As they pulled out of the station and Edward’s battered truck coughed and rumbled to life, Derek rolled down his window. The air was hot and fragrant, like the inside of a barn baking in the sun. A natural wall of trees and thick grass flanked both sides of the gravel road. ‘Is it always this warm?’
‘You have no idea. Wait until the middle of summer. You can cook your food on the rocks.’
‘You know, it’s not at all what I imagined.’
‘What were you expecting?’
‘I’m not sure, just not this. It’s so much more than I thought it would be.’
Edward rolled down his own window and rested the crook of his arm on the rusted doorframe. Sweat dripped from his chin onto the front of his shirt. ‘Food is easy to come by. Winters are a laugh. The country’s surrounded by thousands of miles of beautiful ocean. The soil’s rich and fertile … as are the women. It’s a kind of Eden, actually.’
‘Then how is it that half of Europe isn’t boarding a ship right now?’
‘I don’t know, but this isn’t even the good part. Wait until we get into the bush. At night, when there’s no moon, you can actually see the starlight filtering through the trees like a white powder. When you walk through it you almost feel as though you need to dust your shirt. It’s hard to believe.’
Derek allowed the image into his mind and thought of how he had always assumed that his father had exaggerated his descriptions of Africa. Based on what he had experienced so far, his writing now seemed almost understated.
‘There really is something about this place, Derek. All the things we went through – the fighting, the killing – it’s gone quiet in my mind now. Don’t get me wrong, the memories never leave you completely. Some nights the faces return but, for the most part, they’re at arm’s length. It’ll be the same for you. Take my word for it. The war will become a kind of distant memory. The nightmares will ease.’
‘Wouldn’t that be nice,’ Derek said after a while.
‘It’ll happen. Just give it time.’
Derek nodded, despite his doubts. ‘Speaking about nightmares, do you want to explain that beard of yours?’
Edward tried to suppress a smile. ‘I was waiting for that.’
‘Well? Let’s hear it.’
‘I really can’t explain it. I never would’ve dreamed of growing a beard back home, but out here things are so different. It feels right. I don’t know, I suppose it just fits. And it makes me look distinguished, don’t you think?’
‘No, I don’t think.’
‘Just wait, you’ll do the same. Mark my words. The bush forces you to be practical.’
‘Is that right?’
The truck lost power briefly before jerking and spluttering back to life.
‘And that?’
‘It’s nothing. She just likes to remind me she’s still alive … and in charge.’
‘Where’d you get her? Dig her out of the ground somewhere?’
‘Close. I bought her off a man who had rolled her into a dry river bed. The engine was lying halfway down the embankment. But don’t worry, she’s all better now. Have some faith, little brother.’
Little brother. Although he had been born barely three minutes before him, Edward had always considered himself the older sibling. Even as children, he was the responsible one, the reasonable brother. More even-tempered. Always looking to console, to reconcile. With the job of older brother taken, Derek had assumed the vacant role of younger, slightly delinquent sibling. It all seemed part of nature’s grand design as he quickly became a counterweight to Edward. As they grew up, he was the reckless one. Less reasonable. More prone to outbursts. Rebellious. Overly sensitive at times – unable to guard his emotions. Yet, despite these differences, they shared the same basic beliefs and philosophies on life; they were compelled by the same moral code. The only true difference between them was that Derek lacked an internal filter, a calming inner voice. He was seldom able to consider his emotions before acting on them.
‘Listen,’ Edward called out over the groan of the engine. ‘I’m right about what I said before. How this place blunts away the war. It’s all about time.’
The lines tightened around Derek’s eyes. ‘I don’t think there’s a clock in the world that can make me forget about Delville Wood.’
Edward nursed the truck around a tight bend. ‘Not forget. But the memories will soften.’
Derek waited a moment before responding. ‘How are things for you now? Physically, I mean.’
‘Not bad at all. I just can’t walk very far or carry anything heavy, but it’s hardly an issue. I was the lucky one. I got taken to a hospital bed where I slept eighteen hours a day. You’re the one who had to stay behind.’
‘You’re right. Getting bayoneted and nearly bleeding to death makes you rather fortunate.’
‘You know what I mean. The war ended for me that day.’
Derek stared through the windscreen, his eyes reaching for the horizon. ‘I’m glad you weren’t there at the end. Things got … darker.’
‘It’s difficult to imagine that they could.’
‘That’s what I thought. Until one day I took a man’s life in a small meadow and barely ten minutes later was asleep next to his body.’
‘Derek, listen to me. You’re not a murderer. That’s not who you are. You just did what you had to.’
‘You can dress it up as much as you like, Ed. But war doesn’t absolve us of everything.’
‘So you got used to killing. So what? What choice did you have? What choice did anyone have? The fact that you were able to adapt is the only reason you’re sitting here right now. You’re a survivor, not a murderer. We both are. That’s the truth.’
‘That’s one side of it.’
‘It’s the only side.’
Derek shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with where their conversation was headed. ‘So, Africa will cure me of all of this, will it?’
‘Absolutely,’ Edward replied, his lips growing into a smile. ‘And you know I’m never wrong.’
‘Well, you’re already wrong about one thing.’
‘I am?’ he said, feigning shock. ‘And what’s that?’
‘I’ll never grow a bloody beard,’ Derek insisted, slamming his fist into the dashboard.
They both laughed, truly laughed, and when Edward had recovered sufficiently to speak again, he winked at Derek. ‘Oh, we’ll see about that.’