Still Waving (17 page)

I looked at Toby's puzzled face. I turned towards the sea. I caught glimpses of ships on the horizon as the sea rolled in. The constancy of the waves calmed
me. I'd been right all along about Dad. I'd known it since I was a small kid. Dad was mad. That's why he did the things he did. His cruelty to us wasn't normal. It was the behaviour of someone who had a brain sickness. I felt sad all over again.

‘Do you remember ever not being afraid of hearing Dad's footsteps?'

‘One time, fishing on the Birrie River. Dad was different that weekend. We camped, you remember?'

‘I didn't go. I can't remember him ever hugging me or anything.'

‘Me either.'

A slight breeze blew the letter out of my hand. I chased it and put my foot on a page. Toby grabbed the other page out of the air.

‘That was close.'

‘I suppose we better read the rest.'

‘We could have just let it blow away.'

I didn't know why I'd rushed up to save it. A moment before I wasn't even sure if I was going to finish reading it. Now I was stamping firmly on part of it. I picked it up. It was damp from the wet rocks.

‘Let's try and get through the rest.'

I focused my eyes on the written words and found my normal voice to read.

I want you also to know that I love you very much. I know I haven't been able to show you. It's the way I was
brought up. I'm proud of you both. You're smart kids. You obviously get that from your mum, hey? Whatever the outcome of this horrible mess, I want you kids to know, not a day will go by where I'm not thinking of you. I regret I may not see you grow into adults. Don't forget your old Dad, please kids. I'm the only real one you have.

I think the doctors are in on it with the lawyers and police to put me away for a long time. One cop told me, if he had his way he'd throw away the key. How's that for being judged guilty before it's proved?

Now to the farm, it's yours. You might want to sell, but before you do, remember it's been in my family for generations. My great, great grandfather pioneered the district. He had to kill blacks and all to stake out his bit of country. He was a brave man. He's buried there, as you know. A lot of my family's in that dirt. I hope your heritage is as important to you as it has been to me.

‘Dad's still trying to control us,' I said.

By now you've probably heard of your Uncle Wayne, the black sheep of the family. My stupid brother knocked up some abo sheila and bloody married her. No one in our family had married one before. When they broke up, Wayne took off up north. I haven't heard of his whereabouts for years. Last I knew he was somewhere up North Queensland on a fishing boat. The bloody woman's still in that bloody camp somewhere. Your mum met her once. I put a stop to that, and banned you kids from going there.

I'm telling you this now, because I reckon my brother will turn up like a bad smell if he hears of my bad luck. He'd love to get his hands on the farm.

‘BAD LUCK! You're kidding. Show me.' Toby grabbed the letter out of my hand.

I didn't want to hold it anymore. I sort of felt numb. Why had I expected Dad to be any different on paper than he was when we'd lived together? Is it compulsory to love your parents?

‘I expected him to say something about why he'd done what he did. I don't know why.' I spoke loudly against the crashing sea. ‘Do you want to read the rest? I can't read it aloud anymore.'

Toby nodded his head, and started reading in a shaky voice.

Anyway kids, my arms are a bit sore. The burns hurt like hell. I'm on strong painkillers again. I don't know what day it is, or what month. I'll ask the nurse. They're good in here. The food's good too. I'll write you another letter when my arms improve. Please keep in touch. Hope that sister of your mum's doesn't send you queer. I might see if we can make some other arrangements.

‘Holy cow!' Toby wailed.

‘Bloody hell. He's a total fruitcake.'

Toby started reading aloud; his voice had lost its shake.

I know they say I've done the worst thing any man
could do. I'm so sorry that you've lost your mum and brother and sister.

I long for the day you both can look me in the eye and know I'm innocent of this.

Dad

We sat stunned, nothing to say. I felt left-over tears on my face. Shadows danced on the surrounding rocks. Insects and crabs raced around busily, making the most of the sea's temporary abatement. Pacific gulls hovered above the waves, eyes cast downward, watching for glints of small silver fish. Silver gulls bobbed on the swell.

‘It's like he's two different people,' Toby said. ‘One minute he's talking crazy about the war, the next he's acting like Mr Responsibility about the farm. I think the jury got it right.' Toby sounded exasperated.

‘I think you're right. The jury knew he was a total cracker. I bet everyone feels sorry for him because he's a freakin' nut.' I half-kicked at a rock. It hurt my toe a bit.

Toby looked away.

‘I don't want this appeal thing. I just want them to keep him locked up for as long as possible. He's not innocent, I know it.'

Toby walked to the water's edge.

‘Don't,' I screamed, fearing for a moment he was going to jump in.

Toby turned around. ‘What?'

‘Be careful.'

Toby looked at me as if I was crazy. I watched him cup some water and wash his face.

I looked down at the letter that we'd placed under a rock. Is this where we'd leave it? ‘What do you think we should do with the letter?' I shouted to Toby.

‘There's some little fish down here.' Toby was stretched out with his head over the edge of the rock ledge.

I went and lay next to him. I was alert to the sea in case a freak wave came. Silver flashes whizzed by.

‘They look so small.'

‘You'd need hundreds to have a good feed.'

‘Toby! Why is everything food? For god's sake they're just little fish swimming by'

‘Because I'm hungry.'

‘Grab some then.'

‘If I get a few, will you eat one?'

‘No way! Don't try. If you fall in I'm not going to save you.'

‘You would.'

‘You're dreaming. I wouldn't go in that water with all those SHARKS.'

Toby jumped back. ‘Hey, don't say that.'

‘It's true.'

Toby scanned the water surface, looking for a
dark give-away shadow.

‘Anyway, what are we going to do with the letter? Should we give it to Aunt Jean?'

‘Why?'

‘I don't know. So she can decide what to do with it.'

‘Why don't we just tear it up and chuck it to the sharks?'

I was reluctant to destroy it. I didn't know why. I'd lost everything of mine, my diaries, photos, letters, school reports, everything, when Dad burnt our house down. I had no mementos of fourteen years of my life. This letter was the only thing I had of Dad, even though it didn't make sense that I would want to keep it as a reminder.

‘I think I'll keep it and maybe read it again in a few years.'

‘Why do that to yourself? It's mad.'

‘I don't know. I guess it's because Mum always said we should be kind to sick people, even mad ones.'

‘I don't think she meant Dad.'

‘I do. I think that's why she said it so often. Mum knew Dad was sick. I guess she just got used to caring for him. I know she was going to leave that day and I'm positive that's what set Dad off.'

I remembered the day clearly. It was a Wednesday and Mum had told us not to catch the bus home from school. I knew something was wrong because it
was so out of the ordinary. It's the last memory I have of my mum alive.

‘I wonder where we would have gone.' I spoke my thoughts.

‘Maybe here.'

‘Funny isn't it. We ended up here anyway.'

‘Do whatever you want with the letter,' Toby said. ‘I don't want to ever see it again.'

‘It's disappointing after all the bloody stress I've gone through about whether to read the damn thing.'

‘Even though I know it's Dad, he's a stranger.'

‘I suppose we better get back.'

‘I'm hungry.'

‘There's a banana.'

I handed it to Toby. We made our way back along the rocks. The tide was on the turn. Gushes of water started filling cracks and rock pools again. Crabs scurried out of reach. The birds seemed to become more vocal, their squawks constant. There were more people fishing than earlier. They were scattered around the edges of the point. Seagulls hovered above, clashing beaks and chasing each other with guttural shrieks.

We reached the tidal pool. The beach appeared more crowded than before. The low blazing sun shone on the rooftops in the west.

The hill felt steeper than usual.

‘Stop for a minute.'

‘Are you all right?'

‘Yes. I'm just a little weak from that spin thing, I guess.'

I took deep breaths. I recovered enough energy to keep going.

Aunt Jean was out when we reached the flat. Toby went straight to the fridge.

I read Aunt Jean's note. It said she'd be back about six, not to worry about dinner, that she'd bring take-away. I looked at the clock. It was nearly six now.

Toby was stuffing food into his mouth.

‘Did you hear me? Aunt Jean's bringing take-away. Leave some room for that.'

‘I've got plenty of room.' Toby stuck his stomach out. ‘I've got all of this to fill. I'm starving.'

‘You're not starving.' I picked up the magazine with a picture of a child for a famine appeal. ‘That's starving.' I pointed at the picture.

‘You know what I mean.'

I didn't want to fight. If Toby was hungry, why was I making an argument out of it? I didn't make sense. Will I ever make sense of myself, I wondered. I went into my room and instead of putting the letter in my top drawer, I put it underneath some boxes in the wardrobe. Out of sight out of mind, I thought as I lay down on my bed for a small rest before dinner.

Aunt Jean had brought Japanese take-away. Uncle Wayne was with her. We ate up on the roof. I felt warm towards Uncle Wayne because of the things Dad had said in his letter. Toby had asked me quietly if I was going to say anything horrible to Uncle Wayne for visiting Dad. I'd told him the letter changed everything.

‘I now understand what you were saying about Uncle Wayne being a good man. You know, why should he visit Dad when he's been such a bastard to him? I trust you Toby when you say he's a decent bloke.'

Toby nodded. ‘He is Jules. I wouldn't lie to you. He's funny too. He has some really good stories about places he's been and jobs he's done. I feel safe with Uncle Wayne.' Toby looked thoughtful. ‘Maybe Uncle Wayne is different because he didn't go to Vietnam. I don't know.'

‘Do you think we should talk about it with Uncle Wayne as well?'

‘Let's tell them tonight.'

‘Okay.'

The sun had nearly set when we commenced eating. Streaks of light filtered through gathering clouds.

‘It's been a glorious day,' Aunt Jean said between mouthfuls of sushi.

‘You're lucky to have that sea breeze. It would be pretty sticky without it,' Uncle Wayne answered.

‘Did you enjoy your walk?'

Toby and I looked at each other.

‘Yes.'

‘I wished I had a rod with me. Good-sized whiting were biting,' Toby said to Uncle Wayne.

This was Toby's signal to not bring up the letter yet. I gave him a nod to say I'd got the message.

‘I didn't bring any rods with me.' Uncle Wayne slapped his forehead. ‘Didn't think about it, have you fished from the rocks before?' Uncle Wayne looked at Toby. ‘You ought to have said something.'

‘I forgot. I've only fished with hand lines with a couple of mates. We only caught a boot and seaweed,' Toby answered.

Aunt Jean and Uncle Wayne stacked up the plates and took them back down to the flat. I could hear the familiar night noises of Bondi. There were the sounds of cars, buses and motorbikes, rushing up and down the Parade. The sea crashed gently against the cliff
face. It was a constant background noise. There's no such thing as silence, I thought.

I felt an invisible load had shifted that I'd been carrying for a long time. It was if the omnipresence weighing me down had departed. I looked behind me at the empty space.

Reading the letter must have freed something in me, I thought. My father's words had been disappointing. That was nothing new. I'd always been disappointed in my father. I glimpsed fuzzy memories of Dad smiling and laughing. I was very, very young in these blurred images.

My thoughts drifted to the future. I'd made up my mind I was going to talk with my counsellor on Monday after my CAT scan. I was ready to stop going. I wondered what my counsellor would say. I'll just have to tell her to be positive about it, like she's always telling me. If I did stop going, Aunt Jean might raise my pocket money. I could start saving for my car immediately. Tomorrow I'd go and buy the road rule book and my learner plates. I pictured my car. A little red station wagon with board racks. Every surfer had to have board racks.

‘I'm going to learn to drive,' I said enthusiastically to Toby.

‘I'm bombing around in the old ute.'

‘I mean road rules, city driving and licence, not
just paddock bombing.'

‘Wow. I wouldn't want to be a passenger or a pedestrian with you on the road.'

‘Don't be mean. I'll be a good driver.'

‘Remember when you were learning back on the farm.'

‘Don't remind me. That was only once you were terrified.'

Toby laughed and laughed. ‘I thought we were goners. I didn't know a car could go so fast in reverse.'

I laughed with him.

‘Remember Dad running, waving his arms, yelling at me to stop before I hit the shed.'

‘You went through the shed.' Toby laughed even more.

‘It wasn't too much damage. Dad carried on like a chook without a head, and the belting hurt for ages.'

‘I got one too, remember.'

‘I know. That was so unfair. It wasn't your fault my foot froze on the accelerator. I think it was seeing Dad's face, as I went backwards instead of forwards. He looked like a raging bull.'

‘I think he hated it the most that after we crashed we were laughing so much.'

‘I know it was just our nerves and relief that we didn't get hurt or anything.'

‘My neck was a bit sore.'

‘Yeah, but you know, no broken bones or anything.'

‘Have you told Aunt Jean about your driving?'

‘It was only once, Toby. Don't make a big deal about it.'

‘I think you ought to tell her about your past record.'

‘I'll think about it.'

Aunt Jean and Uncle Wayne came back with a new bottle of wine. I felt slightly nervous. I knew it was unreasonable because Aunt Jean had never gone off her head like Dad, when she drank. I mean she seemed to drink a lot of wine, particularly when her friends were visiting, but she only seemed to get a bit louder and a bit more slurry. I told her how I felt uncomfortable and a little scared around alcohol. Aunt Jean changed her drinking habits for me. Instead of having a couple of wines every night with dinner, she now only drank one night a week, or when she went out. Aunt Jean wasn't mean about me saying how I felt, and said the last thing she wanted was for me to be uncomfortable in my own home. That had made me feel so good.

I looked at the family I had now. Aunt Jean, Uncle Wayne and Toby. Inwardly I smiled. I could have done worse in the relatives stakes, I suppose. Aunt Jean and Uncle Wayne were kind people. I could see
my mum in Aunt Jean. I didn't look for Dad in Uncle Wayne. I was so glad I'd come here to live.

‘There were a couple of messages for you on the answering machine.' Aunt Jean leant over me.

I turned away because of the smell of alcohol. It sometimes made me think of Dad standing over me, saying horrible things. I think I was allergic to its scent.

‘Who rang?'

‘Kate, Phoebe and Ruby.'

‘Oh shit. I'd forgotten Ruby was going to ring tonight.'

‘Julie, language.'

‘What? Oh sorry. What did she say?'

‘That she'd ring back at about ten. I kept the messages.'

‘What's the time?'

Uncle Wayne looked at his watch. ‘Five to nine.'

‘Ruby said not to phone her back now, because she was going for a swim.'

‘They're lucky being able to swim at night without having to worry about sharks or crocodiles,' Toby said ruefully.

‘Since when have you had to worry about crocodiles?' I laughed.

‘I was just meaning you know, being able to swim at night.'

‘You've swum at night down here,' I said.

Toby and I looked at each other. We were thinking the same thing. Why not go for a swim now?

‘Anyone want to come for a swim?' I asked.

‘Actually, Julie I don't think you ought to go for a night swim,' Aunt Jean said, touching my arm.

I looked at her, but didn't say anything. I knew from experience that you can't say anything to a person who's had a few glasses of alcohol. They always have to have the last word. I wasn't going to argue. I sighed.

‘I wonder when I'll be able to surf? I'll have to cancel my entry in that competition. I won't have had enough practice.'

‘How good are you?' Uncle Wayne asked, smiling.

‘Jules is going to be the world champion,' Toby butted in.

I blushed. I felt a bit embarrassed hearing it out loud.

‘Toby.'

‘What, that's what you told me. It's your dream.'

‘A dream, that's all. Doesn't mean it'll ever happen.'

‘If that's what you want, why not?' Uncle Wayne replied.

Aunt Jean piped up.

‘I ran into Geoff at the deli. He said you were very
good and that he felt lucky to have seen you when you first began. Your improvement has been remarkable. He's very keen for you to join the lifesaving and surf club.' Aunt Jean paused and took a sip of her wine.

‘I know. I told you I saw him the other day.'

‘Why don't you?'

I thought Aunt Jean would understand why I didn't. I thought she'd know the reason.

‘You know.'

I looked at my aunt and uncle. They looked back at me expectantly.

‘Dad! I don't want to have to talk about it. People always ask questions. Where are your mum and dad? What do they do? How come you live with your aunt? If I join anything, everyone is always going to want to know something. I can join things later when I'm old enough for people to not ask me dumb questions about my parents.'

Uncle Wayne looked away.

‘I don't think you have to tell anybody anything you don't want to. In those circumstances, a little lie isn't going to hurt, if it protects you from sticky beaks.'

‘I tell anyone who asks already that my parents were killed in a car crash.'

‘Oh Julie, what can I say?' Aunt Jean put her arms around me. I didn't push her away even though I
hated the smell.

‘We read Dad's letter,' I said quietly.

Aunt Jean looked at Uncle Wayne.

‘He's totally crazy,' Toby said standing up and walking over to the roof edge.

‘What?' Aunt Jean said.

‘Totally crackers, bonkers, everything they said in court,' I answered.

‘Oh god,' Uncle Wayne said. ‘You kids are right, he is totally mad. I saw him today.' Uncle Wayne looked at me. Had Toby told him about how angry I'd been when I found out why he'd visited the lunatic?

Toby came back from the edge and sat down.

‘Adrian's totally insane,' Uncle Wayne said to Aunt Jean. ‘He's a mess.'

It had been so long since I'd heard anyone say Dad's name, apart from in court, that for a moment I didn't know who Uncle Wayne was talking about.

‘We don't want the appeal. We think the jury got it right.'

I looked at Toby for confirmation. He nodded.

‘The letter is pretty crazy. It's like one minute he's here and the next he's in Vietnam.'

Aunt Jean sighed. ‘I don't know if there's much anyone can do. The defence lawyers want to appeal on the grounds of insanity. They want him to be declared mentally ill so he can be shifted to a
psychiatric facility and be treated for his madness. The problem is if they assess he's cured then he can be freed at any time.'

‘What do you mean any time?' I asked, horrified at the thought of next week or month, Dad going back to the farm.

‘It's called at Her Majesty's Pleasure. It's not like a sentence for so many years. It's possible, though highly unlikely, that if your father won his appeal, he could be out in a couple of years.'

‘NO WAY!' Toby roared. ‘No bloody way.'

Aunt Jean continued. ‘The Crown is appealing that the sentence wasn't long enough. They believe that your father should have been sentenced to life without any parole.'

‘How can there be two such different cases? The facts are the facts.'

‘You've heard that expression there are two sides to every argument. The lawyers just do their job of arguing the contradictions of each other's point of view.'

‘Doesn't sound much like finding the truth.'

I was dismayed that the whole thing could go on forever, if everyone wanted to just keep arguing about it.

‘The system's not about the truth, Julie. It's about who is believed above someone else for their version of events.' Aunt Jean sighed even louder. ‘The reason
the Crown think they have a good case is because there is a recorded history of domestic violence over many years. They think the post-traumatic stress syndrome as a defence is a ploy to keep your father from taking full responsibility for his premeditated actions.'

‘In his letter he reckons he's innocent and that someone knocked him on the head.'

‘Bloody oath,' Uncle Wayne said. ‘He's a basket case! I don't think he's putting it on. He's got too much pride to be such a mess. It's like he's a bit of a zombie, spaced out and dribbling. He's nothing like the brother I knew.'

I noticed tears in Uncle Wayne's eyes. I had to stop myself crying. Ought I go and hug him? Try and comfort him. I went over to where he was sitting.

‘Uncle Wayne. It's all right.' I hugged him. I could feel his sobs as I held him.

‘Thanks Julie,' Uncle Wayne said softly.

‘I think he's been kind of mad all our lives,' I said.

‘Toby and I talked about it when we read the letter. Do you want to read it?'

Uncle Wayne looked at me and leant forward and kissed me on the forehead.

‘Yes. I'd like that.'

‘You too,' I turned to Aunt Jean.

‘Thanks, Julie.'

I looked at Aunt Jean, trying to figure out what she was thinking. Her face was serious and her mouth was very tight. I looked at Toby. He looked frightened.

‘You don't mean it could be evidence?'

Aunt Jean looked at Uncle Wayne as if she expected him to answer for her.

‘Let's just leave things as they are for the moment,' Aunt Jean said, raising her hands.

The atmosphere had changed. It felt cooler. Aunt Jean looked stern. Uncle Wayne said nothing as he turned the glass around and around in his hand.

‘I'd like to read the letter.' Aunt Jean leant over to me with her hand out.

‘Now?'

‘Why not?'

‘You've been drinking.'

‘Julie.' Aunt Jean was really cross now. ‘I am perfectly capable of reading a letter.'

‘But …'

‘But what?'

‘I don't know, I just think you might feel different if you read it in the day, like tomorrow or something. You're a bit angry now.'