Volume 196 - Issue 8
The lake
Author: Philip A Sprott
Med J Aust 2012; 196 (8): 534-535. || doi: 10.5694/mja12.10377
Published online: 7 May 2012
Published online: 7 May 2012
Nothing!” Jill said.
“He didn’t say nothing”, said Warren, as he eased the car into the outside lane. No horns, no fist-pumps, no swearing. Warren was driving considerately. He was not himself.
“Yes, but he didn’t exactly paint a rosy picture of what
he did say I could do.” Jill put on her sunglasses, then dropped them ...
Nothing!” Jill said.
“He didn’t say nothing”, said Warren, as he eased the car into the outside lane. No horns, no fist-pumps, no swearing. Warren was driving considerately. He was not himself.
“Yes, but he didn’t exactly paint a rosy picture of what he did say I could do.” Jill put on her sunglasses, then dropped them back in her lap. She opened the car window, and closed it again. She shuffled in her seat, but couldn’t get comfortable. She endured the ride home.
Jill eased herself into a chair, and picked up a section of the paper. She read the same passage twice before realising she hadn’t absorbed a single word, so turned to look for a pen. She found a pencil, put it absently in her mouth, and gazed over the climbing beans in the corner of the yard. “The garden’s dry.”
“No rain for 10 days, now.” There was a clatter from the kitchen. “Damn!”
“I am. That new tea thingy’s not. I’ll have to use the old pot, but you say the tea is better out of that, anyway. Won’t be long.”
“No hurry.” Jill’s gaze wandered over the garden shed to the jacaranda, over the fence to the rail bridge. She couldn’t see the canal, but she could see the tops of the boats on it.
“You want to talk?” Warren set down the tea, and sat down himself. Warren always made the tea. They always sat in the same chairs. It was habit. It was comfortable.
“Maybe.” Jill knew the tea would still be too hot. She was busy drinking in the sights of the same bridge, the same trees, and the same buildings nestled between them that had been her vista for 34 years.
“Johnsons have painted their house hot pink.”
“Where?” Warren craned. His view of the Johnsons was blocked by a tall fir.
“Maybe not hot pink, but it is pretty bright. Surprised you can’t see it glowing through the tree.” Jill put down the pencil, and looked at her tea.
Warren settled back in his chair. “So. What do you think?” He cupped his tea in his hands.
“They could’ve chosen something more subdued. The green it was painted before was nice, or a grey, perhaps?”
“Ha, ha. You know what I mean.”
“We’ll have to tell the kids. We both have to be there for that.”
“And I think we should tell them after.”
“After? What do you mean, after?”
“After we’ve decided what we’re going to do. I couldn’t bear to think of the arguing. Every one of them will have an opinion, and you know no two of them will think the same. They’ll all try to tell me what to do, and you know how I crumple when they start pleading and bossing. I can’t say yes to all of them.” Jill slumped a little deeper in her chair, and drained the rest of her tea.
“So we’ll talk it out, and tell them when we’re sure. No further correspondence, eh?”
“No further correspondence.” Jill picked up the tea cups to take them inside.
Time passes slowly when there’s a decision to be made. Jobs are started, but nothing finished. Recipe books are opened, but ingredients not bought. The empty mower can is out, but sits there, waiting. The ironing piles up, and letters remain unopened.
“Do you want to go to the lake?”
“But there’s so much to do here. The place’s a mess.”
“And likely to stay that way until we decide.” Warren put down the dish cloth, and walked over to his wife. “Look, we’ve always felt so comfortable at the lake. We go up there, and we feel different. We even act differently. You say that yourself. When we’re up there, we can laugh at ourselves, and at what seems important to us down here. Anyway, it couldn’t be any worse than it is here at the moment.”
Jill felt a little lighter. She liked the lake, and hoped going there would help with the decision. She thought about the kids, and how they would cope. She tried to imagine what they would think, and how she could please them. Was there a way to please them? And Warren. At the moment, she couldn’t bear to think what would happen to Warren.
The drive to the lake began on a busy highway, through industry, fast-food outlets and fuel stops. Soon, the traffic thinned, the road narrowed, and the taint of human interference dissipated. There was no urgency in the way Warren negotiated the sweeps and gentle climbs of the road as it snaked over the mountains. The day was clear, there were few other cars, and a quiet sense of resolution pervaded the air. Warren assumed his usual oblique slouch, with his left hand on the gear lever. Jill sat still and straight, silent, with two fingers of her right hand resting lightly on Warren’s.
You could always tell when you were getting close. The first sensation was the faintest hint of salt in the air. That came just before the breeze freshened, drawn and tossed by the proximity of the sea. These subtle changes were only just perceptible to the seasoned visitor, and only when driving with the top down. Today was a day to be driving with the top down.
The lake house was the same as it always was. The closer you got, the more you left behind. That was the purpose it served. It was safe, it was familiar, it was comforting.
Warren had stopped leaving the key in the “hidey-hole” 10 years ago. It had been quaint in the beginning, but would be reckless today. Nowadays, a hose would disappear from the back yard, and a gnome would be nicked from the front. Either could turn up in a stormwater drain three streets away, but you were unlikely to be the one who found them.
One day is as long as it takes to adjust. A beach walk, a sleep lulled by the gentle thundering of the waves, and a change into comfortable old “you are only ever, ever allowed to wear these at the lake” clothes. Rejuvenation, with a fresh perspective and renewed resolve.
They fell easily into the usual pattern. Late mornings, coffee at Cino’s, and an afternoon siesta. The sea was warm, but swirled and chopped by wind and currents. A dip was pleasant, but too long in became a tiring fight against the elements. Life outside this secluded world could be forgotten, and laughter was still possible.
At first, nothing was said. The phone was still off, and all they saw were their holiday friends. These were familiar, comfortable people, who knew their names, their children’s names, and their favourite sports team. They knew the coffees they drank, the restaurants they liked, and the newspapers they read. They were acquaintances, who lacked a deeper insight into Jill and Warren, or what brought them to the lake a little out of season, and a little unexpectedly.
The lightness did not last. With each day, it became a little more difficult to make conversation. It became a challenge to find the will to go for coffee. The newspaper stopped making sense, as conflicts and events a world away held no relevance to their ferment. Warren tried to be patient, but it became increasingly difficult. He could feel his own torment, and could barely imagine the anguish Jill must be suffering. His only thought was that a decision must be made. We have to make a decision.
Warren found Jill sitting on the verandah, gazing across the lake. “Can we talk?” he said.
“It’s so beautiful here. It’s so quiet. The only things you can hear are the wind and the sea.”
“It was even better when we first bought here.”
“I know, but you can’t prevent change. Progress! Everyone seems to think bigger is better, and faster is better. Not really infected this sleepy little town, yet. I love to pretend we’re completely alone here. It’s easy, you know. If you look out to the mountain, you can’t see a single sign of human meddling.”
“Have I? Lots and lots. And then a few more.”
“Done that. Not great. Best I can hope for this time is a few more weeks, they said. I don’t think I can go through all the clinics, and sickness, and travel, and rushing about. I don’t think I could do it.”
“Here. I love it. We love it. It’s clean, it’s quiet. We do what we want here. I think I just want to stay here with you until ...”