Standing Strong (21 page)

‘So you said. And as I said, it doesn't matter. Jacqueline's in trouble and it's all because of you! What did you think would fucking happen?'

‘But …'

‘Don't fucking speak to me. Just shut up.'

Damien was disappointed in himself for being so fired up, and for how he'd spoken to Tina. No matter what she'd done, she was still his mother. His father would have clipped him across the ear if he'd been alive to hear it.

They drove on in silence. What was done, was done. But still he felt white hot with rage.

He found a spot in the shade for Squish, parked, then poured out some water in the bowl he always carried and put it on the floor. He told the dog he'd be back in a bit, gave him a pat, and left the vehicle with a window open several inches. Tina waited beside the ute for him to retrieve her heavy bags from the back.

He strode into the terminal and up to the vacant check-in counter, Tina hurrying to catch up. He went and stood by the far wall while she checked in, nodding and smiling and grunting greetings to the five or so people he saw that he knew. He wanted to be anywhere else doing anything else. He cursed the eastern Eyre Peninsula for being such a small, isolated place. There were only two towns serviced by commercial airlines – here and Whyalla. No matter what time or day you set foot in here, you were almost guaranteed to bump into someone from your own district – or that you knew from outside it. Thanks to his CFS work and the recent Port Lincoln fires, he knew a lot more people from down this way. Today he reckoned he would have considered giving up his left arm to have stood there anonymously, not knowing a soul. He wanted to leave, but once more good manners demanded he stay put and see the plane into the air.

He felt a right bastard thinking it, but right then he hoped his mother would leave and never come back. What the fuck had she been thinking?
Trying to protect me, my arse
.
Trying to deal with your petty insecurities more like
. Fuck. What a fucking mess.

He found himself making small talk with a group of people. He had no idea what he was saying but he must have been doing okay because he wasn't getting any funny looks. And even better, his mother was talking too and they didn't have to speak or let on there was tension between them.

Finally he was watching the trolley of luggage being dragged across the tarmac, and then hugging his mother awkwardly goodbye as a show to those around.

‘I'm really sorry,' Tina said into his shoulder.

‘Have a safe trip,' he said through gritted teeth.

Then he watched as she and all the other passengers made their way across the asphalt towards the plane in a ragged line and then, after a final wave, climbed up the steps and out of view in the winged machine. Damien found himself feeling strangely sad as he waited by the window for the door to be closed, the empty trolley brought back, and then the flick of the propellers. But he reminded himself of what she'd done, and felt a renewed sense of disappointment.

He itched to get back to Squish in the ute – better yet, to have stayed out in the car park with him and watched from behind the chain-link fence. But, again, you couldn't. Oh no, it was another of the unspoken rules of existence – was it just country people, or city folks too? You had to wait until the plane actually left, had taken off and was in the air. And if you didn't, you would somehow be caught out – like the plane not taking off after all and your loved one being stranded. It was easiest to just conform.

It seemed to take an age for the droning, roaring engine to warm up and for it to then taxi out, turn around, and finally tear down the runway and lift up into the air. It felt to Damien that there should be a round of applause or something to conclude the slightly tense wait. But no, one by one, everyone turned from the window and earnest chatter ensued as they made their way out of the terminal and into the car park to retrieve their vehicles and get on with their lives. Damien was swept along with them, waving and mumbling his goodbyes.

He climbed into his ute cab and settled heavily into the upholstery. Squish climbed onto his lap and tried to lick his face. Damien wanted to push him away, wanted to push something away, expend some of his angry energy, but didn't. He rubbed the dog's face automatically, still in a trance. He felt totally betrayed, bereft. He put the key in the ignition, but sat back again. God, the last time he'd felt like this was the day of ‘the Incident'. But, no, this was different, wasn't it? This was pure anger and disappointment – and not of his doing and out of his control. The day he picked up the gun he'd had a feeling of being completely out of place and out of sync with himself and the world. And he'd had the courage to do something about those feelings. He didn't need the actions of one person to control him, consume him, drag him down now. He'd come too far for that. But fuck, he was angry with his mother. Thank God he wouldn't be seeing her for a while.

Damien slowly started to feel a little better, calmer. He turned the key and carefully manoeuvred out of the car park and onto the highway. He really should have turned left instead of right and gone and chosen some taps and carpet and stuff, but it was the last thing he felt like doing. He just wanted to get back home, where nothing had changed.

As he drove, he wondered whether he should tell Jacqueline what his mother had done. But what good would it do? If he kept silent, it would be less embarrassing for him. If he didn't, she might spend her time wondering who'd dobbed her in, looking over her shoulder, scrutinising everyone. It might even stop her really settling into town. She had to be wondering if that Jacob creep was a part of all this. No, he thought, with a deep sigh, I'll have to tell her. And soon.

Chapter Twenty-one

Philip, Eileen, Ethel and Jacqueline sat under a big shady tree on the lawn at the end of the jetty overlooking the sea. They all groaned with bliss through their first mouthfuls of food, agreeing that the fish and chips were the best they'd had in a long time. Maybe even forever, Jacqueline thought.

‘Sorry, seagulls, too good for you,' Ethel said, shooing away the first of the pesky birds. They were the one thing about the seaside Jacqueline didn't enjoy – she tended to give in to them. Clearly Ethel wasn't such a pushover.

Jacqueline stared at the waves rolling in, and became mesmerised. She thought she could sit here all day in this meditative state, pretending she didn't have a care in the world.

‘I wonder what the other half are doing,' Philip said, leaning back after finishing his lunch. It was something he often said when content and enjoying the simple pleasures of life.

‘Not having nearly as much fun as us, I'll bet,' Ethel said, taking the words out of Jacqueline's mouth. ‘Thanks so much for this.'

‘Pleasure,' Philip said.

‘Yes, what a good idea,' Eileen said.

Before long they had bundled up their rubbish and were lying back on the grass, letting their food digest while watching the world go by. Jacqueline couldn't remember feeling so relaxed and fought to keep the negative thoughts and worries from ruining it. That was the only trouble with sitting so quietly: the tendency of her mind to wander. They were all so still and silent that at one point Jacqueline thought the others might have fallen asleep.

‘I sure could go an ice-cream,' Eileen said suddenly, shattering the peace. ‘But I'm too comfortable to get up. Philip, would you be a dear?'

Since when do you say, ‘could go' anything, Mum?
Jacqueline thought. Her mother was full of surprises these days. And she expected her father to say, ‘What did your last slave die of?' but he didn't.

‘Of course, my darling. What would you like?'

‘Did they have tubs back there for scooping, did you notice?'

‘No, I don't think so.'

‘I don't remember seeing any,' Jacqueline added.

‘Well something in a packet would be lovely – anything, surprise me.'

‘Okay. Ethel, Jacqueline? My treat.'

‘Oh, yes please,' Ethel said. ‘I haven't had an ice-cream in donkey's years. I'm happy to be surprised.'

‘Righto, four ice-creams coming up,' Philip said, easing himself to his feet.

‘Do you need a hand, Dad?'

‘No, I'll be okay. You sit and relax.'

‘Okay. Thanks'

‘Yes, thanks Philip,' Ethel said.

‘You're a darling,' Eileen said, waving her husband off.

It seemed like only a minute later when Jacqueline heard her father's voice again. Had she actually dozed off?

‘Look who I found,' he said.

Could it be …?
How long did it take to get to Port Lincoln and back again? She sat up quickly, anticipation building.

‘Hi,' said a deep voice.

‘Oh, hello again,' Jacqueline said, pulling herself together and trying to decide if she was pleased or disappointed. She looked away from watching him slowly running his tongue around something icy sticking out of a tube. It was probably best the older ladies were sitting and couldn't fall down in a swoon.

‘Mind if I join you?' Paul asked, of no one in particular.

‘Make yourself at home,' Ethel said, patting the grass beside her.

‘Yes, please do,' Eileen said. Jacqueline thought she heard her mother licking her lips.

Philip handed out ice-creams and they all sat in silence unwrapping them. Jacqueline tried hard not to look at Paul, but his careful actions were as mesmerising as the coming and going of the waves. She realised she was eating far too quickly – her ice-cream was disappearing fast. She stopped and took a deep breath.

‘Thanks, Dad. This is lovely,' she said.

Eileen and Ethel followed suit, mumbling their thanks and agreement.

‘So, are you a surfer?' Eileen asked after a few moments of silence.

Jacqueline glanced across and for the first time realised Paul wore a wetsuit pushed down to his waist, empty arms hanging by his sides, leaving his chest bare. In place of a T-shirt was a very impressive set of abs. How the hell had she missed that two minutes ago? She devoured her ice-cream, while trying really hard not to stare and also wondering when she'd become so shallow. She reminded herself of her mother's earlier words.
No harm in looking, enjoying the view.

‘Yes, when I get the chance and the waves are half decent. Here's not the best place, but I thought I'd pop by for a look. Not bad for beginners. Jacqueline, do you surf?'

‘Me? No. Never tried it.'

‘Do you want to?'

Without a swimsuit? You're kidding, right? No, no bloody way!
‘Um. No, thanks. I've just eaten.' It was the first thing that came to mind.

‘You do know that's a myth, waiting twenty minutes after eating before swimming, don't you?' Ethel said, idly plucking at her wrapper.

‘Yes. Go on, be a devil,' Eileen said.

‘Not without a swimsuit, I'm not. I'm not ten!'

‘I've got spare boardies and a wetsuit that should fit you,' Paul said, leaning over and sizing her up. ‘And the change rooms are right over there. But, hey, no pressure,' he added with a shrug.

‘Thanks, but we have to go. Don't the kittens need feeding soon, Ethel?' she asked pointedly.

‘Yes, we'd better head back, if that's okay with you, Philip?'

‘Fine with me.'

‘Maybe Paul can give you a ride home, though?' Ethel added. It was one thing for her to get the word out that Jacqueline and Damien had broken up, but this …? Jesus! Jacqueline wanted to give her a piece of her mind and tell her to damned well stop speaking and stop meddling!

‘Wattle Creek? Sure thing, it's on my way.' Jacqueline suspected he would have said that regardless of where he lived. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but she was enjoying the attention. And maybe it was time she was a little impulsive. But she still couldn't get her head around putting a wetsuit on over her knickers and bra and letting some guy she barely knew wrap his arms around her while he held her steady on a surfboard. She'd seen enough movies to know where that went. But some harmless human touch would be nice … And she never did anything very daring. Maybe it was time she did. Suddenly it was ridiculously important to Jacqueline to not be seen as a stick in the mud.

‘Okay. I'll give it a go,' she declared, taking everyone by surprise. ‘As long as you've got some sunscreen too.'

‘Sure do.'

‘Right, well, kitten duty calls,' Philip said, getting up. He gathered the rubbish and put it in the nearby bin.

As she collected her handbag from the car, Jacqueline couldn't believe she wasn't chickening out and was actually going to stay with Paul and try surfing. With Ethel clearly knowing and approving of Paul, she wasn't concerned for her safety.

‘Right, well, have fun, you two,' Philip called.

Jacqueline cringed in preparation for Ethel calling, ‘Don't do anything I wouldn't do.' It seemed something she'd say, and her friend hadn't seemed to have any qualms about embarrassing Jacqueline before. Thankfully Ethel just waved and winked instead.

Butterflies of nervous excitement were fluttering deep in her stomach as her parents and Ethel drove away, but Jacqueline was pleased to find that Paul was the perfect gentleman and she soon stopped feeling self-conscious about not being appropriately dressed. Anyway, covered in a light wetsuit – that did almost fit her perfectly – no one would be any the wiser. Not that there was anyone else around.

Never being very sporty, Jacqueline was surprised and a little excited to actually stand up after a few attempts, with Paul's help. When he told her she was a natural, she laughed and said, ‘That's what you say to all the girls.'

‘No, seriously, you're not bad for your first go. But we'd better end it there for the lesson or else you'll be too sore tomorrow. You'll probably find muscles you forgot you had. I've got to get home, anyway.'