Toxic

My life in Melbourne revolved mostly around work. Now that I was up here, again I let life revolve around the book and little else. I told people I needed to concentrate, but really, I was escaping.

"I miss some of them, yes, but I also really like it up here. I met Aunt Melanie the other night."

"She doesn't like me calling her Auntie, just Melanie. Did you meet Deb too?"

"Not yet, but I want to."

"She's gorgeous. She works at the hospital."

"How is she gorgeous?" I was interested to see how Lou would describe another woman, thinking back to how she described me when I first arrived.

"She's short and she has curly black hair and dark skin. Did you know her mum's an elder? Also, she has this deep laugh, and she tells me stories that her mum told her."

"Did Deb grow up around here?" I asked, trying to ascertain if she was a First Nation Traditional Owner in the area.

"Yep. Her mum was part of the stolen generation and grew up in Brisbane, but moved up here when she grew up."

"We've got some sad history, Lou, that's for sure, but I hope we can learn from it."

"That's what Dad says, but Grandad argues with him about it sometimes."

"What time does Melanie arrive?"

"Soon, I think. We should probably head to the house."

I grabbed a bottle of wine and followed Lou out of the cottage. Snowdrop was sleeping on the front porch. The walk to the house was not far, and Lou and I continued chatting about life on the farm and about school.

Mr Burrows was perched on a rocking chair reading a newspaper when we arrived at the house.

"Hey, Grandad. Is Melanie here yet?"

"No, Pet. Evening Ms Golding."

"Please, Mr Burrows, please, call me Gigi or Gerry."

"Fair enough." He went back to his paper as Lou led me inside.

It was an old farmhouse that did not appear to have had any work done on it since the 1970s. The kitchen had Formica benchtops in a mustard yellowy-brown and brown and orange tiles behind an old-looking stove.

"Da-ad!" Lou screamed in no direction in particular, "I got Gigi and she brought some wine."

Ben appeared down a short corridor. He looked tired and worn, the creases on his forehead deeper than I had seen before.

"Thanks, Pet. And Gigi, you didn't need to bring anything."

"Is there anything I can do to help? I wasn't sure what time dinner was and Lou seemed to think I should come up now."

"All good. Melanie will be here soon. Dinner's in the slow cooker. Can you set the table, please, Lou?"

Lou grabbed cutlery from a drawer and placemats from a cabinet behind the large kitchen table.

"Ben, Lou, Rod, I'm here. I brought cake." Melanie came walking down the corridor Ben had appeared from, the wire door slamming behind her. "Gerry! Gigi, sorry! I'm so sorry about fangirling you the other night. Usually—"

"It's fine, don't worry! I've been meaning to call to arrange coffee or something," I offered as Melanie handed the cake to Ben, placing a kiss on his cheek and bringing Lou in for a hug.

"That would be amazing." Melanie threw her arms around me. It was lovely to be embraced in a hug as it had been several weeks. "You look like shit, Ben."

"Language, Melanie. And thanks."

"It's a tough week. It's not like she ever knew what she wanted, so I can't offer advice there, but—"

"Thanks, but it's all good," Ben snapped.

I helped Lou put glasses on the table and filled a jug with water. It was awkward being in the middle of a family matter, and I did not want to intrude.

"Is dinner ready? I'll get Rod, and yes, I'll have a glass of wine, thanks, Ben." Melanie was out the back door with Lou on her heels.

"I'm sorry about that." Ben rubbed his hand behind his neck.

"It's fine. Families, hey?"

Over dinner, I got Mr Burrows to talk about the harvest. I knew nothing about sugarcane and still had romantic notions of burning fields and South-Sea Islander labourers from the early twentieth century. Mr Burrows used the term 'Kanaka' at one stage, which saw Ben shake his head. These days, I was told, the cane was harvested green and processed locally.

Melanie griped about the local mayor, who she believed should have retired many years before. He had been featured on the front page of the local paper with an unflattering photo of him looking at the breasts of one of the women who had taken part in a recent citizenship ceremony.

"He's a perv." Melanie started waving her fork in the air. "I mean, if it's not him referring to me as 'Love' or telling me to smile..."

"And yet the people still vote for him." Mr Burrows shook his head in the same way his son had when he referred to South-Sea Island labourers.

"I mean, you're a bit younger than him, Rod, but you're not like that. There are some decent men out there, I presume. Although, Gerry, I bet you doubt there are," Melanie continued.

"All men are bastards. Remember that, Melanie." Mr Burrows stood and took our plates to the sink. "Did I hear there was cake?"

"Not all men, Mr B," I quipped, which saw Ben and Melanie smile.

After Lou had showered and hugged me goodnight, asking that I come to dinner again soon as her Grandad had said 'bastards,' which she found amusing, Ben offered to drive me back to the cottage.

"I can walk. It's not far."

"Not in the dark. It's not safe." Mr Burrows stated.

"I suspect it's a little safer than the streets of Melbourne at night!"

"You have bandicoots and snakes there, do you?" Mr Burrows had a huge grin on his face as he dried the last of the dishes.

The drive to the cottage was in silence, but in the headlights, I did notice some critters scurrying in front of the ute.

"Thanks so much for dinner, Ben. It was nice."

"Yeah. Dad's a funny one. I have to pick my battles with him."

"Would you like to come in for a cup of tea? I've got herbal and regular."

"I should get back..."

"Yeah. Melanie probably has something else she wants to chat about."

"Actually, a tea sounds lovely!" Ben chuckled.

After ushering Ben inside the cottage, I filled the kettle with water and put teabags into cups. "Is peppermint ok?"

"Perfect."

"I like to sit on the verandah at night and listen to the critters. I think there must be a few different species of frogs around the creek."

"It wouldn't surprise me."

We sipped our tea in silence for a bit, listening to the sounds of nature around us.

"It's—" Both of us started talking at the same time. "No, you go." I suggested to Ben.

"It's four years on Friday since Lou's mother died."

"Oh, Ben. I'm so sorry. It must be a hard time for you all."

"Sort of." Ben trailed off again. "Kerri was my childhood sweetheart. She had a rough childhood with no father in the picture and started rebelling at school. I'd, um, well, I'd fancied Melanie who was in my class, but, well..."

"She didn't fancy you?" I offered.

"Yeah, something like that. I'm still not sure if I settled on Kerri because of my feelings towards Melanie or if... At the time, it seemed real enough. Anyway, I went away to college to study agribusiness, and a year later, Kerri followed. We'd kept things up for the year, and I travelled back to town for her formal and things. But she'd changed."

Ben took another large sip of his tea.

"Anyway, at college, she was the life of the party. And she involved me. I mean, she drank more than me, and she smoked a bit of pot and the like, which I didn't do. I thought it was love. I proposed on her twenty-first birthday, and she said yes. She knew I was planning a life on the farm and was happy to come home. She had been doing some fine arts degree or something. She was a painter."

"Lou mentioned the cottage was her studio."

"Things were good for a bit. Kerri's moods fluctuated, but I thought it was hormonal or something. A couple of years later, she got pregnant, and I was thrilled. We'd been trying for a while. We lived in the house with Mum and Dad, and Dad kept saying he was going to build a new house for us."

Ben kept playing with his mug, his legs apart, his arms leaning on them with his head forward.

"Anyway. A few weeks before Lou was born, Mum had a heart attack and died. She was only fifty-five. She was so excited about being a grandma. Dad was a mess. Then Lou arrived..."

"Is she named after your Mum?"

"Yeah. Louise Margaret. Mum was Margaret Louise, but Kerri hated the idea of Margaret, so we compromised. Dad fell in a bit of a heap. He tried to keep on with the farm work. Then Kerri's mood sank. They diagnosed post-natal depression. It went on for a while. Melanie and Deb were an item at the time, and they came over and helped a lot. I just... I had Dad, I had Kerri, and I had Lou to look after."

"Plus, I guess you were running the farm?"

"The farm fell in a bit of a heap, to be honest. Kerri didn't like living with Dad. Dad didn't like living with Kerri, and I was stuck in the middle. Kerri found some new friends. She called them her 'Mums Group' except she never took Lou with her. Later I found they weren't other mums, but people she'd meet with to smoke pot."

"Did you have any outlets?"

"Don't be silly. I was caring for Lou and Dad. Somehow, the pot altered her brain chemistry, and the next thing I knew, she was high all the time, not from smoking pot mind, just high, elevated. The doctors decided she was bipolar. She got sectioned in hospital, and they tried to work out medication and stuff."

"How old was Lou by this stage?"

"Eighteen months. Melanie and Kerri's mum had always been flighty, and she didn't like the idea of her daughter being in a psychiatric ward. She blamed me, no matter what Mel would say to her. She was in for about four months. She seemed to be back to her usual state, and I was happy to have her home..."

"I'm sensing a but."

"Yeah. Once out of hospital she stopped taking the meds. She'd crash and then wallow for weeks. Then something would change, and she'd be elevated again, shopping online and maxing out credit cards, going to nightclubs and coming home drunk. One night she was dropped off by a carload of boys. Men really. She was just wearing her top and had semen dripping down her legs and through her hair."

"Oh, Ben."

"But I'd signed up to this. I'd married her for better or worse, and this was the worse part. The mental health people tried to help, but they were stretched. So, this went on for a couple of years. Eventually, I told Dad I didn't think I could do it anymore. He was a lot better by this stage, and we were working at getting the farm back on track. Melanie and Deb were so supportive of Lou and me. I tried to shield Lou as much as I could.

"Dad told her she needed to leave until she could sort her shit out. She laughed in his face. She told him I wouldn't kick her out because she was pregnant again. Of course, it wasn't mine; it wasn't like she was sleeping with me. Except, I told her I'd had enough. She stormed out and jumped in her car. We're not entirely sure what happened next, but it looks like it was dark, and she drove a dark blue car and parked it on the road in front of the driveway, knowing cars and trucks come hurtling around the corner.

"She died instantly. The young father in the other car died a few days later in hospital. He was a nurse on his way home from work. Such a fucking waste."

"I don't think anything I could say would help, but it sounds like you lived with her demons for some years. Blame is a complicated emotion, and I think we are harder on ourselves than others are on us most of the time."

"Experience speaking?"

"Yeah. Probably."

"I should get back. I'm sorry, I don't know why I just unloaded on you." Ben had trouble looking at me.

"Anytime. I think sometimes having a friend who wasn't involved in the situation can help. I'm here for a few more months. Perhaps on the weekend, you could all come down here for dinner. Melanie and Deb, too, if they're free?"

"We'll see. I should get going; I've got an early start."

"Sure. I'm here if you want to talk. Big ears, tight lips, and all that."

"Thanks, Geraldine."

It was strange hearing Ben use my full name. Usually, only my father used it these days, and it wasn't like we spoke on any regular basis. No wonder Ben looked weary.

~*~*~*~*~

Ben put off getting together at the cottage, and I remembered Lou's words about him being reminded of her mother's studio. Preparations for the Reclaim the Night march were coming along, and Nadia had arranged for me to meet with a local journalist to talk about our intentions for the night.

I didn't want to meet Candice at the farm, so I arranged to meet her in a local coffee shop one Monday morning.

"Geraldine, hi. I'm Candice." Candice held out a perfectly manicured hand and gripped mine lightly.

I tried not to judge other women on appearances, but with Candice, it was hard. She looked like a human Barbie doll with platinum blonde hair, a tight top with probably enhanced breasts, and a short skirt. Her make-up was thick and, although she appeared to be about my age, I wondered if she had had Botox in addition to the fillers in her lips.

"Thanks for meeting with me, Candice. I'm glad the paper wants to do a feature on Reclaim the Night; it's an important cause."

"Well, I won't say I'm one of your biggest fans. I mean, I actually think that the feminism movement has gone too far the other way. I mean, women have jobs now, and I'm getting married in a few weeks, and I'm happily taking my husband's name because we're going to be a family."

"Congratulations. Exciting times for you. I mean, to me, the women's movement is about giving women choice. If they want to change their names, good for them. If they want to wear make-up and shave all their body hair off, great. But also, if they choose not to, again, that's their choice."

"So why are we having this march then?" Candice asked as she activated the voice recorder on her phone.

"Women still feel unsafe at night. Too often, women are blamed for provoking men into harassing them when it's the men who are harassing in the first place."

"Interesting." Candice raised her eyebrows, well attempted to.

"You feel safe at night then?" I asked as the waiter brought us our coffees.

"Well, I have Byron with me, and he protects me. I mean, he's a real man."

"That's great, but what about if you are out alone with friends, in a group of women for instance."

"Men find us attractive, so it's natural they try and hit on us."

"I suppose I come at things a little differently in that I think men should know what appropriate behaviour and harassing women at night, because they look attractive, is not cool. It's fine for a man to acknowledge a woman and smile or offer a comment, but so many women have stories about being groped or molested in public, just because of how they look."

I could see Candice was not in agreeance and wondered if I should push further, but before I could, Candice asked another question.

"Men get attacked at night too. Are you going to be standing up for them as well?"

"Men get attacked by other men the majority of the time. It's not women king-hitting men outside nightclubs."

"Well, I think it's gone the other way and men are being portrayed as the bogeyman, when most of them aren't."

Interesting choice of words I thought from the young reporter.

"There are good men out there. I've met some in this town. Men who understand that if a woman says no, she means no, and that violence against women is never the answer."

"So, it's a rally against violence then?"

"Having your bum slapped or your boobs grabbed in public in an unwanted way is an act of violence, yes."

"Isn't that just men showing us how attracted they are to us, though?"

"Ever had a lesbian or bi-woman grab your breasts in public without asking?"

"I'm sorry?" Candice looked shocked.

"The common theme is men. I mean, I've only just met you, Candice, but I doubt you'd grab a man by the junk in public, would you?"

"Of course not!"

"So why can't men learn to control their emotions better and act like decent humans?"

"Moving on... A few weeks back, we saw another poor father hamstrung by the system drawn to setting his house on fire with his darling children in it. Why do courts favour women, and why aren't women arguing for more equality in that sphere?"

"Candice, this has nothing to do with Reclaim the Night. As I have said previously, violence is never the answer. The family court system is complex, and I'm not a lawyer. There are services for people who believe they have been victims of family and domestic violence, and many that are also aimed at men. There are services people can use if they believe they are hard done by."

"What are you talking about at the rally then?"

"I'm not talking. There are several local women sharing their stories and their experiences in this town because even though we're not in a major capital city, women here feel unsafe at night."

Candice thanked me for my time and turned off her recorder. I hoped that between the press release Nadia had distributed with local facts and figures and some of my comments, Candice could come up with some kind of article to promote the rally.

"Thanks, Geraldine. I understand you're up here writing a book."

"Yeah. My PhD was on ways men can help achieve gender parity, and I'm trying to convert some of it into a book looking at ways men can help achieve equality."

"I hear you've shacked up with Ben Burrows."

"I'm sorry? I mean, not that it's any of your business, but I'm staying on the Burrows's farm, yes, in a cottage."

"He was always such a spunk, especially at school. It's so sad he drove his wife away, and she had the accident escaping him."

I knew not to bite but wanted to defend Ben. I simply shook Candice's hand and walked away.

Candice would not have been a woman I would normally choose to build a friendship with, but I thought back to the quotation a former student had illustrated and framed to thank me for helping with her PhD, "Empowered women empower women."

My family of origin certainly didn't offer empowerment to women. My mother stayed at home and did my father's bookwork whilst he ran a small business. Mum appeared happy and content to be taking a caring role and would never admit to having any dreams or aspirations of her own, apart from raising me and looking after dad.

Women had become more empowered over the last few decades, but there was still so much work to be done. As I often told my students, I plant a tree today so that someone else can enjoy its shade in the future.

Checking the time, I flicked Melanie a text stating I was in town and wondering if she might be free to catch up for lunch. She was thrilled with the opportunity. There was a small café near the council chambers where we could sit and enjoy each other's company.

"How was the interview?" Melanie asked after we had both ordered salads for lunch.

"I'm not sure. Candice was a little antagonistic, but I think she was simply trying to justify her choices in life."

"Was it Candice Bergeman from the Herald? She was in my year at school and always one of the popular girls."

"That's her. We'll see what she writes, or, more importantly, what her editor allows into the paper."

"She's engaged to the editor, you know. He left his wife and teenage kids to be with her."

"Yeah, well, I sincerely hope they are happy together. No one knows what goes on in relationships behind closed doors."

"True. People would be shocked to know what Deb and I get up to!"

"I'm not sure I want to hear about this." I smiled.

"Let's just say nipple clamps are awesome and leave it at that." Melanie laughed. "I'm so glad to have met you and that you chose to come up here."

"It's been good. I needed to get away. I'm, what, thirty-one and apart from work have little else. I tried to shut myself off when I first arrived here, but it can be lonely."