The Sister's Gift

by Barbara Hannay

  ‘Yes, that thought had occurred to me.’ The glance Pearl slid in Freya’s direction was decidedly warmer, almost conspiratorial. ‘We managed without our father.’

  ‘We did, didn’t we?’

  They both smiled then. The smiles were no doubt rusty from lack of use, but laced with memories of those long-ago days when they’d been girls, living in van parks, a tightly knit trio – two sisters and their mum making the most of what little they had – facing the world together.

  Before everything went wrong.

  Freya lifted the teapot and she was no longer trembling. ‘Would you like a top-up?’

  ‘Thanks. You make a good cuppa.’

  Happily absorbing this small compliment, Freya drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. Their conversation was going so much better than she’d dared to hope. Tread softly, Freya.

  ‘Have you heard from Mum lately?’ she asked as Pearl stirred her tea.

  ‘Not really. You know what she’s like. The occasional phone call out of the blue.’

  This was true. Ruby had never been the sort of mother who needed to keep in daily or even weekly contact with her adult daughters.

  ‘I’ve been sending her postcards from most of the places we stopped at,’ Pearl added. ‘And I’m sorry Troy and I didn’t make it to Western Australia. I would have liked to see where she and Tatsuo live in Broome.’

  Freya refrained from suggesting that Pearl needn’t have rushed back. ‘Maybe next trip,’ she said instead.

  ‘Mmmm.’ A shadow seemed to fall across Pearl’s face and she looked away, out to sea, frowning, as if distracted by some secret trouble.

  For a moment, Freya thought Pearl might be about to confide in her, but as seconds of silence ticked by, she knew this wasn’t going to happen and that prying would only make her sister clam up. ‘Speaking of Tatsuo,’ she said, keen to keep the chat flowing, ‘it’s rather an amusing coincidence that Mum called you Pearl and then years later fell in love with a pearl farmer.’

  ‘It is, isn’t it?’ Pearl brightened again, as if grateful for the distraction. ‘But Mum’s always been a little obsessed with gemstones, hasn’t she?’

  ‘Has she?’

  ‘Of course. Don’t you remember when we lived in the van parks, and she was always trying to trade her little collection of rocks with the gem fossickers?’

  ‘Oh, yes, that’s right. She kept that little chocolate box filled with bits of topaz and sapphires. I think there were a few rubies, too. Just the rough stones, of course.’

  ‘Yes. She could never afford to have them cut and turned into proper gems or jewellery.’

  ‘It’s coming back to me now,’ said Freya. ‘There was that con man, too, wasn’t there? What was his name?’

  ‘You mean Des, the so-called geologist?’

  ‘Oh, God, yes. He had that dreadful moustache.’ Freya pulled a face of disgust. ‘How could Mum have ever trusted a moustache like that?’

  ‘Heaven knows. It was all so sad. He promised he could get her a great price for her stones, so she handed them over, trusting him completely, and then he just left. Vanished. Never to be heard of again.’

  ‘Bastard.’

  To an outsider their conversation would seem utterly banal, Freya realised, but after decades of strained silence, this simple chat felt like a hugely significant step, an important stitch in the massive rift that had held her and Pearl apart for so many years. Might she dare to hope?

  They’d finished their tea, but she was keen now to keep this chat ticking along. ‘I don’t suppose Mum’s interest in gemstones was inspired by her name, Ruby.’

  ‘It may have been.’ Musing on this, Pearl said, ‘You know Mum almost called you Amber.’

  Freya was glad she’d finished her tea, or her gasp of shock would have splattered it everywhere. Bloody hell. ‘Amber is Brian’s new wife’s name.’

  ‘Really? That’s rather a bizarre coincidence.’

  Pearl looked amused now, but Freya was groaning. ‘Oh, my God. Just imagine if Mum had called me Amber and Brian found himself trading one Amber for another.’

  ‘Amber One and Amber Two.’ Pearl actually chuckled at her small joke. Wow. Freya couldn’t remember the last time her sister had seemed so relaxed. This was a minor miracle.

  ‘But it’s true,’ Pearl said next. ‘Mum had always planned to call you after another gemstone. She was Ruby, I was Pearl and you were going to be Amber, if you were a girl.’

  ‘And Rock if I was a boy?’

  This brought a wry chuckle. ‘I can’t remember. Maybe. But I do remember that while Mum was pregnant, she read a book she adored. Some sort of saga. I forget its title, but the heroine was called Freya and Mum thought it was the most beautiful name ever. Actually, I think she would have been devastated if you’d turned out to be a boy.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad she didn’t read Forever Amber. There would have been no escape for me.’ And then, a beat later, Freya said, ‘You know, in Norse mythology, Freya is the goddess of fertility.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. One of life’s little ironies.’

  Another silence fell and Freya began to gather up the tea things. This might have been a landmark conversation, but she didn’t want to outstay her welcome.

  Pearl said, ‘If Freya represents fertility, it’s a fitting name for you. After all, you brought us the gift of Billie.’

  The cup in Freya’s hand clattered on its saucer, almost breaking.

  ‘And I should also be apologising,’ Pearl said next, her voice tight, as her mouth twisted into an awkward little smile. ‘I let one small thing come between us.’

  Freya knew, of course, what this one small thing was.

  Her decision on the day Billie was born.

  And this moment now was so huge, she was incapable of replying. She was too busy biting her lips, too busy trying to stop herself from bursting into noisy sobs.

  ‘The thing is, I’ve always been hopelessly jealous of you,’ Pearl said next.

  ‘Of me?’ Freya cried, sure that there couldn’t be a single reason why Pearl would be jealous. Pearl had always been the good sister – older, wiser, neater and tidier, better behaved, with better school results. A dream daughter.

  ‘You were Mum’s favourite,’ Pearl said next.

  ‘I was not.’

  ‘Yes, you were. I always tried so hard to please her. I turned myself inside out trying to be good, but you didn’t have to try. Mum loved you anyway.’

  Freya stared at Pearl in astonished dismay. ‘But Mum despaired of me. I was the naughty and reckless one. I caused her no end of worry.’

  Pearl shook her head. ‘You never really noticed, but I know I’m right. Even on that day you almost drowned, Mum didn’t thank me for rescuing you. She just went mad at me for letting you go near the creek.’

  ‘But you saved my life.’

  ‘I know.’ Tears shone in Pearl’s pale eyes now. ‘But Mum was so worried about what might have happened to you, she never once thanked me. And she cuffed me around the ears for good measure.’

  ‘Oh, Pearl.’ Freya wanted to protest that she couldn’t believe this, but the huge sorrow in her sister’s face told its own story.

  ‘Once Mum had you warm and dry and tucked up in bed with a mug of cocoa and Iced Vovos, she took me outside and lectured the hell out of me. How I had no sense of responsibility and I should have known better. How I was supposed to look out for my little sister.’

  ‘Plus a cuffing?’

  ‘Plus a cuffing.’

  ‘That’s terrible, Pearl.’ Freya didn’t know what to say. She was reliving the terror of that day. The water closing over her, the struggle to breathe, the weeds dragging at her. How could their mum have been so unfair? Pearl’s rescue had been truly heroic.

  Her sister sighed. ‘I know it’s silly how we let these things stew inside us forever.’

  No, it wasn’t silly, thought Freya. It was tragic. Pearl should have been blissfully happy.
She had a loving and faithful husband, a beautiful daughter, a successful business and a gorgeous home. But none of these wonderful things had helped her to overcome her lifelong gnawing insecurity.

  Devastated, Freya wanted to launch out of her chair and give her sister a hug, but the urge was no sooner born than the bedroom door opened and Troy came in.

  He stopped, somewhat startled when he saw Freya and the mugs and teapot.

  Freya jumped up, blinking back the tears that had almost spilt. Time was getting on. No one had eaten breakfast yet and she had to make at least one new dessert this morning. ‘I’ve been loitering in your bedroom,’ she told Troy.

  ‘That’s fine.’ He lifted a hand and motioned her to sit. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt you.’

  ‘We were just having a cuppa, but we’ve finished.’

  Troy shot his wife a searching glance, no doubt worried by the watery gleam in her eyes. He frowned. ‘So you’ve told Freya?’

  The deep concern in his gaze suggested that he was not referring to any of his wife’s lingering childhood issues, but to something else entirely. Something imminent and of vital importance.

  Fighting a knife-sharp slice of panic, Freya turned to him. ‘Told me what?’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Sonia Brassal’s house was on a back street in Arcadia, away from the waterfront and bordering on bushland. Many years had passed since Billie had last gone through the Brassals’ low front gate and up the path that wound between clumps of traveller’s palms. These days the path was made of concrete, but Billie remembered it as a river of bark mulch set with round timber stepping stones.

  In the backyard, there had been a cool swing set and a homemade cubby house, as well as an above-ground swimming pool. The pool was nearly always full of leaves from overhanging trees, and most of the local kids had preferred to swim in the sea, but it had provided a fun freshwater alternative.

  Billie could remember games of Marco Polo being played there. Eventually, once his kids had grown up, Mr Brassal had removed the pool and play equipment and set up a paved barbecue area instead.

  Now, a child’s tricycle was neatly parked beside the front steps. Billie wondered if Nicole’s little boy, Preston, was home. The conversation she had planned wasn’t really suitable for a child’s ears, so she would have to be careful.

  She mounted the stairs and crossed the verandah where numerous hanging baskets were lush with maidenhair ferns and trailing plants. Wrought-iron shelves near the front door held a lighted citronella candle, old gardening gloves, a pot plant or two, plus a trowel and watering can.

  Through the front flyscreen door, Billie could see a ginger cat curled on a cane chair, looking out at her through sleepy yellow eyes. The weatherboard home was modest, but comfortable, and typical of the homes Billie had always known until her parents’ recent move. But despite the familiarity, she felt nervous.

  The house seemed very quiet. The only sound was music playing somewhere, possibly on a radio in the kitchen. She rang the doorbell.

  Footsteps sounded and Sonia Brassal appeared, wiping her hands on an apron. She squinted a little, peering through the flyscreen, and her lips parted with obvious surprise when she saw Billie. ‘Hello, Belinda.’

  ‘Hello, Mrs Brassal. I was hoping Nicole might be home.’

  ‘Oh, no, I’m sorry. Nicole and Jason left yesterday. They’re back in Melbourne now.’

  This was disappointing. Billie had been braced for an awkward but necessary chat. ‘I’m sorry I missed her.’

  Now Sonia opened the flyscreen door. ‘Would you like to come in?’

  Billie hesitated, wishing she’d texted Nicole to check her whereabouts, but she’d been so anxious to get this conversation behind her that she’d just headed straight over. She couldn’t help her mother by donating a kidney, but she could at least set the record straight with the Brassals and she’d decided this would be best achieved face to face.

  She gave a slight shake of her head. ‘It’s okay. I can phone Nicole.’ But she was sure Sonia would know everything about her daughter’s disastrous meeting at the café, so she added, ‘I wanted to apologise.’

  Sonia’s mouth opened even further. ‘You wanted to apologise?’

  ‘Yes. I – I —’ Billie was uncertain now about how much she should tell.

  ‘Nicole wanted to apologise to you,’ Sonia said. ‘She was terribly upset. She feels so bad.’

  ‘Yes, but that was partly my fault. I – I overreacted.’

  ‘It was all very unfortunate.’ Sonia stepped back and gestured again for Billie to enter. ‘Why don’t you come in?’ Her smile was surprisingly gentle. ‘Then I can add my apology to the mix. I feel partly responsible for this.’

  Billie couldn’t really refuse and she wished she didn’t feel so tense. Despite her friendship with Nicole, she’d never been able to shake off memories of Sonia Brassal as her rather strict primary-school teacher. Today, however, in a loose tie-dyed kaftan and with bare, somewhat gnarled feet, her face free of makeup and her grey hair caught up in an untidy knot, Sonia looked less formidable and more like any friend’s mum. And as Billie stepped inside her home, she couldn’t help liking the familiar tropical feel of the timber floors, cane furniture and woven mats. Deep casement windows looked out into the leafy green branches of a poinciana tree and she caught the scent of curry cooking.

  ‘Come though to the kitchen,’ Sonia said. ‘Would you like a coffee?’

  ‘A glass of water would be fine, thanks.’

  The kitchen, at the back of the house, was just as Billie remembered. Plain pine cupboards without a hint of renovation. A chopping board, onion skins and spice bottles were scattered on a bench beside the stove where a pot of curry was simmering. Sonia had been listening to the ABC on the radio, but she turned this off and filled two glasses with cold water from the fridge, adding ice cubes with mint leaves frozen inside them.

  As they sat at a small scrubbed pine table, she said, ‘I really am very sorry that Nicole upset you the way she did. But I’m even sorrier that it was my fault. I should never have told her about Freya and Pearl and – and the pregnancy and everything.’

  She dropped her gaze for a moment and swallowed, and when she looked up her eyes were extra bright. ‘I’m rather ashamed of myself, Belinda. I should have known better.’

  The last thing Billie had expected was to feel sympathy for this woman. ‘I admit it was a shock, hearing about the adoption from Nicole,’ she said. ‘But I think it was the shock my family needed, actually. It means that I now know the truth after all this time.’

  Sonia nodded, managed a watery, fleeting smile.

  ‘And I think you need to know it, too,’ Billie said.

  At this, the woman’s eyes almost popped with surprise. ‘But I thought —’

  ‘You thought that Freya was my mother and she gave me up for adoption.’

  ‘Well, yes.’ Sonia looked understandably puzzled. ‘Isn’t that . . .?’

  She didn’t finish her question and so Billie explained, carefully and quickly, giving the basic facts of the surrogacy without going into details of the emotional fallout.

  ‘My goodness,’ Sonia murmured when the story was told. Then she sat back in her chair, staring into space with a dazed smile as she absorbed Billie’s news. ‘That’s quite amazing, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Billie. ‘And once I got over the shock, I decided it was kind of awesome, really.’

  Sonia’s smile warmed. ‘It certainly is. Quite awesome.’

  ‘And I’m really glad I know about it at last,’ Billie added. ‘But I mightn’t have found out if I hadn’t had coffee with Nicole. So,’ she gave a small shrug, ‘I will let her know things have turned out okay.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Sonia. ‘I know she’ll appreciate that.’ Then her expression became serious. ‘But I hope it wasn’t the need to sort through this that brought Pearl and Troy back from their holiday.’

  Billie supposed she shoul
dn’t be surprised that Sonia already knew about her parents’ return, but she had to think quickly now. Having enjoyed a good in-depth chat with her mum about everything that had transpired since their return, she knew that Pearl was now comfortable enough about sharing the surrogacy story, but she wouldn’t want to broadcast news of her health issues.

  ‘They were ready to come back,’ she said, hoping this would suffice.

  Sonia’s eyebrows lifted. ‘I thought they were planning a much longer trip. I hope it’s not Pearl’s kidneys?’

  Billie stared at her, gobsmacked. Good grief. Was there no end to this woman’s insider knowledge?

  ‘Oh, God,’ Sonia cried, as she realised she’d delivered yet another shock. She pressed her hands against her lips, palms together as if in prayer. ‘I haven’t done it again, have I?’ she asked in a small, scared voice.

  Billie needed a moment to recover her breath. ‘You know about Mum’s kidneys?’

  ‘I do. Yes.’ Once again, Sonia looked both worried and apologetic.

  ‘I thought only Dad knew.’

  ‘I – I more or less found out by accident.’

  Such a puzzling comment. Billie had to know more. ‘So when did this happen?’

  Sonia leaned forward, elbows on the table, as she explained. ‘I was at the hospital. It was a few months back. Just a routine check-up and I went to the cafeteria afterwards for a coffee, before heading home. Your mum was in there.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘I knew, as soon as I saw Pearl, that she was terribly upset. She’d just had the diagnosis, you see. I’m not sure where your dad was just then. Somewhere in the hospital, but Pearl looked so lonely and worried. We ended up having a cuppa together.’

  ‘And she told you?’

  ‘She did, yes. We talked for quite a while. The poor woman. She was so worried – about everything – not just her health, but keeping up the business, about you and your travels, about whether she’d be able to stay on the island.’

  Billie could imagine that it must have been comforting for her mum to offload these worries. From her own experience she knew there were times when talking to someone outside your normal circle could help in ways you never expected. But she was still surprised that her mum’s confidante had been Sonia Brassal.