Barbara Hannay - Australian Affairs - Wed

‘I did Bingo, Mummy,’ Jacko announced with obvious pride as he stood on the turtle with his shorts around his ankles.

‘Bingo? What are you talking about?’ She directed her frown at Joe.

He pointed into the bowl. ‘Jacko hit the piece of paper. I thought it would help him to aim.’

‘Aim?’ Ellie stared at him, stared at both of them, her dark eyes frowning with disbelief. As comprehension dawned, her mouth twisted into the faintest glimmer of a smile—a smile that didn’t quite make it.

‘He’s not in the Army yet,’ she said tightly. ‘And don’t forget to wash your hands, Jacko. It’s time for your afternoon tea.’

* * *

‘So, do you have a job for me?’ Joe asked once Jacko was perched on a stool at the kitchen bench and tucking into a cup of juice and a plate of diced cheese and fruit.

Ellie looked pained—an expression Joe was used to seeing after a phone call from her mother. No doubt Angela Fowler had once again piled on the sympathy for her poor daughter’s terrible fate—this time, being forced to spend Christmas with her dropkick ex.

In the past, that pained look had irritated Joe. Today, he was determined to let it wash over him.

‘Perhaps I could assemble the Christmas tree?’ he suggested.

‘That would be helpful.’ Ellie didn’t follow through with a smile. ‘The tree’s in one of the boxes on the veranda.’

‘You’d like it in the lounge room?’

‘Yes, please.’

* * *

Ellie took a deep breath as she watched Joe head off to the veranda.

Conversations with her mother had always been heavily laced with anti-Joe sentiments and today had been a doozy.

This is a dangerous time for you, Ellie. I don’t like the idea of the two of you alone up there. You’ll have to be very careful, especially if Joe tries anything.

Tries what, Mum?

Tries to...to win you back.

Of course, Ellie had assured her mother there was no chance of that. Absolutely. No. Chance. But she wished this certainty hadn’t left her feeling quite so desolate.

These next few days were going to be hard enough with the two of them stuck in the house while the rain continued pelting down outside. It would be so much easier if she could carry on with the outside work, but the cattle were safe and until the rain stopped there wasn’t a lot more she could do.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t even give Joe a decent book to read. Since Jacko’s birth, she’d only had time for cattle-breeding journals, women’s magazines and children’s picture books.

Ellie decided to let Joe get on with the tree while she cooled her heels in the kitchen with Jacko, for once letting him dawdle over his food, but as soon as he’d finally downed his afternoon tea, he was keen to be off.

‘Where’s Joe?’ was the first thing he asked.

So they went back to the lounge room and, to Ellie’s surprise, Joe had almost finished assembling the six-foot tree. He made it look dead easy, of course.

Jacko stared up at the tree, looking puzzled, as if he couldn’t understand why adults would set up a tree inside the house. As an outback boy, he hadn’t seen any of the city shops with brightly lit trees and Santa Clauses, although he had vague ideas about Christmas from books and TV.

‘This is our Christmas tree,’ Ellie explained to him. ‘Mummy’s going to make it pretty with lights and decorations, and soon there’ll be lots of presents underneath it.’

At the mention of presents Jacko clapped his hands and took off, running in circles.

‘Well, that got a reaction,’ said Joe, amused.

‘He can still remember the pile of presents he scored for his second birthday.’

Too late, Ellie remembered that Joe hadn’t sent the boy anything. Lordy, today there seemed to be pitfalls in even the simplest conversation.

Joe was grim-faced as he fitted the final top branches in place.

Ellie went to the CD player and made a selection—a jaunty version of Jingle Bells. She hoped it would lift the dark mood that had lingered since her mum’s annoying dire warnings on the phone.

Determined to shake off the grouchiness, she went to the second carton and took out boxes of exquisite tree ornaments. Decorating the tree had always been her favourite Christmas tradition. Today it was sure to lift her spirits.

‘Ooh! Pretty!’ Jacko squealed, coming close to inspect.

‘Yes, these ornaments are very pretty, but they’re made of glass, Jacko, so you mustn’t touch. They can break. I’m going to put them on the tree, and they’ll be safe there. They’ll make the tree beautiful.’

Jacko watched, entranced, as Ellie hooked bright, delicate balls onto the branches. She knew it was too much to expect him not to touch but, before she could warn him to be very gentle, he batted with his hand at a bright red and silver ball.

Ellie dived to stop him and Joe dived too, but they were both too late. The ball fell to the floor and smashed.

Ellie cried out—an instinctive response, but probably a mistake. Immediately, Jacko began to wail.

It was Joe who swept the boy into his arms and began to soothe him.

Ellie was left watching them, feeling strangely left out. She waited for Jacko to turn to her, to reach out his arms for her as he always did when he was upset. But he remained clinging to Joe.

Joe. Her son’s new, big strong hero.

She refused to feel jealous. If she was honest, she could totally understand the appeal of those muscular, manly arms.

Once upon a time Joe was my hero, too. My tower of strength.

Now, she would never feel his arms around her again.

Yikes, where had that thought sprung from? What’s the matter with me?

She hurried out of the room to get a dustpan and broom and, by the time she returned, Jacko had stopped crying.

Joe set him down and the boy stood, sniffling, as he watched Ellie sweep up the glittering broken pieces.

‘I told you to be careful,’ she felt compelled to remind him as she worked. ‘You mustn’t touch these pretty ornaments, or they’ll break.’

‘He’s too little to understand,’ said Joe.

Ellie glared up at him. ‘No, he’s not.’ What would Joe know about little kids?

Joe shrugged and looked around the room. ‘Perhaps we can find something more suitable for him to play with. Something like paper chains? They might distract him.’

Ellie had actually been thinking along the same lines and it annoyed her that Joe had made the suggestion first. ‘So you’re suddenly an expert on raising children?’

‘Ellie, don’t be like that.’

‘Like what?’

Joe simply stared at her, his blue eyes coolly assessing.

Oh, help. It was happening already. All the old tensions were sparking between them—electricity of the worst kind. Dangerous. Lethal.

All she’d wanted was a simple, relaxing afternoon decorating the tree.

‘There are paper chains in those shopping bags,’ she said, pointing to one of the cartons. Then, summoning her dignity, she rose and took the dustpan back to the kitchen.

By the time she returned, Jacko and Joe had trailed bright paper chains along the shelves of the bookcase and they were now looping them around a tall lamp stand.

The CD was still playing. The singer had moved on to Deck the Halls, and Ellie set about decorating the tree again, hoping for peace on Earth and goodwill towards one particular man.

She couldn’t deny that Joe was great at playing with their son. Every time Jacko became too curious about the tree, Joe would deflect him. They played hide and seek behind the sofa, and Joe taught Jacko how to crawl on his belly, Commando style. Watching this, Ellie winced, sure that Joe’s injured leg must have hurt.

She almost said something about his leg, but held her tongue. He was a big, tough soldier, after all.