Tim Winton - Cloudstreet

A winner wins them all, Lester, not just the worldly things.

You’ve won me, love.

You’re a fool, Lester Lamb.

That’s what I tell myself.

They’re quiet for a time. That train is still promising to come. Lester puts his hand on her leg.

Do you still love me?

I married you before God.

The mention of that character puts them back into quiet.

Oriel?

Hmm?

Why are you in the tent?

Oriel cracks her knuckles. Why’s Quick lit up like a beacon? Why is Fish the way he is? Why does this house … behave?

Strange, says Lester.

Oh, nothin’s really strange. Strangeness is ordinary if you let yourself think about it. There’s been queerness all your life. I’ve seen stranger things than Quick glowin, haven’t you?

Lester looks out across the crumpled tin fence: I used to ride farm to farm down there at Margaret, and I’d look out across the hills, the karris, the farms and dead crops, and you know the whole flamin country looked sad. All the plants with their heads bowed looking really browned off. And you know, I used to hear it moan. Not the wind; the ground, the land. I told meself it was the horse, but inside I knew it was the country. Moanin.

Like this house.

Come to think of it, yeah. I thought it was just me hearin it.

It’s just a house.

You think maybe we don’t belong here, like we’re out of our depth, out of our country?

We don’t belong anywhere. When I was a girl I had this strong feeling that I didn’t belong anywhere, not in my body, not on the land. It was in my head, what I thought and dreamt, what I believed, Lester, that’s where I belonged, that was my country. That was the final line of defence in the war.

Lester shifts his butt and rubs his knees in consternation.

What’re you sayin, love?

Since Fish … I’ve been losin the war. I’ve lost me bearins.

Lester makes his teeth meet at all points round his jaw. Talk like this makes him nervous. Something’s going to happen, to be taken from him, to be shone in his face. It’s like walking down a rocky path at night, not knowing where it’ll lead, when it’ll drop from beneath your feet, what it’ll cost to come back.

You believe in the Nation, though. You’re the flamin backbone of the Anzac Club.

Ah, it’s helpin the boys, I know, but I read the newspaper, Lester. They’re tellin us lies. They’ll send boys off to fight any war now. They don’t care what it’s for.

But, but the good of the country—

Oriel put a blunt finger to her temple: This is the country, and it’s confused. It doesn’t know what to believe in either. You can’t replace your mind country with a nation, Lest. I tried.

Lester almost gasps. It’s one thing for him to say it, but for her to admit such a thing, it’s terrifying.

You believe in hard work, love.

Not for its own sake, I don’t. We weren’t born to work. Look at them next door.

There’s always the family, says Lester.

Families aren’t things you believe in, they’re things you work with.

Don’t you believe in … love?

No.

No? Lester bites the ends of his fingers.

I feel love. I’m stuck with the love I’ve got, and I’m tryin to work up the love I haven’t got. Do you believe in love, he says. It’s like sayin Do you believe in babies. They happen.

What about goodness, lovingkindness, charity?

They’re just things you do, you try to do. There’s no point believin in em.

So what do you want? says Lester.

I want my country back.

The tent?

I wish I could lace it up an never come out, she says with an unexpected laugh. You could slip food under the flap and I’d never see a soul, never say a livin word.

Lester shakes his head. Why?

Then I could get on with the real war.

You want a miracle, don’t you?

I want the miracle finished off. I demand it, and I’m gonna fight to get it.

So you do believe.

Lester, I believe in eight hours’ sleep and a big breakfast.

Oriel gets up and goes to her tent.

Lester sits out on the stoop and watches the lamp waver into life inside the tent. The scabby arms of the mulberry tree reach around it so that from the upper floors Oriel’s silhouette looks like it’s moving about inside the ribcage of some sleeping animal. From where Lester is, though, it’s just a woman going through her drill before bed. I’ll bet she even prays, he thinks. But the light goes out, the sight of her diminishes in the gloom, the dew chills him.

Keeping Watch

Day by day Quick began to fade, until by the end of the week he had no light in him at all, and he slept thirty-two-and-a-half hours with the snores of an explorer. A tall, pale woman he’d never met sat on his bed with a rosary and a hangdog look and took turns with Fish to keep watch.

In the Poo

Sam Pickles came home a week after the wedding with grass on his sleeve, blood on his collar, and a tooth in his pocket. His hat looked abused. One eye was oystered up with swelling. There was bark off his nose.

My Gawd, murmured Dolly who was still in her dressing gown. That’s what I call a day’s work. What the Christ have you been into?

Me luck’s runnin uphill.

Runnin out yer arse by the look.

Sam eased himself into a chair at the table.

You’ve lost a tooth.

Sam fished it out of his pocket and put it beside the teapot.

Geez, look at the colour of it. That’s smokin, doin that. It’s as yeller as Tojo.

Pour us a cup.

How much do you owe? Dolly said as she poured him the strong metallic tea.

I could make it back on a quinella or just a decent run of luck.

That much.

The stove fizzed and snapped with the kettle working back up to the boil. Next door creaked with the business of closing the shop. That slow kid was laughing; the sound got on your nerves, made you wish they’d put him in a home with his own kind where he’d be happier.

Wincing, Sam drank his tea.

Could you eat a chop?

Sam nodded. Dolly got up and slipped the pan onto the stove. She was in an unaccountably decent mood tonight, he thought.

How many blokes dyou owe?

One fella who owns all the fellas. He’s a nasty cove.

What’re they gunna do?

Work it out of me, I spose. There’s plenty of shonky jobs they’ll want done.

Oh gawd. Haven’t you got some union mates to back you up?

Sam smiled: They are the union.

Jesus.

When he was eating, Dolly took his gladstone bag and shook the Daily News final out of it, the horseshoe, the rabbit’s foot, the breadcrusts, pennies, watch parts, peppermints and old train tickets, and went upstairs with it. She came back with it full of clothes and shaving gear. He looked at her across the table, pushed the plate away. There was a knock at the door.

Godalmighty.

Sam got up, found the crooked old poker by the stove and went to the hallway door. Before he turned the knob, he looked at her and saw what a handsome woman she still was, despite all. He opened the door with his bung hand and had his good one ready.

Gday, said Lester Lamb. I’ve got some old caulies. They’d be good for a soup. I had too many too quick and … you orright?

Yeah, yeah, come in Lester.

Lester put the two greyish cauliflowers on the table. Evenin Mrs Pickles.