Gerrard moved into the clinic accommodation when Sister Therese moved back to the convent with the other Sisters. She didn’t like being on her own and so close to all the drunks. Gerrard set up his exercise bicycle in front of his video recorder and pedalled away in the morning before he went to the office and in the afternoon before he had dinner. The house was the only one in Karnama with ducted air-conditioning, so he didn’t get too hot and he sweated less doing his exercise than he did just sitting in the corrugated iron office during the day.
One evening he invited Billy and Liz over for a meal. He liked food and he liked cooking. They took beer with them, and he opened a bottle of wine. He had wine flown in by the crate. Billy, Liz, and the wine breathed, and Gerrard spoke rapidly over his shoulder as he stir-fried.
He hoped his wife would be able to join him within a couple of weeks, now that he had this place. He didn’t think she’d be able to take the heat and, well, the environment generally.
After the meal they played Scrabble. Gerrard told them of the plans he had for getting the community to begin operating small enterprises, so they wouldn’t be relying on hand-outs. And they’d come to understand things like reward for effort. ‘But the problem is they get good money for doing nothing, so, you know, why bother?’
Gerrard started the game. He told them he didn’t play much, but that his wife liked to when they lived in places like this. His first word: BLACK.
‘Topical, Gerrard, but not a big scorer. Eighteen.’
The next word. MAGIC. Gerrard roared with laughter.
‘Still relevant! Twenty. You been earbashed yet about the blackmagic?’ He made one word of two, said it slowly, staring at them dramatically. Then he rolled his eyes. ‘Amazing. They’re even frightened of the dark. They’ve concocted some superstitious mix of primitive church; you know, devils, the angel Gabriel’s feathers, fire and brimstone; and bits of their own old voodoo stuff.’
BEGIN. ‘Ten.’
‘I haven’t played this much,’ said Billy. ‘I don’t play much, not, like, games I mean.’
Gerrard snorted. ‘C’mon, you’re a teacher aren’t you? Hey, aren’t you a bit of a writer? So I hear. You should be a whiz!’ But he wasn’t. Gerrard played well, using the board like a map to collect the treasures of triple scores. Liz was competitive. Billy lagged behind. And he was drinking too much, the wine confused him.
‘Nice wine? I like this drop,’ said Gerrard. ‘Half a bottle a night with dinner. A little more allowed on weekends. Disciplined drinking is vital to good digestion. One of life’s pleasures. Moderate drinking, everything in moderation ... Hey what about this?’
VIVANT.
‘Piss off, Gerrard. English only.’
‘Okay then.’
Gerrard smirked. ‘Look at these words. BLACK, VELVET. Billy had GIN in BEGIN. What are we thinking of?’ And he studied his new letters carefully. Liz showed annoyance in her glance at Billy.
The door slid open. The dark, warm air rushed in. It was Moses. He stood at the door, one bare foot inside the room, the other out. They could smell him.
‘You got something to mix? Ginger ale, Coke, something like that?’
Gerrard laughed and gave him half a large bottle of lemonade. ‘Don’t drink too much Moses, you need to be on deck in the morning.’
Gerrard told them that Moses and a couple of the other council members drank pretty well every night. ‘They do it properly though. You know, quiet. Just with the family. Don’t bother anyone. They know how to drink.
‘You know I’ve bought a bus?’ He suddenly changed the topic. ‘For the community to use.
‘The kids, the old people, hardly ever get to go out. It’s mostly just Moses and those with him; his sons, his family.
‘Some of Samson’s mob, of course, once he gets that new vehicle for the ranger’s job. You seen it? Lovely. Airconditioning. Wonder how long before that’s wrecked. But the others, specially the old ones and the little kids, they hardly ever get to go out to the beach on the weekends, or anywhere, and they love that, you know.’
‘Yeah,’ said Liz, ‘don’t we know it. It’s hard enough to get past them when we go out ourselves. You could end up with everyone with you if you didn’t say no.’
‘Can’t a roster be worked out for the community vehicles?’ asked Billy.
‘Not easily. Use of the vehicles seems to be a perk of being chairman, or a council member. I’m not gunna rock the boat on that one.’
‘That’s what they’ve learnt quickest, from us,’ said Liz. ‘Perks, privilege...’
‘Corruption?’
‘Well, maybe,’ Gerrard was reluctant. ‘This is the real world, you know. Anyway, I thought I could pay one of the young blokes to drive the bus, out of funds, to the beach and back on Sundays. Even for bringing tourists in when the boat comes in. They could do corroborees in here even, and the community could hire the bus.’
They had taken a break from the game. Gerrard got out of his seat. ‘More wine?’
Well, all right then. If you insist.
As he went over to the refrigerator he demonstrated his exercise bike to them. His torso rocked, his long heavy legs pushed and pushed, and the pedals whirred. They cheered him drunkenly. Going nowhere, and red in the face, he looked at the meter before him which told his speed. He stopped pedalling, and held his hands clasped over his head as if coasting over a finishing line. He had to slide from the saddle suddenly, and put a foot to the floor to stop the bike toppling. ‘Oops.’
He brought the opened bottle of wine back to the table. ‘Not as good, this one. But still, we won’t notice now, eh?’ And they continued the game.
‘You hire the bus out, Gerrard?’ asked Liz. ‘Since you bought it privately and all?’
‘Oh yeah,’ Gerrard shook his head. ‘Otherwise it wouldn’t last. There wasn’t enough community money to buy one, believe it or not. I thought they might buy it from me later. It’s for the community, it’s for them.’
‘And pocket money for you,’ said Liz, with a smile.
‘Of course,’ agreed Gerrard, unabashed. ‘For the community’s benefit. Alex and I’ve agreed, it’d be good for the school, the school could hire it too. The real world, Liz. Economics, exchange. What’ve you got to offer, Billy?’ He laughed, and said again, ‘The real world.’
Nearing the end of the game. Gerrard in front, Liz a close second, Billy a distant last. The second bottle of wine gone, and they’d drunk the beer as well.
‘C’mon Billy, what’ve you got?’
‘Doubt,’ said Billy.
‘Doubt?’
‘Yes, doubt.’
‘About what?’ laughed Gerrard.
‘About me, the past, what I’m doing, where I belong, the future, um...’
‘You sound like the mob here,’ slurred Gerrard.
‘You’re drunk Billy,’ said Liz. ‘Anyway, you can’t have doubt. Both B’s are on the board and it wouldn’t fit in.’
‘Oh.’ His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked tired and pale, a creamy, jaundiced colour.
Gerrard and Liz, magnanimous in their victory over him, looked at his letters.
‘D, T, Y.’
‘Look. Here, with OUGHT.’
‘DOUGHTY.’
‘Don’t have doubt, but be doughty,’ Gerrard and Liz seemed to be laughing at him.
Gardiya. Whities.
‘A good score to end with Billy.’
‘Look at the board. What did we start with?’
BLACK MAGIC BEGIN.
‘Wooo. Gotta black magic woman,’ Gerrard was laughing and singing, badly, as he let them out of the door. It was late, dark, and quiet.
‘Remember Billy, not doubt but doughty.’ Gerrard yawned, said good night again, and closed the door. The light went out. Billy and his wife yawned their silent way home. Home? To their house.
Billy, all a totter, was remembering a story Milton had told him, about a visit to Derby. Admittedly Milton was drunk at the time, but he’d seen a snake. But it was not a normal snake.