Drowning in Her Eyes (9 page)

Nevertheless, Helen prevailed, as he had known she would, and the next Tuesday found them in Doctor Thomas
' surgery. Thomas listened to Helen
's description of the sym
p
toms then took some blood for testing. He listened to Pa
d
dy
's heart, but noticed no irregularities. Finally, he said,
“I think you may have a stomach ulcer. Drink plenty of milk, avoid spicy foods and take this medication. I
'll have your test results soon and we can review the situation then.
”

Paddy hated milk.
“I was weaned more than fifty bloody ye
ars ago. D
oes he think I
am
a bloody baby?
”

* *
*
*

Meanwhile in Sydney, Jack was preparing for his final examinations. He wasn
't too worried about the results, for he was the best scholar in the school. He had already written to the Royal Military College and was awaiting a reply. He had had no liaisons since Amy, reasoning that he was unlikely to be that lucky again. He listened to the boasts of his schoo
l
mates and realised none of them knew what they were tal
k
ing about. He was content to leave things until he was home again. However,
Amy
frequently came to him, at night, in his dreams.

His reply
from the Army came soon enough. He exa
m
ined the enclosed application form and began to fill it out. To his chagrin, he discovered that he had to get his parents to sign the section giving their permission for him to join the army. Legal majority did not occur until the age of twenty-
one in Australia. Bugger it, he thought, I won
't be twenty-
one for nearly three years; I
'm sure Paddy won
't sign this. Nonetheless, he filled out the application and carefully put it away. Maybe his parents would change their minds.

The train left Sydney in the long twilight of a late N
o
vember day. It was a smooth ride up the coast and over the spectacular bridge on the Hawkesbury River. At Gosford, the electric lines terminated, and the passengers gnawed at rock-
hard meat pies and curling sandwiches while they drank stewed tea in the quaintly named
Railway Refreshment Rooms
. Outside, with much puffing and wheezing, the steam loco coupled up to the train for the northward journey. Jack was thankful it was summer, for the cold was fearful along the ranges in winter in the unheated passenger carriages. He was jubilant to have finished school at last. He would never visit Sydney, Australia
's most vibrant city, as a schoolboy again
. I
n a few months, he would be eighteen, have a driving license, and
be ready to take on the world.

He climbed into his sleeper bunk
.
T
he clickety-
clack of the wheels over the rail joints and the gentle swaying of the train soon lulled him to sleep.

Just before dawn, the train stopped south of Narrabri, running onto a switching track to make space for the sout
h
bound train to pass by. Jack woke about this time and climbed from his bunk, dressed, and made his way to the open platform at the end of his carriage. It was a beautiful morning. There was no sound but the gentle clinking of some metal parts as they cooled, and a faint hiss of steam from the locomotive, far away at the head of the train. All around the train, the country stretched, prairie-
like, for miles
covered with
sweet native grass
es
. He heard some kookabu
r
ras bring the world to life with their raucous, laughing calls.
M
agpies and butcherbirds
,
in a breathtaking bush symphony
,
joined them
.
Far across the plain, a larg
e mob of sheep grazed in peace.

English poets waxed lyrical about their pastoral scenes,
but this is as good as it gets
, thought Jack. A sudden rush of love for his country struck him. He knew it could be cruel, but it could be bountiful and kind too. He vowed that not
h
ing would ever break this bond.

The southbound train shrieked by, the air displaced by its forward movement rattling and buffeting the stationary carriages. Soon they were moving again, heading for the end of the line, the town of Moree.
There
Jack would take a strange little rail motor to his final destination, Goondiwindi.

Some boys from his school were on the train, along with boys from other schools in Sydney. They all knew each ot
h
er, having ridden these rails for four years. They had played rugby and cricket with and against each other. Now bound in the brotherhood of young men about to enter a new world, they had much to talk about and they all wanted to talk about sex. Some of the boys were already smoking cigarettes. One of them started talking about a new cigarette, made not from tobacco, but from the leaves of a plant called
maryjuana
or something like that. It was supposed to send you into a dreamlike state, very pleasurable. Jack was not interested. He had tried one of Ollie
's cigarettes and wondered why a
n
yone would waste their money on such foul tasting things.

* *
*
*

Paddy and Helen were waiting for him at the station. Paddy had a new Land Rover with a metal roof and seats in the back. It was painted battleship grey.
“Have a dekko at that, young fella,
” said Paddy,
“Look at the room in the back!
”

Jack dutifully admired it, but secretly, he preferred the old green one. A sudden panic struck him.
“Dad, you didn
't trade in the old one, d
id you?
”

Paddy gave him an indulgent smile.
“What, and have you shoot me?
” he said.

“Crikey, Dad, it
's great to see you all again.
” He hugged his mother. Denni stood off to the side, smiling like a Ches
h
ire cat.
“Guess what?
” she said,
“I
've got my license.
” She waved a little rectangle of grey cardboard as she spoke.
“I
'm going to drive us all home.
”

“Oh, no
!
” cried Jack.
“We
'll all be killed.
” He would never admit it, but he was proud of her achievement. They had a late l
unch at one of the Greek caf
és.

“Remember, Paddy, a salad and not much meat for you,
” said Helen
.
“
D
octor
's orders.
”

Jack looked at his father. Paddy was still the big strong bushman he had left a few months ago, but there were more lines around his mouth and eyes, and his skin had a greyish look to it Jack had not noticed before.
“Is there anything wrong, Dad?
” he asked,
“Are you all right?
”

“Right as rain, mate. Don
't worry about it.
” Paddy changed the subject and they began to talk about crops and livestock, horses, and Mick & Ollie. The crop had been a reasonable one, but wool prices were wavering, and Paddy had again changed his mix, selling some sheep and acquiring more cattle. Having eaten, they piled into the Land Rover and headed to the Police Station.

“I
've organised your driver
's license, young man,
” a
n
nounced Paddy,
“Ernie said he would have it ready to pick up by now. He says you don
't need a test; he knows you have been driving for years anyway.
”

They pulled into the station yard. Ernie came out with another piece of grey cardboard.
“G
'day,
”
he said to Denni.
“
Y
ou haven
't bent anything yet, I see.
” He turned to Jack.
“This one
's for you, mate
;
see you keep it clean.
”

Ballinrobe
was about twenty miles from town. Jack drank in all the old familiar places as they drove along. He had missed this place, missed his horses, his old Land Rover, his dogs and his family. However, most of all, he had missed the elemental mystique of the land and his attachment to it. He resolved to leave the questions about his future until he had re-
immersed himself in
Ballinrobe
. As soon as he a
r
rived home, Jack grabbed his rifle and loaded himself and Sam, his kelpie bitch, into the Land Rover he now thought of as his own. He drove all over the station, noting anything new. There was nothing to shoot, despite the saliva-
dripping anticipation of Sam for a fresh kangaroo leg. Jack stopped in some of his favourite places, to sit in the Land Rover and li
s
ten to the birds and the whispering sigh of the breeze in the belah trees. His spirit was soon rejuvenated, his connection with the land renewed. Soon he turned for home, ready for the inevitable clash with his parents over his future.

Meanwhile, not far to the north, in a city called Hanoi in a small country in Ind
o
china, a man called Ho Chi Min was making plans for a war to engulf another small country in Indochina and merge it into a communist dictatorship.

Pacific Ocean, Near Fiji
—1963

The Baker family was enjoying a life on the ocean wave
s
. Skies remained blue, seas remained calm, and fair winds blew. Jimmy began to feel better, buoyed by his return to the sea. For a young man from Montana, he had taken to the sea as if he had been born with built
-
in gyroscopes. Not even the fierce Atlantic storms had upset his equilibrium. He spent long hours leaning over the taffrail, watching the ship
's wake behind them, as if he was watching a giant fu
r
row as the ship ploughed an endless field.

Marci was happy for him. She was happy for herself, as Jimmy had re-
discovered his libido, and they engaged in long nights of gentle lovemaking. Please God, she prayed, give him to me for as long as you can. His children need him, I need him, and I am not ready for what you have in store for us.

Susan still carried that wistful look in her eyes, but she too was enjoying the voyage. She often thought ahead to what would happen when they reached Australia. She wan
t
ed to study history, and hoped there would be a university wherever they settled. She was a beautiful young woman
;
naturally she thought about young men. She was not a vi
r
gin, but the experiences she
'
d had were meaningless fumbles in the back seats of cars with pimply youths who had nothing on their minds but their own satisfaction. She dreamed of love, real love, with someone she could mould herself to, u
n
til they both acted as one.