Stop it, Alice, she told herself as tears sprang into her eyes. It didn’t help that she hadn’t slept much. She never did sleep well when she had an alarm set. Her body hated being jolted awake so she tended to wake on her own accord long before the alarm went off.
Alice hadn’t read any fiction for years, having had to make her way through so many history texts and non-fiction books for uni. She hadn’t read much at all since finishing her degree. Maybe this book would be her way back into what had been one of her favourite things to do since childhood. She turned the paperback over to read the back cover blurb. She had to read it four times to fully ascertain that the book was about a young woman who had gained a surprise and very generous inheritance from an unknown relative and had to decide whether to leave her life and friends behind and move to some small, far-off town, or stay and carry on with life as she knew it. Alice was sufficiently intrigued. She was a little surprised to feel slightly comforted by the book, almost as if she had a friend beside her. She could now see what Lauren meant about making friends with the characters in novels and being sad to say goodbye when the story ended. Lauren had also said that reading was the best way to forget about your troubles for a few hours.
She looked up at hearing a muffled announcement about her flight to Adelaide. Alice checked around her to make sure she had everything, and joined the milling passengers.
On board she had to jump up and let another passenger into the window seat. She cursed being in the middle. At least her neighbour didn’t seem chatty. Upon settling into his seat, he’d instantly opened his book and buried his nose in it. Alice didn’t think it would be safe to talk to anyone. If they asked her where she was going and why, she might just dissolve into tears.
She went back to Hope Springs for the obligatory occasions, like Christmas – well, as few of them as she could get away with. She hadn’t been back for at least a year. The last Christmas had been their turn to go to David’s family in Sydney. This year they were having a parent-free Christmas and staying home and catching up with friends who didn’t have family in Melbourne or Australia, or for whatever reason were staying put and alone. Alice hadn’t broached that with her mother yet. Dawn would show her disapproval – either with loud verbal scorn or quiet tut tutting and sighs, tightly pursed lips and icy looks. Alice would leave it as close to the event as possible to break the news. Then she wouldn’t have to endure too many passive-aggressive phone conversations and attempts at guilt-tripping and, even worse, Dawn deciding to attend and Alice having to explain the concept of family-free. More than likely she’d give in and let her mother attend, as she’d done so many times over the years.
Let’s just get through this visit, Alice told herself as she opened her book to the first page and proceeded to read the first three lines seven times before giving up and leaning back into her seat and closing her eyes. Perhaps a catnap would help.
Chapter Twenty-two
Alice carefully negotiated the rickety fold-down steps of the small plane at Port Lincoln, her legs wonky from the constant vibration under her feet for the past hour. At least the noisy plane had meant she didn’t have to speak to the passenger next to her.
Alice glanced around her while trying to take an inventory of her feelings. Usually when she came ‘home’ as her mum put it, she felt the warmth of nostalgia and the disappointment of regret when remembering how it had all gone so wrong. There was also some sadness that she’d left somewhere she’d loved and knew so well. And then there was always the anxiety and pain over how let down she felt by her mother and sister, and feeling on-edge wondering how they would be this time around. It was a strange sensation to both belong and be an outsider all at once – a very uncomfortable feeling.
While Alice loved the quaintness and familiarity of the area and the small town she’d once been a big part of, she also bemoaned her family’s lack of will to stretch their beliefs and ways of doing things. When she’d first come back to visit she’d brought with her so many ideas for the family’s corner shop, but had been met with scorn and even horror.
‘Why would you want to change things? People come here because we represent familiarity,’ her mother had said.
‘Yeah, don’t come back here to throw your high and mighty ideas around,’ her sister, Olivia, had said.
She and Olivia had never been best friends, but the animosity had reached new heights over the last few years. Alice’s feelings towards Olivia hadn’t changed and she’d tried hard to find some common ground with her. But while her sister seemed interested in hearing about Alice’s life, she would often put it down by saying things like, ‘Well, we can’t all drink cafe lattes and sit and listen to lectures. Some of us have to work.’ Olivia made it sound like she’d been given a life sentence, but she could leave any time she chose to – just like Alice had.
Alice would have given her left arm to have had the opportunity to take over the family business that her father had run for so long. That was another thing Olivia – and her mother, for that matter – had resented in Alice: her close relationship with their father. It was almost as if they somehow blamed Alice for his death, too. She had never felt anything but sympathy and understanding for him in the wake of his suicide. But Olivia and Dawn seemed to take his death and Alice’s lack of anger surrounding it as an embarrassing affront and a personal attack. She thought that someone who decided to take their own life most likely didn’t do it to punish those around them – they did it to end the pain after having exhausted what they considered to be all other avenues. Alice’s mother and sister weren’t able to see it that way even now, all these years on – evidenced by the fact Les Hamilton was never referred to. Ever.
Alice could see that Dawn’s constant control and criticism of her father, as well as trying to run a small business that was struggling to survive because of a transport crisis, had pushed him into desperation, depression and beyond. As far as she could see, her dad had been doing his best, and it didn’t help that shopkeeping wasn’t in his blood. He came from a long line of farmers and graziers. But when he’d married into the Proctor clan, Alice supposed his gentle nature had been crushed by their domineering ways. He was never one to go against the grain, so he tried to do as his wife wished. Alice knew he wouldn’t have left them unless he felt he didn’t have a choice. She and her father had always been close, shared a special bond. Only later did she realise just how much this bond between father and daughter annoyed Olivia and angered their mother. Jealousy was such a nasty, destructive, sad emotion.
So, it was with mixed feelings that Alice raised her hand in greeting to Olivia as she made her way across the tarmac to the small terminal. They hugged briefly and awkwardly and then Alice followed Olivia out to the carpark and over to where her white sedan was parked. Oh, how she wished her kind, gentle stepfather Frank had come to collect her.
‘God, I can’t believe you came all this way,’ Olivia said as she pulled her seatbelt on and snapped it shut.
‘Ruth was a dear friend; she was very special to me,’ Alice said quietly.
‘Yes, but still … God, I wish there was a plane direct to Hope Springs,’ she said with a loud sigh as she turned the key. ‘It’s a lot of mucking about.’
‘I told Mum I could hire a car and drive myself up. But she wouldn’t have it. I’m sorry if I’ve put you out, Olivia,’ Alice said, folding her arms tight across her chest in an effort to physically hold herself together. Oh how she ached to give in to the sobbing simmering in her throat.
‘Well, I hope we make it in time,’ Olivia said, reversing out of the parking spot. ‘So, how’s David?’
‘Good. How’s Trevor?’
‘Good. Just had man flu, though, so of course it was like he almost died,’ she said theatrically. ‘You know how it is,’ she said, rolling her eyes. Alice smiled at the glimpse of the Olivia that could be quite amusing. ‘Bloody big baby. How’s the big new house?’
‘Good,’ Alice said. ‘Oh, we got a dog. Did I tell
you on the phone?’ Alice knew she hadn’t – she tried to avoid telling them anything personal these days, if she could.
‘No.’
‘His name’s Bill. He’s a Jack Russell. A little over two years old. We got him from the RSPCA.’
‘Ooh, I bet he’s got problems, then.’
Alice forced herself to not sigh at Olivia’s negativity.
‘He’s great, actually. Very well behaved and a real character. I miss him already,’ she added wistfully.
‘It’s only a dog, Alice. Wait until you have kids.’
They drove in silence for a while, then Olivia pointed out her window. ‘Look at all this new development,’ she said. ‘Lots of farmers are retiring down here but they don’t want neighbours nearby, so everything’s being carved up into five or ten acre strips,’ she added with clear disapproval.
Alice turned and looked, but remained silent. She didn’t want to say anything that could lead to any criticism.
‘So, tell me about your new job,’ Olivia said.
‘Not much to tell. It’s just admin. Bit more challenging than I’ve had, though. It’s nice not to be a poor uni student,’ she said, cursing the stream of lies that were slipping so easily off her tongue.
‘I bet. Though, uni was your choice. Is David travelling a lot?’
‘Quite a bit. And he thinks there’ll be even more soon, too.’
‘You must miss him when he’s gone. I wouldn’t like it.’
‘Yeah. But it’s always been that way. I guess I’m just used to it,’ Alice said. ‘How’s Mum? I certainly wouldn’t be able to work with her. I’m not sure how you do that.’
‘Ah, she’s okay. Like you say, it’s what you get used to. Oh. I saw your Rick the other week.’
‘Olivia, he’s hardly my Rick, considering we’ve been divorced for years.’ Alice didn’t want to ask, but she was a little curious to know about her ex-husband.
‘He’s good, in case you’re wondering. Got a new lady friend.’
‘God, you sound like Mum. Lady friend! Who? Someone local?’
‘Nah. An out-of-towner – Yorke Peninsula, I think. He seemed happy enough.’
‘That’s nice.’
Alice had never quite got over her mother’s disloyalty when she invited Rick for Easter lunch the year after they’d split up, just after Alice had left for Melbourne. She couldn’t really explain her objection without sounding mean-spirited, but considering how much pain he’d caused her, Alice thought her mother might have shown more consideration for her feelings. It was almost as if he’d been kept in the family and she’d been exiled – even if it had been her decision to leave the town. If she’d tried to explain it, her mother would have most likely said something idiotic like, ‘Well, he was hungry, Alice, I wasn’t going to turn him away.’
To be fair, Alice hadn’t actually told her mother or Olivia the finer details of her marriage problems and subsequent separation – although she’d figured someone else would have. Doing so wouldn’t have garnered any more sympathy. Her mother would have somehow found a way to use the information to ridicule Alice further about her failure.
‘So are Mum and Frank helping to cater for the wake?’
‘Yes, but we’ll see them at the cemetery first. Thank god for the Stanleys not being religious so we’re spared the church bit.’
Alice couldn’t remember the church part of her father’s funeral – apart from just staring at the shiny dark wooden box, with flowers on top, sitting out alone up the front. The whole day was a bit of a blur. But she did remember standing beside her mother and Olivia at the graveside and hearing the clicking of what she thought was a camera. She’d been shocked to turn around and see that someone was in fact taking photos. Apparently her grandmother, her father’s mother, had enlisted one of the cousins to do the honours of digitally capturing the proceedings for posterity.
Alice had been horrified. How was that not purely vile and distasteful? And why would you want to? Was it a common thing to do? She had never been able to look at the photos, despite being sent a USB stick with them on. Who wanted pictures of crying people – people standing around looking bereft? Her grandmother had been a strange woman, that was for sure, and Alice had never really liked her.
Now that she thought about it, Alice couldn’t remember if they’d had a wake for her father. They must have. But where? It suddenly seemed terribly important to know. And the more she racked her brain to remember, the harder her heart pounded. She began to struggle for breath. If she didn’t pull herself together she might start hyperventilating. She searched her memories and came up empty. She hated not knowing. It doesn’t matter, she told herself, let it go. Gradually she calmed. Olivia drove on, seemingly unaware of Alice’s torment beside her.
The rest of the journey was made largely in silence, punctuated by Olivia providing snippets of gossip about people Alice no longer knew or really cared to hear about. Alice tried not to check her watch every three seconds, but she was getting a little anxious that they would run late.
‘It’s okay, we’re cutting it fine, but I think we’ll get there in time,’ Olivia said.
Their mother and Frank were waiting at the gate when they arrived, panting slightly. They’d had to run from where they’d parked the car back in a farmer’s empty paddock that had been opened up for extra parking. They would have been right on time otherwise.
Alice was pleased to see so many had come to pay their respects to Ruth and her family.
‘You’re late,’ their mother hissed, looking Alice up and down before giving her a quick hug. Sometimes over the years Alice had wished they’d just dispense with trying to hug and give a wave or nod of the head instead. Her father had been the only one in the family who’d given a big, warm, soft hug. Alice’s mum and Olivia gave hugs that were cold and stiff, and very abrupt. Thankfully Frank was better at it, Alice thought as she sank into his welcoming embrace and leant her cheek against his shoulder. He kissed her head.
‘We’re a little stressed,’ he whispered, ‘but she is glad you’re here. It’s so good to see you, Alice.’
‘Thanks, Frank. It’s good to see you, too.’ Alice smiled weakly.
‘Come on. Come on. We’re late,’ Dawn said, tottering off at almost a run to catch up with the other mourners. Alice knew her mother would ease her way through to get as close to the front as she could. Dawn was competitive in everything she did and had to be the centre of attention. Oh, if only she had a dollar for all the times she’d wanted to say, ‘Mum, it’s not all about you.’ At least now she had a name for it and her mother’s behaviour made a lot more sense. Alice had an explanation, but not an excuse, for the many awful ways in which her mother had treated her over the years.
‘I’d better keep up,’ Frank said with an apologetic grimace, patted Alice on the arm, and hurried to catch up.
‘Come on,’ Olivia urged.
‘You go on. I’ll catch up.’ Now she was here, Alice was really struggling to keep herself together. All the memories and feelings of loss for those she’d farewelled here before swamped her and her composure was slipping dangerously. Oh, Ruth, she thought sadly. She found a tissue in her bag and dabbed at the tears streaming down her face from under her sunglasses. Her legs were weak and she was fighting for breath against her fitted suit that suddenly felt unbearably tight. At the back of the throng the funeral director handed her an order of service. He’d officiated at her dad’s service, and both of her maternal grandparents, and most other send-offs in the district. He smiled warmly then moved on to hand out more of the folded pages. It seemed the service hadn’t started yet and she wasn’t late after all. Alice let out the slightest sigh of relief.
She stared through her tears at the smiling picture of her darling friend Ruth on the cover of the folded sheet, and a pang of sadness gripped her stomach so hard it took all her will not to double over. She straightened up and turned to her left and then her right to acknowledge the people beside her. Then the mu
sic started. Alice couldn’t sing, she could barely breathe, and so she stood gulping air and trying not to hyperventilate through the tears. Why did people have to play nice music at funerals and ruin the tunes for whenever you heard them in the future? Like ‘Morning Has Broken’, which Alice suddenly remembered had been played at her father’s funeral. Or had it? Perhaps it was at one of the services they’d held for her grandparents. Regardless, she hated that song now. Just hearing the tune made her well up.
Alice estimated she knew ninety percent of the mourners around her. Here she was amongst friends, people she’d grown up with, had known all of her life until leaving. People she loved, she thought, smiling warmly and nodding to an old favourite aunt.
But with a shock, Alice realised she’d never felt so lonely. She was fine on her own – she was used to David travelling and rarely pined for him. But this was different. This was a feeling that threatened to tear out her soul and further shatter her already broken heart. There was an emptiness within her that she’d never experienced before – not when her dad had died or her marriage had ended. She realised with a slight start that this feeling had nothing to do with losing Ruth. And as the funeral director now standing up front said, ‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,’ and Alice was drawn along with everyone as they began shuffling forward in a line to accept a flower from the basket to toss onto the casket, a question arose in her: What is the point of having a life partner if I have to be here alone doing this? The question stayed, settling in her stomach like a stone – cold, hard and uncomfortable.
She accepted a pale pink carnation and tossed it in, her heart pounding. She sniffled and smiled through hugs and utterances with Ruth’s husband, their two adult sons and three adult daughters, and moved on quickly to keep the queue moving.
After milling about and exchanging greetings with dozens of people, when the throng started to slowly disperse, Alice made her way over to her father’s grave. She knew she’d get some time alone there. While Alice was sad and disappointed her dad, whom she’d loved so much, was gone, her mother and Olivia were downright angry about it – still, eight years on. They wouldn’t be coming over to visit his grave.
A Life of Her Own Page 18