The Crime of Huey Dunstan by James Mcneish Page B

what you think. What do you think happens when we die?’ He said, We are born astride a grave— I swear he used the word astride. That’s Beckett, isn’t it? God knows where he got it from but that’s what he said. We are born astride a grave. The light gleams for a second. Then it’s night again. It was like a poem. Then he sat down.
    “Is something wrong, professor?”
    I must have turned away. Tears had formed behind my eyelids. I pushed my cup away and got up from the table and stood a moment gathering myself. I was conscious of an amorphous field of yellow light and a roaring in my head like seas washing over me, blotting out everything around me. Perhaps I knocked into something or stumbled, because she had taken my arm and was steadying me. “It’s all right,” I said, sitting down again.
    Mrs Abbott had just described to me, in Huey Dunstan’s words, the moment at which I knew I was going to be permanently blind.
    Lisbeth said to me afterwards, “How did you get on?”
    “With the teacher? Oh fine. I don’t think it’s resolvedanything, but she gave me some information to go on.”
    *
    As Christmas approached Lisbeth was preoccupied with the house and other things. Our younger daughter, Sarah, came from Kuala Lumpur to stay over Christmas and in the new year Lisbeth’s cousin, Bubi, was due to arrive from Melbourne. I thought she would grow weary of the subject but as soon as Sarah had left Lisbeth returned to the attack. She said to me one day:
    “I don’t suppose, Charlie, you’ve thought any more about the father.
    “No. Should I?”
    “I was just thinking. You said the father was away in the bush and the boy was ‘a bit of a handful’. There were four children at home you said and the father couldn’t cope. But maybe it was the mother who couldn’t cope.”
    “I don’t think it matters why Huey was sent away. The point is he was, and whatever happened after that he construed it in his mind as part of the punishment.”
    “So you say. I can’t make up my mind if it is the boy or the father you identify with.”
    “What sort of question is that?”
    I thought for a moment. “The boy, I suppose. Huey. We both come from a speaking culture. Similar background—I was brought up dirt poor. Similar work ethic. My father was a disciplinarian like Huey’s dad. I stole something once when I was about ten, got punished for it.”
    “You’ve never told me that.”
    “It’s not something I like to dwell on. Another thing—well, you’ve never asked. Another thing Huey and I have in common: we were both taken away from home at an early age. I was brought up by my maternal grandparents.”
    “Huey wasn’t brought up by his grandparents, was he?”
    “No. But he was taken away and put with this Glen person. The break from home was the same. Worse, in his case.”
    Next day Lisbeth thought of something else. I have to hand it to her. She was very persistent.
     
    Lisbeth said:
    “Who’s Amy?”
    “Amy’s the sister, I think his little sister. She’s the one he nearly blinded.”
    “How do you know?”
    “Lawrence must have told me. Huey and his brother were playing cricket in the backyard and little Amy was peering through the glass, watching from behind the ranch doors. Huey was about twelve. The father yelled at them to stop. “One more ball!” Huey cried. “Just one more ball.” That was it. Crack. He hit the ball and it went through a pane above Amy’s head. She looked up and a tiny glass splinter got lodged in the eye, tiny shard. She was crying all the time but they didn’t know what it was for years until she began walking into things, disoriented. I suppose theycouldn’t afford to have it looked at by a specialist. Huge delays in getting proper treatment for her eye. I don’t know. But she lost the eye.”
    “My God. Is there anything else this family has had to cope with?”
     
    Lisbeth said:
    “What makes you so certain you are right?”
    “What