Absence Makes Page 5

  Neither was in any hurry for the lunch to end. After he paid the bill, he walked her home. They seated themselves on the front steps. On impulse, he took her hand and asked her to marry him. She did not pull away but he was conscious of a slight sigh, like the escape of air from a balloon. ‘I would have gone to your father first but he’s not here,’ he added, alert to a breach of protocol.

  Her smile was wan but not forbidding. ‘It’s okay Baxter. Dear old Dad will say yes to whatever I want.’ She hesitated. ‘But I do need a little time, Baxter, to take this in.’

  He nodded, relieved his feelings were now out in the open. They looked at one another, continuing to hold hands. He seemed to be swimming in her green eyes. A pink hue appeared on her cheeks. In the distance, he could hear the rumble of a tram. As if guided by an invisible force, they leaned towards one another and kissed, gently and carefully like a butterfly alighting on a flower.

  When he came by the next day, she was waiting. His offer had been accepted. But there were strings attached. She would not marry until the war was over. ‘I couldn’t possibly,’ she told him. ‘Not until there is peace, and all those men come home.’

  His eyes must have revealed his unhappiness for she assured him of her love - a love that had grown during their time together. She had kept it to herself, wanting to make sure her feelings were not due to his sympathy for her, and that there could be something real and lasting between them. He listened, encouraged by her conviction and clarity. But the hollowness in his heart did not abate, and he could not help thinking the engagement would be unduly and unnecessarily prolonged. After all, who had any idea when this bloody war would end?

  After his setback at the gathering in Claremont, Ross avoided dope though he did not lose interest in black skivvies. There had been sporadic letters from June. Her French, she assured him, was still pretty average but she loved Grenoble where she was based. Reading between the lines, he figured she spent as much time on the ski slopes as she did with her studies. In his own correspondence he told her about his housemates and their parties, and how he also found university pretty average but a hundred times better than school. He did not allude to the intensity of his desires, and he played down his impatience for her return, sensing his vulnerability would irritate her and not help his cause. At university, he began to apply himself, aware that his parents’ indulgence would cease if he failed. They contributed to his rent and his mother looked after his clothes. If he needed a break from the pasta and peas, he would drop by for the Sunday roast. The food was worth the grilling he received from his father. When the exams were over – it was touch and go whether he would scrape through - he took a temporary job as a groundsman for the Council, a position that didn’t pay very well but kept him in the vicinity for June’s arrival. She was due to fly home on Australia Day.

  ‘How are you doing, Ross?’

  He was weeding a garden bed at the Civic Centre. A woman stood on the path. For a moment, he did not recognise her.

  ‘It’s Laura, remember?’

  He twigged. The folk night. ‘Laura, you live around here?’

  She did. After he knocked off, he called by her house. She had asked him to have a look at her garden. It needed some work, if he had any spare time.

  He thought he detected something else in her tone but decided it was wishful thinking.

  ‘Come on in.’ She stood in the doorway, wearing a sleeveless blouse and a grey skirt. Her hair looked different. ‘Just bleached,’ she said.

  The tour of the garden was short. He should come back Saturday, early if possible.

  She was finishing breakfast when he arrived. After she headed out on a shopping expedition, he tackled the shrubs and the lawn and raked up leaves from under the trees at the front. Around midday, she returned and complimented him on his work.

  ‘I’ll get us some lunch. Would you like white wine or a beer?’

  He thirsted for beer but the idea of having wine with her seemed fitting. She spread out a picnic rug on the back lawn. For a split second, he flashed on the girl at the party. The girl in the shadows whose name he never found out. His embarrassment returned with the memory, a whiff of shame and of failure that threatened to impede his present enjoyment.

  When she returned from the kitchen, he pulled off his boots and poured the wine.

  ‘You’re sweating,’ she said, looking at his upper body.

  Twigs and small leaves clung to his chest. He could feel the debris mixed with the perspiration on his back.

  They clinked glasses and drank.

  ‘You live by yourself?’

  ‘No, I’m married.’

  He felt the flicker of hope die in its tracks.

  ‘He’s away. Actually,’ her voice had a troubled note, ‘we’re sort of separated.’

  He drank more of the wine. They attacked the lunch. He could see she was distracted as if she’d revealed too much. Half an hour elapsed. He told her about himself and asked her what it was like to tutor at uni. He did not mention June.

  ‘Like a shower before you go?’ She looked more composed, and he felt the blood rush. He followed her to the bathroom. The water cooled his body. As he came out of the cubicle she was standing there, towel in hand. He made no attempt to cover himself, knowing it was finally going to happen. The fear was profound.

  She dried him, dabbing the towel gently over his body and skirting around his erection. He wanted to touch her but held off. She led him to the bedroom and they faced each other. He looked into her eyes. They were sad and smiling at the same time. He unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off. Her breasts rose with her breathing. She turned and he unfastened her bra, letting his hands caress her shoulders and run down her back. She ran her own hands through her hair and swivelled, her arms aloft and her hair pulled back. He allowed the back of his hands to pass over her breasts. She squatted and lightly kissed his penis. He put his hand on her head. When she stood up he went onto his knees. The floor felt hard. She undid her skirt and let it drop. He kissed her thighs. His fingers gripped her panties. She grabbed his hair and they rolled onto the mattress.

  It was better than he dared to hope. Thinking back on that momentous afternoon, the emotion he remembered above everything else was relief. Sheer blessed relief. The drought, the long drought of his tortured imagination had finally broken. He’d almost cried with happiness.

  They met on three other occasions. He opened up and told her about June but it seemed not to bother Laura. She spoke of her husband. He was dedicated to his job and she felt lonely and neglected. But now they were going to see somebody. She hoped it would work. She thought she loved him and wanted the marriage to succeed. She also wanted a baby.

  Ross was sorry it had to end. She would not promise to keep in touch. He said maybe they could meet for a coffee from time to time at the university cafeteria but she thought that wasn’t such a good idea. As he later came to understand, he’d filled a gap in her life, and answered her immediate needs. If he was honest with himself, she’d fulfilled much the same purpose. On that final afternoon, their passion marsh-mellowed into tenderness. When he left the house, the parting kisses were chaste, and he turned his mind to June.

  When news came out hostilities had ceased, Baxter took to the streets with the celebrating throng. Telegrams from his brothers confirmed their survival though George would stay on in England. ‘Recuperating from a bit of shrapnel,’ as he put it. Jennie returned from the orphanage and they teamed up with Ann and organised a celebration with Alice’s family. As Alice anticipated, her father had given his blessing and a wedding was scheduled for mid-summer.

  The gathering, he felt, was a qualified success. John and Joan Bailey ran a wheat and sheep farm. John suffered from a heart condition and had expected his sons to take over. With Tom dead, it would be up to John Junior, a shy bachelor who was said to lack initiative. Baxter knew his prospective father-in-law was also evaluating him, testing it out in his own mind whether his daughter’s choice was
a wise one, and whether the young man in question could turn his hand to farming.

  A life on the land carried no appeal for Baxter but he was non-committal when the conversation shifted in that direction. All his thoughts, all his energy, flowed towards his bride-to-be, and he counted down the days until they could be together.

  When he gave the matter thought, he was shocked at how quickly things had fallen into place. In hindsight, his impetuous proposal could have gone completely awry. Throughout their tearoom affiliations, Alice gave nothing away. He could not tell if she held any feelings for him. He could only be sure of his own attraction to her. As his mother might have said, she ‘turned his head’ and, in the lead up to their engagement, he realised other ladies no longer claimed his attention. This was not always the case. Nor was it a one-way street. At work, there had been one or two who paid him attention. And a shop assistant at Cogans, where he purchased his shirts and ties, demonstrated signs of infatuation, paying him over-effusive compliments on his choices, and fawning over him whenever he entered the shop.

  With Tom present, a bit of jousting may have resulted. Alone, he felt strangely uncomfortable. In the years leading up to the war, the two men caroused together, carousing that took them to dancehalls and pubs and billiard saloons. They danced and drank and flirted with available young women who eluded the confines of their chaperones. The flirting, delicious though it was, contained limitations. For greater emancipation, the friends sought the stimulation available in notorious Roe Street establishments. These nocturnal visits were sparse – money, if nothing else was an issue. Yet Baxter looked forward to the nervous excitement and to the ultimate reward. And it served a fine purpose, he told himself. By the time he made a commitment to Alice, he was sure he knew as much about women as he ever needed to know.

  The long engagement tested his resolve but without Tom’s influence, Baxter found it easier to resist temptation. He continued to drink with his male friends and frequent billiard saloons and, more often, the racetrack. But the amorous aspect of his life played out only in his head. He dreamed of a future. A future in which he ran his own business and became wildly successful while at home awaited Alice and, in time, a bevy of youngsters who would rush up to him when he returned from work, and who would shout excitedly, and tell him about their day and ask him for piggybacks and to play ball in the backyard. He was in no doubt he wanted a family but there was no rush. Images in his mind centred on the creation of a love nest with Alice, and at last having her to himself. In surprisingly strong terms she’d given voice to the feelings that evolved as she came to know him. He now wanted this expression to have space and time to flower, and for his own love to find a place in her heart, and for the sadness that hovered over her to fade and make way for the richness and joy he envisaged lay hidden beneath the surface.

  Before that came to pass, there were a few practicalities to address. He was low in funds. He calculated he could save enough for a brief honeymoon down south, while his regular income would afford the couple a modest lifestyle upon their return. The issue of more pressing consequence was where they would live. He had no place he could call his own. For a number of years he’d moved about, staying at single men’s lodgings or with his sister. From time to time, he toyed with the idea of investing in some land but those musings occurred after success at the track. His winnings seldom stayed warm in his hand. Nor did they find their way into his bank account. More often than not, something immediate claimed his attention – and soon after, his money. He was a couple of months shy of twenty-five and acutely aware his fortunes could have been in better shape. He was also aware he couldn’t look to his own family for support.

  Potential salvation rested in the rough hands of his father-in-law-to-be. John Bailey was devoted to his daughters and wanted to set them up as best he could. But his major asset was the farm. As Baxter had made it clear he felt no affinity for a rural life, the farm would end up in young John’s hands. The girls understood this and would never quibble. Baxter also understood the situation yet marked time, hoping a solution would emerge. There had to be a sensible solution that would see the newlyweds with a roof over their heads. After all, the Baileys seemed to have the means. Surely they could set us up, he thought? With a start, we will be on our way.

  Over Christmas lunch, Bailey revealed his plans. He and his wife would stay at the farm while his health permitted. With a few good seasons, there should be enough in the kitty for a retirement cottage at Albany. Young John, it was hoped, would make good on the farm and find himself a wife. Baxter noticed the junior Bailey, who was at the table, blushed furiously as these words were aired. Meanwhile, what was to be done with the Subiaco property, a rambling, four-bedroom home with a cultivated garden? Eve had been a fixture since she was much younger and nobody was going to put her on the street. And Grace also roomed there although she was – as Bailey remarked with a touch of feeling - seeing that painter chap and who knows where that might lead? Unlike her brother, Grace did not redden, although Baxter observed the sharp glance she gave her father.

  Bringing his presentation to an end, the old farmer concluded there were two rooms available. If they could tolerate the other family members and visits from her parents who needed to come to Perth for medical appointments, Alice and Baxter were welcome to use one of these. With his wife nodding assent, Bailey suggested they think about his offer and let him know if there were any objections. From his inflexion, it was clear he did not expect a refusal.

  In the evening, they discussed the proposition. Alice was enthusiastic. ‘It’s such a lovely house, Baxter. I know we can be happy there until we get a place of our own.’

  He did not share her zeal but, if he put his pride to one side and looked through clear eyes, the reality of his present circumstances was apparent. Burying his disappointment, a disappointment infiltrated with traces of unease, he put an arm around his beloved and murmured his agreement. Later, when they rejoined the group inside, he made a short speech in which he thanked his benefactor and promised he would earn his place in his new family and do Alice proud.

  Amidst the general relief, he sensed undercurrents of things unspoken and unresolved. With families, he mused to himself, as his own memories surfaced, some things are never that straightforward.

  His optimism was misplaced. When the results came out Ross had not done at all well. He was devastated. Not only would he have to leave university and find a job, he would lose any hope of daily contact with June. She was due back and ready, she wrote, to begin Arts, majoring in French. He studied her letter with a certain anxiety. The content was informative and friendly but lacked the warmth that featured in her earlier correspondence. She sounded detached. She wanted to see him – that was clear – but he could not detect the keen expectancy he felt. As her arrival due near, he grew nervy and apprehensive and he shared his worries with Jacob and Rachael.

  ‘Of course you’re a bit shaky,’ Rachel reassured him. ‘She’s been away for a year and it might be strange at first but I’m sure you two will be okay.’

  Given that she and Jacob virtually lived in each other’s pockets, he wondered where Rachel acquired her wisdom. But he told himself to get on with it and get organised. A job was the priority. No money equalled no future, especially if June went on to higher studies. In his estimation, she was not money-oriented but she would expect him to provide for her once they began to live together. He scanned job advertisements and sent off a number of applications and made one or two phone calls. Out of the blue, a call came from the Department of Housing. A clerk was needed to process grant applications. He vaguely recalled the ad. Could he come in for an interview on Friday? What the heck, he thought, and fronted up on schedule at the large cubed building in front of the courthouse. After a none-too-searching interview, the job was as good as his. One down, one to go, he exulted as he filled up the Cortina. My girl gets back on Sunday.

  Her plane was late. He hung about the airport lounge, eventually su
ccumbing to mediocre coffee and a sweet biscuit. Finally, the arrival was announced. After almost an hour, passengers began to filter into the waiting area. He positioned himself at the front, scanning the exits. When she came out, he waved and caught her attention. She was wearing jeans and a red sweater.

  ‘My parents didn’t come out?’

  ‘No, I saved them a trip.’ He was looking at her. There had been a perfunctory kiss but little animation.

  ‘Great. Let’s go, shall we.’

  On the highway the traffic was thick. ‘Can we stop somewhere?’ he asked.

  They settled on King’s Park.

  ‘How do you feel?’ He thought she looked pale.

  ‘Tired. But it’s good to be in the fresh air.’

  They sat on the grass near the war memorial. ‘Hey June,’ he said, putting his arms around her. ‘I’m really happy you’re back.’

  ‘Me too.’ She did not resist his embrace but he sensed she was not really present.

  ‘But I should get home now. We can talk tomorrow.’

  He dropped her off at her parents’ place. They invited him in but he declined. Five minutes later he pulled into the car park at Steve’s. A beer, he decided, will settle me down. At least the week ahead was free. On the following Monday he would enter the public service as an Assistant Clerk, Level One. Nothing to set the world on fire. Hardly an auspicious entry into the world of careers. The realisation did not lift his spirits. Over the preceding days he casually delivered the news to his family. Mercifully, his father kept his thoughts to himself. Even his brother, steadfastly mounting the legal ladder, held back. He was grateful for that.

  June slept until midday. He collected her and they drove to the foreshore. As they walked the path by the river he was aware of the algae. Over the dry winter, the flow downstream had fallen away and the smell was strong. After walking for ten minutes or so they stopped in the shade.