The Memory Tree (33 page)

‘We can’t afford to keep the house, unless we use some of Dad’s money for upkeep.’ Hal’s share of the businesses was to be paid into an account at the end of each financial year, and although they had access through Sealie’s power of attorney, they had decided that they wouldn’t touch the money. ‘Blood money,’ Zav called it.

Sealie persisted. ‘We don’t even have enough to pay the rates and there’s the problem with the guttering.’

In the end, Zav acquiesced. They would use the money for the house, but would pay for their own living expenses. The next day he scanned the newspapers for a job. He couldn’t bear to live off his sister a minute longer than necessary.

Sealie had nagged him unmercifully. ‘I can’t support both of us,’ she said when his army pay ran out. ‘Electricity bill,’ she’d say, rolling her eyes at the expense of it all. ‘If you want steak, you’ll have to wait until payday,’ she’d announce. Her personal favourite started with,
If you’ve got nothing better to do than sit around all day . . .
‘If you’ve got nothing better to do than sit around all day, you might learn to iron your own shirts, hang out the washing, vacuum the carpet.’ There were endless variations. Sometimes she cringed at the sound of her own voice.
Like a middle-aged shrew
, she thought. And she was barely twenty.

She resented this gradual encroachment on her life but believed she had a debt to pay. She had promised to look after Zav’s family and she’d let him down. If only she’d taken the time to understand the nature of their father’s illness, her brother would be living a normal life with his wife and child. She took out her frustration by being bossy and sharp, but she didn’t leave.

While she waited for a new nursing intake, she had started in a clerical job with the local council. Her old schoolfriend, Cassie, already worked there, and after the publicity surrounding her father, Sealie felt in need of an ally. In the weeks leading up to the new intake she demurred, then let it go by. She went to see Sister Una.

‘You need more time. Is that it?’ The nun’s face was kind. ‘We can make allowances under the circumstances.’

Sealie shifted in her chair. ‘
I’m
ready. But it’s my brother. It’s too soon. I can’t leave him alone. Not yet.’ Zav had found a job in a pathology lab, carrying out basic tests. His degree had prepared him for much more, but he didn’t care what he did. He just wanted Sealie off his back. So they both had nine-to-five jobs. Sealie could be confident that he was alright during the day, but didn’t want to leave him alone all night and couldn’t imagine living away from him. ‘I appreciate your support, Sister,’ she continued. ‘But realistically, it could be some time before I can come back.’ She struggled to prevent her voice from breaking.

‘We’ll pray for you and your brother,’ the nun said. ‘You must follow your conscience, my dear.’ Her stern face softened. ‘You showed real promise as a nurse. Don’t give up on the idea entirely.’

Life goes on
. That’s what they say. And it does—even in my case, it seems. Sealie and Zav Rodriguez, once the golden children, get up, have breakfast, go to undemanding jobs and return home to dinner. After they have done the dishes, they bicker over the television. On weekends, because they’re together more, they bicker over other things—the length of the lawn, who forgot to get the coffee, whose turn it is to do the shopping. The weekends she visits Hal, Sealie asks Mrs Mac to stay the night.

Mrs Mac worries about both of them. ‘They’re so young,’ she wails to Godown. ‘All their lives ahead of them and they lock themselves up in that gloomy house . . .’

Even the dullest lives are punctuated with events: an occasional new paragraph might present itself, but rarely a new chapter. I have to say, though, that the advent of the Padre and Zav’s old friend Scottie, warrants consideration as a new chapter.

One Saturday afternoon, six months after Zav moved back home, the doorbell rang. Sealie and Zav looked at one another in surprise. Nobody ever visited. It seemed to them that the house repelled all callers—even encyclopaedia salesmen walked by their gate.

Sealie opened the door to see a pudgy-faced young man wearing an army uniform with a clerical collar. Purveyors of religion weren’t welcome and he wilted a little under her cool appraisal.

‘Yes?’

‘I’m sorry . . . does Xavier Rodriguez live here?’ She nodded. ‘I’m Will Norton, army chaplain. I was there when . . .’

Sealie nodded and indicated for him to enter. ‘I’m Zav’s sister, Selina,’ she said, extending her hand. Zav never mentioned the army, except in relation to his pay. She wasn’t sure how he might react to his visitor, but the stranger seemed nice enough and she was in desperate need of a change.

‘He’s through here,’ she said, leading him down the hall. Will followed, admiring her straight back and graceful carriage.

‘Zav, you remember Will?’

Zav looked up at the vaguely familiar figure. ‘Will.’ He shook hands and looked to Sealie for help. Spitefully, she ignored the look and asked if they’d like a drink.

‘A beer?’ Zav was still floundering. Perhaps you didn’t offer a beer to a chaplain. ‘Or tea?’

They settled on a beer and Will sat down. ‘I can see you don’t remember me. We got drunk together the night you heard the—news about your daughter.’

Zav was poised between throwing his arms around his guest and throwing him out. He had shared the worst night of his life with this man. ‘Will. Yes. Will. You drank me under the table.’

‘I’ve just come round to see how you’re going.’

‘Not bad. I got an early discharge.’

Sealie came back with the beers.

‘You don’t have to hang around,’ Zav said to her, as though she were still his annoying little sister. ‘Will and I have a bit of army talk to catch up on.’

She glared at him, but left them alone to their beer and talk.

‘Did the army send you?’ Zav was curious to know if this was a personal or professional visit.

‘Not as such. But you might say it’s part of the job description.’

Zav was crestfallen. Even though his stint in the army had been short, he had bonded with those he served with. And he had only had official contact since he was sent back home.

As though reading Zav’s thoughts, Will went on. ‘I haven’t been back long. A David Scott came to see me a couple of days ago. Wants to get in touch with you but didn’t have an address. I’m killing two birds with one stone here. I wanted to see how you were getting along and also to ask if you’d like to see David Scott.

Scottie
. Zav felt his heart pounding. ‘I’d like to see Scottie. Can you tell him that?’ He scribbled down his telephone number. ‘Just get him to give me a call. I’m home most nights— and weekends. Now what about another beer?’

Will never felt comfortable in his role as counsellor, or even spiritual advisor. He was essentially a shy man, diffident to the point of self-effacement. What he failed to realise was the respect in which he was held by the men he served. They sensed his compassion and empathy. When he tried to preach, he felt it came out all wrong. Nevertheless, the general opinion was that he was okay.

So Zav, who to date hadn’t shared his feelings with anyone, tried to explain them to this young man who sat so uneasily in his uniform.

‘Kate—my wife—she didn’t understand. I was too full of—other stuff. I couldn’t feel . . . All those people—all those deaths. I tried to feel something. Love—even pity. But I just felt angry.’ His hands described a helpless arc. ‘I let her down.’

Will nodded slowly. ‘That place, the war—it’s in my head too.’

A flicker of relief. Their eyes met as Zav coughed and shifted in his seat. ‘We might shake it loose with another beer.’

‘Just one for the road.’

They finished their beer and shook hands. ‘Really, thanks for coming, mate. Always a beer for you here.’ They walked together to the car and as Will climbed in, Zav asked yet again, ‘You’ve got my number?’

Will patted his pocket. ‘I’ll get in touch with David Scott as soon as I can.’

‘You had a good long talk,’ Sealie said as Zav returned from seeing off his guest. She was pleased to see her brother so animated. And she was curious, too.

‘Not a bad bloke for a sky pilot,’ he said.

‘Sky pilot?’

‘Chaplain.’ He paused. ‘A bloke called Scottie might ring. He was a good mate. If I’m not here, make sure you get his number.’

Scottie rang the next day and suggested he might drop by on the coming weekend. Wanting to keep his mate to himself, Zav arranged for them to meet at the local pub for a counter meal.

Zav was early, and stood at the bar with one eye on the door. At exactly twelve thirty, a familiar figure entered. Good old Scottie. The same freckled face. The same shock of ginger hair. They shook hands and clasped arms.

‘Good to see you, mate.’

‘Sorry I didn’t see you before you left.’

‘Yeah. Well . . .’

‘Sorry to hear about, you know . . .’

‘I know, mate.’

They sat at one of the small tables. Remember. Remember. Remember. Every sentence began the same way. What did they remember? They remembered a lot of things they didn’t talk about. But they did talk.

‘Remember at Pucka when you reported that a vandal had messed up Monty’s bed? Old Hinkler looked like he was going to explode.’

‘Pity he didn’t.’

‘Remember Corporal Ascot?’

‘Arsehole Ascot?’

‘Yeah. Not long after you—left, the Snowman met him in Nui Dat. “Do you remember me?” the Snowman says. “No I don’t, soldier,” he says. “Glad to hear it, Corporal,” says the Snowman—and whap! He knocks old Arsehole out with one punch!’

Zav snorted into his beer. ‘What a classic! Do you know what happened to the Snowman?’

‘Joined up. He’s regular army now. A warrant officer up north.’

Zav shook his head and grinned. ‘Can’t see the Snowman as an NCO.’ They both laughed and their reminiscences turned to the many exploits of the fair-haired giant.

They didn’t mention Monty again.

Zav returned home happier than Sealie had seen him for months. She was beginning to hope that he would soon be able to manage by himself and she could get on with her life. She encouraged him in his weekly meetings with Scottie, and a few months later, they were joined by Will, who had left the army and was appointed to a nearby parish.

‘Couldn’t keep running all over the world,’ he explained. ‘It’s not fair to Brenda and the kids.’ He had two little girls whom he didn’t mention very often in deference to Zav. He usually stayed at the pub for an hour or so and then went home to prepare his sermon, a task that was still agony to him.

Sealie wanted to meet these men who had so improved her brother’s life and invited them, along with Brenda, to a small dinner party. Scottie came first and when Zav introduced his sister, he was lost for words. He had to make an effort to be ordinarily polite. No one had warned him that Zav’s sister was such a stunner.

‘Thanks for the invite,’ he gawped. ‘I hope you like chocolates.’ He thrust a clumsily wrapped box at her, wishing he’d brought flowers and worn a groovier shirt. And groovy wasn’t even a word he used.

The dinner went well, and Sealie and Brenda left the men to do the dishes while they enjoyed their coffee and chocolates.

Brenda was short and square with a plump, good-humoured face and shrewd hazel eyes. ‘How’s Zav getting along?’ she asked, unwrapping a soft centre. ‘Does he talk about his nightmares?’

Sealie was surprised. ‘How do you know about the nightmares?’

‘They all have them. Will wakes up in a sweat nearly every night, then he—’

‘Prowls around the house? Makes coffee?’

‘Tea in Will’s case; but yes, he does. Patrolling the perimeter, he calls it. Tries to make it a joke.’

‘I thought it was just Zav. I mean, I thought it was Grace’s death.’

‘That can only make it worse.’ Brenda looked over her coffee mug. ‘What about you? It’s none of my business but you’ve taken on a big job. Will says Zav is still very vulnerable.’

Sealie was dismayed. She had hoped things were getting better and had been planning to go to see Sister Una again. ‘I’ll stick it out a while, yet,’ she said, attempting a smile.

Brenda leaned over and touched her arm. ‘If you need someone to talk to . . .’

‘Thank you.’

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Scottie was sounding out Zav. ‘Selina’s a good cook. You’re a lucky man.’

‘She can only cook four different meals, so I’m not that lucky.’

‘Good-looking girl, though.’

Zav looked up sharply and chinked a glass against the tap. ‘You don’t notice those things about your sister.’

Scottie persevered. ‘You agree, don’t you Will? She
is
a beautiful girl.’

‘You’ll get me into trouble. I’m a married man. But yes. She is attractive.’ Will suddenly noticed the warning in Zav’s eyes. ‘But, more importantly, are the Cats going to win on Saturday?’

After their guests left, Zav was ashamed. He knew exactly what he had done to Scottie and, more reprehensibly, to his sister. He should have encouraged his mate. Scottie was a good man, and Sealie deserved a life beyond looking after his needs. But he feared the aloneness that Sealie’s departure would bring. He didn’t want to come home to an empty house. When he paced through the night, it comforted him to know that Sealie was there. Sometimes she got up and they had coffee together. She was all the family he had left and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.