Love Is a State of Mind: Nobody's Life is Perfect (29 page)

He then envelops Jane in his arms and lifting her up, he puts her over his shoulder and runs up the grass towards the house, with her screaming and banging his back with her fists.  I look at Marcus to see how he’s reacting, but he’s totally unfazed, as he walks up the grass, carrying bags of booze.

There are a couple of other people and a dog on this open area; the dog comes bounding up to me and pushes his nose into my hand.  It’s a cross-breed – a labradoodle or cockerpoo or some such breed that used to be called a mongrel.  I stroke its head and a longing for Gaz reaches out to me across the space of thousands of miles, as I feel the warm fur and cold nose.  I’ve tried to bury his presence in my memory, to let him lie at peace there, but at moments like this, he rises like a spirit to lick my hand and wag his tail.  Tears appear from nowhere and as I walk on, I try to brush them away, along with his face. 

“Y’all right, mate?” says Dan.  He has now put Jane down and he’s striding back towards me to take a bag I’m carrying.  He looks at me directly.

“Yea, I’m fine.  Seeing that dog back there … it er … reminded me of my Gaz.”  Dan is more sensitive than he looks, I think to myself.

“What happened to him?” he asks.

“Cancer.”

“Bummer,” he says simply and squeezes my shoulder.  I like the way he doesn’t ask me any more questions.  I’m sure I couldn’t answer them right now.

“Yea … bummer,” I say.

*

The barby is on, the boys are clutching some cold tinnies and two glasses of white wine are sitting on the wooden table on the patio.  We chat about life on the river and Dan regales us with stories of fishing and boats.

Jane and Dan wander inside, to do something with the food; Marcus and I stand next to each other, surveying the scene.  Corellas are darting their noisy way to the trees, white streaks in the sky – the whole area alive with their screeching.  The other people and their dog have disappeared; we have the whole area to ourselves.  Our boat sits idly on the river at the end of Dan’s plot, surrounded by little groups of pelicans; swallows are swooping low over the water and the sun is beginning to paint the sky a rosy pink.

“Wow,” I say.  “What a place.  I feel so peaceful.”

Marcus doesn’t say anything for a while; he takes a swig from his beer and says, “It’s beautiful.  I could live here.” 

“What’s Dan’s situation?  How come he’s on his own?”

“His wife died about five years ago – cancer – and he’s never appeared to want to find someone else.”

Now I understand the empathy I felt – poor guy.  I look back into the house to make sure Dan isn’t within hearing distance; I don’t want him to think we’re talking about him, which we are, of course.

“So what’s he do?”

“He spends a lot of time here, fishing and moseying around on the river.  He’s got a house in Hove too, but prefers it here.  He owns three surf shops, but he’s got life hacked – he’s got good managers.”

“Sounds like a nice life,” I say, “but – don’t forget … he’s lost his wife … he may seem okay on the surface, but I bet he’s lonely … at least you’ve got Jane.”  I wonder if I’ve said too much, but he doesn’t appear to mind.

“I know … I just wish I could somehow get out of the rat race; I’d be perfectly content somewhere like this.”

The corellas have stopped their screaming; the peace, however, is broken by a loud sound that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up – two kookaburras, one in a tree just near us and one further away, are calling to each other.  It’s the first time I’ve heard the sound since I’ve arrived, and I can't believe how deafening it is and how like a laugh it really is.  They cackle to each other three or four times, their noise echoing around the whole area.

“That’s brilliant!  It’s made my day,” I say to Marcus, grinning.  To an Australian, it’s nothing I suppose, but it’s such an alien noise to me.  I wish I could bottle it and take it home with me, along with the sight and smells of this place.

“Okay, mate,” says Dan, ambling out of the house, “Marcus, come and help me burn the snags.”  He has a plateful of sausages and behind him, Jane is carrying another plate of meat.

“We’ve got enough food to sink the boat here,” she says.  “I think Dan was expecting ravening hordes.”

“Nah … but I believe in having enough tucker … I can always eat it tomorrow, when you’ve gone, mate.”

The empty bottles of beer are steadily accumulating by the door of the kitchen.  Dan and Marcus are cooking and Jane takes me inside and shows me around the house.  It’s homely, but lacks a woman’s touch: things are strewn messily around and the bathroom looks like it could do with a good scrub.  It has a balcony upstairs, so we go out and stand on it, looking down at the smoke drifting upwards from the barby; there are a few lit candles on the tables now and moths and insects are flying near the lights attached to the outside walls.  The steady presence of the river rolling by, adds to the surreal feel.

“Marcus loves it here, you know, Jane.  He was telling me how he’d be content (his word, not mine) if he lived somewhere like this.  I hope I’m not being presumptuous but, here’s an idea for you – maybe you could sell up and buy a small place near where you are now and something along this part of the river?”

“Maybe … I’m not sure I’d want to live here permanently, though.”

“No, of course not … but it could be a compromise – a bit of sea and city life and then weekends, here.  It might just be what Marcus needs.  You can do your work anywhere, can’t you?”

“That’s true.  It’s a thought, Anna.  Perhaps we could buy something that needs a lot of renovation.  Marcus used to say he’d love to do something up.”

“There you are, then … you should suggest it.”  We stare ahead and I put my arm around her, pulling her in towards me.  She puts her head on my shoulder.

“It’s so good to have you here … I’ll miss you when you’ve gone, you know,” she says.

“I’ll miss you, too … but now I’m a lady of leisure, maybe I’ll be able to come again.  We mustn't let distance come between us again.  I’m realising all sorts of things while I’m here – I haven’t made enough effort with you, or David …”

“Don’t go blaming yourself for David’s …”

“No, I’m not
blaming
myself, as such, but … I was so … so … middle-aged, so boring … so accepting of my life …”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”

“No … as long as you’re not blind to other people.  David needed something from me that I wasn’t able … or willing to give.  I didn’t see how unhappy he was … if I’d been a better wife, he wouldn’t have felt the need to …”

“Look, Anna, he
chose
to act, to fall in love, he …”

“That’s what I mean …”

“What are you saying?”

“I mean, sometimes in life, you have to take drastic steps to change things.  He chose to change things.  And maybe he was right to … did I want to continue living like we were?  I thought I was happy, but looking back, I don’t think I was.  Hardly noticing each other … what would it have been like, just the two of us, with Adam gone?  Two people living in the same house … that’s it … existing.  Me, hating my job … putting on weight … him, resenting me … maybe he’s done us all a favour?  Here I am, in Australia – reconnecting with my sister – he and Adam are now communicating, which they weren’t before.  I can see now, the change has been good.  Being so far away from everything familiar, has opened my eyes.

I’m going to stop being bitter and twisted about Suzie.  I’ve been jealous of her … her youth and her sexiness.  I’ve been horrible to David, but somehow, now, from a distance, I don’t care so much, anymore.  They’re having a baby together … and I want to be able to be happy for them.  Maybe all those years we had together were our … allotted time.  Maybe there was a predestined time limit.  Whatever it is, I can see that it’s … over.   I’ve met Ben, I’ve moved to Bath.  I’m going to enjoy my future, whatever it holds, without David.  I was quietly sleepwalking into old age and I didn’t even realise it, until now.  Australia’s woken me up.

Maybe it’s time for
you
to make a big change too.  Time to reassess.  Do you want to continue on this path, with Marcus blatantly unhappy and slowly killing himself, or do you want to make your marriage work?  For you, it’s different – the thing that’s coming between you two is Life, not another woman.  Why don’t you go to those races with Dan, in the wilds of the bush?  Why don’t you visit me, in England?  It would be amazing …”  I turn to look at her and she looks back at me, smiling.

“When did you become so bloody wise and philosophical?” she laughs, leaning forward to kiss my cheek.

“I don’t know … it’s just crept up on me … I feel like a lifestyle guru,” I laugh.  “It’s just that I can see things from a new perspective, I suppose, and I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.  You’re my little sister and I’m looking out for you.”

“What do you suggest I do, then?”

“Well … I think you ought to say you want to sell your house; that you’ve ‘seen the light’ and that you both need a change.  He thinks you want to stay and I know he wants to sell.  It will take the pressure off him … if
you
suggest it.”

“Yea, you’re right.”

Looking down, I can see Dan walking to the table, carrying a tray of cooked meat.

“Hey, you girls up there … get your arses down here, the food’s ready,” shouts Dan.  “You sheilas, you’re all the same … leaving us men to do all the work …”

“Yea, right,” says Jane, smiling, and we turn to go downstairs.

*

We’ve all eaten and drunk loads – I feel I don’t have much right to preach about the amount my brother-in-law is eating and drinking, right now.  My waistband feels tight and my head’s fuzzy.  We’ve talked and laughed for an hour – I’ve noticed how happy Marcus seems.   He and Dan get on so well: Dan taking the piss out of him relentlessly and Marcus belly laughing, like I’ve never seen him do before.

Dan suggests we go for a walk – the whole river frontage belongs to the people in the fifteen or so shacks ranging along its length; everyone maintains and looks after their ‘bit’ and the end result is a massive area of manicured grass, with huge gum trees distributed around.  The trees have a ghost-like presence now, silhouetted against the blackening sky; bats flutter through the air above us and a lone owl hoots, in the distance.

We wander past several shacks; most of them appear to be empty.

“Is it always this quiet, here?” I ask Dan.  “No one seems about.”

“People tend to come at weekends … sometimes there’s bloody people everywhere.  Hate the buggers.  I much prefer it when I’m here on my own.”

“Thanks!” says Jane, trying to trip Dan up.

“Present company excepted,” laughs Dan. 

“Isn’t it a bit lonely here, though?” I say.

“Nah … just me and the pelicans.  That’s good.”

In the looming light, the empty shacks look almost menacing.  We’ve nearly reached the end of the grassed area, when I notice a ‘For Sale’ sign, sticking up in front of the second to last house.  I nudge Jane in the ribs, not wanting to say anything and point to it.  Her eyes follow my gaze and to my surprise she says, “Hey, Marcus, there’s one for sale.  Maybe we should buy it!”

I hope it’s not the drink talking – maybe she’s really taken on board what I said.

“Yea, the old guy who owns it, has just died and his kids don’t want it,” says Dan.  “It’s a bit of a bloody mess – he’s had it for years and not done anything to it.  In need on renovation, is putting it politely.”

Marcus walks up to the house and we all start peering through windows, but it’s too dark now to see anything.  Even in the near darkness, however, you get the impression of a neglected house – bits of wood litter the front, tyres are piled at the side and a table is upended on the grass.

“How much do shacks go for, these days?” asks Marcus.

“Well, of course it depends on the condition, but I had mine valued six months ago and it was 350,000 dollars.  I’m not thinking of selling or anything but, just wanted to know, as I’ve had it for so long.  This one here … probably about … I don’t know … 200 to 250,000.  It needs a shit load of work but … it’s got river frontage.  You pay a bloody lot for that.  There are houses behind us here, but they can’t even see the river.”

“Yea, there’s no point being on the river, unless you’re actually ‘on’ it,” says Marcus.

“Why don’t you find out how much it is, honey?” says Jane.  “We could sell our house and buy something smaller near the city and something like this.  We’d still have money left over.”

“Really?” says Marcus.  “Would you be happy to do that?”  Even though it’s dark now, I can hear the smile in his voice.

“Yes, I would.  What’s the point of us rattling around in that big house?  We’re always too busy to appreciate the sea, anyway, and this way, perhaps we could slow down … it’s about time you did.  Maybe you could ask to do fewer hours?”

Marcus came over to Jane and hugged her; I realised I hadn’t seen him show Jane much, if any, affection, since I’d been with them.

“Well, I think that’s an amazing idea,” I say.  “Maybe next time I come out, you’ll have your River Murray shack up and running and we’ll be staying here, near Dan!”