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  Allie’s voice was blunt. ‘Either she’s lying or you are.’

  ‘What did she tell you?’

  ‘She told me lots. There’d be no reason for her to lie. Don’t you think she’d know who got her pregnant?’ Even as she spoke, she remembered how Mae used to change her stories over time, the description of the first kiss getting more and more detailed and changing location from the bank of the creek to a boulder. The truth was that Allie couldn’t keep track of Mae’s stories but she was sure that Mae had always meant her to know that the First Love was her father and the Balloon Man was just an invention.

  He put his hand out the window, as if testing the air as it streamed past. ‘Everyone knew it was him, Allie. People saw them at the Show together. She was upfront about it, she told everyone. Believe me.’

  The wind was whipping up, spinning twigs onto the roof of the car and down onto the road. The air coming in the window was suddenly cooler. She could feel sticky blood on her inner thighs.

  He said, ‘I can help you find him if you like. I’ll help you.’

  ‘What? The Balloon Man?’ He didn’t even have a name. A nameless, faceless man that Mae never meant her to find. ‘Why would you want to get involved? And if you’re going to find him, what was his real name?’

  His voice was soft, ‘Didn’t she tell you anything about him?’

  ‘She told me about you.’

  ‘I’ll help you. If you want, I’ll help you.’ He sighed. ‘Oh look, here comes the rain.’ Fat drops split open on the windscreen like small ripe fruit and spattered through the window onto her hot bare legs.

  chapter fourteen

  When he pulled up, Allie leapt out without a word and ran towards the house, leaving the car door wide open to the rain. He sat, letting the rain wet the seat, watching her run down the path, long dark hair swinging, the shape of her exactly like Mae. Bloody Mae, what had she told her? He thought about getting out and going to speak to Julia, but he was already late for milking.

  At his father’s place, he parked under a tree and hurried across the grass to the dairy. The yard was mucky with red mud, the cows standing patiently in the rain. Inside, his father had turned the lights on against the gloom, and was kneeling, inspecting a cow’s hoof. Saul started work, and as he moved the cattle through the stalls he thought of what might have been if Mae had pretended to everyone in the valley that Allie was his child. She could have, they would have believed her. Perhaps they would have married and built the cottage on his father’s land, but it was more likely that they would have descended into arguments like that day in the milk bar when she had seemed like another person altogether.

  His father came over and leaned against a post. ‘How are you doing, son?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s that girl back in the valley isn’t it? It’s like young Mae’s come back. I know she’s been visiting you. Iris and I see her walking over to your place sometimes…’

  Saul turned back to washing down a cow’s udder.

  His father leaned towards him. ‘Are you listening?’

  ‘I heard you.’

  ‘I saw Julia today and she said to remind you about the girl’s birthday dinner next week. I asked Julia why on earth you would be going to her birthday, and she said she didn’t know. Just mind yourself, Saul. Mind yourself.’

  Saul stood up and went to the far end of the shed and heaved a sack of barley onto his shoulder.

  Working his body had been his only comfort after he found out Mae was having the balloon man’s baby. Each day when his father went back to the house to eat lunch and rest for half an hour in the shade of the verandah, Saul had stayed out in the paddock, digging postholes for a new fence, letting the midday heat course through his veins. He wanted his sweat to slough the longing for Mae from his cells. He started avoiding people, despising them for agreeing that she was not good enough for him and that he was better off without her. At the last Hall dance he ever went to, an old school friend came to lean on the wall beside him and described the balloon man buying Mae a stick of fairy floss at the Show. He had ignored his friend and concentrated instead on the dancers spinning past, churning up the hot air and trailing cigarette smoke and scent. A plump girl from down the valley kept asking him to dance. She had slipped easily into his arms, her perfume strong and perspiration shiny on her neck. They kissed outside and he nearly recoiled. Her lips were different to Mae’s and she sucked on his tongue in a strange way. He wanted to say no, that she was doing it wrong, that he wanted Mae, then he found himself imagining that it was Mae that he was kissing and was suddenly aroused to think of her familiar mouth sliding beneath his. He fucked her up against the back wall of the hall, imagining Mae’s body opening to his.

  Afterwards, leaning against the rough boards, he smelt the girl’s sour breath and felt her sweaty flesh under his hand. He turned and stumbled across the dark grass to the gate and headed down the road until the sounds of music from the hall faded and there was just the crunching of his shoes on the gravel. He walked all the way up the valley to Mae’s place and waded through the foaming water of the little creek and climbed the bank, startling a group of cattle that staggered to their feet, calling out in fright. A baby’s cry came from the house, a high, thin, mysterious sound. He wanted to go closer, to the source of the sound, but a light went on in the kitchen and the dogs started barking, so he turned back over the creek.

  In the long paddock he started running and shut his eyes to the night air streaming past his skin. He was almost flying, running faster and faster, his chest aching with each breath, until he stumbled and his body slammed onto the hard ground. He had no breath and no way of breathing. Mae was in her house, with no idea that he was so close and that he had just given away his virginity to some girl whose name he didn’t even know. He curled up and cried in the damp grass of her father’s paddock.

  chapter fifteen

  Allie leaned toward the bathroom mirror and pinched her cheeks like her mother used to whenever she went out the front door. There were the sounds of people arriving, footsteps on the verandah and the door banging shut. Her great-grandmother’s voice was loud in the living room, ‘You need more gravel on your driveway Julia. Call Stan McGuire for a load, will you? Charge it to my account if you must. It’s a quagmire.’ Allie looked through a crack in the bathroom door. The old woman handed Julia a plate covered in tinfoil and then bent down to pick burrs from the brown stockings on her thin legs.

  Julia frowned. ‘I didn’t ask you to bring anything, Grandma. I’ve prepared everything.’

  ‘I always bring something, you know that.’ She turned back to the door, ‘Dan, Dan, did you bring the present from the car?’

  A man threw open the back door and wiped his boots vigorously on the door mat. He was tall and had bushy greying hair and a weathered face. Her mother’s Uncle Dan. One of the four uncles.

  ‘Where’s Allie, Julia?’ the old woman asked.

  ‘She’s getting ready, she won’t be long.’ Julia bustled out of her line of sight.

  Headlights shone through the trees as a car came up the driveway. It would be him. Allie pulled off her dress, stepped into the bath and lay back, her eyes shut. She hadn’t been to Saul’s place for a few days—she had spent her time in the potting shed, going over what Mae had told her about him. Mae had even described the way she felt after they made love and how he had held her as they fell asleep in the forest. The heat of the bath was making Allie’s head spin, her legs and feet seemed far in the distance, disconnected from her body. Her skin was flushing bright pink like Mae’s always did in the bath.

  ‘Allie?’ It was Petal at the bathroom door. ‘Can I come in?’ She opened the door. ‘Oh, you’re still in the bath. Everyone’s here.’ She lifted the skirt of her long purple dress and sat on the toilet. ‘It’s beautiful, the china doll that Julia gave you. Saul’s here. He wasn’t sure if you still wanted him to come.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

&n
bsp; ‘He told me that you’ve been thinking he was your father. Is that what your mother told you?’

  Allie stood up in the bath and grabbed a towel. She started drying herself roughly, rubbing hard at her tender skin.

  Petal turned to flush the toilet. ‘Oh. Don’t be mad, sweetheart. I was over getting some milk from his dad and Saul told me what happened the other day. He’s just worried about how you reacted.’

  Allie wrapped the towel around herself and stepped out of the bath. ‘Don’t you think my mother would know? I mean wouldn’t you have a pretty good idea?’

  ‘Yeah, I’d have a pretty good idea, unless I was sleeping with two guys at once…’

  Allie stared back at Petal.

  Petal smiled. ‘Remember you asked if he was married?’

  ‘I know he’s not.’

  ‘He was married down in Tasmania. He worked for a jeweller and married the boss’s daughter. They’re separated but not divorced.’

  ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Petal came close behind her and reached over to pick up Julia’s talcum powder from the shelf and smell it. ‘So, what do you do at Saul’s? I hear you’ve been going over there almost every day.’

  ‘And what if I do?’

  ‘Nothing if you do.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘I was just curious what you get up to. He’s a bit of a mystery, the old Saul. I thought you might have some light to shed on him.’

  ‘He’s not a mystery.’

  ‘So, do you just hang out, or what?’

  Allie shook her head. ‘We talk.’

  Petal rubbed the silky powder into Allie’s back. ‘Have you ever met your father?’

  ‘No.’ She turned to the mirror and dragged the comb through her long hair. Mae had suddenly stopped talking about the balloon man when Allie was about six. There were no more stories about the beautiful big balloon or the handsome balloonist. No more promises to take her to the Easter Show to find him.

  Petal put the powder back on the shelf. ‘Wouldn’t Julia know something?’

  ‘Mae would know!’ Allie’s voice was loud. ‘For God’s sake, she’s the one who would know!’ Allie combed her hair straight down so it hung severely each side of her face. She touched her flushed cheeks. She was a hollow kewpie doll from the Show, cheap plastic that caves in at a touch.

  They sang happy birthday before they ate, the old woman’s quavering voice the loudest. Allie sat beside Saul and watched his eyes flicking around the table as he sang. She recalled Mae’s forced smile when she once stopped her mother in the middle of a story. ‘But didn’t you say his eyes are brown like mine?’ Mae’s smile grew wider, shining red lipstick stretching over her white teeth. ‘No, no, I didn’t say that. They’re blue. Blue and green.’ She was so sure that her stories would never be put to the test.

  ‘Lovely rich gravy, Julia,’ said the old woman. ‘I taught both the girls to make gravy, Allie. Did your mother make it for you?’

  ‘Yes.’ Every Sunday Mae stood at the stove in an apron, her wooden spoon skating around the roasting pan.

  ‘And she cooked you up birthday dinners like this? Made you a cake?’

  ‘She got me a clown one year. He did cartwheels down the back lane. Tom was supposed to pay for it but he never turned up and she had an argument with the clown in the kitchen.’

  Saul smiled at her. ‘So was the clown any good?’

  ‘No. He was pretty hopeless.’ She held his gaze and remembered the clown’s sweaty wig on the kitchen table while he and Mae argued. She had woken in the middle of the night and heard the clown’s voice and Mae’s giggle as her mother let him out the front door. ‘But Mae thought he wasn’t so bad.’

  Saul took a breath as if he were going to say something, then he picked up his fork to eat.

  The old woman patted at her lips with a serviette. ‘If we still had the old family farm we could have had a party for you there, dear. But it’s not ours anymore. Barry Williams went up the other week to fix the pump for the new owners and told me that the place is a dreadful mess.’ She nodded at Petal, ‘So remind me where you fit into the picture. You’re one of Julia’s friends, are you? One of the new ones come up from the city?’

  ‘I’m the one that camps here, on Julia’s property.’

  Dan laughed. ‘I’m surprised you could find any clear ground to pitch a tent.’

  ‘I’m in a caravan actually.’

  ‘But there’s rubbish everywhere, right? Weeds and rubbish trees all over the property.’

  Julia spoke quietly. ‘It’s not rubbish, Dan. I’m letting the forest reclaim its land.’

  ‘But why?’ he leaned forward, his eyes wide.

  ‘I know you don’t understand. We’ve been through this before.’

  ‘Try me, Julia.’

  ‘It’s a token effort to make up for what the family did to the valley.’

  ‘No. No,’ he laughed dryly. ‘What you’re doing is just like…it’s like spitting in my father’s face and your father’s face. This is good land.’ He poured more beer. ‘Dad gave it to Bess and Jim to farm. Give it back to me and I’ll manage it how Dad would have wanted. You stay in the house and I’ll look after the farm.’

  Julia’s voice grew hard. ‘Good land is it? Dad always said he and Mum were given the crappiest corner of Granddad’s property.’

  ‘Oh, really, Julia!’ The old woman put down her glass with a bang.

  ‘Well it’s totally worthless now it’s infested with weeds.’ Dan pushed back in his chair.

  ‘I guess it depends on your definition of “worthless,” Danny. I might have a certain definition for what you left behind when you and Grandma sold up to the hobby farmers. Have you seen the erosion in your old paddock near Cobb’s Corner?’

  ‘Julia,’ the old woman cut in, raising her voice over the rain that was growing heavier on the roof. ‘Your father may not have been the world’s best farmer but at least he kept his paddocks clean before the accident and even you did your best to keep the rubbish down while he was alive. What you are doing now is plain disrespectful.’ She waved her arm, ‘Just look at the place!’

  Julia looked down at her plate and cut her meat into small pieces. Dan regarded her, a smile on his face.

  Allie had been watching Saul, the way his eyes kept returning to her as the conversation eddied around them. She was still dizzy from the heat of the bath, sweat rolling down her skin under the loose dress.

  He leaned towards her, his voice low. ‘How’re you going?’

  She whispered, ‘She really did tell me that you did it.’

  His face dropped and he shook his head. ‘No. Honestly, no.’

  ‘You’re saying she’s a liar?’

  He took a deep breath. ‘I think it’s what she would have wished for.’

  Allie spoke loudly, interrupting her grandmother, ‘Did she tell all of you about the balloon man? Saul says everyone knew about the balloon man.’

  There was silence around the table. Saul looked back at her, his expression unreadable.

  ‘Yes,’ the old woman sounded puzzled. ‘If you mean that scoundrel from the Show. Yes, she told us. Why?’

  ‘Allie…’ Saul held her gaze and shook his head lightly.

  Her great-grandmother wrinkled her brow. ‘What are you talking about, Allie dear? Do you mean to say she didn’t tell you about him?’

  Petal poured wine into Allie’s glass. ‘It’s your birthday, you’re allowed.’

  ‘She told me stuff.’ Allie wanted Mae’s stories laid out on the table. She wanted to shove the glasses and plates and platter of meat aside and lay the stories out and pull the threads of them apart in front of everyone, strand after strand, like a rug unravelling, the wool loosened until there was nothing left. The wine was sour on her tongue. ‘She told me that no-one went to visit her in hospital when she had me. None of you. That’s one of the things she told me.’

  ‘She was only there for two days, love,’ Dan said.

  J
ulia put her knife and fork down. ‘It wasn’t…it was in the middle of a huge flood, you know that. Mum and I couldn’t get in. But Dad went to visit her. He stayed with the Carsons in town and went over to see her at the hospital the next day.’

  ‘He did not!’ Allie said.

  Julia lifted her hands into the air and shrugged. ‘He did, sweetheart. He wanted to take her back to the Carsons because the hospital had been flooded, but she wouldn’t go.’

  Allie shook her head. ‘Anyway, what about the rest of you?’ She looked around the table, ‘You could have gone.’

  The old woman patted her serviette to her lips. ‘I’ll tell you why, my dear. The flood certainly made it difficult but the other thing is that she…shamed us. We could have sent her off to some school…some place where they take girls in trouble. But we let her stay here in the valley and we would have gone to visit her if she hadn’t discharged herself from the hospital like a fool and hitched home in the rain. We couldn’t pretend that everything was the way it should be. Nothing was the way it should have been, was it Saul?’

  Saul shut his eyes.

  Julia pushed back from the table. ‘No, Grandma. There was never any talk of shame, not in this house and this is the one that mattered. For God’s sake, what do you think you are saying…?’ She gestured towards Allie.

  ‘It affected the family all the way through the valley, Julia. I wouldn’t expect you to remember and you wouldn’t have been privy to the adult conversations. Allie knows it was nothing to do with her—all babies are born perfectly innocent and pure.’

  Allie said, ‘You know, she lay awake the whole night, waiting for someone to come. Anyone.’ She looked at Saul, who had opened his eyes. ‘Anyone.’

  He shook his head.

  Julia stood up and started clearing dishes away. ‘It’s not right what you are saying, Grandma. It’s just not true.’

  Dan passed Julia his plate. ‘Mae did the wrong thing by Saul. Why would he go to visit her?’

  Saul stood up and carried his plate to the sink. ‘Thanks Dan, but I don’t need you to speak for me.’