When she returned, Jenny gestured to two more plates. ‘For the lady in the corner, on table three.’
‘Both of them?’ asked Sylvia.
‘She must be hungry,’ said Jenny. ‘She’s certainly talkative. Wanted to know all about the place, the food, the staff. Couldn’t get away from her.’
Sylvia picked up the plates and headed towards the back of the tent. The woman was facing away from her, towards the view. There was something familiar about her short greying curls.
‘Here you are,’ said Sylvia, placing the plates on the table.
‘Oh, goody!’ The woman grinned and clapped her hands.
‘Annabelle?’
‘Surprise!’ said Annabelle.
Sylvia was dumbstruck. Then she laughed. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I’ve come to see you, silly! I’m on the first leg of a little trip I have planned.’
From behind her, Sylvia heard Jenny. ‘Well go on then, sit down with your sister.’ Jenny smiled. ‘Thought we’d surprise you. Frida just popped to the bathroom. She’s not really sick.’
Sylvia laughed.
‘Order up!’ called the chef, and Jenny hurried away.
Annabelle pushed a plate across to Sylvia. ‘I ordered you the chia breakfast pudding.’ She began cutting into her own bacon and eggs. ‘It sounds dreadful, but the lady said it was your favourite.’
‘Thanks,’ laughed Sylvia, shaking her head. ‘This is such a shock. I can’t believe you’re here.’
‘Well, I’ve never been to Uluru. And I thought to myself, what an opportunity! A personal tour guide on site!’
Sylvia smiled. ‘How long are you staying?’
‘Eight nights here. Then I head off on the next part of my trip.’
‘But this place is extortionate! I mean, are you sure you can afford that many nights?’
‘Oh. So Indigo kept her promise not to tell then,’ said Annabelle, looking sheepish.
‘What promise?’
‘Constance left me her estate.’
‘What?’
‘There was a tithe for the church, of course. And three charities got a few hundred thousand each. But most of it came to me. I couldn’t come to terms with it when I found out. You know, with starting treatment and all of the rest. So I didn’t tell you. I only told Indigo a couple of months ago because I was completely swamped with the paperwork and needed her help.’
‘That’s…’ Sylvia’s spoonful of porridge was suspended half-way between her bowl and her mouth.
‘Yes. Amazing, isn’t it. She left nothing for poor Dan, which I thought was a little bit harsh, to be honest. But she made a specific provision that he wasn’t to have any of it. I’m not sure why she was so set against him.’
Sylvia’s eyes widened.
‘Not that Dan took it lying down, of course. We had a long marriage, so he says he’s entitled to half of any of my income, and you know… blah-di-blah-blah. Says he’s going to fight me in the courts.’ Annabelle forked some egg into her mouth.
‘What will you do?’
‘Well, Ian Enderby says Constance’s wording in the will about him not taking anything was pretty watertight. But still, apparently we can’t be certain. It could cost hundreds of thousands if Dan decides to drag it through all the appeal courts.’
‘That would be awful,’ said Sylvia.
‘I know. So to make him go away, I offered him a huge old house that Constance owned in Prelanah, out the back of Burnie. Near that old quarry. God knows why she had it. The land’s not worth much.’
‘Well, at least he’ll have a roof over his head,’ said Sylvia.
‘Hmm.’ Annabelle sniffed. ‘Sort of. Except it’s full of asbestos. I got a building report done before I gave it to him.’
‘Good Lord,’ laughed Sylvia.
Annabelle smiled. ‘I’ll give him some money eventually. I feel a bit bad for him actually, but I thought I’d make him sweat for a while.’
‘Who are you and what have you done with my sister?’ asked Sylvia.
‘I’m a new woman,’ said Annabelle. ‘Willa and I have gone into business together. We’re building a row of cottages on The Old Chapel block, up the other end, near the eastern cliff face, where it’s protected from the winds. Out of sight of Merrivale. One for Willa’s family, one for me, and we can rent out the other two to holidaymakers. They’ll just be small ones. Willa will only be back now and again, and I don’t need much room.’
‘Wow, that’s fabulous,’ said Sylvia. ‘What about Merrivale? What’s happening there?’
‘She’s selling it,’ said Annabelle. ‘And I decided not to buy it. It’s too much work for me on my own. I suppose I could afford a team of gardeners now, but really, why lumber myself with all that extra administration? And there’s no pleasure in a garden if you don’t do it yourself. The Old Chapel gardens will be much more manageable, and quite lovely. Lillian had a pretty good eye, you know. And it’s got a better view!’
Sylvia felt a surge of love for her sister. And admiration. Her spirit was so strong, despite all that had happened.
Across the restaurant, the door opened. Alana from the yoga class came in with her girlfriends, make-up applied, hair styled, glamorous walking clothes hugging her beautiful figure. Sylvia thought of love in all its forms. Toxic love, romantic love, sisterly love, motherly love. She thought of Indigo and her foolish pole-dancing job and was suddenly sad that she hadn’t been there for the state championships to support her daughter, and that she would miss her weaving exhibition.
‘I’m taking a ten-kilometre walking tour around the base of the rock before dusk. Want to come with me?’ asked Sylvia.
‘Absolutely,’ said Annabelle. ‘I’m starting a health kick. I’ve bought some fabulous new shoes.’ She stuck her leg out from under the table to reveal bright-green leather walking shoes with pink laces. ‘Aren’t they just heaven?’
Thirty-Six
Willa
One month later
Willa leaned down and clasped the weed in her gloved fingers, ready to tug it out. She hesitated. Perhaps it wasn’t a weed. Perhaps it was the beginnings of a flower. The foliage looked a little like the zinnias in the garden of The Old Chapel. She chewed on her lip and wondered what to do. Perhaps she should take a photo of it. Annabelle would know. She could email it. Then she shook the silly thought away and plucked out the weed and tossed it in the heap. She stood and stretched out. She had been weeding for ages and her back was stiff.
Her mind rattled through the rest of her day. Should she go for her walk now, and loosen up her limbs? Perhaps she should check the fridge to see if she needed anything else for the Moroccan lamb dish she wanted to make for dinner. Then there were the groceries to buy, although they didn’t need much. Tomorrow night they would be eating out.
It would be a night of celebration tinged with sadness, as big events always were these days. Hamish was turning eighteen and she had booked a table for thirteen. She, Hugo and Hamish, plus their best friends, Elisa and Leo Peterson, with their twin boys, Harry and Jack – who were the same age as Hamish – and their younger sister, Giselle. Then there was Hamish’s best mate, Tom Laraday, and his hilarious mother, Mia, a good friend of Willa’s since the boys had met in their first year of school. Hamish’s godparents, Catherine and Paul Bellamy, would be coming from London for it too. Their children were grown up now, so these days it was just the two of them. The final guest was Hugo’s father, Errol, the loveliest man Willa knew, apart from Hugo himself, of course. Hugo’s mother had passed away twenty years earlier, and his sister and her family lived in Scotland and were hard to pin down. But although light on family, it was still a lovely group of people.
She sat back and closed her eyes as the sun came out from behind a cloud and threw a warm beam across her back. Thank you. Thank you for this day. At Dr Lee’s encouragement, she was writing a gratitude diary, and each day she was encouraged to answer three questions: What are you grateful for? Wh
y? What act of kindness have you performed today? It made her much more conscious of the many small positives in her daily life. Sometimes when she got to the end of the day she realised she didn’t have anything to report about an act of kindness. So she would make a cup of tea for Hamish, who was hard at work studying for exams, and take it in and fuss around with the mess in his bedroom until he got sick of her. Although, according to him, her fussing didn’t qualify as a kindness.
On other days she’d take some flowers or groceries to old Cecil across the road, whose wife had passed away with pneumonia last year. They had both been very kind to the family when Esme died. Whenever she popped across, Cecil would cut some silver beet or pull up some potatoes from his little raised veggie garden for her, and give her tips on mulching or fertilising and she’d end up returning home with full hands and a happy heart.
She pulled off her gloves. ‘C’mon, Kettles. C’mon, boy,’ she called.
The dog looked up from the butterfly bushes at the back of the garden. He was snapping at insects, but as she called him a second time, he turned his shaggy old frame and followed her towards the house.
At the back door, Willa kicked off her boots and brushed the dirt from her jeans. She peered through the door at the wall clock and was surprised to find it was nearly midday. Friday was her favourite day. She didn’t work, and often she would walk into the city centre and meet Hugo for lunch. Today they had no fixed plans, but perhaps she would ring him.
She filled the kettle and placed it on the hob, and the dog settled on his mat. As Willa turned to head for the shower, the doorbell rang. She cursed and crossed quickly to the sink to wash off the dirt that had wormed its way through the hole in her glove, then hurried through to the front door and pulled it open.
‘Surprise, surprise!’
Willa took a moment to react. In front of her, a round, colourfully dressed woman with short curly hair and enormous sunglasses had her arms spread wide. Next to her on the ground was a purple suitcase and a floral pull-along cabin bag. After a moment, the woman pulled off her sunglasses.
‘Annabelle,’ spluttered Willa.
A fleeting look of uncertainty passed across Annabelle’s face, but her bright-pink lips quickly spread back into a grin.
‘Hello, Willa! I thought I’d just pop in to surprise Hamish with his birthday present. It’s in my bag,’ she said, beaming.
‘Oh! Well that’s wonderful,’ said Willa, regaining her composure. She stepped forward and Annabelle drew her into a warm hug. Her perfume smelled comfortingly floral and familiar, and Willa was overcome with a sudden hot welling of tears in her eyes. She stepped back. ‘Come in! Do come in.’
‘Thank you, lovely girl,’ said Annabelle. She picked up the cabin bag and hesitated as she looked at the suitcase.
Willa hesitated too. ‘Are you… Give me the case. I’ll make up the spare room,’ she added, as the thought came to her.
‘Oh no!’ Annabelle let out a peal of laughter. ‘I’m not here to stay with you. Goodness, I wouldn’t dream of imposing.’ She thrust the handle of the cabin bag at Willa and began fiddling with the extension handle on the case before following Willa into the hall and dragging the case into a nook next to Hugo’s treasured antique timber hat stand. ‘No, goodness me. I can’t check into my hotel until three p.m., though, so I thought, well, why not strike while the iron is hot? I’ll go and see Willa!’
Willa motioned her through to the kitchen. ‘That’s lovely. I’m so pleased you did,’ she said, smiling. ‘And what a surprise! I’m sorry you’ve caught me in my dirty gardening gear.’
‘Fiddlesticks,’ said Annabelle. ‘And how wonderful that you’re gardening. I was so pleased when you told me you’d taken it up.’
Willa smiled. ‘I love your new short hair.’
‘Do you really?’ asked Annabelle.
Willa nodded.
‘I’m getting used to it still. One of my friends who lost hers with the chemo a few years back calls it “cancer chic”, so I’m doing my best to get on board and go with that.’
Seeing the fleeting worry in Annabelle’s eyes, Willa wanted to reach out and put her arms around her. Instead she said, ‘Sorry. I didn’t think.’
‘Nonsense! It’s a bit curlier than it used to be, but I’m embracing the easy-care aspect.’ Annabelle grinned, and the awkwardness between them evaporated.
The kettle began to whistle, and Willa lifted it from the hob.
‘Oh, what a beautiful Aga!’ said Annabelle.
Willa smiled and looked down at the old stove. She supposed it was rather beautiful, although the price of the oil to keep it running made her cringe with terror every time she looked at the bills.
‘I just adore these houses,’ said Annabelle. ‘The architecture was so gorgeous everywhere I looked when I was in the cab. And the cab itself! Black, with the funny door! But so much roomier and nicer than the ones at home.’
‘I suppose we take them for granted,’ said Willa. ‘I’m glad you found us, though.’
‘The driver knew your street right away. He was lovely. Took me on a tour around some amazing buildings. Pointed out places for me to visit. Apparently there’s an excellent chocolate shop, and also a cheese shop in a place called Covered Market, which sounds right up my alley!’
Willa couldn’t help grinning. She’d forgotten how entertaining it was to be swept up into the whirlwind of Annabelle.
‘Righto,’ she said. ‘Well, just let me have a shower and we can go there now. No time like the present, is there? I’ll give you a little tour of the city while I’m at it, then we might be able to meet Hugo for something to eat.’
‘What fun! Thank you, Willa,’ said Annabelle, and she clapped her hands together then leaned down to pat Kettles. ‘Off you go then, you go and shower. I’ll make myself a cup of tea.’
Willa retreated into her bedroom and hurriedly undressed. In the shower, she had a brilliant idea. Surely Annabelle would agree to come to Hamish’s dinner tomorrow night. She would entertain everyone with her delighted chatter.
Washed and dressed for lunch, she hurried back into the kitchen, but it was empty. She turned towards the living room. Annabelle was standing, looking at a framed photo of Willa with her mother and father, taken on the day of her graduation from Sydney University.
Annabelle looked up. ‘Your parents,’ she said, with a hint of sadness.
‘Yes,’ said Willa.
‘They were lovely to me.’
‘To me too. They were wonderful.’
‘I’m so glad,’ said Annabelle earnestly. ‘I did often wonder, you know. All the time, actually. I used to say to myself, “Annabelle, no doubt your little girl is having the best childhood ever, because Arthur and Janice were so kind.”’ She smiled. ‘And they so wanted a baby. They’d been trying for such a long time before you came along, but it just didn’t happen for them. I lived with them for five months, until you were born.’ She looked out the window for a moment, then turned back to Willa. ‘They were so kind to me, but I was horrid to them at the end. I was rude and upset and angry. Lillian did her best to calm me down, but I didn’t really want to let you go, you see. I called you Bee-Bee, and the only thing I wanted was to keep you.’ She looked back at the photograph. ‘But I couldn’t.’
‘You did the best you could,’ said Willa, crossing the room. She picked up the photograph and looked at it. ‘And you picked the best family for me. They were very loving. I had a wonderful childhood. A wonderful life with them.’ She put her hand on Annabelle’s arm. There was nothing else she could think to say. She knew now. She understood the loss, and they both knew what it meant, and that was enough.
Annabelle gave her a small, grateful smile, then moved to the window, where she gave a quick shake of her head. ‘I’m so excited,’ she said. ‘A local to show me around Oxford. The city of dreaming spires!’
‘Well I probably don’t really qualify as a local yet. We’ve only been here for fifteen years. Still, I know
my way around.’
‘Excellent. Where shall we start?’
‘It depends. How long are you staying? There’s lots to see.’
‘I’ve booked into a darling boutique hotel near Broad Street for a week. Found it on Instagram! It’s ridiculously expensive, but then I thought, if Constance left me all this money, she probably wouldn’t mind me travelling in style.’
‘How wonderful,’ said Willa. ‘You deserve every penny.’
‘Actually, I gave a bit to Dan recently, because, well, she was his relative, not mine. I felt a bit bad that she’d written him out of the will. Anyway, my treat this week. Let’s have a very fancy high tea somewhere later on.’
‘Gosh, all right,’ said Willa.
‘Next week I have tickets to the Chelsea Flower Show, so I’m heading back to London. I bought a spare, just in case you were able to get a day off, but it doesn’t matter if you can’t, of course. I wouldn’t want to impose. I can give it to someone else.’
Annabelle was smiling so hopefully that Willa heard herself say, ‘I’d love to join you.’ Then she realised that she meant it. She’d never been to the Chelsea Flower Show, and every gardener amongst her friends said it was an event not to be missed.
There was the sound of the mud-room door opening and closing. Annabelle turned around as Hamish slung his bag down and came into the living room.
He stopped for a moment, staring, then he grinned. ‘Hi, Annabelle.’ He strode across the room and gave her a hug, then kissed Willa on the cheek. ‘Hi, Mum.’
Willa found it amusing how unsurprised he seemed to be that Annabelle was standing in their living room.
‘Oh Hamish!’ said Annabelle, flushing pink. ‘You’re so tall!’
‘Thanks,’ he said. He went into the kitchen and dug his hand into the glass biscuit jar, plucking out three chocolate creams.
‘I’ve got some free periods because of exams, so I thought I’d come home and bribe Mum to cook something good for lunch.’
The Daughter's Promise (ARC) Page 29