Read Online The Engagement by Chloe Hooper - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Chloe Hooper
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down the track the creature’s feathered rump and legs disappeared into the shrub. “I told you I’d show you the real Australia!”
“Thank you. . . . I’d love to see a koala.”
“You never know.”
The mountains were closer now, close on all sides. We must have been high up and above the tree line; sometimes I could make out the detail of the boulders and vegetation on the rock walls. “Did you come here as a child?” I was trying to be kinder to him.
“Occasionally.”
“You must have favorite places?”
“There are a few.”
We turned a sharp corner, and Alexander parked by a solitary road sign, badly buckled. Near it the gum trees had black boughs.
“A fire ripped through here a few years ago,” he said.
“That’s sad.”
“Why?” Leaving the dogs chained to the back of the truck, he untied the picnic basket and lifted it out. “Most of these trees were probably having the time of their lives. They’re pyromaniacal; even their leaves are doused in propellant.” He sniffed forcefully, the way boxers do. “This whole ecosystem is predicated on everything burning.”
We walked for a few minutes until we came to a stretch of water framed all around by violet-colored mountain peaks. At first the sight was overwhelming. The water, flat as a mirror, held each purple-blue fold and crag—and also the clouds. Otherworldly and completely unpeopled, this place reminded me of a location in a children’s fantasy story. There should have been an imaginary amphibian coming ashore, sorcerers lurking behind the escarpment. But we were alone.
Alexander positioned the picnic basket near the water’s edge. He pulled out of it a tartan rug, which he spread with an air of careful urgency.
“This is extraordinary. It’s beautiful here.”
“Make yourself comfortable, Liese.”
“Really,” I said, touching his arm as I sat down, “it’s like nothing I’ve seen before.”
Pleased, he continued unpacking the basket’s surreal contents. On china crockery he laid out a complicated assortment of sandwiches and fruit and cheese like religious offerings. Kneeling, half in prayer himself, he handed me a linen napkin. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“What a feast,” I said, “how delicious”—these platitudes the wrong scale for a place like this. Birdsong was in the foreground with frogs, their rattling as rhythmic as a chain gang, layered underneath. Everything around us seemed to be humming. The aliveness of the wind and the water and the plants and the animals combined in a way that made the compass in my head start to whirl. Go with this, I urged myself. Soon you’ll leave Australia and this will be what you’ve seen of it. But the silence between us had a new quality. We sat eating the gourmet sandwiches, staring at the lake. Glancing over at him, I smiled, although in truth the effort he’d gone to filled me with unease. This scene, so idyllic, had the scent of ambush.
Under a napkin in the basket was a bottle of champagne. “Shall we have a drink?” I sounded too eager.
“In a moment.” Straight-backed and straight-faced, he asked solemnly, “Liese, what do you most want in life?”
“Food, shelter . . .” My fingers holding the plate felt slightly numb with cold.
“Happiness?”
I hated these sorts of conversations. “Yes, life’s happier that way, isn’t it?”
He frowned, as if deciding. “I don’t often feel comfortable enough to show people all this.” There was a pause. “I wouldn’t have imagined that with our . . . our differences in background and experience this could happen. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I didn’t want to follow his point.
“No, really, thank you.”
The wind sent a shiver over the water’s surface; briefly it turned reptilian, scaled. Alexander was courting me, but the problem was he did not seem to be acting.
“I feel I can be myself with you,” he said.
“I’m very glad.” But who exactly would that be?
Now
“Thank you. . . . I’d love to see a koala.”
“You never know.”
The mountains were closer now, close on all sides. We must have been high up and above the tree line; sometimes I could make out the detail of the boulders and vegetation on the rock walls. “Did you come here as a child?” I was trying to be kinder to him.
“Occasionally.”
“You must have favorite places?”
“There are a few.”
We turned a sharp corner, and Alexander parked by a solitary road sign, badly buckled. Near it the gum trees had black boughs.
“A fire ripped through here a few years ago,” he said.
“That’s sad.”
“Why?” Leaving the dogs chained to the back of the truck, he untied the picnic basket and lifted it out. “Most of these trees were probably having the time of their lives. They’re pyromaniacal; even their leaves are doused in propellant.” He sniffed forcefully, the way boxers do. “This whole ecosystem is predicated on everything burning.”
We walked for a few minutes until we came to a stretch of water framed all around by violet-colored mountain peaks. At first the sight was overwhelming. The water, flat as a mirror, held each purple-blue fold and crag—and also the clouds. Otherworldly and completely unpeopled, this place reminded me of a location in a children’s fantasy story. There should have been an imaginary amphibian coming ashore, sorcerers lurking behind the escarpment. But we were alone.
Alexander positioned the picnic basket near the water’s edge. He pulled out of it a tartan rug, which he spread with an air of careful urgency.
“This is extraordinary. It’s beautiful here.”
“Make yourself comfortable, Liese.”
“Really,” I said, touching his arm as I sat down, “it’s like nothing I’ve seen before.”
Pleased, he continued unpacking the basket’s surreal contents. On china crockery he laid out a complicated assortment of sandwiches and fruit and cheese like religious offerings. Kneeling, half in prayer himself, he handed me a linen napkin. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“What a feast,” I said, “how delicious”—these platitudes the wrong scale for a place like this. Birdsong was in the foreground with frogs, their rattling as rhythmic as a chain gang, layered underneath. Everything around us seemed to be humming. The aliveness of the wind and the water and the plants and the animals combined in a way that made the compass in my head start to whirl. Go with this, I urged myself. Soon you’ll leave Australia and this will be what you’ve seen of it. But the silence between us had a new quality. We sat eating the gourmet sandwiches, staring at the lake. Glancing over at him, I smiled, although in truth the effort he’d gone to filled me with unease. This scene, so idyllic, had the scent of ambush.
Under a napkin in the basket was a bottle of champagne. “Shall we have a drink?” I sounded too eager.
“In a moment.” Straight-backed and straight-faced, he asked solemnly, “Liese, what do you most want in life?”
“Food, shelter . . .” My fingers holding the plate felt slightly numb with cold.
“Happiness?”
I hated these sorts of conversations. “Yes, life’s happier that way, isn’t it?”
He frowned, as if deciding. “I don’t often feel comfortable enough to show people all this.” There was a pause. “I wouldn’t have imagined that with our . . . our differences in background and experience this could happen. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I didn’t want to follow his point.
“No, really, thank you.”
The wind sent a shiver over the water’s surface; briefly it turned reptilian, scaled. Alexander was courting me, but the problem was he did not seem to be acting.
“I feel I can be myself with you,” he said.
“I’m very glad.” But who exactly would that be?
Now
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