Tim Winton - Eyrie

Doris laughed knowingly and Gemma’s smile was suddenly warm and womanly, as if she’d declared herself. Maybe this would work after all.

I might go for a walk, said Keely. Let you gals compare gynaecological notes.

Look, said Doris. He’s set to bolt already.

Blokes, said Gemma.

I could show Kai how close the river is. Let you two ladies catch up.

Listen to him, said Doris. He’s gone all Mister Darcy on us.

He needs puttin to bed, said Gemma.

The kid turned a page of the atlas.

I’ll give you a hand, said Keely.

Gemma can handle it, said Doris.

Right, he murmured. Course.

All our stuff’s in binbags, said Gemma. I gotta find me work clobber.

You think you should go in tonight? he asked.

Yes, said Doris. We should go and make a report.

It’ll take bloody hours. I’ll be late.

I’ll come with you, said Doris. Maybe speed things up a little.

I’ve took sick days off already, said Gemma. They’ll give me the flick if I don’t show.

We’ll write a letter, said Doris.

I know how the bosses think. Tell em what’s happenin, you sound like trash, like a crim. Gives em the excuse they’re lookin for to sack ya and put in some cheap Chinks.

Gemma —

I need the job. I can’t lose the job.

Maybe tomorrow, then.

Have to think. Get Kai to school.

You think that’s wise?

It’s all he’s got. Gotta keep him in school. School’s the most important thing, isn’t it?

Keely caught Doris’s look of misgiving. He felt as useful as a hip pocket on a singlet.

Okay love, said his mother. You do what you think’s best. Now, I’ve made up a bed in the spare room. And there’s a mattress on the floor for Kai. I thought he’d prefer to be in with you for a few nights.

Gemma nodded abstractedly.

Will that be okay?

Gemma turned the handle of her knife back and forward across the plate. Funny, isn’t it? she said.

Funny?

Weird.

Doris patted her arm.

Forty-four and still bunked down at the Keelys’.

Yes, said Doris. Life’s a surprise.

It’s the shits, really. Scuse the French.

No, said Doris. You’re right. It is. You’ve got to work, you have a boy to care for, and a home you have every right to live in without feeling you’re under siege. If that isn’t the shits, then I don’t know what is.

We’ll sort it out, said Keely, conscious of how lame he sounded.

Perhaps we’ll talk about our plans in the morning, said Doris, getting up, drawing things to a close.

There’s only a week, said Gemma.

A week’s a long time in Stewie’s world, said Keely.

You’d know, would ya? Gemma said with a flicker of disdain.

I’m just saying.

If I had five grand, Tom, he’d be dead. That’s all it costs.

I think we can all leave it at that, said Doris frostily.

Keely turned in his seat and saw Kai in the doorway, taking it all in.

While Gemma showered, Keely and his mother did the dishes. Doris was taciturn. The set of her mouth was grim, almost disgusted.

He set a brush to the pan, scoured it of its ghostly outlines of fish.

He’s seen too much, she said.

No question.

The weight of it, she said. You can see it on him.

Keely didn’t know what to say.

You know why I can’t give her money.

She’s not asking you for it. Neither am I.

Keely scrubbed the pan until it glowed. He hadn’t been completely forthcoming with Doris. He’d been vague about the threat to Kai. And she was right, he hadn’t witnessed it. Not that he didn’t believe Gemma. She was scared. It was natural she’d be afraid for the kid. In her position you’d take any sidelong leer as a threat, wouldn’t you? But he hadn’t wanted to send Doris into overdrive right from the outset. He also needed to process what was happening, get his mind into gear. It was just that his head was so boggy and slow. As if his software were old or compromised.

Tom?

The pan shone where he hadn’t even applied the brush. Around the rim was an aura. The pan replicated itself on the tile-work, the window; it gilded his hands and made his head swim.

What are you doing? Tom?

He saw he’d braced himself against the windowsill. I’m alright, he said as much to himself as her.

You don’t look alright.

Thanks.

You’re exhausted. Here, let me finish this.

No, he said. I’m good.

I know you’re good , she said. What I’m wondering about is whether you’re well.

Too late in the day for a grammar lesson, Doris.

Well, she said, summoning all her matriarchal indulgence. Don’t drown in my sink. I like to keep a tidy house.

He grinned. But she was right there. Watching. Like that Wandjina painting. Owl-eyed. Taking him in. Him. In his freeze-framing jerks of consciousness. Washing. Sticking. Coming free. Grinning. Holding onto the sink like a geriatric.

Gemma drove herself to work in the accursed Hyundai. Before leaving she put Kai to bed with the door open and a lamp burning.

Keely watched it all happening as if he were outside the house looking in. He had to concentrate to keep up and there were constant jerks of energy coursing up his legs as if his body were repeatedly recovering from stumbles.

He sat in the kitchen trying to look casual. Doris retreated to her room, face ominously untroubled. Keely knew the boy was still awake. From along the hallway there was silence, only the light slanting from the door, but he knew Kai well enough to be certain he’d be restless. He hauled himself upright. Ghosted down the passage like a dirigible. Saw the kid lying in there beneath his sheet, examining his hands. He knelt beside the mattress.

Kai looked up, unsurprised.

This’ll only be for a few days, Keely said carefully.

Kai said nothing.

Are you comfy?

The boy surveyed his palms.

I know it’s a strange house. I mean, a different place all of a sudden. But it’s safe here. Doris is here in the next room. I’ll sleep in the lounge tonight. I’ll be right there, right along the hall. You can see me anytime.

Kai chewed his lip.

You want to tell me anything?

The boy breathed, wheezing slightly.

You want to ask me something, Kai?

There’s a letter, he whispered.

A letter? Where, mate? Who from?

No, said the boy impatiently. Here. Look.

He held out his palms.

Em.

Sorry?

It’s a em. See?

It took a moment to understand what the kid meant: the ragged letter M formed by the creases of his hand.

This one, too, said Kai. Em.

Well. Yeah. Look at that, eh?

I have a question.

Fire away.

Like, is it the same? For you?

Keely looked at the boy a second, then at his hands. He held them out. At the end of his arms his hands looked alien, improbable. The boy blinked and the sound of it was like cutlery chinking.

Not really, said Keely. Mine are a bit. Different.

Kai took a little while to digest this.

But what’s it for? he asked. M for what?

Well, M for whatever you like, I spose. They’re your hands, sport.

But what does it mean?

I don’t think it means anything, mate. It’s just a… just… just crease.

But only me?

Like a fingerprint, maybe. Yeah. Only you.

The boy settled on the pillow and reached for his arm. He wasn’t even close to sleep. And Keely couldn’t feel the boy’s fingertips. He was rattled.

You’re safe, he whispered prayerfully, needing it to be true, wanting to believe.

When Keely opened his eyes Doris was there, her silvery hair spilling over his chest.

Are you with me? she said.