The Swagman

My wife took my hand and led me away, back towards our house. I could feel Riley's eyes burning a hole into my back and I couldn't help but wonder if he owned a gun.

We'd have to lock the house when we went out. I didn't trust him. He knew things, he saw things and he was homeless. It wasn't a good combination.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following day was a Monday, my first day at my new job. Caroline made me an egg white omelette and toast and as I sat down to eat I realised the smell of a campfire had again filtered in through the window.

'It was a cold night last night,' Caroline remarked, staring in the direction of the creek.

'Yep.'

'I was thinking about seeing if Riley and Mackenzie wanted to have a hot shower.'

I jerked my head up. 'No. Absolutely not.'

'No?'

'For Christ's sake, Caro, do you really want to let some missing-tooth derro and his underage bride into our house?'

'She's not underage, not by a long shot. She's in her early twenties.'

'Bet you she wasn't when he nabbed her.'

'You're suggesting he's a paedophile?' she asked incredulously. 'Just because he has a beautiful wife, he must have stolen her away when she was a child?'

'Find me some other reason,' I replied. It was a matter I'd given a not unreasonable amount of thought to the night before, and I was confident I was correct in my assessment. 'You should really go down and tell them to move on.'

'Why?' she asked.

'Because they're squatting.'

'They're not doing any harm,' she said, taking a sip of her coffee. She stared out at the misty yard. All you could see beyond the house yard was trees and grass. 'It used to be tradition for landowners to give swagmen food, and to allow them to camp on their property.'

'This is a rental,' I replied. 'If they want to squat, they should ask the landlord.'

'We have a million dollar home in Tarragindi,' she pointed out. 'I think that qualifies us as landowners.'

I sighed. 'How about you call the estate agent? Ask them to deal with this problem?'

'No. I don't want to cause Riley or Mackenzie any trouble.' She put her cup of coffee down. 'You heard Riley; he said they'd be gone in a few weeks. It's probably best just to leave them be.'

I finished my breakfast and put the plate in the sink. I was nervy, on edge. I wanted to make a good impression at my new job. I didn't want to talk about a sundowner and I certainly didn't want said itinerant in my house, using my bathroom, masturbating against my shower wall.

'I need to brush my teeth and go,' I said.

Caroline nodded. 'I know. I love you. Have a wonderful day.'

I leant over and pecked her on the cheek. 'Love you, too.'

~~~~~~~~~~~

Caroline had kept her part time job back in Brisbane. She worked two days a week, six hours a day at Officeworks. Her shifts were typically on a Tuesday and Thursday, and the plan was that she'd drive to and from Brisbane each day. She used to joking call her job her 'security blanket' in case I ever left her, even though her meagre wage wouldn't do much more than rent her a room in a share house, but these days she makes no such quips.

In the past few months we'd both spent plenty of time thinking about money and wages and what we might do in the event of a divorce. I didn't want our marriage to end. That might sound glib, seeing it is was me that had the affair, but fucking Ellen, and Ellen's behaviour in the aftermath, had made me realise it's better the devil you know. Perhaps I even still loved Caroline. That one was still up for debate. I feel possessive towards her, and I feel something towards her, but to define what I feel as love might not have been entirely accurate.

Once upon a time I loved her. I remember loving those days; I remember feeling giddy and excited to be in her company, I remember thinking how lucky I was. Perhaps the current state of our relationship has something to do with my income and the fortuitous timing of our house purchase. Money isn't the issue that is for others, and Caro has been left to wander further down a leftist, hippy path. Before my affair she was working part time and volunteering full time. She was never at home. The cleaning would be forgotten about, dinner would be something heated in the oven. I didn't necessarily mind pitching in, but I did when I was pitching in so my wife can help out some cause I didn't believe in. That, in my mind, was robbing me of my time and money.

The week passed. I didn't go to the creek, and I don't think Caro did, either. I heard Riley's ute pass alongside our house once or twice, and the hours he was driving suggested he was keeping some kind of employment, but I'd made no move to communicate with him and he certainly hadn't instigated conversation with me. He knew better than to do that. We had both taken an instant dislike to the other.

I came home Friday afternoon to find Caroline in our house yard wearing cut off jean shorts, old sneakers, a loose yellow tee and gardening gloves. She smelt of the earth and of fertiliser, and a mountain of plastic pots was stacked up alongside our house. They'd have to be taken to the tip. There was no garbage collection our here, nor town water, not sewage. We instead had to take our refuse to the local tip, and rely on tank water and an ancient septic system.

'How was your day?' she asked, removing her gloves.

Her face was slightly sunburned and it only made her hair and smile seem more beautiful. There is something about Caro when she's been gardening that instantly gets my dick hard. Maybe it's because it reminds me of happier days, when her activist activities were limited to tree planting, cleaning rubbish off roadsides and talking to transvestites.

'Good,' I said. 'You've been gardening?'

'I went to the nursery this morning. Now I just need to get the bore working, so I don't need to keep using tank water to water the plants.' A mozzie landed on her arm and she slapped it. 'That's a job for tomorrow. I'm getting eaten alive.'

I took her inside and fucked her before she had a chance to offer me sex. In that moment I very nearly loved her again, a sentiment that stuck with me throughout the day and the next morning, when I left Caro at home while I went into Brisbane for a full day cycling event.

Perhaps it's because I was feeling positive about our relationship that it infuriated me as much as it did when I returned home late afternoon to see Riley and Caroline shovelling dirt back around the bore. My wife wore grotty shorts that exposed too much of her legs, and her singlet showed the racer-back sports bra she was wearing underneath. Her wild, curly blonde hair was pulled back into a sweaty ponytail.

Riley was no better. He wore a pair of moleskins that might once have been white, but were now an off-cream colour, stained with grease and paint and flecked with dirt and mud. A battered Akubra rested atop his head but no shirt graced his body, which somehow managed to both in better and worse shape than mine. He was stronger; his muscles, born through hard labour, were bulging, but there was a roll of excess fat around his gut that hung over the top of his jeans.

Altogether, I felt it was a scene not befitting my wife and I knew from Caroline's reaction that my face showed my disapproval.

'Nearly done,' Caroline said brightly, in the tone of a woman who knows she's done something wrong, something that has displeased her husband, and is now trying to appease him. 'There was a blockage; that's why the pump wasn't working. Riley's fixed it.'

I'd been in a good mood all morning and now this. I wasn't happy.

'I see,' I replied.

'I couldn't keep using tank water to water my garden,' Caroline continued.

'You could have just called the landlord and asked them to fix the bore,' I replied, pointedly ignoring Riley.

Caroline didn't respond.

'It was an easy fix, mate,' Riley said.

'Really?' I asked. 'What did it cost me?'

My wife's face fell.

'I'm paying him out of my money,' Caroline said quietly. 'You have nothing to worry about.'

Her wage was her pocket money. Hers to do with as she saw fit. That, I suspected, was why she was choosing to commute to Brisbane in order to retain her employment. She knew that if I had my way, there would be no paying squatters to work on landlord's bores or other such frivolities.

Caroline had been laughing and joking with Riley when I arrived, but she wasn't laughing now. The wind had been knocked out of her sails.

'I was going to take you out to dinner tonight,' I said, even though I'd hitherto had no such plans. I just wanted her to feel guilty. I wanted her to leave the bore, to go inside and wash up. I wanted her to get away from the squatter.

'I'll just water my plants,' she muttered.

'It's okay, love, I'll do it,' Riley told her.

I didn't say anything, I just turned around and went inside. Caroline followed. Outside, I heard Riley filling the watering can and watering her plants. I wondered why he didn't use a hose.

As if reading my mind, Caro spoke.

'I need to buy a hose on Monday,' she said. 'There wasn't one at the house. I should probably buy a few, just in case of a bushfire.'

'If there's a bushfire, we're getting out of here,' I replied.

Caro fell silent.

'I'm sorry,' she said eventually. 'I just wanted to water my garden. I bought some bromeliads... never mind.'

I sighed. 'Keep away from him.'

'Him or them?' she asked curiously.

'He's the one who seems interested in you,' I said.

'I doubt it. He's married,' she replied. Then she laughed as she realised what she'd said, and how little my own vows had meant to me. 'Never mind. Let me start again; he wasn't inappropriate.'

'He'd fuck you if he was given the chance.'

'No, he wouldn't.'

There was confidence in her voice. I personally couldn't believe how wrong she was. I knew Riley would take exceptional delight in nailing her, if only to stick one up me.

'You should have a shower and get dressed,' I said. 'I have a dinner booking. I would have told you, except I didn't want to spoil the surprise. I didn't realise you were going to be getting so dirty.'

Caroline went and had a shower.

An hour later we went out. We drove to a local country pub, where no booking was required, and I think Caroline realised that because she stared at me with dark and resentful eyes.

She was beautiful that night, in a black velvet dress that set off her hair and her green eyes. I regretted being so cruel to her, but at the same time, I knew it was necessary. Left unchecked, she is foolish and with the swagman, the results of carelessness would be so much worse than a case of conjunctivitis.

It was a pleasant dinner. Pleasant enough that we stayed until closing, talking and drinking. A good night, one that surprised both of us with how much we enjoyed. Maybe the spark wasn't entirely dead.

~~~~~~~~~~

It's funny how someone or something can become a symbol of everything that is different between you and your wife. That was how it was with Riley. The leftist, socially responsible side of Caro felt obliged to help him, to pay him for odd jobs, and to ignore his encroachment onto our property, whereas for me he was little better than a beggar and a thief.

Caroline wasn't the only one who undertook research. I did, too, and I learned that the traditional swagmen died out at the turn of the last century, when unemployment benefits were introduced. Furthermore, the ute and camper Riley owned were probably worth every last cent of fifty thousand dollars. Why he didn't have his missing tooth replaced was a mystery, but to me it just signified that he was not a man who cared for social norms, which made me both dislike and distrust him all the more.

I thought the incident with the bore would have kept him away, but on Wednesday evening he was in Caro's garden with her, spreading a powdery red-brown fertiliser that smelt like hell itself. Caro had her new hose out and was watering it in. Sitting atop an old tree stump was a sheaf of newspaper, an on it lay several of my wife's gardening tools

I walked over, picking my way carefully over the damp black earth. Caro saw me coming, but unlike when I had caught her and Riley working on the bore, she showed no hint of embarrassment. If anything, she seemed defiant, as if challenging me to comment on Riley's presence.

'The smell will go in a day or two,' Riley told me, almost as if I were an afterthought and not the man on whose property he was squatting. 'It'll probably be gone tomorrow, if the rain they're predicting comes. That'll wash it in properly.'

'It would have been nice to have some warning,' I replied irritably. I turned to Caroline. 'Why are you watering if there's rain on the horizon?'

'The rain might not come,' she explained.

'And if it does, you've wasted the bore water,' I replied.

'The bore is drawing table water,' Caroline said.

'It's still water,' I pointed out.

Caroline stared at me for what felt an interminable period of time. Her face tightened. She was mad, angry. The hose remained in her hand, her hand depressing the trigger on the spray gun, showering the ground with water.

She made a big show of releasing her grip on the trigger and winding the hose back up. You could have cut the tension in the air with a knife, and I felt angry and embarrassed that she'd treat me so badly in front of a stranger.

'When you've finished winding the hose up, come inside,' I instructed her.

'Jeez, mate, that's a bit rough, isn't it?' Riley asked.

I pretended not to have heard him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nearly three weeks after we first saw our squatters, they were still camped at the back of our property. I knew they were there from the passing of the ute and the smell of smoke, but they kept away from the house.

Given that Riley was making himself scarce I would have ignored them, but suddenly a second car appeared, and I took this to mean that they had invited a friend to come and stay with them. I told Caroline she had two choices; either call the real estate agent and complain, or go and speak directly to Riley.

Caro chose the latter. On Friday morning, as I headed off to work, she pledged to go down to speak to them that afternoon. As Riley normally returned home before I did, I expected to arrive home to the good news that Riley had agreed to move on.

I stayed back late that night, networking with colleagues, and arrived home just after seven. Caroline would have had plenty of time to instruct our sundowners to fuck off somewhere else.

'Did you speak to them?' I asked, almost as soon as I got in the door.

'I'm sorry?' Caroline glanced up from the book she was reading. 'Do I speak to who?'

'Riley and Mackenzie. Did you tell them to fuck off?'

'No, as a matter of fact, I didn't,' she replied, as if the issue of the squatter and his wife were irrelevant. She put her book down on her lap and glared at me. 'Your dinner's in the fridge,' she said. 'You told me you'd be home at five thirty. It's seven. I don't know how many times I've asked you to call if you're going to be late.'

'Oh for goodness sake,' I snapped. I didn't need a lecture, and I was extremely unhappy that she hadn't done as she'd promised to do. 'It's work, Caroline. I'm the only one bringing in any sort of income, so you can cut that crap about dinner. As for Riley, if you're too gutless to speak to him, I'll call the estate agent tomorrow.'

'No,' she replied, her face darkening. 'This is my house, too, and I've decided that I don't mind them staying.' She went to the fridge and retrieved a alfoil covered plate. She threw it onto the table where it landed with a clatter. 'Here's your dinner. I'm going to Brisbane for the weekend.'

'Well, don't let me stop you. I'll call the police tomorrow and have them move him on. By the time you come back, toothy will be gone.'

That stopped her in her tracks.

I stared at my wife as a bizarre sort of knowledge settled in the pit of my stomach.

'You want to fuck him, don't you?' I guessed. I held a finger over my top left tooth. 'Is this what turns you on these days?'

'Oh, fuck you,' she snarled. 'They're here because Mackenzie has a job, a graduate position. She completed her degree a few months ago. He's just waiting for her to get settled in, and find somewhere permanent to live, before he moves on. That's why there's a second car. It's hers. They bought it for her. Why can't you just let them be? They're not causing us any trouble.'

'I thought Mackenzie was his wife?'

'She is, but it's a marriage of convenience. They'll get a divorce in the next year.'

'Who told you this? Him or her?'

'Riley.'

I laughed so hard I almost cried.

'You're a fucking idiot,' I told her. 'You truly are.'

'Then you go and speak to them!' she goaded. 'Do it. Do it! Do it you gutless piece of shit. Every fucking hard call there's ever been, you've left me to make it. How about you stop acting so scared of him and go and speak to him, rather than asking me, or an estate agent, to do your dirty work for you?'

I've never laid a hand on Caro, never, but my God, there have been times I've been tempted. But showing my rage would have been letting her win, so I bit down my anger and forced myself to be calm when I spoke.

'Fine,' I replied evenly. 'I'll go now.'

I turned to walk out the door.

My wife immediately had second thoughts.

'No, no! Don't go.' Caroline raced after me, shoving her feet into her worn rubber thongs. 'I'll speak to him again. I'll sort something out.'

'No.' I was enjoying her discomfort. 'I'll sort this out.'

I walked out the door, dressed in business shirt, slacks and leather shoes, while Caroline followed after me clad in track suit pants, a jumper and her pluggers. We walked in silence, the only sound that of gravel and grass giving way underfoot.

It can't have taken us more than seven or eight minutes to make the trip to the creek. Even in the dark of night, with only the torch on my phone to guide us, we made decent speed. Perhaps it was our own internal rage that helped us power on. We were each rehearsing the words we wanted to say, the emotions we wished to convey.

Neither Riley nor Mackenzie were sitting out under the shelter. Mackenzie's car, a late model hatch back, was parked under a thicket of trees but it was dark and unoccupied. The campervan, attached to Riley's ute, was lit up, and it seemed that our two squatters were currently inside it.

I walked closer, careful not to make a noise, with Caroline at my heels. We must have been just five or ten metres away when I understood what was going on inside the camper.

Riley and Mackenzie were fucking.

I turned to Caroline to see if she'd heard, and knew from the expression on her face that she had. My rage was replaced with a sense of triumph. Oh, what a perfect fucking moment.

My wife turned as if to walk back to our house, but I grabbed her arm. She wasn't running away now. She'd have to stay and listen. From the sounds of it, our two little vagabonds had only just gotten started with their carnal activities, which meant there'd be plenty of entertainment to be had.

We stood in the darkness, being attacked by the mosquitoes that made the creek their home, as Riley bought Mackenzie to climax not once, not twice, but three times. Each time she came she wailed out his name in a strangled tone that made it obvious she wasn't faking. And then Riley came, grunting and moaning in an impressively loud exclamation of sexual fulfilment.

I raised an eyebrow at Caro. Even in the dark I could see her face was white.

I had won. She had lost. There was nothing to say, and nothing to stay for. I headed back towards the house, almost jogging with delight while my wife trailed forlornly behind me. When we were halfway back, I turned to Caro.