CARLY LEANED her head back until she had a clear view of the single leaf at the very top of the soft triangle made by the boughs of the Liquidambar. It looked like the star on a Christmas tree, she thought.
‘It’s turning colour already,’ she said with some shock. ‘It can’t be, surely. It’s not even April yet.’
After a moment a voice came from behind her, softly, like a chill breeze. ‘Well I can feel the cold coming on.’
Carly stiffened but let the words drift past her. No reply was expected. They’d accepted long ago that their conversations would fade into nothing. A life lived together didn’t mean a shared life, she thought. She wondered how she could face another winter – the short days keeping them inside together, the daily routine of the afternoon fires, the long nights sitting across from each other with nothing to say. She gripped the chair.
‘I think I might go away.’ Her head was lowered, eyes downcast towards her lap. She waited. There was no reply.
‘I think I might take a month off. Go somewhere where it’s warm and sunny. Somewhere I could float in the water and let the sun turn me golden brown.’ She closed her eyes and imagined the water cradling her. No sounds. No people. No Margaret. Alone, wonderfully alone. She waited.
‘What would I do while you’re gallivanting about in the water?’
Carly smiled with satisfaction as she sensed the panic beneath the sneer in Margaret’s voice. She left the question hanging in the air and timed her reply for greatest effect.
‘You could have some respite,’ she replied, gripping the chair even harder and watching her knuckles turn white. She willed her body to calmness while she waited for the reply, and looked upwards again at the golden leaf at the top of the tree. If only Margaret would agree. She closed her eyes and dreamt of the sun bathing their lids with golden light as she sank softly into the warm embrace of salty water. Quietly,ever so quietly sinking downwards, into peace, into freedom. She waited.
There was no reply. She had expected argument, denial. Silence brought hope to her heart and she pressed her advantage quickly. Not too quickly, she thought. She mustn’t sound too eager, too desperate. A quickening breeze rustled the great tree in front of her and the top leaf shuddered. Its golden, paper-dry points fluttered and twisted as though anxious to be free, but held firm, its stem still anchored to the strength of the trunk.
‘You could be with people of your own age, maybe play some bingo,’ Carly said. ‘You could go on bus trips – be with lots of people – instead of just me. We’d both have a holiday.’ She waited.
‘You’re actually serious aren’t you,’ came the reply. ‘You truly believe it’s going to happen. You really think you can go off … and leave me behind? What would you do; what would you be without me?’
Carly sat quietly for some time, her head still raised towards the top of the tree. She saw the leaf detach. She saw the chill evening breeze cradle it gently downwards; saw it turning on its golden points until it rested on the soft earth. It was the first to fall. She would watch the others too, all of them over the next month, floating lightly to the ground, released from their ties for one brief moment, alone, free, before they came quietly to rest. She would not wait any longer.
‘I’m going back inside now,’ she said. She would do it. She would make it happen. She would find a way. She would find a way to be free.
Carly placed her hands in her lap and let Margaret manoeuvre her wheelchair across the soft earth onto the pathway.
‘Thank you Margaret,’ said Carly. ‘I’ll look after myself from here.’
Marni Foote is a long-term resident of the Blackall Range and is one of the founding members of Wordweavers Writing Group formed ten years ago. Marni has been writing since childhood and has written an unpublished novel. Wordweavers is a small, informal group of Range writers focusing on short stories and poetry. They challange, support and share their work monthly.
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