Chapter 45

Mum phoned from some restaurant. Apparently she'd spoken with Sarah and appeased in some sense. But more importantly, dad had decided to take to post at the Australian Museum and Rachel's dad was moving to CSIRO headquarters in Canberra. I told her to wish everyone happiness in their big moves.

When I got off, I had to report fully to Rachel.

"And so the fuss about Sarah is shoved aside?"

"Seemingly. Do you know Tennyson's 'Departure'?"

"You're joking."

"It ends: 'Across the hills, and far away / Beyond their utmost purple rim, / And deep into the dying day / The happy princess follow'd him.' Sarah's the happy princess."

"For a few weeks, anyway. So my dad will be three hours from here and yours within walking distance of the Gallery?"

"Yes. I wonder how long it will take. They'll have to find places to live and get things packed and sell the two houses in Perth. The mothers will be in fine form."

"Ah, yes. Perhaps we should go on a trip to Tasmania."

"Do you want to go to Tasmania?"

"Not at all. But I don't want to get involved in the parental relos."

"We won't be. Nor Al. We've got the universities to worry about. I'm going to take a shower." She left me sitting and thinking about the Great Serpent roaring with laughter.

Saturday morning brought a call from Al. "He responded!"

"I thought he would."

"I'm going to see him on Tuesday!"

"Okay. But try to calm down a bit over the next few days. Go get your hair cut. Dress decently, but not tie and coat."

"Understood."

"Do you want to talk to your sister?"

"No. She'd just tell me how to behave."

"You know about your parents?"

"Being three-four hours from here by car is no deal; I can get to Perth in little more. As long as they're not here for the next few years."

"Right. Have a good weekend; call us late Tuesday or Wednesday."

"Will do."

I reported to Rachel and then buckled down to reading boring case law. I had two exams to write.

Over the weekend, Rachel was reading Arnold Hauser's The Social History of Art. She'd found all four volumes in a second-hand store. Apparently, Hauser, who was a Marxist, argues that art – which began as flat, symbolic, formalized, abstract and concerned with spiritual beings – becomes more realistic as societies become less hierarchical and authoritarian, and more bourgeois. I'm not sure I agree, but flat, symbolic, formalized, abstract and concerned with spiritual beings certainly works for Australian aboriginal art. So we pretty much ate and slept and read.

On Sunday Sarah called and spoke to Rachel. Apparently, Sylvan was an "asshole," had a wife somewhere, and she [Sarah] wasn't going on to Port Hedland. She [Rachel] was appropriately sympathetic. I told her to phone and warn Weena, which she did. Monday I went off to the library, hoping to see one of my fellow-students and learn whatever rumors were flying about. Tuesday I took my first exam, and found it far more straightforward than expected. Then I went home to begin on my next, which was on Thursday, and to await Al's report.

He didn't phone, but when I logged in on Wednesday morning, he'd sent me a Macquarie url:

After at least one semester of studying at university you can apply through UAC to enter a degree program at Macquarie University. For students who have completed one year or more of tertiary study, UAC will take into account both their academic record at tertiary level as well as their ATAR.

For students who have only completed up to six months of tertiary study and seek to reapply through UAC, they will be selected based on the best of their tertiary study or their ATAR, whichever is higher.

If you are successful and are offered a place at Macquarie University, you will be able to apply for Credit for Previous Studies. You will need to send this request with your official academic transcript from your original university to Macquarie University to gain maximum credit.

I gathered that things had gone well.

They had. Al called on Wednesday and said that he could begin classes in August and that there was a week of orientation. I told him to make certain that he did well in his UNSW courses, so that he'd get credit for them. I also asked him about applications and fees. He hadn't thought about money. I told him that his sister would advance several thousand to him – "you'll need to find a place to live, too," I pointed out.

His exams were Friday and next week.

"Okay," I said. "Schedule yourself to go up there late next week and find out all you can about fees. Then go to the student union, or whatever they call it, and locate the bulletin board with housing on it. I'm sure you'll need a second visit. Finally, have you talked to your parents about this?"

"Not exactly. I mentioned that I wasn't happy."

"Right. Call your mum tonight. And make sure you tell her that Rachel and I know all about it."

"I get it."

"Call us again over the weekend or next week. We've each got one exam, too."

"Thanks, Patrick."

My dad called, too. He'd told the Museum that he accepted, but wanted the full offer in writing before resigning from UWA and selling the house. So that was also in the works. Michiko called to say that they were flying to Canberra to househunt. She spoke to Rachel. Now both families were in total flux. Except us. We were hitting the books and would most likely not relo for a while. Convenience was winning out over cost. But renting was certainly a financial disadvantage.

Rachel reported that her one exam was "a breeze." Mine in procedure wasn't, but I got through it. Thursday morning we received a surprise call: from Alf! He was out of his cast and had complete a "course" of PT. He wanted to take us out to dinner prior to going back to work. I told him we'd meet him wherever he wished. He said he wanted to go to Summer Salt in Cronulla and would that be okay. He'd make reservations and call back later. An hour later he rang to say either tomorrow or Sunday – Saturday was out. He suggested Sunday at 1900 and I agreed.

When I told Rachel, she told me she'd heard that Summer Salt was very good, with beach and coastal views, right in the middle the of white beaches. I pointed out that June wasn't exactly beach weather – it had been in the mid-teens [~60F] the past few days. I googled the place and estimated that we'd best give ourselves an hour to drive there. [Cronulla is just south of Botany Bay, all the way across Sydney.]

Al called on Friday evening. The exams were "easy" and he was going to Macquarie on Monday. He wanted to know whether he could "take advantage" of us.

"How much?"

"A few thou?" He sounded very timid.

"Come here tomorrow. We'll take you out for dinner and I'll hand you a cheque." We agreed on late afternoon. I reported to Rachel.

"How much can we afford?"

"Oh. I'm not certain. 50K? Don't be a worrywart! We're in solid shape. We've been so frugal that we've not spent our income this year."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. I keep telling you. And trying to get you to sit down with me. No wonder you were so astounded at the banks."

"I just find it hard to come to grips with. How much do you think he'll need?"