CHAPTER 74
I was watching him closely, of course, and there was no way I could miss his smugness. It matched the impression I had gained when the two had met us at the airport: they were no longer a pair of lovestruck teenagers but a settled couple. There was that casual assumption of how the other would react, the obvious relaxation around each other. I almost felt jealous.

“Son?”

“Dad?”

“You’re happy, aren’t you? You and Clara?”

He looked at his knees for a moment, then back at me.

“Was this what it was like for you and Mum?”

“Not quite, son”

I thought that question through, because my boy deserved an answer.

“Both of us, son, we had previous”

“Alan and Carolyn, yes. You told me, both of you”

“Yes, but when we… when Mum and I started to, you know, discover how we felt, there was a lot of guilt”

“Why on Earth would there be guilt?”

“Son… Look, this is going to be a bit heavy, okay? And, well, it’s about you as well as me and Mum. You okay with that?”

He looked a little uncertain, but nodded.

“Right, then. It took a long while for both Mum and me to come to terms with things, both before we met and afterwards. For various reasons, each of us had a very low opinion of our worth”

“That’s bollocks, Dad!”

“I’m describing how we felt, son. You can give me all the ego-boosters later, if you want, but, well, I for one needed a push from Auds before I could, you know, Caro, and she was the same, and so was your Mum. My sort of road to Damascus moment was when I realised what Caro thought of me. If she thought that, then maybe I was worth something after all”

“You really loved her, Dad”

“Oh god son, like bloody breathing. Mum was the same with Alan. I… I suspect you’re the same with Clara, or were”

He was looking at his feet, but nodded.

“No shame, son. We are family, after all, and for once, I am happy to say that I think we are better than many. What’s she saying?”

“She wants to be here, Dad. I… shit, Dad, I suggested we get married, go down that route”

Fuck.

“And what did she say, son?”

“She said that she would do better if she had the letters and papers, and that if I couldn’t wait for that, then perhaps I wasn’t that sure, and…”

“Right. That answers a few questions, son”

“Such as?”

“That she is someone bloody well worth waiting for, for starters”

That, thankfully, brought a grin.

“I bloody well know that already, Dad”

“Good. Make sure you let her know, then. Now, this brew pub?”

Our flight back home after our mini-break was followed eight days later by the arrival of a very dusty Mazda microcamper and the disappearance of one young woman into the shower as Maz and I laid out the bits and pieces for our obligatory barbie-and-video-show, the Butts and office staff in attendance, and I was almost in tears as I watched Clara, for everything about her spoke clearly and loudly that she was simply just another of the wives/partners, nothing more, and certainly no less.

Things were different shortly thereafter, as we made the pilgrimage to the airport yet again, this time not in welcome. Maz and I shepherded LC away from the grieving couple as the time counted down, but when the final departure came, we made it a group hug, and then she was off.

Not good, not good a all.

-----0-----

Give Ish due credit, he buckled down for his final year, rather than pine, and delighted us by emerging from what seemed gruelling studies with a first with honours and distinction. We celebrated that with another trip to Espy, where we met up with selected Horvaths, and then he was into his Master’s. I was worried a little that he was cutting off his local friends, but my boy continued to surprise me, reminding me that he still had a life away from our house that involved neither his family nor Clara. He did let us know that she had earned an upper second in her own degree.

That was underlined when Dal and Melissa drove him home one evening via the local hospital, all sorts of dressings on what turned out to be a broken nose, the silly boy. As he healed, his reshaped face brought a series of questions from LC, who was now hitting her own growth spurt.

“Dad?”

“Yes, love?”

“Do I have to get a nose like that?”

“Why would you need a nose like that, love?”

“We’re starting footie at school”

That prompted a fresh look at her, and I realised that as with our son, our girl was now showing evidence of my own genes. A silly thought crossed my mind, which was to take her back to a certain pair of Twin Cracks and see how well she could do it with thicker fingers.

That brought more responsibilities, so life for Maz and myself lost our old moments of going off somewhere together and became a round of folk club, climbing wall or crag, backyard barbies heavy on young people, the occasional trip to watch Ish play when things were healed, and obligatory trips to watch a growing girl play a ‘touch’ version of the game. If I say we were a little surprised at her competitive nature, I lie. Our girl had come a long way since that hole in the ground, and I almost burst with pride each time she took a catch. There was one moment which took me right back to the good times in Singapore, as she rose once again to take the ball well above the other girls. Ish was down with Maz and me to support his sister, his first year exams almost over, and I caught a comment from another parent.

“That’s her Dad and brother? No bloody wonder!”

Her climbing was also reaching literal new heights, and I wondered if we had a new Enfys on our hands. The only real downside was her progression through the collection of old rock shoes Enfys had gifted her. I collared her about that one day at the wall.

“Could we give them away, Dad? Like you and Mum say, pay forward, ey?”

“Who would we give them to, love?”

“School? Here?”

Her school would probably want lots in a few sizes… In the end, Vern nearly bit our hand off for them.

“Your fault, Mike. So many little kids coming now, these’ll be like bloody gold dust. You sure?”

“It was Carolyn’s suggestion, mate”

“Then I think a bit of extended membership is on order”

Ten years of free entry for our girl; that’ll do nicely!

I felt a little less like a fossil when she demonstrated some fallibility, in that she had absolutely no musical talent beyond chorus-singing. At least Ish and I had something left to feel superior about. I didn’t really care, but at least she was now discovering some limits.

Those limits were brought into sharper focus when two of Rod’s campers turned up outside our house one day in Spring, one four berth and the other a double.

We knew they’d arrived when there was both a knock and a ding-dong from the bell, together with a shout of, “We know you’re in there Rhodes, and we know where you buried the bodies!”

Bets and family, together with a real musician. Maz took over.

“Cuppa, Bets, or something cold? Chrissy?”

“Cold for me, love, and He Who Must et cetera. Kids? Cold? Thought so”

“Chrissy?”

“Could I be awkward and have a cup of tea?”

Maz bustled off to the kitchen, LC in tow, as the new arrivals found somewhere to sit”

“How was the trip?”

Betty shook her head.

“Bloody long, and we had a flat tyre near Eucla. Flying back, we are”

“What’s your plans over here?”

“Kids want to see the Top End, ish. Broome sounds good”

“Talk to Ish about that”

“Yeah, you said. The girlfriend?”

“Back in Wales”

“For now, or…?”

“I suspect she’ll be back, Bets. What’s your schedule, Chrissy?”

She sighed as Maz hander her a steaming mug.

“Hopefully less fraught than the last three weeks. Whoever organised this tour was an idiot. Brisbane, then Melbourne, then Sydney, then Adelaide”

“Who did organise it?”

“Me, of course. It looked sensible on the map; do Adelaide on the way to Perth, can’t be that far to drive. Just glad I left Darwin out. Got two nights in a theatre here, a Scottish fiddle club, an event in Rockingham and then one in Margaret River. I will say one thing, though: that bed in the van is lovely. This has been…”

She grinned.

“Got some real memories stored up, and already got three new tunes. Want to hear? Not now, but later. Can I be rude and ask what munchies are planned?”

Maz answered for us.

“Proper trad barbie tomorrow, but tonight, we’re thinking of pizza delivery, if that suits?”

No disagreements there.

We ate late waiting for Ish after some last-minute library time, and the tune Chrissy gave us was a delight. Played on her hurdy-gurdy, Nullarbor Lullaby started with some odd noises she made by (she said) tapping the harmonics of her drone strings, and it was a second before I recognised the origin. Maz got it first.

“That’s magpie song!”

Chrissy nodded as she turned the handle, and the bugling settled into a haunting tune heavy on the drones, finally ending on some buzzy sounds that shouted ‘flies’. Chrissy let the last notes die away, then grinned.

“Couldn’t manage snakes and bloody spiders!