any more.

He peered sideways at Callista, wondering if she had tears in her eyes, or if it was just the smoke making her eyes watery.

‘How was your day?’ he asked.

‘Didn’t get up to much,’ she said. ‘Just a bit of painting. Made a few frames.’

They watched the flicker of the flames for a while.

‘Feeling better?’ he asked eventually.

‘Better than what?’

‘Than when you got here.’

‘I’m feeling fine,’ she said. She seemed to be keeping a check on herself. ‘When are you going to get a job?’

A job! Lex almost laughed. Was that what was bothering her?

‘I suppose I could get a job,’ he said. ‘But I wouldn’t know where to start.’

‘You might pick up something on one of the dairy farms around here. There’s always someone looking for help.’

‘I suppose I could ask around,’ he said hesitantly. ‘I’m not sure about cows though.’

‘You can’t work on a dairy farm without working with cows,’ she said.

‘I’ve never been near a cow.’

‘Not even at your Agricultural Show?’

‘Not even then.’

Callista snorted. ‘I’m sure it’ll be the beginning of a beautiful new relationship for you.’

They lapsed into silence again. Lex felt the cooler night air slipping in off the water.

‘What have you been up to today?’ she asked.

At least she was trying to be conversational.

‘Reading,’ he said. ‘Reading history books from my shelves. I’m a walking encyclopedia on whaling now. I know so much about it I could do a documentary.’

Callista was silent.

‘I spend a lot of time thinking about the Wallaces,’ he said. ‘There’s something in the walls of that house.’

‘That’s what happens when you buy a house with history,’ she said. ‘But that’s all it is. History. You should let it go.’

‘I’m trying to understand what sort of person would hunt whales,’ he said. ‘Did the old man love the whales? Or did he love to kill them?’

‘Both probably. You can love the courage of something that you kill. Killing doesn’t mean that you have to hate.’

Lex threw another few pieces of wood onto the fire.

‘So tell me, why are the Wallaces still making a living out of whales?’ he said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Jimmy Wallace’s whale tours.’

‘It’s hardly the same thing.’

‘It’s still exploiting whales for a living.’

Callista stared at him. ‘I think you’re becoming paranoid about all this. Whale-watching is a careful tourist industry and Jimmy Wallace respects the whales. Otherwise he wouldn’t be there. He wouldn’t do it.’

‘Then why doesn’t he mention his family’s history in whaling. It’d be a great opportunity to make up for the past.’

‘Would you mention it, if it were you?’ Callista’s cheeks were flaming. ‘Would you drag yourself back through the past every time you went out to watch whales? I don’t think you’d have either the courage or the strength. Some things are too big to apologise for in small insignificant ways.’

She was very angry now. Her eyes were flashing in the firelight. He should have known better than to have a go at a local. He should have expected solidarity.

‘I suppose it hasn’t occurred to you, has it, that Jimmy Wallace might be ashamed of his past,’ she said. Her eyes were bright and she held her head high. ‘I happen to know that he loves whales. He never could stand the harvest. And he’s had to carry his father’s history all his life. But at least the industry did stop. So what does it matter if the old man loved his whaling books and stories? It was a job and a way of life for him. We all hang on to things that were exciting for us. Especially when we’ve moved beyond them. When things finish, memories are all we have left.’

Lex shook his head. She was really prickly and irrational tonight, and he had no idea what he’d said that had set her off. ‘I just thought some sort of admission on Jimmy’s part might help restore the balance.’

‘Balance? There’s nothing balanced about any of this.’ She was furious.

‘I’m sorry.’ He backed down, astounded and confused. She was really over the top tonight. ‘I’ll let it go.’

But she stood up, crying, and stepped away from him around the fire. She paused as if she were about to say something else, but changed her mind and walked away over the sand into the dark.

Lex sat by the fire, wondering exactly where things had gone wrong.

Fifteen

Callista watched the sky from her verandah in the gully. It was brown with dust, and clouds were mounting, blotting out the sun. The weather was changing—a summer storm coming in. From late morning the wind had increased, clanging the wind chimes. It had been a dry year and with this early hot spell, dry air was blasting in from the hills, scattering dust with each gust. Not a nice day to be out.

She paced the verandah restlessly. The wind was making her fearful and edgy. What to do in this weather? Should she drive up to Jordi’s where the wind would be whipping even more wildly in the trees?

The ringing of the phone made her jump. She shut the door behind her as she went inside to answer it.

‘Who is it?’ she said.

‘It’s Lex. I’m sorry about the other night. You’re right. I should look for a job.’

She hadn’t expected to hear from him after her performance on the beach, and she’d been unsure whether she should contact him. She’d thought he might be angry with her. That he might have written her off as too emotional and too difficult. It was a conclusion she had come to herself—that no decent man could tolerate her mood swings. She should have been more restrained. More measured and controlled.

‘Is something else bothering you?’ she asked tentatively.

‘Yes. There’s a storm building out here and it feels lonely.’

She hesitated, on the edge of relieved tears.

‘You could come out and have dinner with me,’ he said.

‘Okay. I’ll be there soon.’

Perhaps it would be better than last time. She would try to hold herself together. And it was a positive step if he was willing to consider a job.

When she pulled up in the Kombi, Lex was at the window, watching the whitecaps chopping up the sea. The air was cooler here at the coast, and swirling in a hundred different directions.

‘Let’s go down to the beach,’ she yelled, tugging her coat out of the car. ‘It might be calm down there by the lagoon.’

She saw him shake his head, but he appeared at the door with his coat and joined her, hiding from the wind behind the rectangular brick of the Kombi. Wind gusts buffeted it and they could feel it sway with each blast. She hooked arms with him and they crossed the road.

As they walked down through the thrashing heath, the wind whipped the grass and snatched at their coats and roared eerily in the casuarinas. But on the sand it was surprisingly calm. They walked the length of the beach right down to the lagoon. Looking along its choppy brown waters, they could see grey clouds boiling and tumbling from the mountains towards the sea, and the wind was cold. It swung down the lagoon and in a matter of minutes Callista was chilled. She reached for Lex’s hand, and for a moment they huddled against the blast then turned back. There was no sense in this.

The wind had shifted around and now the full length of the beach was whipped by spitting sand. They ran down the beach, up through the shelter of the heath and across the road to the house. Callista was relieved to close the door and shut the wind out.

Inside, it was quiet and warm, a stark contrast to the wildness of the beach and the tossing casuarinas, now straining inland with the escalating winds. Callista picked up the weekend paper from the couch and flicked through it while Lex made coffee and started chopping things for dinner. He turned on the radio to listen to the weather forecast on the seven o’clock news and the presenter’s voice sounded hollow, like it was somewhere far off underwater. Out to sea, Callista could see the storm congealing in the late afternoon sky and an early dark creeping in. Distant jags of lightning crackled through the radio and Lex turned it off.

‘I’m going to have a shower,’ he said.

Callista considered joining him, but didn’t. She felt too ragged waiting for the storm. Instead, she watched the sky and frowned into the newspaper until Lex returned from his shower, smooth-shaven and freshly combed. Whatever romantic agenda he had planned for tonight, she didn’t feel up to it. Out the window, the sky darkened further and the storm’s moodiness intensified. She got up to turn on the lights. It was silly to feel as nervous as this. She’d seen plenty of storms before.

Lex opened a bottle of wine. He sat down beside her on the couch and handed her a glass.

‘To storms,’ he said, clinking glasses.

‘I hope we get a good lightning show,’ she said. ‘There’s no better place on the coast to see one than here.’

Time slithered past and dark oozed in, punctuated by wind and distant flashes of lightning. The wind started to moan in the wires and rattle the windows. They played a few mindless hands of rummy at the coffee table, pausing periodically to watch the lightning blinking on the horizon. The storm was blowing closer. Soon rumbles of thunder joined the batter of the wind.

Callista had her glass of wine in one hand and a hand of cards in the other when the lights flickered and blanked out. In the moments of dark that followed, her heart shattered in her chest and sweat broke in her armpits.

‘Are you okay?’

Lex’s voice was strange and near in the thick dark.

‘Yes.’

‘Stay put. I’ll find the torch and get some candles.’

Callista hoped he’d be quick. She didn’t like the blackness pressing in around her. She heard a click as he placed his wine glass on the table. There was a shuffle and whisper of movement as he walked into the kitchen, then the blunt beam of a torch jiggled across the room and flashed in her face.

‘Sorry,’ he said, then laughed. ‘Look at you. Wine in one hand, cards in the other. What a girl.’

‘I couldn’t see to put them down.’

He clattered around in some kitchen drawers to find the candles and then set them up in empty wine bottles around the room. He disappeared to put one in the bathroom.

‘Lucky you have so many empty bottles,’ she said.

He smiled over the flickering candle flame. ‘I prefer them full. But I’m getting better. You’re a good influence on me. Would you like another glass?’

His closeness made her uncomfortable in the candlelit room with the black knocking to get in from outside. He seemed big and shadowy and powerful. Hysteria rattled in her chest, made her withdraw like a prodded snail.

‘Perhaps I should go.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not letting you drive home in this weather. Sit down. We’ll eat. Dinner’s still warm.’

Callista sat and tried to slow her hammering heart. She watched lightning skittering over the water, illuminating the headlands with reliable irregularity. She tried to focus on the plate of curry and rice Lex gave her, the rich smell of fresh coriander and the sweet aroma of basmati rice.

‘I’ve extended myself tonight,’ he said. ‘I’ve picked up a few hints from you. Like the coriander. I’ve never used it before.’

The cuts of lightning shivered nearer, and as they ate, the storm blasted in with darts of white shattering the sky. Thunder cracks shook the house, and wind hurled itself in sharp gusts against the windows, swirling up under the eaves. The house shuddered as if it might take off. Then the rain came smashing in, blasting and drumming against the windows and crashing on the tin roof.

‘It’s almost enough to make you believe in God,’ Callista said.

After dinner, Lex gave her a foot massage, his head bent in concentration so she could see the thinning of the hair on his crown. She found she liked the firm probing touch of his knuckles kneading into the ball of her foot and his fingers circling up into the tension stored high in her arch. The release he triggered washed right up into her neck and shoulders.

He kept topping up her wine glass, so eventually she wasn’t sure if it was the snug bigness of him close beside her or the warmth of the wine that gradually made her relax. Slowly, she stopped jolting with each bright flash of lightning and each whip-crack of thunder. Instead, she watched the line of his jaw as he sipped his wine. The soft yellow candlelight flickered on his chin and some how warmed the room, even with the wind blowing in under the doors.

Was there a lull in the wind or was it the candlelight that suddenly made his eyes thick? The room circled in a slow spin as she closed her eyes and let him kiss into her neck and up along her throat to her chin.

Taking a candle, he led her into the bedroom, sat her on the bed. He undressed in front of her, scooping his shirt from his shoulders with quick hands while holding her eyes firm with his. Then, very gently, he tugged at her clothes, peeled them off delicately like gift-wrap, then lifted up the warm doona to cover them.

After Callista fell asleep, Lex got up to blow out the candles. The house was cold and the wind was still tearing at the eaves. It was hard to believe this was summer. Outside was black, and he stood in the kitchen listening to the racket of the storm. Back in bed, he wrapped himself around the sleeping woman beside him and lay awake absorbing the touch of her skin and the smell of apples in her hair. Eventually the teeming regularity of the downpour began to make him doze.

A flash of light jolted him awake. Had it been another flare of lightning, or something else, car headlights perhaps? He sat upright, straining into the dark, listening. There was nothing but the roar of the wind.