Rachael slipped into the chair that Angus had vacated and drained the last of the tea into their mugs. “How is Angus, Pat?”
Pat looked at her hands for a moment and then, looking at Rachael, said, “He got a little emotional out on the airstrip after your mother left.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, he just stood there looking at the horizon…then he…I’m not sure if I should tell you.”
“Please, Pat, I’m a bit worried about him…he’s a very silent man you know…keeps a lot inside.”
“Well, he started talking about Bangalore and how he had never really been very far away from it for many years. A couple of trips that he didn’t enjoy.”
“Did he tell you about Bali with Jane Baxter?” Rachael asked with a mischievous smile.
“Yes, he did. He said they had a row and he came home.”
“So he didn’t tell you about the masseuse?”
“No.”
“It’s a funny story. I’ll tell you one night when we are alone. I don’t think he got over it for years. I’m sorry, you were saying, he was talking out on the air strip.”
“Yes, he started talking about Ewen and trying to imagine what it was like to be in a combat zone like Afghanistan. He said he feels he hardly knows his son because Ewen was away at school. Then he went into the army and they have hardly seen each other for years. He gave me the feeling he was trying to connect with what was going on and he couldn’t. He used words like feeling helpless and hopeless. I think he’s frightened Ewen will die without him really knowing him.”
“Did he get emotional?”
“A little.”
“How did you feel?”
“A little hopeless myself. He’s such a big man and not just in stature. But he’s not equipped…no that’s not the right word…he’s led something of a sheltered life out here for so long…at least sheltered from where I have come from and I expect where you have come from. Now war and grief has caught up with him and I suspect it’s a very painful experience. I think he’s worried if Ewen dies, then he will have failed to have shown him, told him of the love he really feels.”
The whole time Pat had been speaking Rachael hadn’t moved and she hadn’t taken her eyes off Pat’s face. “Wow! You should have been a doctor, Pat. That’s very understanding.”
Pat gave a little shrug and a half-smile and reached for Angus’ tobacco pouch and papers he’d left on the table. As she looked down rolling her cigarette she went on. “I’ve only been here a few hours and I don’t really know Angus at all but he gives the impression that he loves this place so much – that this is what he’s connected to. He and your mother had a few words in the car about selling the sheep and buying cattle – I didn’t really understand what it was all about, but Angus gave the impression that he would change, that he will change, but he doesn’t know how to break the news to your grandfather. He thinks it will hurt him and he doesn’t want to do that. So he’d rather lose money than hurt his dad.”
She lit the cigarette and inhaled. Rachael said, “Oh wow. There is a lot going on I don’t know, isn’t there? That’s a statement not a question, Pat. I have never thought about change out here. You and I face up to change every day. Career changes. Moving house. Changing men, all that sort of crap. But Bangalore? Change? I’d never thought of that. I just think of Bangalore as the only thing that doesn’t change. That’s selfish really. Dad’s always here. Ali’s always here. Alice is always here. Nothing changes.
“I can come home after six or twelve months away and everything, even my room, is just the same as I left it. This place is just like my riding boots, I can just slip into them and I’m back. Then I leave knowing I can come back and do it all over again…anytime I like. Now that is selfish.”
Pat stubbed her cigarette out and stood up. “I’ll go and make another pot of tea.”
Rachael looked at her, smiling. “My God, Pat, look at you. No shoes and no bra is that becoming an officer and a lady?”
“Not really and what’s more, Rachael, I don’t care, so there!” Laughing, she tossed her head in mock disdain.
“Good. I’ve got just the dress for you this evening, bought it in India. It will suit you down to the ground if you’re game to wear it.”
“Try me. I told Angus that I feel a freedom out here that I’ve never felt before. I have never walked around barefoot since I was a child. I have never, ever, not worn a bra, goodness me!
By the time Ali got to the pool Rachael had already had a swim and was sitting at the barbecue table under the pergola. She refused his offer to have another swim and watched as he walked into the water and did a few duck dives and splashed around. Never a great stylist Ali swam powerfully but the perfectionist would say that he spent too much energy with little result. But then Rachael mused ‘he’s never been taught; it’s all pure raw talent and willpower’.
It was four-thirty in the afternoon and still hot and, if anything, the humidity was more oppressive. Rachael had swum in just her bikini bottoms and now she had pulled an old tee-shirt on to cover her body. From the way Ali had behaved that morning it was obvious he wanted to talk after she had asked him whether he was lonely, like her father.
As he walked out of the water again she noticed the limp. Like many men who work outdoors his head and forearms were a darker tan than the rest of his body, except for the tell-tale line around his forehead showing the line of his hat.
Like Rachael there was Indian blood in his family so his coffee-coloured skin that was shaded from the sun during the day was a natural colour not a suntan. She thought he hasn’t changed since they were teenagers – still slim to thin, big arms from all the manual work, the hair receding at the temples and a hint of grey, but he was still the same Ali.
He went to the cab of his Land Cruiser and came back with a small six-pack Esky, a towel and his tobacco tin. “Beer?”
“Love one.”
He unscrewed the tops off two stubbies and gave one to her. “Cheers, Princess. Here’s to Ew and a quick recovery.”
Still seated she looked into his blue eyes and he held her stare. Then he picked up his towel and vigorously dried his hair and forearms and sat down on the bench opposite. They faced each other across the table. Rachael’s forefinger traced a heart that had been carved into the wood many years ago and saw that the sun, wind and rain had almost worn it away.
Ali asked, “How old were we when we carved that?”
Without looking up she replied, “Sixteen—and I was crying because I was so happy.”
Before he could ask another question she went on. “It was the day that we became lovers for the first time.”
“Over there under that old tree on a li-lo that you had been floating around on, on a day much the same as today. You put a tartan rug over it.” As he was speaking he pointed to a spot under a tree not ten metres from where they sat.
“Ali...please…” There was pain and apprehension in her voice.
“You asked me today, Rach, if I was lonely and I told you that you knew the answer to the question. My answer is sometimes I am, but mostly I’m not. I sometimes wonder if I’ve spent too long out here. You know what they say about old bushies and not being happy unless they are alone. It’s not like that for me—I’m not lonely because…because there is always part of you around this place…especially around this pool. I can come down here and find a strange kind of peace.”
Rachael wanted to reach over and hold his hand but, before she could, he continued, “You and I grew up together, Rach, like brother and sister. Then when we started to move out of