The Model Wife

by Tricia Stringer

  “Are you dismissing us, Granny?” Kate asked affectionately.

  “Of course not, but you won’t be interested. Get the movie started and I’ll be there before the introductions have finished.”

  “If I have to do this I’m getting into my pyjamas.” Bree limped to the door.

  “Great idea.” Laura bounded to her feet, her halo of rainbow-coloured hair bouncing with her. “Nothing like a movie night in our PJs. Do we have chips and chocolate?”

  “In the storeroom.” Natalie waved a hand towards the other door off the kitchen, which led to the room where all excess supplies were kept. It was nearly as big as the bathroom with thick walls and no windows, a miniature supermarket Natalie always kept stocked. It was too far to go to town if you ran out of something.

  “What about you, Mum?” Kate asked. “Will you watch it with us?”

  “Your mother should stay too.” Olive smiled but there was a steely look in her eye.

  “I’ll come in later.” The curry did somersaults around Natalie’s stomach. What was this about? Surely not Milt and Veronica. Natalie studied her mother-in-law’s face but she gave nothing away.

  Laura came out of the storeroom triumphantly waving a block of chocolate and a packet of chips. “Caramello chocolate and salt-and-vinegar chips.”

  “Weren’t there any barbecue?” Bree asked as they left.

  “Should I stay and help with the dishes?” Kate was the last to reach the door. Her eyes were dark in her pale face.

  “No need,” Natalie said. “There’s not much left to do.”

  “I’ll help your mother then I’ll be in.”

  And that was it. Just as if they were still children, Olive had herded the girls from the kitchen.

  Milt finished his cheesecake and pushed his empty bowl to one side. Natalie poked a spoon into hers but didn’t eat, no longer hungry for her favourite dessert.

  “What’s this about, Mum?” Milt asked.

  Olive took the last mouthful of her cheesecake and set her spoon neatly in the middle of the bowl. “You know I’m not a fan of curry but I enjoyed that and dessert was delicious, thank you, Natalie.”

  No matter what went on between them over the years Natalie could not fault her mother-in-law’s sense of correct protocol. She had impeccable manners.

  “It was, thanks, Nat.” Milt gave her a tender look.

  Natalie’s heart crumpled. He wasn’t one for big displays of emotion, especially in company, but it was the little gestures that she appreciated.

  “What did you want to talk about, Olive?” she asked, her voice gruffer than she’d intended.

  “Constance called in today.”

  “Again?” This time Natalie’s tone was a mix of brusque and surprise.

  “It’s good of her to come.” Olive looked down her short, pointy nose.

  “Sure is.” Milt shifted in his chair. “What’s that…three visits since you moved in?”

  “There’s no need for sarcasm, Milton. She’s been more often than that. Anyway, it’s easier for me to drive to her place and visit. I can help with cooking.”

  Olive was looking at her son but the words were for Natalie who’d fallen in love with the big farmhouse kitchen, not long after she’d fallen in love with Milt. There had been no room for two women in the kitchen in spite of its size and once the children had come along Olive had much preferred to look after them than cook. It was an arrangement that had worked for both women. Natalie’s girls were close by and lovingly looked after, while she had free rein to cook. It was an enjoyable outlet for her and while no-one had ever voiced it, she secretly felt she was a much better cook than her mother-in-law. Olive had always pitched in with food prep at the busy times and was on hand when it came to cleaning up. Natalie was happy to take one of Olive’s jibes once she realised the topic of Milt and Veronica’s past wasn’t on the agenda as she’d feared.

  “Anyway,” Milt tapped the table in front of him. “What was the purpose of her visit?”

  “You make your sister sound like an outsider.” Olive’s face formed the pout she’d perfected when she wanted to chastise her son without using words. “She just called in to see me.”

  “Connie doesn’t just call in. There’s always a reason for her visits.”

  Olive humphed and shifted in her chair. “We did talk about wills and funerals.”

  “That’s cheerful.”

  ABBA music blared from the den opposite as if to mock him.

  “Granny, it’s starting,” Laura called as Bree hobbled past the kitchen door.

  “Tell Laura to keep going without me, Bree,” Olive said. “I’ll be there soon. And would you shut the kitchen door, please. No point in letting out the warm air.”

  Bree did as she was bid and the music became muffled.

  “Whose funeral?” Milt said.

  “Pardon?” Olive looked back at her son.

  Milt took a breath. Natalie could see he was struggling to be patient. He wasn’t close to his sister. He always said Connie had been spoiled but Natalie recognised Olive and Clem’s indulgent parenting had also extended to Milt. They’d both been spoiled, if perhaps in different ways.

  “Whose will and funeral were you and Connie discussing?”

  Natalie could tell by the look on his face they both knew the answer to that question. Connie had been resentful ever since the reading of her father’s will. The farm went to Milt, who had worked it all his life, that had not been a surprise, but Connie, who had received a parcel of well-performing shares, had muttered about unequal divisions. Milt was to continue to support his mother. Olive had a decent nest egg put away of her own that had remained untouched when the unit in town was purchased, which the farm had also funded, as it did her car and household bills. When Olive went, Connie would also inherit her mother’s money but Connie hadn’t felt that was fair.

  “It’s best to talk about these things so you’re not lumbered with problems when I’m gone. Look at the worry we had over your father’s funeral.”

  Clem had left no instructions regarding his burial wishes and it had been a three-way tussle between Olive and her two children over the details. It had been a difficult time and Natalie had kept out of it, simply making cups of tea and providing food when needed. Connie had insisted Clem should be cremated and his ashes scattered on the property. Milt had said he should be buried in the town cemetery. And Olive, submerged in grief and lost for ideas or words of her own, had eventually gone with a compromise. Connie hadn’t been happy but conceded for her mother’s sake. There’d been a well-attended celebration of Clem’s life, overflowing their little local church, after which a cremation had taken place and the ashes more recently interred at a private family gathering in a plot purchased in the town cemetery.

  “You made it clear you are to be cremated and your ashes put with Dad’s.” Milt was struggling to remain composed. He hadn’t dealt well with the haggling after his father’s death, which had been enough without the worry of what to do with his remains.

  “I did.”

  “Have you changed your mind?”

  “No.” Once more Olive shifted in her chair. “Not about that.”

  “Would you like a cup of tea, Olive?” Natalie could see this was causing discomfort for her mother-in-law. Whatever this was.

  “Thank you.” Olive flashed a brief smile and Natalie stood, relieved to be excused from the tension at the table.

  “Mum, just spit it out, whatever it is that Connie has been meddling in.” Milt would not be distracted now.

  “When I go…”

  Natalie glanced back. Olive was stumbling over her words now. Perhaps it was this talk of dying.

  “Connie thinks she should have the unit.”

  “What in the blazes for? She wouldn’t use it.”

  “I assume she’d sell it.”

  “The unit that’s being paid for by the farm?” Milt shook his head.

  Natalie carried the teapot Laura had given her fo
r Christmas with the rest of the tea-making items on a tray and came back to the table. Colour had risen in Olive’s cheeks. Natalie put milk in a cup and poured, passing the tea on to Olive who took it with an aggrieved smile.

  “Your sister thinks her inheritance is much less than the farm is worth.”

  “Oh she does, does she?” Milt placed his hands on the table. He wasn’t a violent man but the firmness of it made the cups rattle on their saucers. “Dad paid her out when she left to go to university. She always said she never wanted to work on the farm.”

  “I suppose in those days your father and I always encouraged you to take on the property. It’s different these days for girls.”

  Natalie thought about that. The future of the property was a topic she and Milt had discussed between themselves and with their girls after Clem had died, but there was no firm plan in place yet. They’d given Bree, the only one interested in running the property, a few years to decide what she wanted and they had discussed ways of making it fair for the other two, but it wasn’t settled by any means. She wondered what would have happened if one of their children had been a boy. An image of Jack sitting at their dinner table chilled her heart. Milt had been so at ease with him, so welcoming. And why was Olive so curious about Jack’s attendance at their table?

  “Dad was generous to Connie on many occasions over the years.” Milt’s face was drawn, but in his eyes a fire smouldered. “Their family holiday to America and Disneyland, for instance.”

  Natalie gasped. Connie and her family had made that trip with their three boys when they’d all been primary-school age. She remembered thinking they must have been doing all right to afford it. “We paid for that?”

  “Some of it,” Olive said.

  “Most of it.” Milt’s gaze was locked on his mother. She twisted her teacup on its saucer.

  Natalie recalled that trip. It had been before she’d taken over the farm bookkeeping and around the time she’d tried to convince Milt and Clem she wanted an en suite. There’d also been talk of a short holiday to Queensland. Neither of those things had happened but Connie’s family had gone to America.

  “Your father was always conscious that Connie would get less,” Olive said.

  Milt shook his head. “They went at a time when we’d just struggled through several years of low rainfall, Mum. It was me—” he stabbed at his chest “—working for virtually no wage that pulled us through and gave Connie’s family a holiday. My family didn’t have one.”

  And Natalie’s teaching wage had put food on the table, but she said nothing, instead swallowing the bitter seeds of jealousy that she’d never had cause to taste before. Olive straightened the cup on its saucer. A log shifted in the fire with a thud and a crackle of sparks. Where do we go from here? Natalie wondered.

  The phone rang and she leaped up to answer it.

  “Hi, Nat, how are you?”

  Natalie pressed the phone to her ear, relieved to hear the cheerful tone of her sister’s voice. She moved out into the corridor where the sounds of the movie playing from the den made better background noise than the tense rumbling voice of her husband talking to his mother.

  “Fine, Bron.” She’d said it again. Fine seemed to be the only word in her vocabulary when it came to describing how she felt. “How are things there?”

  Her sister, her husband and their four children lived in Victor Harbor. Natalie and Bronwyn’s parents had bought their retirement home a few blocks away. They’d all been together last Christmas for a day but there’d only been brief phone calls since.

  “Not so good.”

  Natalie’s heart skipped a beat. “What’s happened?”

  “Mum’s had a fall. Nothing broken, thankfully, but she’s a bit battered and bruised.”

  Natalie pressed her back against the wall. She wasn’t close to her parents. As a young woman she’d always pushed their boundaries, tested the strength of their love and sometimes found it came up wanting. They’d been disappointed when she’d chosen teacher training over nursing, sad when she’d broken off with her previous long-term boyfriend for her whirlwind romance with Milt, and surprised when that had been followed by marriage; upsets that they’d never fully recovered from. Not long after the wedding they’d moved interstate for her dad’s work and even though they were now back in South Australia they only caught up a few times a year.

  “Did she trip?”

  “She’s not sure but she thinks so. She was in the street and the pavers are a bit up and down. The doctor wants to keep her in hospital overnight, perhaps two nights, and run some tests. Dad’s not a hundred per cent either. Still recovering from pneumonia.”

  Natalie put a hand to her head. “When did he have that?”

  “A week or so ago. Didn’t we tell you?”

  “No.” Natalie tried to recall the last time she’d rung her parents or they’d rung her. She vaguely remembered her mother saying her dad wasn’t feeling the best. How long ago had that been?

  “He spent a couple of days in hospital. He’s doing okay now, just not fully back to his old self.”

  “Things have been busy here. I should have been in touch.” Natalie’s excuse sounded lame even to herself.

  “Anyway, Nat, I know you’re working but I wondered if you could possibly come down and help for a few days.”

  “When?” Natalie’s mind went into overdrive trying to think how she could manage a trip to Victor Harbor.

  “Monday.”

  “As in this week?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, I know you’ve got lots on your plate. It’s just that I’ve promised the twins’ teacher I’ll go on camp with them and we leave on Monday for three days. Mum will need collecting from hospital. I’m not sure Dad should be driving and they’ll need help with meals and getting around. Dad’s got a check-up on Tuesday. I can take over as soon as I get back.”

  “Hell’s teeth, Mum.” Milt’s voice rumbled loudly from the kitchen behind Natalie, above the sounds of her daughters, well, two of them at least, singing along to ABBA music in the den.

  “Move over, Laura.” Bree’s complaint was louder than the music.

  Natalie put a hand over her free ear and moved further along the passage. Bronwyn’s now ten-year-old twins had been a surprise addition to the family when their older brother and sister were six and eight. Bronwyn had a busy time helping her husband run a small business, looking after four children, all still at school, as well as helping their ageing parents when needed.

  “Of course I’ll come,” Natalie said, her mind still turning over the implications of her promise. At least she knew Paul would organise cover for her class. “I’ll drive down tomorrow.”

  Putting a few hundred kilometres between her and home might be just what she needed to put herself back together again.

  Eleven

  Bree leaned on the back fence, her arms folded across her chest against the cold morning air, her injured leg propped out in front of her. A chilly easterly wind blew. It made an eerie sound in the gum trees by the dog kennels and turned her ears and nose numb. Her sisters and her dad were nearby but no-one spoke. They’d all come out to wave off her mum as she left for her trip to Victor Harbor and, as the sound of her car faded, her family faded with it. They all milled around the back gate as if they were rudderless.

  Milt took a position in front of them and clasped his large hands together as if he was about to say his prayers.

  “You girls will have to step up while your mother’s away.” He eyeballed each of his daughters.

  “That’s a given,” Bree said.

  He ignored her and went on to explain the work that needed to be done. Bree bristled. It wasn’t as if she was a rookie who couldn’t manage a day’s work on the place. Kate and Laura were having trouble keeping straight faces as her dad reiterated some of the tasks but she didn’t see the funny side.

  “So tomorrow Kate will be out in the paddock with Graeme and I…and I think Jack’s going to come for a while as
well.”

  “He’s been around a bit lately,” Bree said.

  “He’s determined to make changes to the Halbots’ stock line and…” Milt fixed a piercing look firmly on her. “He’s keen to learn.”

  The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Was he intimating she wasn’t?

  Milt’s focus shifted to his youngest daughter, and having spelled out the jobs that would be Bree’s and Kate’s he moved on to matters of the stomach. “Do you think you can manage the food side of things, Laura?”

  “Yes.” Laura’s eyes widened and she sucked in her lips. Her heavy make-up and colourful hair reminded Bree of the Bratz dolls they’d had as kids. “I’m sure Granny will help.”

  “She’s gone home.”

  “Already?” Kate said. “She must have been up early.”

  “She wanted to get back to town in time for church.”

  “I’ll give her a call later,” Laura said.

  “You’re not to bother your grandmother.” Milt’s tone was gruff.

  Laura pulled a face. “Okay. Keep your shirt on. Usually Granny likes to help, that’s all.”

  “Not this time. She’s got a busy week ahead.”

  Bree raised her eyebrows. That was news to her. Her grandmother was a bit of a committee-goer but she didn’t usually let that interfere with helping when there was work to be done on the farm and last night she hadn’t said anything about a full week. She was always one to provide a long list of what she was doing so everyone knew how busy she was.

  “Granny loves to come out and help.” Kate echoed Bree’s thoughts.

  “She’s not as young as she used to be and it’s a long drive in and out from town.” He looked to Bree. “There’s still cleaning up in the shearing shed to do.”

  “I know.” Bree gritted her teeth.

  Milt glanced at the other two. “So we’re all clear on our jobs?”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” Laura giggled.

  He gave a snort and headed off to the dog kennel.

  “It’s freezing out here.” Kate stamped from foot to foot then headed inside with Laura right behind her.