Demons (13 page)

They were out on the road now; Marshall turned the wipers up high. I think you might
be making a big deal out of this, said Evan, I don’t think it’s all that bad. Sometimes,
you know, women just give me the shits, said Marshall. Do you know what I’m saying?
I mean, if they want to take over the world, just fuckin’ take over the world, stop
fuckin’ cheering and jeering from the sides. Do you know what I mean? Life’s complicated,
you think we don’t know that? But we’re trying, for fuck’s sake, aren’t we? I don’t
think Evan’s saying you’re not trying, said Adam. Shut your fuckin’ mouth will you,
Adam, you fuckin’ know-it-all, said Marshall. Honestly, mate, I just won a fuckin’
seat in state parliament, I’m representing my constituents—so tell me, where’s the
love been coming from for you lately? Evan turned and gave Adam an ironic sort of
oo-take-that
look. Honestly, guys, I love you all, you know, said Marshall, but things
are shit for me at home right now; a bit of understanding wouldn’t go astray.

Marshall decided to concentrate on the road. He was driving slowly, but the rain
was coming down so hard that the wipers could barely keep up. The car came around
a corner, then down a short, straight run, then started descending more sharply around
a long, sweeping bend. Evan was fiddling with the radio, looking for the football,
but all he could find was static. The unfinished conversation hung there. But they
were all so conscious of the rain now and the stupidity of going out in it to get
a loaf of bread and a couple of bottles of wine that no-one said anything. They looked
out through the arcs the wipers made and tried to see what was ahead. Marshall negotiated
the bend, in places the water was gushing over the road, and they were just coming
to the end of it when he braked.

Fuck! said Evan. What’s that? said Leon. Shit, said Marshall. The hill above had
slipped. A big swathe of earth had come down over the road, blocking their way and
going on to carve a tract through the bush below. On the mound in front a stand of
acacia bushes still stood, rooted, upright, as if nothing had happened.

Shit, said Marshall, again. What do we do? said Evan. Can you get around? said Leon.
Give us an umbrella, said Evan. Leon and Evan both threw open their doors and put
up their umbrellas. The rain sounded like a waterfall, roaring in. Put your lights
on high! shouted Evan. Marshall flicked them up. Pyooew, said Adam. He and Marshall
watched Evan and Leon moving first to one side, then the other, trying to figure
out how even Marshall’s four-wheel drive Mercedes could ever get over or around.

Sorry about before, said Marshall, out of nowhere; I’ve got a lot going on, but I
shouldn’t have snapped. That’s okay, said Adam. They had nothing else to say; with
the mound of earth and bush in front of them and the rain pelting on the roof, everything
else seemed petty. The other two got back in the car, bringing in the smell of dirt
and rain.

It’s blocked, said Leon; we’re going to have to turn around. How the fuck am I going
to do that? said Marshall. You’ll need to back up, said Leon; there’s a driveway
about half a k back. Marshall lifted his hands off the wheel and turned his palms
up as if to say
and
? Put your hazards on, said Evan. Again there was the rush of
rain as the doors opened and again Evan and Leon threw up their umbrellas.

It was a tricky manoeuvre all right, but after a while Marshall got the hang of it,
his head turned, one arm wrapped around the headrest on the passenger side. Adam
knelt up on the back seat and pushed himself into the corner so Marshall could see:
Yeah, that’s good, to the left, steady, straight. The back wipers were cleaning the
window in quick, manic strokes while the hazard lights lit the comical figures on
the road above; Evan waving one hand out from under his umbrella and Leon, further
up, shouting: Yep, all good, no dramas, you’re good.

A voice, barely discernible, emerged from the radio-crackle and then was lost again.
It felt quiet and calm in the car, all the craziness was outside. Marshall was in
the zone, looking back, taking instructions, moving the wheel this way then that,
almost without thinking. When he spoke, it sounded as if the words had come out of
a dream.

My life’s fucked, said Marshall. Adam had to look around and study his face to be
sure he was talking to him. Marshall didn’t make eye contact. It’s hard to pin down
when it all went wrong, he said, but I think I can guess. You’re smart, mate, you’re
a lawyer, you know what it’s like to get caught in lies. I lived truly once, he said,
back in the days when I was a student, in student politics and that: do you remember?
Back then those two things, living and truth, just sort of went hand in glove. And
we were tolerant, too, weren’t we? We forgave people. That’s probably the other thing
that happens when you live the truth, you find it easier to forgive. Jesus said that,
or something like that, didn’t he? I’ve got so much shit going down in my life at
the moment, Adam, said Marshall, I couldn’t even start.

Adam was looking at the side of Marshall’s face but he wasn’t really listening. With
Leon’s story still fresh in his mind all he could think of was that dreadful student
production and that scene after the fire with them all sitting around and Marshall
as Tuzenbakh saying:
And what a vision I had then of a happy life! Where has it gone?

Marshall braked. Evan and Leon were waving their arms around; Evan for Marshall to
stop, Leon to point like a traffic cop at what they now realised was a steep gravel
drive. They were encouraging Marshall to back in, so he could turn the car around.

Yeah, well, he said.

He began to reverse up. As soon as he got the rear in, the nose poking out onto the
road, the front and back doors opened, the sound of rain rushed in, and Evan and
Leon dived in after.

Jesus! said Evan. They both shook their umbrellas and folded them down and pulled
the doors closed. Phew, said Leon. We should tell someone, said Adam. But they had
no phone and for a moment there was only the sound of the radio static and the rain.

They headed back up the hill. If we see a car, or a light on, said Adam, let’s stop.
They all thought this was a good idea but the trouble was they saw neither. When
they finally saw their own driveway and the light on high up in the living room it
felt like they’d stumbled onto civilisation deep in the heart of darkness.

The four men trooped in downstairs: Evan first, then Adam, then Leon. Marshall was
at the rear. The door to Tilly’s room was closed. First shower, said Evan. Second,
said Leon. Evan called out—Hey! The road’s blocked!—but everything upstairs was quiet.

What are you doing? said Lauren, coming out of the kitchen. The road’s blocked, said
Evan, with a little lift of his shoulders. Hannah was in the living room. The road’s
blocked, said Leon, to her. What’s going on? said Megan, from below—there was no
hiding it, she’d just come out of Tilly’s room. I’m having a shower, said Evan. It’s
a landslide, said Leon. We’ll use the white bread, said Lauren, and she went back
to the kitchen. Is she okay? asked Marshall, looking down. Megan nodded, but didn’t
speak. Marshall stood in the living room and put his back to the fire. Hannah looked
out the window. Is there a bucket? said Evan. He was standing at the head of the
hallway, pointing behind.

The roof was leaking onto the carpet directly above Tilly’s room. Everyone started
looking for a bucket. Megan came back from the kitchen with a big pasta pot and positioned
it below the leak. They all stood, looking up. Bloody hell, said Leon. It’s the leaves,
said Marshall. The water dripped, loud and tinny at first, then with a
pweup
, into
the pot.

They made a roster. When the egg timer went off you had to set a small saucepan temporarily
under the leak, empty the pasta pot in the bath, take the saucepan away, put the
pot back, re-set the timer and put a tick beside your name on the list. That took
a while. Evan had his shower. Leon had one after—and Hannah went in with him. Lauren
noted it, and went back to her soup.

Adam started microwaving the frozen slices of white bread. What were you talking
about before? he said. Marshall should go home, said Lauren, and take Tilly with
him. She kept stirring the soup. But the road’s blocked, said Adam. Yes I know the
fucking road’s blocked, Adam, you just told me that, said Lauren, spitting the words
out under her breath; I’m telling you what we were talking about
before
you came
back and told us the road was blocked. If we knew the road was blocked, Adam, dick,
there’d be no point in saying they should go home.

Have you been drinking? he said. Get the bowls, she said. He got seven bowls from
the cupboard. Eight, she said. He got another. Ah that’s better, said Evan, coming
in freshly showered. Where’s Meg?

She was on the couch in the corner of the living room with Marshall, talking. Marshall
was holding one side of his head like it hurt. Megan was leaning in close to catch
his eye. When Adam came in from the kitchen carrying the basket of microwaved bread
he could see how she even had a hand on his knee. Evan followed with two bowls of
soup.

Soup’s up! he said. Leon and Hannah entered, separately, from their room. Hannah’s
hair was wet. Oo hello! said Evan. Shut up, said Hannah. What’s going on over there?
said Leon. There was an awkward silence then while all five—Lauren had come in from
the kitchen too, carrying more soup—stared into the living room at Megan and Marshall
together on the couch.

The egg timer went off. They looked at the roster. Evan emptied the pot while the
others sat down to lunch. Megan took a tray down to Tilly. When she came back Marshall
thought it best to tell everyone what they’d been talking about. We’re all friends
here, he said. Megan took most of the conversation. She said how tricky it was with
kids at that age and how we all know you can’t always indulge them, but, by the same
token, they’d agreed that maybe in this instance Marshall had been a little insensitive
about the extent of the emotional impact of his brother-in-law’s suicide and how,
in a father’s book, coming here might have seemed like a good idea while in truth
maybe Tilly should have stayed at home. Marshall nodded at that. He looked tired.

Megan’s right, he said, this father–daughter thing is tough. But it was going to
be fireworks back there. We’ll get in the car and get away from this, I thought,
that’s the best thing to do. But maybe I misread it; maybe I made a mistake. We all
make mistakes, mate, said Evan, sitting down. I’ve had a lot going on, said Marshall,
with the new job, I know I’ve neglected her. And maybe she hasn’t agreed with all
the decisions I’ve made. I know she’s got involved with all this political stuff—occupy
and anarchy and all that—but in the end you’ve got to follow your conscience, don’t
you? I mean, I didn’t make the party’s policy but, all the same, I’m not going to
go howling in the streets in protest about it either. You’ve got to work within the
system. You can’t change major political decisions just because you think you might
upset your teenage daughter.

Of course not, said Megan, and no-one would expect you to, but you’ve got to keep
your antenna up, too, be sensitive to how they see things. They’re the only thing
we might have, said Adam, to prove we were even here. It’s true, said Hannah, who
had been quiet all this time (they all looked up at once), you complain about your
children but don’t forget they’ll be a comfort to you in your old age. You, Megan,
now Sam’s graduated, do you think he’s going to let you live on the street? The best
superannuation you can have, said Leon, is a kid with a career. They all laughed.

It’s true, said Evan, I’m a bit younger than you guys, but what’s it going to be
like for us once those fully qualified baby boomers start clogging up the system?
Doesn’t matter how many kids you’ve got. You’re fucked, aren’t you?

A strange new society is apparently erupting in our midst
, said Adam. He looked up
from his soup. It’s from that book in the toilet, he said. The earth can’t sustain
itself, said Hannah, it’s either adapt or die. It’s going to get ugly for sure, said
Leon. We’ve got to change our ways. Evan flapped his hands:
The sky is falling! The
sky is falling!

Tilly appeared at the top of the stairs.

Everything seemed to stop. Even the rain falling into the gutters and leaking into
the stainless steel pasta pot with a steady
drip-drip-drip
—even this seemed to stop.

She’d changed out of her pyjamas and was dressed in black jeans and a black top,
her hair looped behind one ear. She was carrying her empty bowl and plate. No-one
knew what to say. Most of them hadn’t seen her up close like this since at least
the start of the year. She’d filled out: her breasts, her cheeks, her hips. Her skin
was dotted with ruby-red pimples, she still had some dark eyeliner clinging to her
lashes and lids. Megan took the things from her and balanced the spoon back in the
bowl.

Thanks, said Tilly—but not to Megan. I appreciate your concern, everyone, really
I do. But I’m okay. I’m happy to go back tomorrow, Dad, with you. She held her father’s
gaze. He looked down, and across. Tilly turned and walked back down the stairs. They
heard the door below click.

She’s a lovely girl, isn’t she? said Hannah. She is, said Lauren. I know she’s going
through a phase, but what other kid would do that, say that? Everyone nodded. Adam
and Leon, then Lauren and Hannah, began relaying the dishes to the kitchen. They
kept going on about it, each in their own way, what a sweet girl Tilly was and how
lucky Marshall was to have her. He said nothing, did nothing. The table was cleared
around him.

All right folks, said Evan. Scrabble, cryptic crossword, Monopoly, strip poker? Story
time? He opened the door of the wood heater and stuffed a couple more logs in. Well?