Cloudstreet (67 page)

He seemed to be growing smaller.

A thought occurred to him. In a year or so he could sell this house, cop the profits and retire to some little place by the sea, maybe even back up in. Geraldton, or Greenough—yes, Greenough where summers had been so good so long ago. He’d mention it to Dolly, he thought, but he never did. The two of them sat in the kitchen by the wood stove without real antagonism, in silence most evenings, with the sounds of the house around them. Harry might squeal upstairs at bedtime, kicking the wall in protest.

He’s givin er a run for er money tonight, Dolly would say.

Yairs. Cheeky little bugger.

Needs is bum kicked.

Yairs. He’s a one orright.

And that would be it. The kettle would growl. Water moaned in the pipes. The wireless came on.

Sam went to bed at nine with a
Daily News
and a glass of VO, thinking that he might just live to see his fortune. His hacking cough had become a comforting, familiar sound in the house, innocent as a boy’s bronchitis.

News

The Nedlands Monster comes to trial but he’s forced off the front page by the Kennedy assassination. Rose comes across the startling byline:
by Toby Raven, exclusive
and feels a smile on her face.

A letter comes from State Housing demanding that they move into their new house. She looks at it, gives it to Quick who sighs.

Soon, he says, when we’re settled.

No hurry, she says.

1963 turned toward 1964. Cloudstreet sweetened up like a ship under full sail. The only shadows were the shadows of nature, the products of strong, direct light, and as the stonefruit came out again there was laughter, shopjokes at noon in the corridors, and kidsilliness all evening. The lines were strung with nappies that flapped like pennants above the tiny scratching chicks who escaped their mothers to forage in the grass. The place stank of happiness, but the world went on its way. The Nedlands Monster got the Hangman’s promise. The city went wild with exaltation. There were hanging parties, theme nights, ugly jokes.

Whacko! said Quick, turning the pages of the paper. They gave him death. Thank God for that.

Good riddance, said Rose, giving Harry her breast.

Oriel and Lester looked horrified at one another. Lester put his finger to his lip, advising caution, but Oriel couldn’t help herself.

Killin is men’s business, she said, not God’s. If you think it’s somethin to celebrate leave God out of it.

Quick smiles in disbelief. What’ve you gone soft on the Monster all of a sudden?

He’s only a man, said Lester.

What about an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth?

Barbarism! snarls Oriel. That’s for primitive tribes.

Gawd, she’s gone all modern on us. What about the Bible, Mum, that’s your old inspiration isn’t it? I’ve seen you out there with it, burnin the midnight candle. I know what you’re doin out there where no one can see you.

Oriel flushed.

Oriel, come on outside, said Lester. The old girl had water on her cheeks. Rose gaped and even Wax Harry left off feeding to stare. Oriel held herself firm before them awhile, mustering up her message, but she seemed to collapse in the face right at the end, and went out running.

Gawd, said Quick. What was that all about?

Lester rubbed his hands together absently. Principles, Quick.

Quick winked at Rose whose face showed worry cracks all of a sudden. What’s that? I thought she only cared about work. Mum’s principles are work, work and work.

That’s right.

Well?

Lester took off his glasses a moment: You don’t understand what she works at, do you?

Obviously not, said Quick with a smirk.

Then Lester pulled a little book out of his shirt pocket the size of a harmonica. He found a page and read:
Master, which is the great commandment in the law? Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.

Quick snorted nervously. It’s from another time. She doesn’t even believe it.

She tries, said Lester, putting the book away. That’s her work.

But she can’t believe it, said Quick. Not since Fish. She
can’t
.

But she tries, Quick, can’t you see?

Now old Lester’s lips began to quiver and he had to go outside to join Oriel.

Gawd, said Quick.

Fishing

Early Sunday morning, dressed for a fishing trip he never intended to make, Lester Lamb stands at the back of the cathedral and watches the micks go about their business. He can’t make head or tail of what they’re saying up front, and he doesn’t quite know how to feel about the gorgeous vaulted ceilings of the place and the way it smells like a bank, but when it comes time for them all to file up the front and take the wine and the wafer he feels a sort of homesickness come upon him. Even the sight of them kneeling to the men in uniform doesn’t poison it for him; it’s the pleasantest kind of melancholy, and he knows there’ll be other Sundays like this, secret, strange.

Afterwards he parks the Chev down by the river and plays his spitpacked old harmonica, wondering about himself.

ThePast

On Rose’s birthday, Quick slips into a florist’s shop in uniform to buy flowers for Rose and Dolly and Oriel. Lucy Wentworth stares at him from behind the counter, huge in her pinny, lips painted up, teeth smudgy with the stuff, and she treats him like any girl will treat a traffic cop in leathers. Maybe it’s the uniform, he thinks, uncertain whether or not he should be grateful. He buys roses for his mother who won’t approve of them and daffs for Dolly and Rose and watches Lucy wrap them in a trumpet of paper. She hands them over smiling. Quick gives her money, gets change and walks out. Riding home on the BSA, he feels the flowers pressed against his legs concealed beneath the wind tarp across his knees, and he can’t help but be relieved she didn’t recognize him. Maybe he owed her a favour because right now it felt like she’d done him one years back.

Waiting

In the tent at night, and sometimes on her knees on the duckboards, Oriel Lamb looks out at the house and wonders what it is that still holds her from it. It’s full of light and sweetness now in a way it’s never been before, but why can she still not go back? A whole life of waiting for answers that don’t come. Wait, Oriel, keep strong Mum, keep the steel, you’ll see. Oh, how I missed you all my life. You’ll see it’s best this way. Wait.