Silver Clouds (7 page)

‘What did she say about me?'

‘Here, you read it.' Peggy fished around in her pocket and handed it to her. ‘I thought you'd want to see it.'

With unsteady hands, Tessa unfolded the piece of paper which held Spider's last words to them all.

‘My Dear Paul and Peggy,

Firstly, if you are reading this, I'm dead. Ha! I've always wanted say that. It really goes without saying, doesn't it?

I have made arrangements to be buried in the cemetery next to William's memorial.
It's where I want to be. It has taken some organising, but there is nothing for you to do other than look after the service. All the necessary documents are included in here.
I know that Doctor Mike will sign off on the death certificate without any concerns. He told me last time the Flying Doctor ran a clinic that I was a ticking time-bomb. My heart is nothing but a leaky old valve.

Still I won't be upset when I do go. I'm tired.
Ninety-two (or whatever I am when I go) isn't a bad knock.

I'm not one for sentiment but I have to say this:

Paul, I'm proud of you. You've always been more like the son I never had, rather than my nephew. I don't think I've ever told you I love you, so I am doing it now.

Peggy, you're a fine wife and mother. Thank you for never making this grumpy old woman, who wasn't even your blood relative, feel like she wasn't welcome in your home.

Danjar Plains is in good hands with you at the helm, Paul, and Ryan next in line. Don't
stay too long, though. Ryan and Marni won't thank you, if you do.

Keep a close eye on Tessa. She still hasn't completely healed.

My love to you all,

Violet

Tessa closed her eyes.
Not healed yet
, she thought. She shook her head before resting it on the back of the chair.
She knew, as she always did
.

‘It doesn't seem quite real yet.'

‘No, it doesn't. I'm sure she's just having a holiday and will pop over in the morning,' Peggy agreed.

‘Ah, I'm so tired,' she said, handing the letter back.

‘Come on, to bed with you. You're in your old room.' Peggy started to clear the table. ‘Turn off the gas light, can you? You're not sleeping here!'

‘I know, I know. It's comfortable, though.'

‘Bed will be better.'

‘Mum?'

‘Hmm?'

‘Where is she?'

‘In the cool room, love. It was the only place to keep her cold.'

Tessa's mouth reacted before her brain. ‘What! Why? Ohh. Don't worry.' She held up her hand to ward off the thoughts of decomposing and heat. ‘Can I see her?'

‘Oh, petal, do you want to?' Concern again crossed Peggy's face as she looked at her daughter.

‘Yes. Um, I think so,' Tessa answered slowly. ‘She hasn't, um, you know?'

‘No. She was in the cool room within hours of it happening. She looks just like Spider. The minister will take you if you want. Or you can go by yourself.'

Tessa watched her mother walk inside then heaved herself off the chair, collected the last of the plates and turned off the gas light. As she heard the soft
pop
of the gas going out, she stood and stared. Life was just like the gas. One second it was throwing light to the darkest corners, keeping people comfortable and showing the way, and the next, there was nothing but darkness.

A heartbeat, then nothing more.

Gone.

Finished.

Dead.

In the flash of a second.

Chapter 7

Pastor Allan took Tessa's arm gently and led her away from the coffin in the cool room. He offered her tissues that seemed to appear endlessly from his pockets and patted her shoulder until her sobbing subsided. Tessa felt like every pent-up emotion from everything she'd ever done wrong was flowing from her. Kendra, her guilt at not answering Spider's letters, her excessive drinking and its latest consequences. Was there anything good left? If so, she couldn't think of one damn thing. She had stuffed up her whole life.

‘It's okay to let it all out,' Pastor Allan said, although his voice was barely audible above her cries.

Tessa just shook her head and tried to control herself. ‘You don't understand . . .' She gulped.

‘Maybe not, but I can try if you tell me.' Allan looked around for somewhere to sit. As he swung his leg over the motorbike Tessa smiled through her tears.

‘I can't. I don't know. It's all mixed up.'

The silence stretched, only broken by the scratch of birds' feet on the tin roof of the workshop. Tessa felt a need to fill it, but she just couldn't find the words.

‘Do you see dead bodies all the time?' she finally asked, wiping her eyes.

‘Well, it depends on whether the family want to have a viewing. I always choose to be in the room, because people have different reactions. Disbelief, anger, shock, guilt. Sadness, obviously. When someone sees their loved one lying in a coffin, it's confronting and final. They understand there isn't any turning back. Someone who's always been around has really gone. It's always different when an older person dies compared to a young person because it's the end of a long life. Most emotions then are just a sense of loss and sadness, but an underlying peace with the death because it's a natural part of the cycle. The difficult viewings are suicides, accidental and illness-related deaths. People taken young.'

Tessa nodded, understanding. She closed her eyes and leaned against the dusty, corrugated iron wall. She felt exhausted.

‘Do you feel any of those things, Tessa?'

‘Oh, just about every single one of them.'

‘But they're not just related to Violet, are they?'

Tessa's eyes flew open. Allan was looking not at her but out of the shed towards the horizon, in the direction of the windmill in the house paddock.

Tears sprang to Tessa's eyes but she just couldn't bring herself to unburden herself to anyone. ‘No, it's not, but I'm not going there. I can't go there. I know it was a long time ago, but if I let myself think about it, I can't get away.'

Pastor Allan made calming gestures with his hands. ‘It's okay, Tessa. It was just a question. I'm sorry I brought it up. It was such a long time ago . . . It was thoughtless of me. Especially today.'

‘I've got to go,' said Tessa turning and walking out of the shed.

The driveway into Danjar Plains was eight kilometres long and visitors could be heard and seen long before they arrived. Now, watching from the back door of the shearing shed, Tessa saw six separate plumes of dust move towards the house. There weren't only cars, either. Since early morning she'd heard the buzz of planes overhead – most stations owned light aircraft to cover long distances. At last count there were eight Cessnas all parked at one end of the airstrip.

Already, the heat of the day was beginning to make itself felt. The ten o'clock service wasn't really convenient for people who had to travel a long way, but it was better than standing in forty degree heat in the afternoon.

Allan's quiet questioning had left Tessa shattered, and she had retreated to the shearing shed, unable to face anyone. As she sipped from one of the duty-free bottles of vodka she'd brought in her suitcase she wondered who was in the cars and what relation they were to Aunty Spider. Perhaps Elsie was in one. Tessa had no idea what she would say to the old woman today. Like Spider, Elsie seemed to have an uncanny knack of seeing right through her.

Even though she knew she'd
had
to come home, Tessa wished she wasn't here at all. She ran her hands along the shed's worn wooden struts. Goosebumps broke out on her arms and, despite the temperature, she felt cold. ‘I'm sorry,' she whispered, turning to face the empty shed. ‘I'm sorry I let you down.'

She saw a bin half-full of merino fleeces, and walked towards it, the bottle swinging from her fingers. Sinking onto her knees, she buried her hands deep within and felt the soft and grainy texture against her skin.

It brought back a memory: Aunty Spider's hands guiding hers around the edge of the fleece.
No, like this. See the sweat stains here, the dark oily bits where all the burrs are? Take them. That's right.
Pull gently but don't take too much.

Violet's voice seemed so real, Tessa felt she should answer her.

‘Tessa?' Ryan's call made her jump. She looked around to see where he was, then grabbed the bottle beside her and pushed it deep into the wool.

‘Yes?' she called back, pulling the wool back into place. She stood up and dusted off her hands.

Her brother came into view. He was dressed in good pants and an open-neck shirt. Tessa immediately felt overdressed in her black sheath dress and high heels. The Nullarbor was casual, even when being respectful. She wished she'd remembered that.

‘There you are! You hiding? Come on. It's time. We need to go.'

‘Yes, of course. Sorry. I was just, um,' she looked around and gestured to the shed, ‘revisiting, I guess.'

Ryan stopped and shrugged. ‘All the same to me. But it's been such a long time since you were home. All seems new again, does it?'

‘Not new – familiar. Comforting even. But chock-a-block full of memories.'

‘Now, Tessa, today is not the day to reminisce. It'll be emotional enough.' Ryan was firm and Tessa noticed he swallowed hard.

‘Maybe take your own advice.' She smiled.

‘Maybe I should. Come on, kid sister. Let's go.'

Ryan held out his hand and pulled her up from the wool before he strode out of the shed purposefully. Tessa followed.

Pastor Allan had finished his address and Paul had read the eulogy, the emotion plain in his voice. Now the men were slowly lowering Aunty Spider into the ground. Tessa couldn't watch. Instead, she gazed into the distance. The land was flat and the view of the horizon only interrupted by drab, grey bushes and thin-trunked mallee trees.

Nearby, a large wooden cross stood at the head of William's memorial and the gum tree that Violet had planted in his honour stood tall and leafy, casting a cool shadow over the grave. Nothing had changed much in this timeless family cemetery. Tessa could remember helping her dad make a wooden seat for Aunty Spider to sit on when she came to talk to William, her dead husband, something she'd done most days. Tessa imagined Spider was now sitting there watching the crowd and making her witty, wicked remarks.

The grave of Tom, Tessa's grandfather, was next to William's, and buried beside him was his wife, Lucy. A white steel railing bordered their final resting place.

With her eyes hidden behind her Gucci sunglasses, Tessa turned to the crowd. Some faces she recognised; others were new to her. Who was that lady sniffing into her pansy-covered hanky? Oh, she knew the face, but the name deserted her. Mrs . . . Mrs Hunter. Paula Hunter! That's right. They had a station five hundred kilometres to the north, on the other side of the trans line, where the Indian Pacific ran. Spider had never liked the woman; her aunt couldn't tolerate gossip and badmouthing and from the vague recollections Tessa had, she seemed to remember Mrs Hunter did both every time she took a breath.

Tessa realised the people there were mostly older – Spider's friends or neighbours. Elsie was standing next to an elderly man who was leaning on a stick. The old woman stared stoically at the coffin but Tessa thought she could see traces of tears on her cheeks.

She judged the crowd at about sixty – not a bad turn-out for someone who was ninety-three. Spider had often joked that she wouldn't have anyone at her funeral because she'd outlive them all.

Tessa continued to look from face to face. Her eyes slid past an old man, who looked uncomfortable in a shirt and tie. She stopped and went back to him. It was Joe, the old horse breaker. He'd taught her to ride, a million years ago. Of course he'd be here. He was a fixture of the Nullarbor and everyone, child and adult alike, loved him.

He caught her eye and gave a small smile and a nod.
Let's catch up later
, it said.

Tessa's eyes were drawn unwillingly towards the grave as the men stood back. She didn't want to look, but she couldn't seem to tear her gaze away. She looked, down, down, down, past the different layers of dirt, until she stopped at the coffin. There it was. And this was Tessa's final goodbye.

Allan moved forward to make the sign of the cross. ‘Rest in peace, our dear Violet.' Pause. ‘You are all invited to share a luncheon with the Mathison family back at the homestead.'

The crowd began to disperse. Some people came to the grave and threw in small posies of wild flowers.

Joe took off his hat and held it over his heart as he dropped in a few small sprigs of native bush.Soon salt bush, blue bush and bright blue and yellow everlastings covered the coffin. Tessa watched, angry with herself. Why hadn't she thought to do that? She knew how much her aunt loved the flowers of the Nullarbor. Was she really so self-absorbed?

Tessa felt a hand on her arm. Harrison and Cally were at her side. Cally's eyes were red from crying and she stood silent and pale next to her father.

‘Do you want a ride back to the house?' Harrison's tone was still cool, she noticed. It was a reminder of her behaviour the previous day and pricked her conscience.

‘Where're Mum and Dad? What happens now? Shouldn't the grave be filled in?' Tessa's questions tumbled out as she glanced around realising they were nearly the last ones left.

‘She's gone to get the food ready. She knew you weren't ready to come and asked if we'd bring you. As for the grave, we'll come back after everyone has gone.'

‘Oh.'

‘Tessa! How lovely to see you. I knew you wouldn't miss saying goodbye to your dear old aunt.' Mrs Hunter bustled up and gave her a hug. She was dressed all in black but for a bright pink ribbon tied around her straw hat. For a moment Tessa was smothered in the smell of lilac. Hell.