Free The Idea of Perfection by Kate Grenville Page B

that the bridge was dead. He got out his Swiss Army Knife and was thorough, spiking his way along the underside of the bridge as far as he could go. In some places he came across rows of little holes where the Inspector had been there before him. When he had finished poking, he tapped with his knuckle and listened, like a man at a strange front door.
    The corbels had had the worst of it, lying horizontally between the roadway and the tops of the piers. At first glance they looked sound, massive pieces of squared timber in which you could still see the marks of the adze. But the spike sank in up to the hilt, and when you looked closely you could see how the wood was mottled with rot, and the way the fibres were shrivelling away, contracting secretively into tiny cubes. When he knocked, the wood did not answer, only swallowed the sound like a sponge. He reached up and broke off a handful that went to powder in his hand.
    He could see why the Inspector had got out the big red stamp. Replacing the corbels would be expensive. There was a high price on hardwood now that it was scarce, and on the skilled labour to work it, too. Not many people did anything with axes these days.
    Even if you put new corbels in, you still had the problem of the water coming through the roadway and starting the rot all over again. The Shire Council had known what it was doing, demanding a concrete beam. Rain could pour down on it as long as it liked, and a flood might make it go a funny colour, but it would never rot and never bulge in the middle. No one would ever have to do any maintenance, or even notice it again.
    Certainly, no one would ever think of making rude jokes about it.
    He wished again that he had not laughed.
    He laid his palm against one of the timbers, gently, as if it was an animal to be reassured.
    Course, they had the timber for it back then, Chook said suddenly from behind him.
    For a big man, Chook could move quietly. Douglas snatched his hand off the wood. He wondered how long Chook had been there, watching.
    He moved away and felt his boots tear up out of the mud. A fly started to pester him around the eyes and he flapped at it. No matter how early you got up, the flies were always there before you.
    Plus, no chain saws, Chook went on.
    He laughed, not unkindly.
    Poor buggers, he said. They’d have been all day, buggerising around with the axes and that.
    The fly was now several flies, and one was trying to get up his nose. It was funny, the way they left you alone until you needed to have your wits about you. They seemed to know when things were already tricky, and made sure they made them worse.
    Hey, Chook said.
    His face had taken on stern folds under his hat. He got out his pouch and teased out a shred of tobacco. Douglas waited. Chook was in no hurry. He slid the packet of papers out and wedged it under his armpit, sticking a square of paper to his bottom lip.
    Know what the definition of a wilderness is, Doug?
    The paper waggled on his lip like semaphore.
    Can’t say, Douglas said in a discouraging way.
    He never liked jokes. He had been known to laugh long before the punch-line, out of sheer anxiety.
    He watched Chook roll the tobacco into the paper and crease it carefully around, licking the paper with relish. He waited again. Chook lit up slowly, spinning it out.
    What’s between a greenie’s ears!
    Chook waited for him to laugh, and he did, but reluctantly. It was a forced and unamused laugh, cut short when a fly flew into his mouth and out again. He shut his mouth quickly and looked down. Where he had been standing thinking about the bridge he had left two perfect casts of his boots pressed into the mud, like the scene of a crime.
    Chook tapped at ash that had not had a chance to form.
    My wife’s in with them, he said.
    It was the most casual thing in the world.
    The Heritage mob. Think we can get the bloody tourists here looking at the bloody bridge.
    He put the cigarette back in his mouth and glanced at