Gibber’s Creek Gazette, April 1974
Green Grass and Liver Fluke After Floods
The tragic floods of January from Queensland to Victoria have now subsided, leaving families still homeless, but also green grass — and liver fluke. Local vet, Reg Sampson, recommends that all sheep and cattle be drenched and warns against anyone eating watercress from local streams. ‘The tiny snails in creek water carry the fluke. It’s not just stock who get it!’
SAM
Life could get no better. Stars like a speckled banner up above, a campfire snickering, the scent of gum leaves and Jed’s faint perfume, perhaps a remnant of Matilda’s when she had worn that nightdress. Had anyone ever camped in a mauve silk nightdress trimmed with embroidery and lace before?
The carrots had been eaten when they returned, but there had been no sign of Bad Bart beyond a torn corner of his swag. Both sleeping bags now rested inside the tent, in case the wombat decided to show further disdain for stinginess with carrots.
Jed watched the fire, her arms around her knees. What was she thinking of?
Him, he hoped. The murmur of the creek and the singing of the stars. He reached into his swag and pulled out the box. ‘Shut your eyes and hold out your hand.’
Jed laughed and obeyed. ‘If you put a frog on my hand, it’s going down your underpants,’ she said, her eyes shut. ‘Though that mightn’t be fair on the frog.’
‘Not a frog. Though I feel like a frog prince tonight. You can open your eyes now.’
He grinned at her as she stared at the box. ‘Open it.’
Jed obeyed, staring at the ring, its ruby and tiny diamonds flickering like the stars. ‘But . . .’
He felt like dancing with the sparkles rising from the fire. ‘Put it on. It was my great-grandmother’s, but it’ll fit. Scarlett helped me tell the jeweller the right size.’
‘Scarlett? She knows about this?’
‘Darling, this is Gibber’s Creek. Probably the whole town knows I went to the jeweller’s to have a ring resized. Matilda told me you liked rubies . . .’
‘You mean everyone knows?’
The mountain air suddenly felt cold. ‘Of course they know,’ he said quietly. ‘They care about you. About us.’
‘Us? But we’re . . . we’re not like this.’
‘Like what?’
‘White veils and church and confetti . . .’
‘We can get married by the river if you’d rather. Though Matilda and Nancy would probably like it to be in a church.’
‘I . . . I don’t understand. What happened with the withering away of the state and alternative lifestyles?’
He looked at her steadily. ‘I never talked about the withering away of the state. That was Carol and Clifford. An alternative lifestyle for me means keeping the good bits of the past, as well as creating new ways. The best of both.’
‘No free love?’
Sam stared at her. She was trying to make a joke of what he had thought would be the moment they would tell their grandchildren about.
‘Nothing is free. Nothing as important as love anyway. I love you, Jed. I thought you loved me.’
‘I do, but . . .’ She looked at him helplessly, then held the ring out, still in its box. ‘I can’t take this.’
‘You don’t want to marry me?’
‘I don’t want to marry anyone. Not now. Maybe not ever. I’ve only just found out who I am.’ Her voice shook a little. ‘I don’t think I’m ready to be man and wife, one flesh, yet.’
‘It doesn’t have to be like that.’ Sam took the box, then shut the lid on the bright stones. ‘Do you love Nicholas? Is that it?’
‘That’s not why I don’t want to get married.’
‘That isn’t what I asked. Did you love him? Do you love him now?’
‘In . . . in a way.’ He could see how much she would have liked to lie to him. ‘I don’t love him the way I love you.’
‘You can’t choose between us?’ Vaguely he was aware that part of his anger was the thought of the embarrassment to come, when they arrived back at Gibber’s Creek with no ring on Jed’s finger. Gossip was a safety net, but it could also be viciously intrusive.
‘I don’t want to choose. Don’t need to. You’re misunderstanding everything I say.’
‘You can’t choose Nicholas, because Felicity already has him. Or is a handyman too much of a comedown from an author and politician?’
‘Stop it! I don’t want to think about marriage, that’s all. To you or anyone!’
‘Not even think about it?’
‘I have thought about marriage.’ He could hear the truth in Jed’s voice. Jed never lied. It was one of the things he loved about her. He could trust Jed utterly.
Sometimes the truth was not what you wanted to hear though.
‘I don’t want to get married yet. One day, perhaps. Maybe even probably.’
‘So should I wait till then?’
‘I . . . I don’t know.’ He heard the truth in her voice again, and felt his heart crack. ‘It’s not you. Truly. Maybe marriage and I just won’t ever fit together.’
She turned and scrambled into the tent. ‘I’m going to sleep.’
He sat by the dwindling fire and watched the stars’ cold winking light. A long time later he crawled into the tent too.