Trust Me

  ‘Couldn’t you call that shrink in Sydney that had the bright idea of taking him back there?’ Bruce said.

  ‘It’s too late to call now,’ she said. ‘Besides, the number’s back in our house.’

  ‘It’s not too late when it’s an emergency,’ Bruce said, looking sharply at her as if suspecting she was holding something back from him. ‘I’ll come over with you while you get it, I’ll stay with Ross while you make the call. You never know, he might respond to me. I was the one who found him in the barn after all.’

  Dulcie felt she had no choice but to make the call then, and Stephan didn’t sound the least annoyed to be called so late. He said he’d just returned home from visiting friends. Haltingly Dulcie explained about the trip to Bindoon, and the state Ross was in now.

  ‘What happened, Dulcie?’ he asked. ‘Something did happen, didn’t it? Or he told you something. Please tell me, I can’t help unless you do.’

  Dulcie began to cry. ‘He was raped by one of the Brothers,’ she blurted out before she could lose her nerve. ‘It went on for several years.’

  There was absolute silence for a moment, then Stephan sighed deeply. ‘Oh Dulcie, I feared it might be something like that. I wish I had been wrong.’

  She felt just a slight sense of relief at telling him. ‘What do I do now? Should I call a doctor?’

  ‘Wait a couple of days, sleep is a great healer,’ he said soothingly. ‘If he’s lying awake, try and get him up, encourage him to eat. It’s quite likely he doesn’t remember he’s told you about it, to him it will almost certainly seem like he’s had a mere mental flashback, and I expect he’s had those before. Once he begins to talk again, tell him that he told you, try and get him to speak of it again. Admitting such terrible things happened is half the battle.’

  ‘What’s the other half?’ she asked.

  ‘Dealing with it. You will remember I told you he has to learn to put the blame for it on to that Brother, and let go of his guilt and shame. Sadly that’s often the hardest part. You might find he has bursts of extreme anger, he may become clinically depressed. His local doctor will be able to help with that,’ though I can’t recommend you tell him the whole story, not unless you are very sure of him, for if Ross comes up against disbelief, it could set him back badly.’

  Dulcie had no intention of telling the local doctor, but she felt indignant that Stephan should suggest Ross wouldn’t be believed, and said so. ‘Surely anyone who had heard what I heard would want to string that Brother up?’

  ‘I’m afraid when there is a choice between believing an orphan boy and a man of the cloth, the cleric wins hands down,’ Stephan said quietly. ‘The Christian Brothers have a unique place in the history of the country and in the affections of its people. I personally would like to see this Brother prosecuted and sent to prison. Ideally I’d like that orphanage and all others thoroughly investigated, so that no other child has to suffer cruelty or abuse. But it would have to be a very brave man to start that particular ball rolling, he’d need a great deal of back-up from other old boys too. I don’t somehow see Ross, from what you’ve told me about him, as that man.’

  ‘No, nor do I,’ she said regretfully. ‘But it’s a terrible thought that even as we speak it might be happening to other helpless children.’

  ‘Look after Ross for now,’ he said gently ‘I will pass a discreet word around to people I know who do have influence in such matters. Ring me again in a few days to tell me how things are progressing.’

  The next few weeks were agonizing for Dulcie. She was run ragged with all her usual duties, and needing to keep going over to check on Ross. She did eventually manage to bully him into getting up and dressed to sit in a chair, but he just stared out of the window vacantly. The doctor wasn’t a great deal of help, he gave him some pills and a tonic, but that was all. Bruce, John and Bob were all sympathetic towards him up to a point, but mental illness was way out of their comprehension. Dulcie sensed that their sympathy was slowly turning to resentment as they struggled to do Ross’s work too, and if he didn’t snap out of it, the way they expected he should, then a mental institution would be the next step.

  She felt as if the weight of it all was solely upon her shoulders. She was responsible for taking him to Bindoon. She had the hideous images in her mind she couldn’t share with anyone else. She took on the guilt that the other men were doing his work, and lived with the fear that if he was taken to an institution, he’d never get out. Yet over and above everything else a small voice at the back of her head kept whispering that this was her punishment for allowing herself to dream of a life with Rudie and Noël.

  It was that last thing which plagued her the most, for even if she hadn’t been physically unfaithful to Ross, she had had it in mind a hundred times. So all she could do was try to bring him out of it.

  She sat in front of him and repeated everything he’d told her, but there was no reaction. She tried just holding him and stroking his hair, pleading with him to talk to her, but that didn’t work either. Once she even slapped him, but felt so ashamed when he looked at her in shocked surprise that she burst into tears. Reading to him, playing music and giving him his favourite meals didn’t help either. He ate some of whatever she put in front of him, but with no enjoyment. When he did speak it was usually something about the farm. Just questions like had the cows been milked, or had Bruce decided on which paddock was to be ploughed next. He didn’t appear even to know what season it was, for he asked about lambing one day, and that would be months ahead.

  The nights were the worst time for her. During the day she had so much to do that sometimes she could switch off her anxiety and guilt. But the moment she turned off the light and lay next to him, it came back with a vengeance. On one hand she had the terrible images Ross had given her flashing through her mind, on the other she had the lovely ones of Noël and Rudie, the cottage in Watson’s Bay. At least before they went to Bindoon she had a straight choice, stay or go. Yet she couldn’t possibly leave Ross like this, there would be no one to look after him. But how long could anyone be expected to take care of someone in his condition?

  The answer of course, was for ever. That was the deal in marriage, for better or worse, in sickness and in health.

  She had to ring Rudie and ask him not to contact her any more. It was too painful to listen to him talking about Noël sitting up on his own, and his first attempts at crawling. She didn’t want to visualize the new painting Rudie was working on, or hear news about people she’d met and liked.

  He said he understood, but all that did was make her feel more hopeless, for no one could really understand the torment she was going through.

  One afternoon Dulcie was washing over the floor in her living-room and Ross kept walking on to the wet parts. She had been pleased when he first began getting out of his chair and walking about, even though he was still silent, but the pleasure had soon turned to irritation. At least when he was sitting she could work round him, in the evenings she could paint or read. But his pacing up and down was too distracting to concentrate on anything.

  She was tired, longing for real company, and the sight of Ross still unwashed and unshaven, still wearing his pyjamas because she’d forgotten to order him to get washed and dressed this morning, was too much to bear.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, stop that pacing and go and get dressed,’ she yelled at him. ‘I’ve got enough to do without you getting in my way. It’s just not fair!’

  He didn’t appear to have heard her because he continued to pace up and down. Dulcie hastily finished the floor around him, and was just getting up off her hands and knees when he finally spoke.

  ‘Nothing’s fair in this life,’ he said, his speech slow and slightly slurred.

  ‘You’re right there,’ she said tartly. ‘I’ve been taking care of you for over four weeks now and you don’t even seem to know I’m here.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have made me go back there,’ he retorted.

  Maybe she
ought to have been delighted that he was answering her back, yet all she heard was him putting the blame on to her.

  She threw the wet cloth down on to the floor.’ Is that what this is all about then? You’re punishing me for making you remember?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘It seems that way to me, Ross,’ she said. ‘You’ve got to put the blame on Brother Dawe, nobody else. You’ve got to try and get back to normal too. Bruce needs you, I need you.’

  ‘You don’t need me,’ he said. ‘Neither does Bruce, both of you could easily get someone else.’

  Something snapped inside Dulcie. ‘You feel so bloody sorry for yourself it makes me sick,’ she hissed at him. ‘It was awful what happened to you, but you can’t just sit there dwelling on it. Sure I could get someone else, I’d probably get a far better deal than you, too. Bruce could fill your job tomorrow, but he won’t do that because he’s an honourable man, and I won’t go because I’m married to you. But don’t tempt us too far, Ross. We have a breaking-point too.’

  She rushed towards the door, stopping only as she reached it. ‘For heaven’s sake get yourself washed and dressed,’ she shouted at him. ‘It makes me sick to see you shuffling about like that.’

  Outside the house she felt bitterly ashamed of herself, and instead of going into Bruce’s she skirted round his house and sat on the bench under a tree at the back of it. This had been Betty’s favourite spot to sit outside in the spring. She said it was a good place to survey the farm and think how lucky she’d been to end up owning it.

  It was a good place. Behind her was a paddock with grazing sheep, to her right she could see right down the track to the road, and the paddocks on either side. On her side of the track there were more sheep, across it, heifers and the two horses Bruce had bought a while back. Straight in front was Bruce’s house, and beyond that his land stretched on for ever. To her left was the barn, the bunk-house and her own house, and all around them were pine trees, and an English oak, planted in the early part of this century. Beyond that was more pasture and the lake, and even if the summer sun had dried up the grass, there was still plenty of grazing left, for they had many short showers here, even in the hottest months.

  She wondered where Bruce, Bob and John were working today, they hadn’t said this morning at breakfast. She guessed they probably talked among themselves about Ross while they were out, wondering what on earth they were going to do about him. They couldn’t manage for much longer without him, he had always done such a huge share of the work. Bruce was too old to be attempting young men’s work, and neither Bob nor John had Ross’s patience and empathy with animals. They would have to find a replacement for him soon.

  She was still sitting there when she saw John and Bruce driving back up the track in the Ute. John waved his hat out of the window when he saw her, and there was something about the gesture that told her he had something to say to her.

  Running over to meet them, she saw Bruce get out of the driving seat and open the passenger side for John. He appeared to have something in his arms.

  As she got closer she realized it was a puppy. John was holding it against his chest like a baby and it was licking his face.

  ‘A puppy!’ she said gleefully, putting aside her earlier gloom. ‘Oh, let me hold him! Where did you get him?’

  John put the black and white pup into her arms. ‘We went to Condingup, to see a bloke about some fencing. His bitch had puppies about eight weeks ago, this one needed a home.’

  Dulcie held the puppy up to get a good look at him, he had a look of a Border collie, with floppy, fluffy ears. ‘He’s beautiful,’ she exclaimed. ‘What’re you going to call him?’

  ‘That’s up to Ross,’ Bruce said. ‘We got him for him, thought it might bring him round a bit.’

  A lump came up in Dulcie’s throat. Ross loved dogs, she knew he had always wanted one of his own. But it was Bruce’s big-heartedness which choked her up, he had thought of the one thing which really might help Ross.

  ‘Come over now and show it to him,’ she suggested. ‘We had some sharp words earlier, he could do with seeing that you two care about him.’

  The two men exchanged glances, they’d both been in and out to see Ross many times just after Dulcie brought him back from Bindoon, but she knew they’d stopped coming because they both felt embarrassed and ill at ease that he didn’t respond to them.

  ‘He was talking earlier,’ she said. ‘I was nasty to him too.’

  John half smiled. ‘You couldn’t be nasty if you tried,’ he said gallantly.

  ‘You’ll see just how nasty if you don’t come,’ she said with a smile. ‘Go on, he’s not so scary now. I ordered him to get washed, shaved and dressed. If he’s done that without me standing over him, that’s an improvement.’

  Ross was washed and dressed when Dulcie went in. He was sitting in the chair looking out of the window at the lake in the distance.

  ‘Bruce and John have come to see you, Ross,’ she said.

  He kind of nodded, but didn’t turn his head to look at them.

  ‘We brought something for you, Ross,’ Bruce said and stepping forward he held out the puppy and put him into Ross’s lap.

  Dulcie held her breath and watched as Ross’s hand instinctively moved to prevent the pup falling on to the floor. As his fingers made contact with its fur, the pup wriggled closer to him and began licking his hand.

  There was utter silence, three pairs of eyes all centred on Ross and the puppy. Slowly Ross’s hand moved to its back to stroke it, he fondled its ears and drew it closer still to him till it nestled in his arms. Dulcie almost felt a pang of jealousy that she had stroked and caressed Ross so many times in the past couple of weeks, yet never once had he reciprocated. But this puppy had managed to get through to him.

  ‘He’s yours, Ross,’ Bruce said, his voice croaky with emotion. ‘You’ll have to give him a name.’

  Ross’s head turned towards Bruce and for the first time since they arrived home there was a light in his eyes. ‘He’s for me?’ he whispered.

  John stood awkwardly, his hat in his hand, but Bruce moved closer and knelt down beside Ross to pet the puppy. ‘Yeah, he’s yours, for keeps. His ma’s a first-class sheep dog, so mind you train him well. I had a dog just like him when I was your age, best dog I ever had.’

  ‘What was his name?’ Ross asked.

  ‘Jigger,’ Bruce said, and chuckled. ‘Bloody silly name. Don’t know why I picked on that one, but it suited him.’

  Ross looked down at the puppy falling asleep in the crook of his arm and half smiled. ‘I’ll call him Jigger then.’

  Dulcie made a cup of tea for everyone and though Ross said little more, she felt a new lightness in the room, where before there had been only gloom. Later, when Bruce and John left, she followed them outside, leaving Ross still petting Jigger in his lap.

  ‘Thank you so much, both of you,’ she said, looking from Bruce’s old baggy face to John’s still handsome smooth one. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘We didn’t, not for sure,’ Bruce smiled. ‘But I remembered how Ross told me he caught a baby rabbit once and kept it as a pet tucked into his shirt. ‘Course I didn’t know then what it must’ve meant to him to have something of his own to love, but when I saw that pup, I just had a feeling.’

  ‘Guess it will mean more work for you,’ John grinned. ‘Puddles and stuff.’

  ‘I don’t mind that,’ Dulcie said. ‘Not if it helps to get him better.’

  Bruce patted her shoulder. ‘I wish I could have found something to bring a smile back on to your face too.’

  ‘You have,’ she said, breaking into a grin. ‘It’s called hope.’

  Chapter Twenty-six

  ‘Bad dog,’ Dulcie said, snatching away a shoe Jigger had been chewing at. ‘If you keep on doing that you’ll have to stay outside like the other dogs.’

  Jigger looked up at her with mournful eyes, and she had to smile. He was naughty, always into some mischief, but he
had brought about Ross’s recovery and for that she could stand the odd chewed shoe.

  It was now October, eight months since Ross had the breakdown. He had been back at work for six months now, and on the surface he was his old self again. Yet the experience had changed him in many ways which only Dulcie saw. He was more appreciative, less of a braggart, and he could talk to her about things he once would never have discussed.

  Yet it was undoubtedly Jigger who saved him, not her attention or the pills the doctor gave him. Jigger made him go outside again, for he was too afraid the puppy would get bitten by a snake to allow him out alone. He had to build him an outside pen too, and that brought back his old pleasure in making things. Playing with the dog, training him and sensing the animal’s unconditional love for him gave him back some self-worth, and as he gradually took up smaller jobs around the farm and reestablished familiarity with the other men, so he truly began to recover.

  ‘What’s he done now?’ Ross came out of the bathroom and looked at Jigger standing there with his tail between his legs.

  ‘A shoe again,’ Dulcie said. ‘Funny it’s always mine he takes.’

  ‘I expect they smell better,’ Ross joked. ‘I’ll buy you a new pair.’

  ‘He ought to be kept outside like the other dogs,’ she said. Bruce’s dogs never went in the house. They were with him all day outside, but in the evenings they went in their kennels.

  ‘Could you really shut him out?’ Ross said, bending to pet the dog. ‘I bet you’d lie awake all night worrying in case a snake got him.’

  Dulcie sighed. That was true, she would. Yet sometimes when Jigger brought in mud all over her floor she got so mad she felt she might explode.

  ‘They are only puppies for such a short time,’ Ross said, a note of pleading in his voice. ‘A year from now he’ll be all grown-up and he’ll be out working with me all day.’