Bree stayed where she was, annoyance flowing through her body like a charge. Her dad spoke as if she were a minion at his beck and call. He wouldn’t speak to Graeme like that or bloody Jack Halbot. It irked her that he didn’t see her as a partner in the business.
She pushed off from the fence and a sharp pain tugged at her thigh.
“Damn it,” she hissed.
She was glad she’d made the decision to go away with Owen. Let her dad run the place without her and see how he got on.
Natalie looked out the window of her parents’ unit where wind and rain lashed the tall Norfolk Island pine trees across the road. The day had turned wild. She glanced back at her dad who was dozing in his recliner. It was one of two set up in front of the television, which had been on when Natalie arrived, a never-ending game of lawn bowls playing. Her father had turned it down but not off as they’d chatted over their tea and the fruit cake Natalie had brought with her. It was her father’s favourite but he’d only eaten half the piece she’d given him. Said his appetite hadn’t recovered since the pneumonia.
Natalie’s guilt had deepened at the sight of him when he’d first opened the door to her. He looked much thinner than he had at Christmas and he’d felt frail beneath her embrace. Their conversation had dwindled and after he’d nodded off Natalie had stayed in her chair, thinking she could shut her own eyes after the long drive, but she was restless and found herself taking in the neat and modest furnishings of her parents’ small lounge room; gazing at family photos on cupboard tops and walls, recalling the life events that the pictures represented. There were far more of Bron’s family than of hers. Natalie could have sent others, of course. Another thing to feel guilty about. She picked up a more recent photo of her parents, taken at Kate’s wedding with the bride and groom. Ray and Althea Turner beamed at the camera, their arms linked with Kate and Sean. They’d been so proud and happy that day.
She replaced the photo frame, silently picked up the cups and plates and took them to the kitchen. It was a modest room but big enough for a square table and four chairs in the middle. She wiped down the bench and returned the milk to the fridge. There were several cards and invitations on the door, held in place by magnets from her parents’ travels to various parts of Australia. The invitations were for a high tea at the bowling club, an eightieth birthday from a name she didn’t recognise and then a sixtieth. She frowned at that and lifted it off the fridge. It was to Ray and Althea and was for a dinner in two weeks’ time in Adelaide, to celebrate Tony’s birthday. There was no surname but the invitation was from Marcia and girls and Natalie was pretty sure her old boyfriend had married a Marcia and that his birthday was in June. Why would her parents be getting an invitation to his birthday?
A car pulled up in the driveway. Natalie stuck the invitation back on the fridge and turned as her sister came in the door, her hair damp from the rain.
“Damn, that smells good.” Bronwyn drew Natalie into a squeezy hug. She was Natalie’s younger sister, and shorter, so her head rested briefly against Natalie’s neck.
“It’s only slow-cooked lamb. I made plenty so you can take some home.” Natalie had taken the big chunks of lamb from the freezer the night before and then this morning had set the slow cooker going with the lamb, onions, garlic, frozen tomatoes from her summer vegetable garden, the remains of some red wine from the previous night’s dinner and assorted herbs.
Bronwyn pulled back. “I am capable of feeding my family.”
Natalie was surprised by her change of tone. “I know. But you’ve got a lot on your plate. I do so little to help with Mum and Dad, I thought at least food would be useful. It’s a big pot so enough for us all to share or I can freeze it if you’ve got something organised.”
Bronwyn looked contrite. She sighed. “To be honest I haven’t even thought about tonight’s meal. Karl’s at the shop. Paying wages on a Sunday at this time of year nearly kills us so we mostly work it ourselves. I’ve been cleaning up the house and packing ready for this camp. Lina’s home with the twins and Marcus is who knows where. I’d say surfing but even he wouldn’t go out on a day like today.” She dropped the plastic bag that swung from her fingers to the table and flicked on the kettle. “It must have been a wild drive down.”
“It was. Wind and dust until I got close to Adelaide then wind and driving rain from there onwards.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve been to see Mum yet? Where’s Dad?”
“He’s snoozing in his chair and we haven’t been out yet.” Natalie closed the door between the kitchen and the lounge. “I told Dad we’d go before dinner but I’m not sure he should be out in this weather.”
“Good luck stopping him.”
“How is Mum?”
“I called in on my way here but she was sleeping so I didn’t disturb her. Brought some washing back.” She waggled a finger in the direction of the plastic bag. “This fall has knocked her a bit. Doc wants to run some tests so she could be there a few more days. Dad can manage but I’m worried he’s not back to his old self since the pneumonia.”
“I didn’t realise. I could have come earlier.”
“You’ve got the farm and teaching.”
“You’ve got a business and four kids.”
They eyed each other across the kitchen table. There was six years’ difference in age and two very different upbringings between them. Natalie had been raised with strict rules about what she could and couldn’t do, exact timelines for coming and going and warnings of what might befall a girl if she didn’t listen to her parents, all of which went out the window when Bronwyn came along, but they were sisters and they’d been close once. Crazy how life stretched relationships and changed them.
“I live nearer.” Bronwyn smiled, the brief tension between them dispersing once more. “Don’t beat yourself up. I’d honestly do anything to avoid going on another school camp but I’m committed. We’ve organised extra staff hours to cover me at the shop. And the twins would be disappointed. I’ve hardly been on an excursion let alone a camp since they started school. I used to do so much more for Marcus and Lina.” She waved a tea bag in the air. “Tea?”
“Thanks.” It would be Natalie’s fourth hot drink for the day but if it meant they could sit and chat for a few minutes before her sister dashed off she’d drink it. She took out the milk then recalled the invitation stuck to the fridge door. She waggled a finger at it. “Mum and Dad got an invite to Tony’s sixtieth.”
Bronwyn gave her an odd look. “They keep in touch.”
“With my first boyfriend?”
Bronwyn wrinkled her nose. “I caught Mum sending him a birthday card only last year.”
“You’re kidding!” Natalie sunk into a chair. “That’s odd, isn’t it?”
“I suppose in one way. But…well, they liked Tony and even after you were no longer going out he used to come over sometimes.”
“Did he?”
“Well, until Mum and Dad moved to New South Wales. After that I don’t know but they obviously kept in touch.”
Natalie was shocked to think her parents had maintained a relationship with her ex-boyfriend. Still did, by the sound of it. How could she not have known?
The kettle boiled and Bronwyn carried their cups to the table. “Listen, thanks again for coming at such short notice. I didn’t want to let the kids’ teacher down. She deserves a medal, that woman. She’s nearly as good at her job as you are.”
Natalie smiled. She’d always loved teaching, since her very first prac teaching experience. A young boy had been sitting beside her reading in the stop-start fashion of someone who can decode but not really understand what he’s reading. But as he’d read his tone had changed, his fluency had improved, and with it came understanding. He’d leaned forward over the page then turned bright eyes to her. “I can read,” he’d said, in a voice so full of awe it was as if she’d given him open access to a room full of chocolate. “I can really read,” he’d said again.
“Yes, you can
,” she’d replied and he’d dropped his gaze to the page and continued on, the funny repetition of Dr Suess’s Green Eggs and Ham coming alive on the page as his confidence grew. She’d heard the difference in his voice, the moment when a chore had turned to something exciting, the secret code of letters and spaces and punctuation suddenly making sense, and just like that a door had opened to a whole big world for him. She’d been hooked on helping children to open doors ever since but lately, just this year probably, she hadn’t felt that same enthusiasm that always enveloped her at the start of each new school year.
Bronwyn blew on her tea. “I feel bad taking you away from your class.”
“I’ve got plenty of leave up my sleeve and it’s only for a few days. We’ve got a new principal; he’s going to take some of my lessons this week.” Natalie allowed herself a small smile. “He wasn’t even born when I started teaching.”
“Like the doctor who’s looking after Mum. I swear he looks younger than Marcus.” Bronwyn groaned. “I feel so old.”
Natalie chuckled. “Trust me, fifty-two is not old.”
Her sister dragged her unruly curls back from her face, something she’d inherited from their father while Natalie had straight hair like their mother. “It feels old when you’re the mother of teenagers and two ten-year-olds.”
“Well, my girls are definitely grown up. They don’t need me like your kids do and Milt’s mum is managing fairly well on her own.” Natalie thought of Olive’s rather sad, stilted farewell after a quiet breakfast with only the two of them and Milt at the table. Their conversation had been about Natalie’s trip, the weather and the upcoming ram sale. Milt and his mother had been painfully polite. You could have cut the air with a knife. The girls had all slept in and only appeared as Natalie was ready to leave for her drive to Victor.
“How are my gorgeous nieces?” Bronwyn asked.
“They’re good.” Natalie rattled off the response, in the same manner she described herself as fine, but were they really all good? A week ago Natalie would have said her girls were settled, healthy, happy, leading busy lives doing what they wanted, which was all that she’d ever hoped for them but now…She recalled Kate’s pale face, dark eyes and bloodless lips that had turned up in a forced smile this morning as Natalie had climbed into her car. Bree had been quiet too; Natalie wondered when she was planning to tell her father about her imminent departure. And Laura, well, dear Laura had been chirpy, the one bright spark among them, but she’d thrown in her job and come home without, it seemed, any plan for the future.
“I don’t suppose Milt was happy for me to drag you away for a few days.”
“I’m staying the week, at least. I’ll be here when Mum comes home and stay on. Take the pressure off you. Besides, all three girls are home at the moment so Milt has plenty of help.”
She wouldn’t admit her husband hadn’t been pleased to hear of her plans to go to Victor for a week. That would only add to Bronwyn’s load and also made Milt seem churlish. He wasn’t usually like that. He was often the one who suggested she visit her parents or invite them to stay at the farm. But last night had been different. After Bronwyn’s phone call Natalie had returned to a tense standoff in the kitchen. Obviously more words had been said in her absence.
Olive had been fussing over the dishwasher and Natalie had urged her to leave the last of the tidying up to her and to go and join the girls in the den.
Milt had still been sitting at the table, a brooding presence, when she’d told him about her mum and her plans to go to Victor the next day. He’d baulked when she’d said she’d be gone for the week.
“We’re tailing,” he’d said, with such a shocked look she may as well have told him she was planning to dance naked down the main street of town.
“The girls are all here. Bree will be fine in a day or so, Kate’s more than able to help and Laura can do food. There’s plenty in the freezer and I’m sure Olive would help if you asked her nicely.” She’d smiled at him but he’d harrumphed, said good night and taken himself off to bed. She’d joined the others for the end of the movie and by the time she’d climbed into bed he’d been asleep.
This morning, with no local church service to attend, he’d gone off to the sheds first thing. They’d only had a brief time alone in the bedroom after breakfast when he’d come to find her as she’d packed her case. The damn Model Wife book had been on the floor where it must have fallen in the night from under her pillow. She’d shoved it in her case so he wouldn’t see it.
There were other things they should have discussed. She’d wanted to ask him then about what was going on with Connie and his mum. And there was Jack. If he was Milt’s son she’d thought she could deal with it, make a plan for the future so that everyone was taken care of, but sometime during her restless night, reality had hit her like a slap on the face. Natalie knew she was no longer strong enough to deal with a future where Milt confessed Jack as his son.
And there was Veronica. She must know the truth. Had she and Milt maintained a private connection over the years? Doubt and distrust had stripped her confidence in having a conversation with her husband. Better to go on as they were. She couldn’t envisage a future with everything out in the open and so she’d said nothing when he’d wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.
“I’ll miss you,” he’d said.
She loved Milt’s big bear-like hugs. She’d nestled her face into his jumper, savouring his warm male scent mingled with the smell of oil from whatever he’d been working on in the shed. It was his words that had surprised her. She rarely went away alone, but he never admitted to missing her. She’d reciprocated, of course, felt remorse at the lack of feeling in her response. He’d picked up her case and they’d had no more time alone.
Natalie was startled from her reverie at the sound of the door opening behind her. She stood quickly, knocking the back of her chair. Ray Turner had one hand on the door handle. With shoulders slightly stooped, he blinked slowly, taking in the kitchen.
“Hello, Dad,” Bronwyn said. “Fancy a cuppa?”
“No thanks, love.” He glanced at Natalie. “You are here. I thought perhaps I’d imagined you.”
“Nat’s come to stay with you while Mum’s in hospital,” Bronwyn said.
“I don’t need looking after.”
“I thought I might be able to do a few jobs for you.” Natalie tried to put breezy into her voice. “Cooking, shopping, washing. Bron’s off on camp with the twins tomorrow, remember.”
“Of course I remember. I’ve had a cold but I haven’t lost my marbles.”
“Not many, anyway.” Bronwyn grinned and then slowly, as if he’d just got the joke, so did their dad. “You’ll enjoy Nat’s cooking better than mine while Mum’s out of action.” She winked at Natalie.
“We should go and see your mother.” Ray leaned on the back of a chair and took a few deep breaths. “I haven’t been in today. Waited for you, Natalie. She’ll think I’m lost.”
“I called in,” Bronwyn said. “She was sleeping. Give Nat and I a chance to finish our cuppas then we’ll get going. I have to go home and pack.”
At the hospital Natalie’s mother was propped up in bed looking as fresh as a daisy. Apart from a bruise above one eye, a few down her arm and a bandage on her elbow she didn’t look any the worse for wear. She was surprised to see Natalie.
“Bronwyn asked her to come.” Ray bent to kiss his wife’s cheek. “To look after me.”
“She’s going away on camp,” Althea said. “She’s such a good girl worrying about us but we would have managed. Aren’t you teaching?”
“I took leave,” Natalie said. “I wanted to come anyway as soon as I heard you’d both been unwell.”
“I tripped, that’s all,” Althea said. “Hurt my pride more than anything else, and your father is on the mend.”
“I told them I could manage.” Ray picked up his wife’s hand, gave it a pat.
Althea smiled at her husband. “Still, it was goo
d of Natalie to come. Nice for you to have company.”
“I certainly liked the smell of dinner cooking.” Ray patted his stomach and indicated the only chair in the room.
“You have it,” Natalie said.
“I wondered how long you’d last on Bronwyn’s cooking.” Althea lowered her voice. “She has many talents, your sister, but cooking’s not one of them. Don’t you dare tell her I said so. Now do sit down. It’s a long drive. You look worn out. Are you well?” She pointed to a space at the end of the bed. “Tell me all about the girls. What are they up to? No babies for Kate yet?”
Natalie perched on the flat space beyond her mother’s feet and felt her shoulders relax just a little as she filled her parents in on life at home. It was a while since they’d had a proper catch-up, just the three of them.
Later that night, alone in the spare room after dinner, Natalie rummaged in her case for her nightie and found the old book she’d tossed in. Once more she was drawn to it. She flipped it open to the chapter on looking after your husband’s parents. At the bottom of the page she’d written AND YOUR OWN in big letters. She’d written those words and stuck a photo of her parents on the blank page opposite just before Christmas one year when the girls had been small and she’d had words with Olive.
It was the time her parents were travelling back from interstate and were having Christmas at Victor with Bronwyn. They’d wanted Natalie, Milt and the girls to join them. It wasn’t a big ask, they’d had few Turner Christmases together since Natalie had married, but Olive had planned a particularly big King Christmas that year, with Clem’s brothers and their families, and she’d almost demanded Milt and Natalie’s presence at home. Natalie had been angry. Her own family get-togethers were so rare she’d been determined to get to that one.
Milt hadn’t been much help: it had been a late harvest, he and Clem were both working around the clock and he was bone tired. In the end he’d had to stay home to finish reaping and she and the girls had driven to Victor alone. It had been a terrible trip. Laura was still a baby and had cried all the way, Kate had been carsick everywhere on the last leg of the journey, and Bree had spiked a temperature Christmas morning and come out in a rash and Natalie had spent part of the day in the hospital waiting to see a doctor.
The Model Wife Page 15