Carnival Sky (27 page)

SHEFF AND HIS MOTHER took Georgie to the bus the next morning. She was wearing the same light, suede boots he’d noticed when he met her at the Wellington airport on their way south, and she bobbed as always when she walked. Sheff still hadn’t found an answer for that. How much closer brother and sister had become: how admirable she had proved in the past weeks.

They sat in the sun outside the information office and waited for departure time. Travellers went past to get brochures, or visit the small museum and art gallery. Most were older couples, the women purposeful and ahead, the men often rather dutiful followers, their thoughts more on cold beer than gold-field artefacts, or local watercolours. Almost all those wearing shorts had made a serious sartorial mistake.

‘Who’s going to give me health advice now?’ Sheff complained to his sister. ‘Lately I’ve had these loud clicks when I turn my head. Something must be going wrong in the vertebrae.’ This drew a smile from Georgie. ‘I get these floaters in front of my vision, and my tongue feels like a piece of shoe leather in the mornings.’

‘You’re breathing through your mouth and snoring, that’s all,’ she said. ‘Mum and I hear you sawing wood half the night.’

‘And then there’s the foot cramps, and the sneezing when I look at the sun.’

Most of the talk, however, was between Georgie and Belize, not
just because they were parting; it was always that way. Mother, son and daughter. Husband and father was gone. Gone, but not wholly absent, for true affection maintains a presence in the heart.

‘If you can’t get me at home, then use the cell phone,’ Georgie was saying. ‘I’ll try to ring every day for a while. Don’t forget that Aunt Cass wants you to go up. Anytime at all she said.’

‘Maybe when everything here is sorted and Sheff’s gone,’ said Belize.

‘Or she’ll come down to you. She’s happy to do that, too. Or come up to me. I’d love that. And get Sheff to take you out in the car sometimes. The worst thing is to be stuck away by yourself. When will you go back to bridge?’

‘I may even go next week,’ said Belize, ‘but don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of things to fill my time. I must get to the solicitor in the next few days.’

And so it went. It wasn’t the opportunity for Sheff and Georgie to share much that was meaningful. The final minutes before her departure were made more impersonal when they were joined by a mother and daughter well known to Belize, and who were also travelling to Dunedin. So for brother and sister at the end, standing at the bus steps, there was just a hug and one wry look between them as Mrs Abercrombie, having exhausted her condolences, talked freely of her holiday plans. Georgie took a seat by the window and looked down at her mother and brother before the bus moved off. Talk was no longer possible, but they smiled and made personal faces to show affection and sympathy. Sheff raised a thumb and his eyebrows, Belize mouthed goodbye, Georgie put her palm on the glass.

‘I need to go to the supermarket on the way home,’ Belize said when the bus had gone. Sheff understood it as a distraction from the compounded feeling of loss, and they talked about what they needed to buy as they drove, and not about Georgie. It was like the green bottles on the wall in the song: four of them, then three, now two, and when Sheff left there would be Belize by herself needing to make a life in her old age.

In the supermarket he pushed the trolley, and his mother went ahead selecting goods from the shelves. It wasn’t a large shop by city standards, but that made the job easier. At the checkout there was one man in front of them, pushing his purchases along to the operator, who was very tall, very pallid and very thin, and perhaps only fifteen or sixteen years old. He held the bar codes to the screen with arms so slender that the skin seemed to lie directly on the bone, and his sharp elbows about to break through. When it was his mother’s turn, Sheff went first and stood to receive the bags.

‘How are you today?’ he said. The gaunt boy stopped abruptly, arms up, like a praying mantis. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, and then he was violently sick on Sheff’s legs. ‘Ah, no, no. Oh, shit no,’ Sheff said despairingly, but too late. The vomit was copious and very fluid, splashing like a bucket of water on his shoes and the floor. An acrid stink rose around them, so strong it was almost visible. The checkout boy reeled away, head still down. How could such a reduced torso regurgitate so much?

The concern at first was entirely for him. ‘It’s all right, Bobby. It’s okay. How do you feel now?’ said his nearest fellow employee, a motherly woman with thick glasses and heavy breasts that drew her shoulders forward. She put her arm around Bobby and gave him a plastic bag to contain the last of his retchings. The other shoppers eddied with murmurs of commiseration, but kept a wary distance. One well-dressed woman abandoned her trolley immediately and headed for the door. Bobby, Sheff and Belize were shepherded into the staff washroom, which had toilet, a shower and lockers along the far wall. Bobby’s colleague attended to him, and Belize was equally helpful to Sheff, who had suffered more, at least externally. Bobby’s power vomit had left his own clothes quite untouched, but Sheff had to stand in socks and underpants and hold his trousers under the shower, while his mother swabbed his shoes with wet paper towels.

Attenuated Bobby and his comforter were ready to leave quite soon. ‘I need to get him home, he’s all of a shiver,’ she said. ‘He has a
reflux syndrome, don’t you, Bobby?’ and the boy gaped affirmatively. ‘Have you said sorry to the man?’

‘There’s no need,’ answered Belize. ‘These things happen.’

But why always to me? Jesus Christ, thought Sheff. Why always me?

‘I’m sorry,’ said Bobby without making eye contact. He was just a skinny kid, embarrassed and unable to cope.

‘That’s okay,’ said Sheff. What other response was there? Next maybe would be the expectation that he run poor Bobby home, when he needed running over.

Belize went out with them. Sheff was left sitting on the wooden form below the lockers and using paper towels in an attempt to dry his trousers so that he could put them on again. In the far corner of the washroom was a collection of mops and brooms, a Zip water-heater with a broken glass calibrator, a hand-written scroll that congratulated someone on seven years’ service, three cartons that had contained granulated vitamin-enhanced breakfast food.

His mother was ensuring a skinny kid with reflux left for home safely, Georgie was on the Dunedin bus with Mrs Abercrombie, his father was dead and buried, and he was sitting half-naked and stinking in a supermarket washroom regarding a corner of cleaning detritus. Jesus Christ. He almost laughed. Almost.

When Belize returned she had the proprietor with her. Mr Fellows, a pleasant, softly spoken man with small, crooked teeth who had known Warwick quite well. He apologised to Sheff and offered to pay any dry-cleaning costs involved, but his greater concern was to explain to Belize why he hadn’t attended the funeral. He’d wanted to be there, but one of the refrigeration units had packed up. He told Sheff he was welcome to use the shower, but Sheff preferred to clean up at home, and began gingerly drawing on his trousers. The wet cling and smell of them was too much, however. Mr Fellows found a large green apron, and Sheff was able to wrap it about himself so completely that his lack of trousers was hardly noticeable. The owner came with them back
through the supermarket, which had resumed its humdrum routines. ‘In confidence,’ he said, ‘in confidence, I don’t know how much longer we can keep Bobby with us. There’s something quite badly wrong there. I think I’ll have to restrict him to the back of the shop anyway.’ He seemed eager to talk about the difficulties that he faced in running the supermarket, and Belize was not disinclined to listen, but Sheff just wanted to be home.

Once there he had a long shower, and felt better in fresh clothes. ‘I know that Bobby’s mother,’ said Belize at lunch. ‘She once told me he’s been sick since a baby, and no one can find the cause. Sometimes he sleeps for fourteen or sixteen hours on the trot, and she worries if he’s ever going to wake.’ Sheff could do little regarding Bobby’s life of affliction, but having freed himself of the contents of Bobby’s gut, he did start to feel sympathy for him. Sheff could shower, change and carry on regardless, while Bobby knew that something was wrong inside.

‘And I had a text from Georgie on the bus,’ said Belize.

‘All okay?’

‘She says she’s missing us already,’ said his mother. ‘And Anne Gemmell rang. She’s coming round to see me later. She couldn’t get to the funeral.’

‘I might leave you to it, then,’ said Sheff, ‘as long as you’re happy with that. I might give Jessica a ring and see if she’d like a coffee.’

‘Of course. Anne had a hip replacement last year, and she says she feels twenty years younger.’

Sheff decided to walk to Jessica’s home. He did it at a stroll, to avoid working up a sweat. Once again he noticed the friendliness of the strangers he met on the way. Locals glanced as they approached, in expectation of recognition, but still usually gave a smile, or greeting, despite not knowing him.

Expensive homes had been built on the high ground in recent years, many highlighting the veined rock outcrops on which they stood, and some in a faux Mediterranean style. Outside money, Warwick had told
him. Jessica’s house was free of any pretension. They chose not to sit outside, or even in the sunroom: they went into the living room where it was cooler, and relaxed in the big chairs. Emma was at a friend’s house for the afternoon. While walking over, Sheff had told himself not to be a sad-sack and go on about his own problems, but to be good company and take an interest in Jessica’s life. He had little patience with people who were always emotionally needy. Bobby wouldn’t be mentioned. Jessica, though, immediately referred to one of his misfortunes. ‘How’s your chin?’ and she leant forward to scrutinise it.

‘Coming right now, although people really notice anything on your face.’ The cut had reduced to a small, dark scab and the bruising was completely gone, yet still whenever he met someone, their eyes would flick to it and then away again.

‘It’s not infected. That’s the good thing,’ said Jessica. ‘It’ll soon be right and you’ll be just as good-looking as before.’

‘I was hoping for improvement.’

‘There’ll hardly be a scar even,’ she said, and then, ‘So Georgie’s away?’

‘She’ll be at the Dunedin airport by now.’

Jessica leant back and relaxed, her head on the soft fabric back of the chair, as if to show there was no need to talk unless he felt like it. Sometimes he, Georgie and Belize had sat together for an hour or more with no conversation, yet in communion, and Sheff found even more comfort in Jessica’s presence. ‘Maybe I should stay here,’ he said after a time. Jessica didn’t stir.

‘Here as in the town, or here, here?’ she said after a pause.

‘I could get used to here, here.’

‘We’ve been through this.’

‘You used to like guys. I might be worth a shot.’

She did turn and look at him then, and with just a glint of impatience. ‘My girlfriend doesn’t live with me, so it’s not very likely I’d have you move in, is it?’

‘Why not? I mean, why doesn’t your partner move in? I wasn’t sure you even had one.’

‘Why should you? If you must know, we thought it would make things too difficult for Emma, especially when she still sees a good deal of her father, and I don’t want anyone saying things to her about two mums at home, or anything like that. She’s got enough to deal with as it is, and she’s so good about it.’

‘She’s a lucky kid.’

‘I would’ve stayed in the marriage longer for her if I could. Children get punished for things they’ve no control over.’ They were quiet for a while, knowing they had drifted into personal revelation, and that care, even delicacy, was required despite their closeness.

There was a part of Sheff that could view the rest of him with detachment: that saw clearly that it was logical for him to be unhappy, and unsure in regard of the future. Charlotte’s death, the separation from Lucy, his father’s fate and the part he and Georgie played in it, all within a few years, were explanation enough, yet cataloguing the reasons for malaise provided him with little relief and no remedy. ‘Lucy and I lost a baby girl,’ he said. ‘That’s what finished us.’

‘Yes, Georgie told me,’ she said. ‘You could’ve had other children?’

‘No reason why not, but it didn’t happen, and somehow I don’t think either of us wanted it. Charlotte took something with her that was essential for Lucy and me as a couple. Nothing worked after that. Other people might react in quite different ways I suppose. We had counselling, the works, but it only made me angry – no reason, or excuse, for that, except that you act differently when you’re lost and in pain.’

‘I can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to lose a child.’

‘Oddly enough, drinking doesn’t help me much at all. I thought the typical response to such a beating would be to become a fall-down drunk, but nothing so dramatic. What happened just made so much that had once seemed important completely worthless. And instead of feeling more sympathy for other people’s problems, I couldn’t give a bugger. Unhappiness is such a selfish thing. I get angry so easily now – there seem to be so many more stupid people you have to deal with. So many futile, everyday tasks.’

‘The baby, your marriage and now your father. Jesus,’ said Jessica, ‘who wouldn’t be angry? Anyway you haven’t been angry with me.’

She smiled. He felt better even for the little he’d confided, but didn’t want to say any more, even to Jessica. ‘I should be angry with you,’ he said. ‘I’ve been wanting to shag you since I first saw you again, and you won’t let me. I’m entitled to be angry with you for being so bloody attractive, yet unobliging.’

‘I don’t think you’d make anyone a very good partner for a while yet.’

They sat in silence for a time, but without awkwardness. Sheff lightly touched the scab on his chin. ‘Don’t pick it,’ Jessica said. ‘You’d see more of Georgie if you stayed here a while. I’m sure she’ll try to get down as much as possible.’ A few weeks ago Sheff would have thought that having time with Georgie was of little significance, but his opinion had changed. Jessica’s company was of even greater importance.