52

Anne’s backyard is as tidy as a ship’s deck. Not a speck dares land. She’s out there sweeping in the shining morning, when everything is still and quiet, apart from the occasional train down the back and the river of cars out the front. The crabapple Louisa gave her years ago is about ready to release its rosy blooms. Anne touches one of the plump pink pouches and hopes the mean old wind stays away this year. Last year it stripped the branches bare. Still we live in hope, she thinks grimly, sweeping away a few last grains of something before storing the broom on its hook and going inside to sew in the alcove between the shop and the kitchen. Emmett is sitting in the kitchen at the blackwood table with his hands in his lap. At the end of the week he’s going into the Woolamai Hostel.

The little tele is turned into Kerri-Anne on the morning show. She’s so bright, Anne thinks, she gives you a lift just by being there but Emmett’s not watching, he’s looking at the light out the window. His head is still and it is impossible to know what he sees.

Anne’s working on something for Noreen Nugent, one of her oldest customers. Noreen just keeps getting fatter and she rounds up her wardrobe every few months and gets Anne to let out all her clothes. How long the seams will keep offering something to her is anyone’s guess. Still, while it lasts, it’s a breeze for Anne and will bring in a good twenty bucks. Money is an eternal comfort to her.

She’s never more herself than when she sews. Something about the busyness of it and the noise of the machine; she becomes part of it. She thinks she will leave the old machine to Louisa when she dies, but she’s not sure why.

She glances over to check Emmett and hopes a sparrow or something passes occasionally to interest him. He doesn’t ever look at the tele, just watches the light. Anne wonders whether there must be someone who would care to know about Emmett. But there’s no one. Drinking friends don’t count, never did.

The only person she can think of is Chook Sash, his old mate from North Melbourne. She knows he moved to Werribee not long before Daniel died, she remembers he came to Danny’s funeral and that meant something – and still does.

Emmett had once told her he used to call Chook ‘Dugong’ at school because he looked like one, whatever that was. Emmett had laughed and she had offered a tiny smile, though she never considered calling people names to be funny. He didn’t notice her lack of commitment. ‘But most of the kids didn’t know what a dugong was so I changed his nickname to Chook ’cause he sold eggs.’

He’d told her Chook had been with him in most of his fights at school. ‘Always loyal, always available,’ and he laughed again, ‘but he was a plain boy, old Chook, a very plain boy. Used to wear his hair long. Gave him something to hide behind.’

Anne had liked Chook instantly, had seen in him that inconceivable thing, a man she could talk to. At Daniel’s funeral he was a consolation. Though she wasn’t noticing much, she always remembered the home-grown roses Chook had thrust at her with their kindly smell.

He was a gentle presence in the family until Emmett had banished him after a fight over politics. Chook was never a confirmed Labor voter, unlike Emmett who was violently passionate about Whitlam and, surprisingly, even about Hawke. Chook never could see much difference between the sides.

Being an adult had improved his looks. Still pale and large, he kept his faded hair short and he was no longer troubled so much. His face was studded with scars gouged by acne. His eyes had become amber and were flecked with leaves of light. He made a reasonable living as a plasterer. The pay was okay and he got to be inside most of the time which suited him because in the sun he was toast.

When she rings, Anne gets hold of his wife, Wendy, and there’s a bit of enquiring about kids (they have three girls, one’s a worry, the others are fine). It isn’t easy for Anne to reveal herself to Wendy. There’s an ache there and she wishes she could just talk to Chook and not parry with details. Wendy says she’ll pass on the message to Mervyn (she doesn’t like people calling him Chook) that Emmett isn’t doing too well. Anne thanks her, hangs up the phone, and sits looking at it.