Chapter 24
24
Hamish
Ruth’s brother died in the early hours of Monday morning. Hamish knew this because when he woke at six am, the first thing he did was reach for his phone. There was a message from Ruth. He sat on the edge of the bed and rang her because he needed to say more than could be said in a text message. But when the call went to message bank part of him sighed with relief. What did you say to someone whose brother had just died? Then he realised how early it was and with Ruth being up half the night, she was probably trying to snatch some sleep. He sent a brief message that fell way short of what he wanted to say if only he could have found the words.
He hadn’t heard from her by lunchtime and told himself that of course she was with her family and had more important things to do than talk to him.
By mid-afternoon, he was resigned to not hearing from her at all. Resigned and disappointed.
The day was overcast and marginally cooler than it had been, so he took the opportunity to climb onto the roof. He’d been meaning to do it for a while; from the ground, the roof appeared to be in reasonable condition, no rust or loose sheets of iron, but he wanted to take a closer look and scope out where the skylight would go. It was from this vantage point that he watched an unfamiliar and nondescript car slow down and park behind his ute. When the driver climbed out and he recognised who it was, he nearly lost his balance.
‘Ruth,’ he yelled. ‘I’m up here. I’ll be right down.’
She looked up, shading her eyes with her hand. ‘What on earth are you doing up there?’
He scrambled across the galvanised iron roof and down the ladder.
She was waiting at the bottom. Her eyes were red and puffy and she looked as if she hadn’t slept for days. She probably hadn’t.
He dusted his hands on his shorts. ‘I thought you’d still be in Adelaide.’
‘It’s been awful … a nightmare …’ Her bottom lip quivered and she blinked back tears. ‘But I needed to come home and sort out a few things and collect more clothes. The funeral’s on Friday morning.’ She dragged in a lungful of air, closed her eyes and held her breath.
‘Ruth?’ he said and gripped her shoulder. The breath shuddered out of her and he dropped his hand when she opened her eyes.
‘I’m all right,’ she said. ‘What I was going to say is that I’ll work tomorrow, Wednesday and Thursday and if I can’t find enough staff to cover Friday and Saturday, I’ll close the cafe. I’ll leave for Adelaide again Thursday afternoon, as soon as Laurie’s been to do the floors.’
‘Have you got time to come inside and have a drink? Hot? Cold?’
‘A cup of tea would be wonderful, if you have it. I’ve drunk too much coffee over the last couple of days and nights. I feel as if I’m floating in it.’
‘There’s tea, nothing fancy, your standard Liptons. I’ve been waiting for the weather to cool down before I went climbing up on the roof. I need to see what condition it’s in.’ Hamish held open the back door and she preceded him inside. ‘Excuse the mess,’ he said when they entered the kitchen. Chaos reigned. The table and cupboard tops were covered with crockery, vases, empty jam jars, everything taken out of the pine dresser before he’d helped Pete load it onto the back of his ute.
‘Where did that gorgeous dresser go?’ Ruth said, aghast.
‘You noticed the dresser?’
‘Of course. I was going to ask if you wanted to sell it, but then I thought I might have sounded a bit crass … You know, so soon after your dad died.’
Hamish just stared at her. ‘Pete took it for Nat. Yesterday. That and Mum’s display cabinet. The only two pieces of furniture that were actually worth anything, come to think of it.’
‘I suppose she was entitled to have them, if you didn’t want them.’
‘I didn’t, but if I’d known you wanted the dresser—’
‘It doesn’t matter, Hamish. I’d pictured it in the cafe, that’s all, and I would have got rid of that cupboard where we keep the spare cutlery and other stuff. I bought that at the op shop for twenty dollars, slapped on a coat of paint.’
Hamish cleared a spot at one end of the table. Ruth sat down. He made tea for her and coffee for himself and took a chair opposite her. ‘He was one of twins, wasn’t he?’
‘Robert was the youngest by seven minutes and Elliot is devastated. We all are. He was seventy-two, seventy-three in July. Too young.’
‘How many kids?’
‘Two and a wife and an ex-wife. Three grandchildren.’ Ruth fiddled with the handle of the bone-china mug. ‘If it’d been Elliot, none of us would have been overly surprised because he does not look after himself, never has. Eats too much, drinks too much. But Robert? He ran marathons and didn’t eat red meat. Made smoothies that had kale and other green stuff in them. Alcohol only ever on special occasions.’
‘Often the way of it. What happened?’
‘He collapsed while he was training for the “big marathon”. Luckily he runs with a bloke who’s a paramedic, otherwise he would have died on the side of the road. Ruptured cerebral aneurysm is what the specialist in intensive care told us. He didn’t ever regain consciousness and they only kept him on life support to give Charlotte and Oliver, his children, time to get there. They both live interstate.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Hamish said and then winced, wishing he’d come up with something better. Something comforting. But suitable words eluded him. He really was out of his depth here. No experience saying comforting things to anyone, that was the trouble.
Ruth sipped her tea. ‘Did your brother-in-law only come for the day? I see the skip’s almost full.’
‘He was here by eight and gone by three. We loaded his trailer with bits and pieces and then worked on filling the skip. Had breakfast at the cafe, that’s how I knew you were in Adelaide. Mia told me.’
‘Were they busy?’
‘Flat strap. She said they had been on Saturday morning as well. Mia certainly knows what she’s on about. A good worker.’
‘She’s her mother’s daughter, no doubt about that.’ Ruth finished her tea and stood. ‘I’d better go. Apologies for not getting back to you this morning. I took Elliot home from the hospital and grabbed a few hours of sleep. He’s a bit of a mess. I feel as if I should have stayed but in the end, he was as anxious for me to leave as I was to go.’
‘Is anyone there with him?’
‘The woman in the townhouse next door has become a friend. She’s a single mother and she works from home and promised to keep an ear out for him. If I need to go back, she’ll let me know. She has my mobile number.’
‘Who’s looking out for you, Ruth? He was your brother too.’
She finished rinsing her cup at the sink before turning to face him. ‘It is kind of confronting, Hamish. It’s sad when your parents die but you expect them to go long before you do. When one of your siblings dies, it gives you a real jolt.’ Her eyes glistened with tears. ‘It makes you think of all the things you should have said to them and done with them but didn’t because you thought you had plenty of time. And then, just like that, you have no time at all.’ She smiled a watery smile. ‘But I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, am I? Your dad hasn’t been gone long at all.’
‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘But regret takes you nowhere good, unless of course you use it as motivation not to make the same mistakes in the future.’
‘Ideally. Thanks for the tea,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you later. Are you around for a while?’
‘I think so.’ Hamish walked out with her. ‘A lot of jobs to do here and there’s nothing much left in Adelaide. Another load and that’ll be it. I have this ridiculously large bed that I don’t know what to do with except bring it here and store it in the garage. It won’t fit into the bedroom.’
‘Why didn’t you sell it?’
‘It’s extremely comfortable and I like it.’
‘Reasons enough to keep it.’
‘Possibly. And Ruth, seriously now, if you need help with anything, please call me. I can turn my hand to most things.’
‘So I’ve noticed,’ she said. ‘Bye—and thanks.’
She climbed into her car, executed a perfect three-point turn and waved as she drove off. The sun had come out and the afternoon was warm. It would be hot on the roof so Hamish went inside instead. He’d found a stack of newspapers in the garage and used them to wrap and pack his mother’s precious things into cardboard boxes. He put aside a few things to keep: a vase he remembered as his mum’s favourite; a gold-embossed decanter and set of matching port glasses that had been his grandmother’s; and the bone-china mugs. Ruth had admired the one he’d served her tea in.
Since Pete’s visit Hamish had come up with a better idea than sending photos of the items to Nat and the girls: the next time he went to Adelaide, these boxes would be going with him and he’d deposit them on his sister’s front verandah. He’d leave it up to her to decide how to dispose of the contents. It was the least she could do.