Heartstrings | Page 3

his cash
books...’
‘He told me you were the prettiest thing he ever saw?’

Heartstrings

6
She faced him, aware of his presence again, ‘He said that? when did he say that?’
‘Last time I saw him. When I was in Mooloolaba last year.’
‘Is that where he is?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did he want to see me?’
‘He's remarried, he has another wife and family.’
She gave a short exclamation, like a cross between a laugh and a sob, ‘I understand. He
couldn't help himself.’
‘For God's sake, mum, stop saying that. I makes me sick 'he couldn't help himself.'‘
‘It's the truth. It's what I've learnt. We're all just victims of ourselves. When we do these
destructive things, we just destroy ourselves. We can't help it.’
‘I'm not destroying myself.’
‘You're running out on your wife, and child.’
‘I just told you, Mum. She's not my daughter.’
‘You can't be sure.’
‘True,’ he gave a horrible laugh. ‘How true.’
‘And now you're running away, like a lost soul. ‘
‘I'm taking my freedom, Mum.’
‘Is that what you want?’
‘More than anything.’
His mother looked thoughtfully out the window at the garden she had made, at the trees she
had planted, the grass that she had nurtured through the hot dry summers, the flowers that she
groomed and conversed with, and the quiet street beyond. On the other side of the street was
the forest - her own private park, and in it lived the creatures that she called to her, and fed.
The big beaked kookaburras that came in the afternoon, and the quiet shadows of the
kangaroos that came to the bowl of scraps she put out at night - the blue-tongue lizard that
fancied itself hidden, by the brick retaining wall he had built her clumsily one school holiday,
when he was twelve, that came to drink the milk she put out for it in the early morning.
‘I can understand that,’ she said. ‘But not how you're doing it.’

Heartstrings

7
‘I'm just leaving, that's all.’
‘You've chucked in your job, Aidan. I can't understand it’ she began to cry. ‘I can't’ she
sobbed, ‘It's the most awful thing, Aidan. After all these years, after all your study, and with
your talent, you've just chucked it all away.’
‘I've sold out to my partner, Mum. I can always go back to it.’
‘Could you?’
‘If I had to,’ he acknowledged grimly.
‘That's what I mean. You always wanted to be an architect. That's all you ever wanted, ever.
You've worked and worked and worked. You've made a name for yourself, you've worked
and worked, seven days a week, at all hours. I was glad when you married, because I knew
you were lonely...’
‘You told me you couldn't stand Bonnie,’ he interrupted, ‘so come on, don't give me that...’
‘Well, I knew she was a cold bitch,’ his mother admitted, frowning.
‘Did you!’ he grinned suddenly.
‘But I thought she'd behave herself. She was so glad to be married to such a successful man -
a famous man...’
‘Hardly famous, Mum, but I did make a good living from it.’
‘And now you're going to be a painter.’
‘Yes.’
‘You sound like your mind is made up.’
‘It is.’
‘I don't understand,’ her tears were forgotten, and she glared at him in a rage, ‘That's no career
for a man like you.’
‘Well,’ he stood up, restless, unable to tolerate his mother's presence any longer, ‘You wanted
to be a nun - I want to paint. If you'd been a nun, I wouldn't be here.’
‘Aidan! You always say such horrible things to me.’
‘I’m sorry. I don't mean it.’
‘You're going?’
‘Yes.’

Heartstrings

8
‘When will I see you next, then.’
‘I don't know.’
He had written to her, explaining himself, pouring out to her his own justification, for that
event for which he had no explanation in himself. The letter was still in his jacket pocket,
stained and battered, un- posted. Why had he told her? It was all like a dream, and somehow,
from the viewpoint of his current madness, the madness that possessed him then, as the
betrayal of his wife, his possession his future, his inner being confirmed in its sudden
revelation the infant was not of his seed, the impostor in the cradle was an intruder, an alien
to his cells, it was not of him, but of another, and seeing it there, in her eyes, her beautiful
black, glowing, piercing and satisfied, smug, innocent, innocent eyes, he had seen it, and seen
through her, as now he saw