Currawalli Street (24 page)

‘Patrick's grandmother told me about it.'

‘Hello!' another voice calls from the bedroom. Lukewarm. ‘I'm cleaning out your dad's wardrobe. There's nothing that you want to keep, is there?'

‘All I want is that tie that he never wore, the one with the hula girl on it.'

Lukewarm appears around the door, the tie draped around his neck. ‘I thought that you might want to keep it.'

‘Good on you.'

Lukewarm disappears back into the bedroom, and Jim takes in the new feeling of the house.

Mary steps out into the hallway. ‘Jim, are you going to be okay?'

He shrugs. For a moment he can't find the words he wants to use. ‘In
general? I've thought about it and I just don't know. I can't work it out. I figure I will be if I keep busy for a while.'

Mary takes a deep breath. It is the sort of breath taken when a tender subject is about to be broached and the other person's reaction is unknown. She looks at him closely and says, ‘You know, hindsight is a dreadful thing sometimes. Looking back, I think your dad had become thinner and that he had rings under his eyes. He mustn't have been getting much sleep. He had stopped talking to me and the other women in the street. He still talked to Patrick, though. Your mum said she was worried about him. The police asked all of us if we had noticed anything. At that stage we must have been in shock; I said I hadn't.'

Jim says nothing. Mary's eyes had shifted to his shoulder, but as she finishes, she looks back into his eyes. ‘The truth is, the only person around here who really notices anything is that boy up the apricot tree.'

Of course. ‘Rodney?'

Mary nods. ‘He sees everything and makes a note of it.'

The potential of this statement springs Jim's mind to attention. ‘What did he tell the police?'

Mary is quick to answer because she has recognised something in Jim's voice: the same still coldness that she heard when he asked about Peter. ‘Nothing. He was at school when they interviewed everybody.'

There is now a method in the way Jim speaks. He has become someone who knows how to get information quickly and efficiently. His emotions have sunk deep inside him. ‘So he must have been at school when it happened.'

‘Oh no. He had the day off. I remember seeing him sitting up there
when I heard the gunshots.'

‘Well, maybe I should talk to him.'

‘Only if you want to find out.'

Jim looks at her. ‘What do you mean? Why wouldn't I want to find out?'

‘He might just tell you something . . .'

‘Something I don't want to hear? Like what?'

‘Like why a woman kept coming around when your dad was home alone.'

Jim takes a small step back. He blinks. ‘What do you mean?'

‘A woman was a regular guest in your house when your mother was away. That's all. I don't know who she was. I don't know what they got up to. It was none of my business. I sometimes wanted to say something to your mother but I never did. I figured she must have known. She wasn't stupid.' Mary pauses, and adds gently, ‘She went away a lot.'

Jim is now looking beyond Mary's shoulder, out the door. The apostle birds are still unsettled in their tree. ‘Yeah, she has a sister in Sydney.'

‘That's right. I met her at the . . . funeral. She seemed to be a pleasant woman.'

‘Yes, she is. I suppose.'

Mary holds out her hands and lifts her shoulders. ‘Well, I don't know. Maybe the boy in the tree holds the key to it.'

‘Maybe.'

‘You could ask him. Eve is his mother's name.'

‘Yes, I just met her. She seems nice.'

‘She is.'

Jim is now looking around the hall as if searching for a chair to sit
down on. As though unaware that he is speaking aloud, he continues, ‘I don't want to scare him. A boy who sits in a tree all the time is probably a bit sensitive.'

Mary reaches out and clasps his hand. ‘I'd say so. But why don't you talk to Eve and see what she says?'

Jim's smile is pained. He looks down at her hand and says, ‘I'll do that.'

J
im bides his time. He sees Rodney up in the apricot tree on two separate occasions before he decides to pay a visit. It is dinnertime at Eve's house and Jim's knocking disturbs them halfway through their chops and peas.

Eve looks a little concerned when Jim tells her he wants to speak to Rodney, but she leads him into the kitchen to where Rodney is sitting at the wooden table, his fork poised.

‘Rodney, this is Jim from up the road,' Eve tells him.

‘I know who Jim is. He was the one who turned Patrick's house into a railway station.'

‘That's right, I did . . .'

‘And he was the one who crossed the street and gave that girl a piece of honeysuckle, then quickly walked back home and went inside.'

‘Yes. And I haven't seen her since.'

‘She turned to talk to you when you were walking away and she has been in the street once more—not to see the strange man Peter but to
look at the soldier statue in the park. She kept looking back at your house.'

‘Really? When was this?' Jim says, amused but interested.

‘Hold on, I'll get my books.' Rodney pushes back the chair and jumps up.

‘What about your dinner, mister?' Eve calls.

‘I'll be straight back.'

‘His logbooks are in his room,' Eve explains to Jim. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?'

‘Only if there is one.'

‘There is. The pot makes two cups; it's too hard only making one cup.'

Jim looks at her, unsure if she is making an opening comment about something deeper than tea. Jim knows that she is a widow.

She is immediately aware of his uncertainty and hastens to remedy it. ‘Rodney doesn't drink tea.'

Jim smiles at her in gratitude. ‘Doesn't he? I'd like to have one.'

‘Milk?'

‘Yes please, and no sugar.'

As Eve gets up, Rodney returns with five pocket-sized exercise books.

‘Are these your logbooks?' asks Jim.

‘Some of them. They are this size because they are easiest to climb a tree with.'

Jim is struck by this. He spent a lot of his time in Vietnam up trees, and everything he carried had to pass exactly that test: whether it could be taken up a tree. Water bottles, pens, sunglasses, food. He is slowly
discovering that the strange dark world he lived in over there has a lot more in common with the normal everyday world over here than he'd previously realised.

‘How long do you spend in the tree?' he asks Rodney.

‘One hour in the morning. Two hours after school, until tea. Then another hour until it is dark.'

‘Comfortable?'

‘Very. There is a spot to rest my book and another branch to keep my pens on.'

Over there, Jim could never be so relaxed about the things he carried into position with him. If he dropped something from one of his perches, he would have to climb down immediately and recover it. If he couldn't find it, he would have to move to another tree, sometimes as much as a valley away. Men searching for snipers look for clues on the ground more than in branches.

‘Have you worn away the bark where you sit?'

‘Yes I have. It is very smooth.'

‘And slippery, I bet. If you have a piece of coarse sandpaper in your pocket you can easily rough up the surface again, and that will stop you from slipping. Not altogether, but a little bit. And a little bit helps.'

‘That's right.' Rodney nods, impressed at Jim's knowledge.

‘Look, I've got some in my pocket. You can have it. This will do the job.'

‘Thanks, Jim,' Rodney says, taking the sandpaper.

‘You know a lot about this subject,' Eve says.

Jim looks at her. ‘I used to have a job that involved sitting in trees.'

‘Wow! What sort of a job was that?' Rodney asks.

‘I was in the army. I would have to sit still for a long time. It wasn't a very nice job.'

‘No, I wouldn't like to have to sit still. I'd prefer to drive a tank across creeks and logs.'

Eve recognises what sort of job in the army requires tree sitting and so she changes the subject. ‘What are you planning to do now that you're home? You are home, aren't you? Or are you going back?'

‘Oh no. I never want to go back there again. I'm not sure what I will do now. I enjoyed the building I did for Mary and Patrick and I may just keep doing that sort of work. As of now, the army is still paying me.'

‘Exactly three weeks ago today,' Rodney says.

‘Excuse me?' Jim is momentarily puzzled.

‘When that girl you gave the honeysuckle to came and looked at the soldier statue.'

‘Oh, right. Well, she might come back again.'

‘And then you can kiss her.'

‘Rodney!' Eve says.

Jim laughs. ‘Maybe. Maybe not. I think I'd like to get to know her first. Find out what her name is, that sort of thing.' Jim sits back in his chair and pushes his teacup to one side. ‘Rodney, can you tell me what was happening in the street the day all the police cars turned up to my house?'

Rodney looks at him without answering and then selects a logbook from the stack and begins to flick deliberately through the pages. ‘You mean the day your dad and your mum got fired by the gun?' he says at last.

‘Yes, that day.'

‘Well, that morning, your mum went down to the shops. Patrick went to the train station. Val's cat went straight into the strange man's house when Val let it out the front door. Your dad walked down to Choppingblock Road and stood there for a while.'

‘Doing what?'

‘He watched a funeral drive past. You know, when the cars all have their headlights on and they drive in a line slowly.'

‘Oh yes. Did he come back after that?'

Rodney consulted his logbook. ‘Yes, straightaway. The time was nine thirty am.'

‘Ah.' Jim looks at Eve to see if she appears worried by his questioning of her son. She doesn't. If anything, she looks more concerned about Jim. ‘Rodney, do you remember a woman who used to come visiting my house when my mum wasn't home?' Jim senses Eve flinch.

‘You mean in the green car?'

‘Yes, that's who I mean.'

‘Well, she used to come all the time when your mum was away. I figured that your dad couldn't wash the dishes on his own and she liked to come by and help him. My mum can't do the dishes on her own. I have to help her.'

‘Yes, I imagine that's why she was coming by.'

‘She didn't come anymore after her car got smashed by the truck. You should have heard the noise. It made all the cockatoos go quiet.'

‘Where was that smash? Here in the street?'

‘No,' Eve says.

‘In Choppingblock Road,' Rodney explains. ‘Just down from the corner. The police and an ambulance came. The truck driver cried.'

‘Was the lady in the green car hurt?'

‘No, she wasn't hurt. She was dead.'

‘Oh, Rodney,' Eve says.

‘She was. I saw an ambulance man put a sheet over her face. That's what you do with dead people. So they can't look out and see what's happened.'

‘That's right. When was the smash?' asks Jim.

Rodney consults his book again, turning back seven pages. ‘One week before the gun was fired and made the apostle birds fly out of the tree. They had just settled back down when the gun went off again. They didn't come back for a while after that.'

‘I think that's enough,' Eve says.

‘Yes. That's enough. Thanks, Rodney. Can I just ask one more thing?' Jim looks at Eve. The question is for her.

‘Sure,' Rodney says. Eve nods slowly.

‘Did you see anybody knock on my front door before the shots were fired?'

Rodney keeps his head down, staring at a page in his logbook. ‘Yes, I did,' he says finally.

‘That's
enough
,' Eve says as she stands.

Jim sits back from the table and tries to take a deep breath without gasping. He fails. Rodney looks up at him. Jim tries to smile at him and says, ‘Okay, let's forget about it. There's no need to talk about it anymore.'

‘And your dad buried the silver box in the front yard the night before the guns fired off. That was great. I reckon it must be real treasure. Are you going to dig it up?'

Jim leans forward again. ‘Where did he bury it?'

‘He dug the hole near the big tree.'

‘I think I'll go home now and dig it up. I'll come and tell you if it's treasure. Tell me, do you ever get tired of sitting in the tree?'

‘Sometimes. But . . . I don't really know what else to do.'

Jim opens his two hands, palms upwards, on the table. Rodney and Eve look down at them as if Jim is about to perform a magic trick. He says, ‘You could come up and help me sometimes, if you want. I'm going to build a chook shed for the people across the road. The Albertos in number four.'

‘What would I do?'

‘Do you know how to hammer?'

‘No.'

‘Do you know how to saw?'

‘No.'

‘Great. Then that's what you can do first. Learn to hammer and learn to saw. I'll teach you.'

‘Would you?' asks Eve. Rodney and Jim look at her.

‘Yes. I'm a good teacher. I'd like to do it, if you don't mind?'

‘I'd love you to,' Eve says.

‘Rodney, can you whistle?'

‘Yes, Mum says I'm a good whistler.'

Jim smiles at Eve. ‘Then in return you can teach me to whistle. I can't and I would like to.'

‘Can we start on the chook shed now?' Rodney asks.

‘Sort of. Rosa has told me what she wants and how big. You and I will have to draw up plans so we know how much timber and wire
to buy.'

‘And nails,' Rodney adds. ‘When can we do these plans?'

‘I want to talk to your mum about homework and what other commitments you have.'

‘What's a commitment?'

‘A promise that you have made to yourself or someone else.'

‘I don't make promises in case I can't keep them.'

‘Good for you.' Jim turns again to Eve and lifts his eyebrows in a question.

Eve has already thought about it and has an answer ready. ‘Tomorrow night we have to go shopping for a new pair of shoes for school. The next night is free. How's that for you, Jim?'

‘That's good.'

‘Come for dinner,' she presses.

‘Okay. But Rodney and I will have a lot of work to do. We won't be able to sit around after dinner and talk.'

‘You might have to wash the dishes on your own that night, Mum. Will you be alright?' Rodney asks.

‘Yes, I'll manage.'

Jim gets up and heads to the door. ‘I'm so pleased I have an assistant to help me do this job. Oh, by the way, I'll pay you.'

‘You don't have to,' Eve whispers, behind him.

Jim stops at the door. ‘No, fair's fair. The Albertos are paying me. And if you like this sort of work there's more to come. The Hendersons want me to build an arch for their roses.'

‘We'll need to draw plans,' Rodney says.

‘We will. I don't know how to build an arch.'

‘The pub has an old one in the backyard. You can see it from my lookout tree.'

Jim laughs. ‘Alright. When the time comes, I'll climb up and have a look. Now, I'd better go. Thanks for the cup of tea.'

‘You're welcome,' says Eve and then out of Rodney's earshot she asks, ‘The police will want to talk to him, won't they?'

Jim opens the door and looks at the new night. He turns back to face Eve. ‘No. I'm not going to say anything to them.'

She flinches as if she is trying not to cry. She mouths a thank-you to him. He nods and walks out into the night air.

Eve closes the door. ‘Wow,' she says.

‘Wow,' Rodney echoes.

Jim walks straight home, throws open the side gate and grabs the shovel, which is leaning against the side fence. Just before he thrusts the blade into the soil, he pauses, his body poised to dig. He knows that thoughts are quick and that unless he stops and attends to them as they come into his head, they will fly away with the wind.

Overseas Jim witnessed many injustices that have been left ignored and unremedied. He has seen that these injustices pass into history in the same way as the ones resolved. And so he decides that the information about his parents' murder in Rodney's logbook should be left there. And that the boy in the apricot tree should not be disturbed again.

Only once did Jim try to fix an injustice, and all it did was create another one. The knife he pulled from Mai's belly he returned to the GI who owned it, by plunging it into his chest. The money that he ripped from Mai's fist, he stuffed into the mouth of the GI. And the ghosts of both people have been with him ever since.

*

Jim feels a sudden connection to his father as he digs out the same soil that his father filled in. His intuition tells him when he is about to hit the silver box before there is any physical indication. He uses his hands to scoop out the last of the soil and soon the silver box shines at the bottom of the hole in the new moonlight. Jim looks down at it, feeling a quiet heartache as if he has just discovered something from his childhood. He reaches down to it. There are letters in the silver box. He unfolds the first one, reads two paragraphs and then refolds it. Jim doesn't know the handwriting, but it is clearly a woman's. He takes another letter from near the bottom of the pile, reads a little and then folds it back up too. He empties all the letters from the box into the hole and puts the empty silver tin down on the path beside him. Then he fills in the hole, pats down the dirt and covers it with leaves. The ground looks undisturbed. He picks up the box and carries it and the spade around the back.