Tim Winton - Eyrie

Gemma leant against the rail, her features darkened by a new thought. She blinked repeatedly, pulled herself upright.

When were we at Bandyup? she asked. Yesterday?

Yeah, he said. What is it?

Christ Almighty.

Keely saw some dread realization travel through her face.

Jesus Christ Almighty, she said. She was already askin about the car. They’re in it together. Carly and him. That’s who they are. That’s what Kai is to em.

She held her head, as if she could not trust it to contain the noxious reactions this thought had set off. Her eyes widened. The hot wind whipped her hair in every direction. She looked like a woman hurtling, falling backwards.

He tried to go to her but she batted him away again, tears tracking crazily in the wind. He caught her arm, drew her in, took the blows and when she gave way he held her to his shoulder for some gesture of comfort, some hopeless promise of safety. And there was Kai at the window, alert and afraid.

Keely let her cry. He did what he could to show the boy he meant no harm. Her face burnt through his shirt and her sobs were awful. He tried to master his panic but his mind capered perilously. This business, these threats — it was all probably junkie bluster. No one in this town would be shaking a six-year-old off the top-floor balcony for five thousand dollars. But he didn’t have the stomach to wait around and test the proposition. The state of her, the fear in the boy’s face.

He couldn’t just leave them. And even if Gemma did go to the cops, she and Kai couldn’t stay here in the building.

The wind tore at him. The boy’s icecream melted.

Keely didn’t know what to do. But he knew he had to do something. Today. Now. Without hesitation.

Keely stood at the sink washing flour from his hands as Doris spun a lettuce beside him. From the kitchen window he saw Kai wading through fallen plane leaves. Gemma leant against the verandah rail, smoking pensively, alone. She’d been out there two hours; she’d hardly spoken all afternoon. Since the unsettling drama of their arrival — all that clutching and weeping in his mother’s arms — she’d withdrawn. As if she regretted the chaotic outpouring of need, the words, the mewling. And now she was shaky, remote, somehow defiant.

Do you have a plan? his mother asked.

No, he said. Not really. I’m sorry. I just…

It’s okay. See them safe first. Figure it out later.

Yeah, he said ruefully. That sounds like a plan.

Chip off the old block, then.

He saw her gracious smile, did what he could to respond in kind, but he knew she was just trying to steady his nerves.

So you didn’t witness this exchange, hear threats uttered?

He shook his head, told her about the encounter with the little thug in the lobby.

Doris seemed diffident, even sceptical.

She was a mess, he said. They both were.

Over a fifteen-year-old Hyundai.

You don’t believe her?

My instinct is always to believe her.

But?

Doris set the broken lettuce into a big majolica bowl and wiped her hands on her apron.

Well, my instincts haven’t always been infallible. I wasn’t there, Tom. I don’t know these people. I don’t have enough information to make a judgement. I’ve learnt some things the hard way.

Forty years ago you’d have taken them in without question.

Tom, love, I have taken them in without question.

Yes, I’m sorry. I’m just…

Caught up. It’s normal.

My head’s still reeling.

Doris took a cucumber and a jar of olives from the fridge.

You know she should be at a police station. Laying a complaint, making a statement.

She won’t go. I’ve tried.

Keep at her.

I can’t. She just shuts down on me.

Are you involved with her somehow?

Why do you ask?

To get some idea of the situation. And because of the way the boy watches you.

Kai? How?

As if he’s waiting for something. I don’t know. Waiting for you to take her off him? Waiting for you to do what men have done before? Who knows? He’s just very watchful.

He’s had a pretty crap day.

No doubt. Seems a lovely boy.

He is.

And she’s a very attractive woman.

Doris.

You didn’t answer my question.

I don’t know how to answer it, he said. And I don’t know why I should.

Fair enough, she said. As long as you’re still able to ask it of yourself.

Mum, I just couldn’t stand by and do nothing.

Of course not.

And I don’t need any ulterior motive to help them out.

She dipped her head in assent and rattled away at the cutting board, glancing up now and then at Gemma and Kai in the fading light.

Strange, isn’t it? she said. Seeing her again — a woman, a grandmother.

Strange doesn’t even get close.

I think my head’s spinning a little, too.

Full house again.

Doris smiled broadly, her pleasure finally evident, and just then Gemma turned and saw them. She looked guarded, even disgruntled, as if suspecting their smiles had come at her expense.

Thanks for this, he said.

Get the girl a drink. And run a bath for Kai.

*

Dinner was every bit as quiet and chary as the afternoon that had preceded it. Kai was silent. Keely and his mother did what they could to lighten the mood, but Gemma was shy, almost childlike with Doris. She hadn’t come inside until dusk, when Doris had gone out to coax her in. She was nervous with her cutlery, visibly anxious about the house and its furniture. To Keely she appeared sullen. Doris seemed to take it all in her stride. But he could see Gemma was already having second thoughts.

They ate the fish he’d fried and passed the salad around. After five minutes or so, having eaten very little, Kai withdrew to stalk the livingroom. Gemma ate in silence for a while and then pushed her plate back as if she had neither strength nor appetite to finish. Doris laid a hand on Gemma’s.

You’ve done a good job with Kai, she said. You’re a brave girl.

Gemma brightened, rose from her hunched posture, stretching in a manner that struck Keely as feline. She leant in towards Doris, actively seeking contact, and it gave him a queer feeling. She didn’t say much. Just gave that bashful, pleased smile as Doris stroked her hair and petted her.

In the livingroom Kai moved from shelf to shelf in his PJs, peering at the contents of every bookcase and cabinet, glancing up at the ochres and oils on the walls. He stopped before a Wandjina. Stared at that big mouthless face. The owlish eyes. The storm-power radiating from its head in thick brown rays. He turned and for a moment their eyes met — his and the boy’s — and he wondered what he made of it, this ancient depiction of the Mighty Force. But with the women having their moment it didn’t seem the time to ask him. They were watching him themselves.

He’s a delightful child, said Doris. A credit to you.

Does he remind you of me? Gemma said in a teeny voice he’d never heard before. When I was little?

That hair, said Doris sadly.

Keely wondered if Gemma could detect the melancholy in his mother’s voice. It unsettled him. He didn’t know what it meant. Wondered if he was jealous. Which was absurd.

But Gemma looked pleased. She kept smoothing down her dress, smiling at her hands.

The boy opened the atlas on the canted shelf. Keely finished up his fish. It was red emperor, would have cost Doris a bomb, and in the end only he’d eaten it.

Does Kai look like his mum? asked Doris.

No, said Gemma. She’s different.

They stretch us. Our kids.

And that’s just the start, said Gemma with a conspiratorial grin, in a voice more like her own.