The Memory Tree (13 page)

It was Fellowship Sunday, and the congregation could hardly wait for the closing hymn. Jockey beat Spiros by a nose as he galloped up to offer the newcomers a cup of tea. Spiros countered with sponge and even Bert beat Hal to the sugar. The twins accepted the attention gracefully and sipped their tea, regarding their surroundings with equanimity. Up close, the twins were not as young as Godown had originally imagined. Nor were they old. They seemed ageless, he thought. It was also evident that they were mirror images of each other. Chloe was left and Ariadne right-handed. Chloe’s dimple was on her left cheek, her sister’s on her right. Each had one green and one blue eye, a slightly disconcerting attribute that, together with their abundant greenish-blonde hair, reminded Hal of mermaids rather than angels.

Most astonishing of all was that fact (explained by Chloe in her carefully enunciated vowels) that she was deaf while her sister was mute. ‘We manage quite nicely,’ she assured them. ‘Ariadne does the listening and I do the talking.’

Jockey asked the question the others were all too polite to ask. ‘How do you know what to say, if you can’t hear?’

‘We don’t know how,’ answered Chloe. ‘It’s always been like this, hasn’t it Ariadne?’ Ariadne nodded and turned gravely to listen to Godown’s introductions.

‘We’re so pleased to meet you,’ Chloe said as she and her sister shook hands with each of them in turn. In all the time Hal and Godown knew them, she never used the pronoun ‘I’.

On that first morning, Godown had looked at them in dismay. There, in the door to his church was temptation on a scale he had never experienced before. Spiros, Jockey and Bert, felt the same surge of lust at first sight, but they soon understood that the twins were untouchable. ‘Way above our class,’ as Jockey said. Why then had they come to the strange little church?

‘We are believers in search of a home,’ Chloe said. ‘Large groups distress us.’ Godown felt he was drowning in the strange, sea-water eyes.

‘You’re safe here,’ he said gently.

‘They’re mighty unusual women,’ he ruminated as he shelled the peas with Mrs Mac the following evening. ‘It’s like when you hear Chloe speak, you’re hearin’ Ariadne as well.’

‘They’re very beautiful, you say,’ she responded wistfully.

‘They are that.’

For Hal, however, the twins were more than beautiful. There was something elemental about them and they were connected to him in a way he couldn’t quite determine. They seemed so virginal, complete in themselves—day and night, life and death. He pondered, speculated, and just when he thought he could grasp their essence, it trickled through his fingers like water.

Nevertheless, his life had taken on a steadying rhythm. From Monday to Friday he went to work and came home to share the news of the day with the family. On Thursdays before dinner he took Sealie to ballet classes and on Mondays after dinner he studied scripture with Godown. On Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, he, Godown and sometimes Mrs Mac would play cards for an hour or so before he went to his room for his own private Bible study. On Saturday mornings there was more ballet and Zav’s sport, followed by an afternoon of preaching in the Gardens.

In that first year, as the football season approached, Hal was torn between his beloved Fitzroy Lions and his divine mission to spread the Word.

‘Maybe I could go to one or two matches,’ he said to an impatient Mrs Mac. (He didn’t feel up to broaching the subject with Godown.) ‘That would be okay, surely.’

Mrs Mac banged down the saucepans rather more loudly than necessary. ‘The Lord’s day is Sunday,’ she said. ‘Saturday is the working man’s day. You know that. I know that and God knows that. The only person who doesn’t know is that Yankee preacher.’

So Hal sloped off and waited for Godown at the front gate. ‘I was wondering,’ he said, ‘if we might go to the footy one Saturday—you know, take a break.’

Godown had been in Melbourne long enough to understand the role football had to play in that city. He had watched it on television a couple of times but couldn’t make it out. He had to admire the fact that the players didn’t wear helmets or padding, but as for the rest . . . He looked at Hal’s face, all anxious and guilty like a little boy. The preacher’s time in the army had softened the edges of his hard-line beliefs and he knew that men needed to belong. The tribal nature of football couldn’t be denied. At that moment, Hal belonged to the Fitzroy Football Club as much as he belonged to the church. Maybe in time . . . but for now Godown was willing to give football his blessing.

‘The Lord likes to see us enjoy innocent pleasures,’ he said. ‘I might even come along with you.’

So began the years when Hal and Godown (who was soon converted to the game) roared with the crowd on cold, wet Saturday afternoons, wearing the maroon and blue scarves Mrs Mac reluctantly knitted.

‘I’m a loyal Magpie supporter,’ she said, as she wound the new scarf around Hal’s neck. ‘You’re very lucky to get these.’ She reached up to do the same for Godown, but with an embarrassed little cough, handed it to him instead. ‘It’s good to see you following a real game. Pity about the team.’

But no matter what happened on a Saturday, Hal treasured his Sunday mornings when he helped Godown prepare for the service before settling down to listen, rapt, while the pastor read from scripture and preached his sermons. Sometimes when they came home, Hal prevailed upon Godown to sing some more, and was transported as the great voice overflowed into the quiet Sunday streets.

Godown’s sermons were things of beauty, but his theology was simple. We are children of God. We must obey His word. We can know His word only through the Bible. The Bible tells us to love God, to pray, to keep the Sabbath holy and to love one another. This was the teaching that Hal listened to each week until it pulsed through his blood with every heartbeat. If he did as God commanded, he would earn sufficient grace to enter the Kingdom, where, he had no doubt now, Paulina would greet him with that secret smile.

Hal’s heart was brimming with gratitude and he decided to give Godown a gift. It had to be a worthy gift, he told Mrs Mac. An
appropriate
gift.

‘A Bible?’

‘His father gave him his Bible when he joined the army.’

‘Candlesticks? A crucifix?’ Mrs Mac racked her brain.
What
 
would a Protestant pastor need?
‘I know! What about a stole? He wears a stole when he preaches. He showed it to me.’ Her nose crinkled. ‘Very old and tatty.’

Hal kissed her cheek. ‘You’re a genius!’

Never one to do things by halves, Hal went to a church supply shop and ordered a whole set of stoles to be hand embroidered by the Carmelite nuns. He chose green for hope, violet for penance, black for mourning, white for innocence and red for the fire of the Holy Spirit. Red also symbolised the blood of martyrs, but Hal ignored this. Fiery red was the perfect symbol for the Church of the Divine Conflagration.

He presented his gift one Sunday at Fellowship. Godown was greatly moved and his voice was husky as he thanked Hal for ‘his kind and generous gift that will heighten our worship’.

Beryl and Ada grudgingly admired the nuns’ handiwork while Spiros, Jockey and Bert, after a perfunctory look, tucked into the passionfruit cream sponge. Chloe picked up the black stole and Ariadne the violet. Their eyes met but they said nothing.

Black for mourning. Violet for penance. Both would be required in abundance.

7

D
ESPITE HIS MANY NORMAL ACTIVITIES,
Hal’s state of mind was far from normal. Godown’s presence seemed to keep the Voice at bay, but Hal took to the new religion with a wide-eyed enthusiasm that lead to more incidents, mortifying his children and disturbing his friends.

Sealie’s ninth birthday, for instance. Hal planned a party in the Gardens. ‘You can invite all your friends,’ he said. ‘The more the merrier.’ He looked at Mrs Mac. She only came up to his chest and weighed little more than a feather, but she could be firm when she wanted to be.

‘I can organise food for eight children plus the family. That’s it.’

Hal submitted meekly enough. ‘You’re the cook,’ he said.

The day was fine, and as the children arrived, Hal assured their parents that there was plenty of adult supervision.

‘We’ll see you in a couple of hours,’ he said. He was in top form and gave each of them a cheery wave as they left.

Zav loitered at a distance, not wanting to be seen anywhere near a kid’s party.

‘Now,’ said Hal, when they were all gathered, ‘I have a little surprise.’ Zav winced and moved further away to stare at the city skyline.

‘Mrs Mac has prepared a lovely party for you all. You’re so lucky to have lots of food and a nice bed to go home to every night.’ Mrs Mac stole a sideways glance at Godown who shook his head. He had no idea where all this was leading.

‘So,’ Hal beamed, ‘I’ve asked some people who don’t have a home to share the party with us.
Do unto others
, the Lord said. That means share,’ he explained to the uncomprehending little faces.

Shabby men and women appeared from among the trees and began to converge on the table as Mrs Mac, Godown and Zav looked on in horror.

‘Will there be enough cake?’ Patty Simpson had done a quick estimation and things didn’t look too good.

Anne-Marie gave a little squeal. ‘My mum won’t let me talk to strangers,’ she said, thus inciting the small guests to flee the table and huddle around Mrs Mac who seemed to be the safest person to run to. Sealie cried in Godown’s arms, her lovely party ruined. The vagrants eyed the food.

‘The little girl seems a bit upset,’ one observed. ‘Don’t cry, love. We won’t hurt you.’

A dismayed Hal looked helplessly at Godown. He had tried to give Sealie the gift of giving, but something had gone wrong.

Godown released the birthday girl, giving her a reassuring hug. ‘You wait here,’ he said. ‘Hal—’ His voice sharpened. ‘Give me five pounds.’

Hal fished out his wallet and did as he was told.

‘I’m taking these people for a feed of fish ’n’ chips at Greasy Joe’s.’ Hal stared blankly. ‘Do you hear me, Hal? I’ll feed these people and you go on with the party.’

‘Thank you,’ Mrs Mac mouthed. Godown was such an admirable man. Smart too. She was embarrassed to think of how she had once resented his joining the family.

Seven of the eight parents complained. Hal took against them all. Sealie was lucky that Cassie’s parents were a bit more compassionate, although they did reiterate the message about strangers.

After the party, Hal again fell into a depression. He had failed his little girl. He was worthless as a father. He sat at his study window, bearing the magnolia’s reproach. ‘I’m so sorry, Paulina. I meant well.’

Sealie took a long time to forgive him. Her friends all laughed for days about her crazy father.

‘He’s not crazy, is he?’ she asked.

‘Crazy as a coot,’ Zav said glumly.

Mrs Mac and Godown remained loyal.

‘He’s not crazy,’ Godown told her. ‘He’s just kinder than most folk.’

‘A kind, kind man,’ Mrs Mac confirmed.

It was only then that Sealie forgave her father and took her old place on his knee.

Hal’s manic episodes were managed by the family and a few close friends. His depressions were seen as understandable. ‘He’s having a bad spell,’ they’d say and try to devise methods for cheering him up. But while on the surface he just appeared quieter than usual, inside he was howling with despair. At those times he was truly in a desert, a cold, arid place where an icy wind blew and no-one but Sealie could reach him.

As she grew older, and was too big to climb onto his knee, she just sat with him and held his hand. Because she wasn’t trying to cheer him up, because she never spoke, she provided a small, quiet place within the roaring of the winds that raked his consciousness.

When her father wandered that bleak terrain, Sealie needed to feel that she wasn’t alone. Mrs Mac was always there to offer comfort, but kind as she was, she had no solution. ‘He’s just in one of his moods,’ she’d say. ‘He’ll be his old self in no time.’ So Sealie turned to Godown because she understood that he could influence Hal in a way none of the rest of them could. They never talked about the issue, but from the time of her birthday party, she felt that Godown was able to control Hal’s more manic behaviour. His depressions required watchfulness, rather than control, and eventually Sealie understood that Godown always watched out for his friend.