Chapter 4

“I know, I read the will, several times but if I’m the legal owner of this place then I can also legally gift this place to someone else. So,” I stared at the table for a moment.

“If you and I find we can’t live under the same roof then I’ll move out and leave you with the place, lock, stock and two smoking barrels. I’m not saying that to get into your pants, that’s a choice only you can make but it seems to me that my biological father was not so egalitarian as he made out, maybe he smoked too much weed or maybe the sun just fried his brain.”

“Huh,” she rocked back in her chair, “I had this fucking grouse line I was going to use but you’ve just taken the wind out of my sails, although this doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you.”

“This isn’t about sex,” I replied, “this is about the way we deal with injustice. Jean and others like her think they can lord it over your people because of the colour of your skin and whilst I can say my piece and rage against the machine it’s all just empty words,” I stared at another spider that had just crawled out from behind a picture.

“But if nothing changes, nothing changes. So I’ve decided to make you my next of kin,” I kept my eyes on the spider, “just in case one of those spiders or a snake bites me. My mother and stepfather would never do anything with this place but you understand what I’m doing here. I don’t care if you sleep with me or not because it’s not about sex it’s about righting a wrong that should have been righted years ago. I have no idea why my father didn’t make her or you the sole beneficiary in his will but I’m not my father,” I rose and leaned across the table.

“And that’s not Horace, is it?”

Dolores glanced over her shoulder and then rose at the same time.

“No, that’s a mouse spider,” she walked to the kitchen bench and took down a frying pan dangling from a hook, “poisonous spiders don’t belong inside,” she took a step to her right and swung the pan at the same time. It hit the spider and flattened it. I sat down suddenly and shivered as she walked to the bin and scraped the corpse into the bin.

“The funnelwebs are the worst but they’re in Sydney,” she walked to the sink and flicked the tap, “they can’t survive at a certain altitude and because Sydney is surrounded by mountains they can’t hitch rides on cars.”

“So, I can’t move to Sydney then.”

“Sydney is a shithole,” she washed the bottom of the pan, “I hated the place. I went down with some of my people to a demonstration against Australia Day and couldn’t wait to get out.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the spiders,” I rubbed my arm and twitched again.

“We have a few poisonous ones but we’ve got antivenom as well,” she hung the pan up again and propped against the bench.

“No one’s ever made an offer like that though.”

“Uh huh,” I looked past her, almost as if I was expecting the spider’s mate to drop from the ceiling.

“An offer like you just made,” she put her hands against the bench.

“I mean it,” I replied, “seriously, why wouldn’t I include you in my will?”

“What about your own family?”

“They wouldn’t move here, my mother is a politician in Aarhus and my stepfather has his business interests in Europe. They’d sell the place and move on.”

Dolores said nothing as she studied the wall behind me.

“I have to take a shower,” she pushed away from the bench.

I opened my mouth to say something but decided against it as she exited the room and left me to my own devices. In all honesty, the offer to put her into my will was an off the cuff suggestion but the idea had been at the back of my mind, more so after my confrontation with Jean. By then I might add, I’d found out that I had been excluded from her social circles, not that that bothered me, I had no intention of driving an hour into town for their sake. I rose from the table and began to wash the dishes, anything to distract me, I felt as if I’d crossed a line that shouldn’t be crossed.

I’d just finished the washing up when Dolores entered the room again. She’d showered and changed into a white shirt and tan shorts. Our eyes met and she glanced at the dishes in the dish rack.

“I’ll dry them, why don’t you have a shower.”

“I’m okay, I’ll have one before I go to bed,” I replied.

“I insist,” she joined me at the sink, “I’ll give you my answer then.”

I read the look in her eyes in a heartbeat and nodded.

“Okay, I’ll have a shower.”

I felt as if I was having one of those out of body experiences as I stripped in the bathroom and got into the shower. I’d never thought of myself as being a seductress and in fact I’d tried hard to avoid physical contact and intimacy with women. It was a necessary part of my road to recovery, I knew I had PTSD and whilst it’s not a mandatory requirement to avoid relationships I certainly wanted to keep some distance between this damaged individual and any innocent bystanders. I closed my eyes and let the water cascade over my naked body.

In my mind’s eye I went back to the camp shower in Afghanistan, we showered with a rifle within easy reach even though we had sentries on duty. I remember thinking it was extreme at the time until one afternoon when the Taliban mortared our camp while I was in the shower. I froze in fear as I heard the explosions reverberating against the mountainsides. My rifle was leaning against a wall and yet I couldn’t bring myself to step out of the shower and grab the gun. Thankfully, the attack only lasted a few minutes and by then I’d managed to get out of the shower and get dressed.

I opened my eyes and stared at the tiles on the cubicle. That was then, this was now. The Taliban were thousands of miles away and I could shower without having a gun nearby. I put my palms on the cubicle wall and felt the tiles. The journey of a thousand miles began with the first step so the old proverb ran and I had journeyed thousands of miles to this outback town and yet I hadn’t taken a step outside myself. I’d taken myself with me. I stared at the mirror through the sliding door, as soon as I stepped out of the shower I’d be face to face with me yet again.

“When are you going to get past this?” I spoke to myself.

There was no answer, thank God but as I washed the dirt and sweat from my body I resolved that if she came onto me I wasn’t going to refuse her. She was worth that much at least and when I finally stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom some fifteen minutes later I decided to go for broke and put on a dress. I usually wear shirts and trousers or shorts but tonight I donned a dress I’d picked up at a store in Sydney, one of those three for the price of two deals.

The dress was covered in a pattern of flowers and leaves and came with a belt cut from the same fabric as the dress. It was the first time I’d put on a dress in nearly three years and it felt almost as if I was faking it as I exited the bedroom and came down the few steps to the upstairs sitting room. I came to a halt as I saw Stan sitting on the couch talking to Dolores. He usually kept to the ground floor but occasionally he’d wander upstairs to ‘chew the fat’ as he put it.

“Well, look at you,” he ran an eye over me, “if you’re on your way out you’ve forgotten your shoes.”

“I’m not going out,” I replied.

“Righto then,” he leaned forward, “I guess I’ve got things to do.”

“Before you go,” I sat down opposite them, “I’d like to make an announcement,” I managed a tight smile, “and before you ask, I’m not thinking of leaving and I haven’t been diagnosed with some fatal illness.”

“Okay, I’m happy to hear it,” Stan looked at me.

“But in the event that some misfortune does take me before either of you two, I’d like you to know that you’ll both be included in my will.”

“Your will?” Stan looked confused.

“Someone would have to carry on the work, such as it is. I don’t know how the percentages would be worked out because as I just said, I’m not leaving or dying but I like what’s happening here and I just want you both to know I couldn’t do it without you.”

“Geez, you don’t do anything by halves,” Stan replied, “um, thanks, I think.”

“No worries,” I smiled.

“I’ll go back downstairs,” he rose, “I did come up for a reason though.”

“What was that?” I was suddenly aware that Dolores was looking away and biting her bottom lip.

“You won’t be hearing from Jean for the foreseeable future.”

“Why? What’s happened to her?”

“Her husband traded her in for a younger, faster model.”

“Huh?” I tried to make the connection.

“He’s rooting one of the barmaids at his local pub. Jean caught them in bed and decided to go back to her sister’s place in Cairns, but Haggis is staying put because he’s a local and she’s just a blow in from up north.”

“And it couldn’t have happened to a nicer person,” Stan grinned.

“A blow in is a newcomer?” I asked.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” he nodded at Dolores who had just started chuckling.

“Although it’s bad luck to laugh at someone else’s misfortune.”

“I’m laughing at his fortune,” she replied, “he’s been rooting Felicity for the last two years, but Jean was always too busy with her long lunches with the girls. They were childhood sweethearts so I was told, before Jean got pregnant to him.”

“Now, even I didn’t know that,” Stan rubbed his chin, “I thought it was just a recent thing.”

I waited until he’d gone back downstairs before speaking again.

“So, Jean has gone north.”

“Yeah,” Dolores grinned, “and Cairns is about as far as you can go without going bush, after that it’s all rainforest, big hairy spiders, snakes and crocs.”

I shivered at that and she shifted in her seat.

“You really don’t like our spiders.”

“No, it’s just that you’re not used to them. We grew up with the beastly little fuckers, I kill the poisonous ones and leave the non poisonous ones alone. I used to have a pet spider when I was younger.”

“What happened to him?” I stared at her.

“Gunnar’s dog ate him,” she chuckled, “my mum told me I screamed so loudly she thought I’d been bitten by my pet spider.”

“I’m trying to get over the thought of having a pet spider,” I replied, “I knew a guy in what you might call senior high who kept tarantulas at home, he brought a couple into class one day to show the rest of us.”

“His name wasn’t Peter Parker was it?”

“No,” I leaned forward to scratch my leg, “but he was a big Spiderman fan.”

“You really are a dark horse though,” she went on. “I was thinking while you were making yourself look pretty that maybe this was your way of getting into my pants but then you said what you did a few minutes ago. I think Stan is actually embarrassed now.”

“I didn’t mean to embarrass anyone,” I contemplated the coffee table, “it’s just my way of saying that I’m staying here for a while at least. Maybe I’ll split my time between here and Denmark but that’s a topic for another day but I belong here and I need to make sure everything is ship shape as they say.”

Dolores moved across the couch and patted the cushion beside her.

“Well, don’t be shy unless it’s part of your arsenal.”

“I don’t have an arsenal any more,” I rose and moved to the couch, “unless a couple of rifles qualifies as an arsenal.”

“Not exactly,” Dolores put her feet on the table, “so, my answer.”

“Is what?” I sat down.

“Yes,” she stared at the ceiling, “I’m up for a bit of slap and tickle. What’s the Danish word for it?”

“Hygge,” I replied, “we say, let’s go back to your place and make a bit of hygge.”

She burst out laughing at that.

“You’ll laugh even more when I spell the word for you,” I went on, “it just means getting cosy, drinking coffee or having a meal together is hygge, watching the television by yourself is hygge and so is sex. It can be used to describe almost any situation where you feel contented and happy.”

“Hygge,” she smoothed out her shorts, “so that’s what I’ve been feeling ever since you arrived.”

I opened my mouth to say something but shut it again as she went on.

“The first time I saw you I told Stan you wouldn’t last the month but here you are, three months on and you’re still here,” she put her hand on my leg, “you’re tougher than you think.”

“I was in a war zone but it didn’t make me tough, most of the time you just put one foot in front of the other and hope you’re not stepping on an IED.”

She said nothing to that and I put my feet up on the table. We sat in silence for some five minutes and then I spoke up.

“This is one thing I can’t get enough of.”

“What?” Dolores nudged my leg with hers, “sitting here with a hot chick?”

“Silence,” I replied, “the first night here the silence woke me up, I was in a cold sweat because I was expecting an attack. Where I’m from it’s always noisy, but in Afghanistan the silence just makes you more alert, I got out of bed and just stared out the window at the stars and the blackness all around. It took me ages to get back to sleep again.”

“It’s part of what we call the Dreaming,” she murmured, “we believe that the spirits of our kin and our ancestors are all around us, they talk to us if we sit and listen to the silence.”