The Lightkeeper's Wife - By Karen Viggers Page 0,89

they’re the ones who insist on hanging porn all over the place.’

‘All over the place?’ I only remember a few pinups in the workshop, and they were pretty tame. It’s the same in the garage where I work in Sandy Bay. Some of the men like having a few posters up. It’s almost cultural for them. After a while you don’t even notice.

‘Normal women don’t look like that,’ Emma says with disdain.

‘Nobody looks at those posters,’ I say.

‘I do,’ she says. ‘And I don’t want to.’

I’d like to ask her how often she goes into the workshop when she’s south. When I was down there we rarely had visitors. Especially not women. ‘I think it helps some of the guys cope,’ I say.

‘With what?’

‘Abstinence.’

‘You shouldn’t defend them. Can’t they just work it off in the gym?’

‘They do.’ I remember the guys laughing about how strong they were from all the hours in the weights room. ‘But it can still be difficult for some of them.’

Emma’s laugh is hard. ‘Because they’re missing out? How pathetic. Women don’t have that problem.’

How can I explain to her how it is to be in the body of a man? We’re biologically different. Women don’t seem to understand that.

‘How about you,’ Emma asks. ‘How did you cope?’

I flush and mumble something inane. I don’t want to tell Emma about Sarah helping me to survive the end of my marriage. ‘It’s a long time for people to be away from their partners,’ I say.

‘Then people with partners shouldn’t go south.’ Emma grins suddenly. ‘That’d limit the application field, wouldn’t it? . . . You know, the Brits only send down people who aren’t married.’ She laughs again. ‘I wonder how many of them come back and get married to someone they’ve met down there? But sending married couples doesn’t work either. They’ve tried that. Too much friction if they blow apart and the girl takes up with someone else. I’ve seen it happen.’

‘It isn’t safe for relationships,’ I say, thinking of Debbie.

‘No. And nobody should expect it to be safe. The problem is that people don’t understand the risks.’

She’s right, of course. You don’t understand until it’s too late. And then that which is broken can’t be mended.

I stare out the window, wondering how things would be now if I’d been wiser, if I had stood up to Debbie and refused to go south. We’d have paid off most of the mortgage in a few years anyway, if we’d worked hard. We might even have two or three kids by now. A swing set in the backyard.

‘I’m sorry.’ Emma’s voice draws me back into the room. ‘That wasn’t very sensitive of me.’

‘It’s okay,’ I say, managing a smile. ‘It’s been a long time. I ought to be over it.’

She goes to the bathroom while I step outside. The porch is already in shadow and the air is cool. I sit on an old wooden chair and watch a rosella feeding on the bird tray. I watch it pick up a seed and crack it deftly with its beak, tucking the kernel into its mouth with its knobby grey tongue and then discarding the husk. Jess comes out and sits beside me. The birds are so accustomed to us they don’t fly away. I watch the light over the water on the channel. When Emma comes out, I’m settled and calm. She touches my face with her hands and runs her fingertips over my lips. I am so easily undone by her.

‘Come on,’ she says, taking my hand.

Inside, she kisses me and releases my passion all over again.

When her strong brown hands are on me and when I can feel the boldness of her curves, she is mine and I am hers.

21

In the pale light before dawn on Friday morning, I guiltily desert Jess, leaving her at home with a large bowl of dog food and an enormous placatory bone. Then I collect Emma and we hump piles of gear into my car: tent, sleeping bag, sleeping mats, an esky full of food, and milk-crates containing gas bottles, plates and pots. Emma tosses in an old rucksack weighed down with climbing equipment, as well as a rope and two harnesses. With her things added to mine we could be going for six weeks, not just overnight.

We drive north out of Hobart. At the wheel I am fizzing with excitement. Emma sits beside me, my hand warm on her knee. The sunlight is spreading across a watery blue