“Of course I am.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
She shrugged. “I thought you knew and the subject never came up.”
After he went back to bed Keith still couldn’t sleep. He was wondering if Fiona had been mistaken about Francesca, when he heard the sound of crying. Assuming it was Gabriella he threw back the mosquito net and jumped out of bed. But as he tiptoed along the hall he realized the sound was coming from Fiona’s room. He peered round her door. “Fiona,” he whispered.
He heard her sharp intake of breath.
“Turn on the lamp,” he said.
“No.”
He closed her door, groped his way to her bedside table and switched on the lamp. She was curled up with her face buried in the pillow. He pulled the mosquito net aside and brushed back the hair covering her face. She turned towards him and screwed up her eyes against the glare of the lamp. Her face was wet and her dark eyelashes were clumped together.
She reached under the pillow and got out a handkerchief. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“No, I couldn’t sleep.” He sat on her bed. “What’s wrong?”
She sat up and wiped her eyes. “It’s silly.”
“Tell me.”
“I had this dream. I keep having this dream. It’s not a nightmare. I feel happy ... more happy than I’ve ever been in real life.” She hugged her arms to her body. “I’m looking in a mirror and my reflection does different things to me. If I put my hand up, it doesn’t and it laughs or smiles when I don’t or doesn’t when I do. When I wake up I have this feeling that I’ve lost something. It’s as if someone’s died and I’ll never see them again.” She looked embarrassed. “I told you it was stupid.”
“How often do you have it?”
“I used to have it all the time when I was a child. I don’t have it much now ... about twice a year. Am I mad?”
“No. Lots of people have strange dreams.”
“Do you?”
“Probably do, but I never remember them. My ex-girlfriend once had a dream that she was in a London workhouse.”
“Keith, your mother’s funeral is tomorrow. I’m being neurotic. Go back to bed.”
But he spent the final hours till dawn thinking about an incident years ago. He had been on holiday in Sydney with Gabriella and his parents. Fiona was ten, he was seven and Gabriella five. Memories returned. Fiona screaming hysterically in the middle of the night. Footsteps running. Him getting out of bed and going into the hall. Gabriella coming up to him wide- eyed with fright. Fiona’s screams fading to mewls. Soothing words from Virginia and Alex. Fiona repeating a word he didn’t understand and now could not recall. His parents coming out of her room, seeing him and Gabriella and sending them back to bed telling them she had only had a nightmare.
What was the word Fiona had kept saying? He couldn’t remember. ‘But I’d know if I heard it again,’ he thought.
No breeze relieved the stifling heat in the cemetery. The sun reflecting off Laurence’s and Jonathan’s white headstones dazzled Fiona, who wished she had stood in the shade of the gum tree. The dozens of wreaths were already wilting. Their fragrance was almost swamped by the insect repellent the mourners wore.
‘This is the worst part,’ she thought, as the coffin was lowered into the hole. She glanced across at Gabriella who was standing between Virginia and Keith, but she looked composed. Fiona’s relief turned to worry as she remembered Keith’s letters to her after Brett’s death. He had told her that Gabriella was being brave. Fiona chewed her lip. ‘Maybe it would be better if she howled. Her grief gets stuck inside and chokes her soul.’
When the burial service ended people drifted away and stood in groups, leaving Keith and Gabriella alone. Virginia laid a red carnation on Laurence’s grave.
Fiona stood next to her. “You’re great with Gabby, Mum,” she said awkwardly. She seldom complimented her mother.
“Thanks.” Virginia’s expression revealed gratitude tinged with surprise.
Fiona saw a withered posy of wattle and gum leaves lying on Jonathan’s grave. She picked it up. The brittle gum leaves rustled and fragments of wattle fell back onto the marble slab. There was a card attached. “To Johnny, from Eleanor,” read Fiona. “Who’s she?”
Virginia stared at the card as if in a trance. Then she shook her head and walked away.
‘Is she my real mother?’ Fiona thought. She tried to assess Eleanor’s character from the neat, precise writing on the card. ‘If she is, then at least she’s not illiterate.’ She looked at the inscription on Jonathan’s headstone. ‘Just his name and years of his birth and death,’ she thought. ‘My father. I wish I’d known you.’ She saw Alex walking towards her.
“Are you all right, Fiona?”
“Yes, Dad.” Although tempted to ask him who Eleanor was, she didn’t want to hurt him. He had once told her that it was his greatest regret that she was not his real daughter.
After writing a page in her journal about the funeral, Fiona continued,
My living in Melbourne has done Mum a lot of good. She didn’t fuss over me at all. Mum and Dad are flying back to Sydney tomorrow. I haven’t told them I’m moving up here yet – I want to make sure that Ansett can transfer me to Brisbane. I hope Gabby doesn’t go into a decline after Mum leaves.
“Two more days and Fiona will be back in Melbourne,” thought Virginia, hoping her optimism, that the danger was almost over, was not premature. She felt at home in Gabriella’s house. She remembered them discussing colour schemes.
“Shall I paint all the walls white, Aunty Virginia?”
“No, the floors are grey and white would be too cold. You want to create a cool atmosphere, not a cold one. And all the rooms in one colour would be monotonous. I’d suggest the palest blues, yellows, pinks and greens. Just a hint of colour.”
Virginia packed the last of her clothes in the case and put it by the door. She began to strip the bed just as Gabriella came in.
“Aunty Virginia, don’t worry about that. I’ll do it later. I wanted to ask you something.”
Virginia tried to disguise her tension by tossing the sheet into the corner. “I can’t let you do all the work, Gabby,” she said, trying to smile normally. “And the sooner these get hung on the line the sooner they’ll dry.”
“Fiona told Keith something strange.”
“Oh?” said Virginia, bracing herself for a question about Eleanor.
“She said that Dad was married to Margot’s sister.”
Virginia relaxed. “He was.”
“Oh. We didn’t even know he’d been married before. What was she like?”
“Enchanting. Nothing like Margot.”
“Was Francesca a lot younger?”
“Yes – seventeen years.” She shook the mosquito net. “Your father, Johnny and I were distraught when Dad married Margot. We thought we’d hate her brothers and sisters too. When they came to Acacia, six months after the wedding, we were determined to be ungracious.” Virginia’s laugh was droll. “And we were ... for a while.”
“And what about Johnny?”
“What do you mean?”
“I was thinking about the other sister – Ruth, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Or did she look like Margot?”
“No. She and Francesca were alike, but Johnny ” she stopped, appalled by how she had let her guard slip. She had been going to say that he was involved with someone else.
“What, Aunty Virginia?”
Trying to compose herself, she looked at the shadows from the trees, dancing on the yellow walls. “Not interested ... in Ruth, I mean.”
“Was she interested in him?”
Virginia tried to look vague. “I don’t think so.”
“Were Dad and Francesca happy?”
“Yes, very. Cheska was delicate in health and appearance, but she was fiercely independent.” She rubbed lotion into her hands. “They were well suited.”
“How come Dad o
r Mum never told us?”
Virginia slid her ruby and diamond engagement ring onto her finger. “Your father couldn’t talk about it. And your mother … well she once told me that she’d always felt she was in Francesca’s shadow.”
“And was she?”
Virginia knew she had to be honest. “Yes.” She picked up a bottle of Blue Grass perfume from the dressing table and sprayed it on her neck and wrists. “That’s often the fate of second wives. Your father was never the same after Cheska died. He had that longing and lost look – she was the only thing he wanted but the only thing he couldn’t have.”
Gabriella bit her lip. “I know how he felt. Brett is the only thing I want I can’t have.” She shook her head. “Sorry, I’m being morbid again. Was Margot in your mother’s shadow?”
Virginia hesitated.
“Did your father love her or was she just a convenience?” prompted Gabriella.
“We told ourselves that he married her because he needed a wife,” she said as she collected her make-up. “But it wasn’t true. He loved her. It was our mother who had been the convenience. That hurt us. He used to talk to Margot; he and Mum never talked – except about necessary things. They weren’t cold with each other, they just didn’t talk much. But he and Margot talked all the time ... about horses, agriculture, politics, literature, poetry – it was as if Margot was another man, and intellectually she was.”
“I can see why that hurt you. But Dad said Margot was ugly.”
“She wasn’t exactly ugly ... although we thought she was when we first saw her. To be fair, she was just terribly plain. Laurence, Johnny and I assumed that her brothers and sisters would look like her, but they didn’t even look related. Francesca was pretty, she was blonde and had a beautiful complexion.” She shut the lid of her case and locked it. “It’s Margot’s niece Catriona who looks most like her – she’s got the same square jaw, frizzy hair and small sharp eyes, like a bird of prey. And she’s skinny like Margot, and tall too – almost six feet. Margot’s five feet ten.”
“I’ll miss you, Aunty Virginia.”
Virginia almost burst into tears. Fiona never said that she missed her; she was always pleased to escape. “I’ll miss you too, Gabby. If you ever need me just phone and I’ll come.”
Gabriella’s hug was uninhibited and warm. Fiona’s rare hugs were grudging and brief. “I promise I’ll sort myself out. I haven’t been fair to Keith, have I?”
“No. But you weren’t yourself. He understood that. Repay him by rebuilding your life.”
“I’m scared that if I’m happy it’ll all be taken away again.”
“You won’t find anything by staying home all day, Gabby, but you might find it if you go back to teaching or do anything else that appeals to you. You could go overseas.”
“I’m not adventurous like Fiona. I’ve never had any desire to go anywhere else. I love the Darling Downs. Brett and I wanted to buy a house and have children. That’s all we wanted. Was that too much?”
Keith appeared in the doorway. “The car’s got to be back at the airport by eleven or they’ll charge you a full day’s hire.” He picked up her case. “Um,” he looked at her awkwardly. “You and Uncle Alex offered to lend me the money for the deposit on Mum’s house.”
“No, we didn’t.”
He looked mortified. “Sorry. I thought you – ”
“We offered to give you the money.” Virginia smiled. “That offer still stands.”
“Thanks. I accept.”
“Good.” Feeling a wave of emotion, she kissed his cheek. “You look so like your father that ... sometimes seeing you makes me sad, but happy too, because part of him is still alive.” She gave him a little shake. “And you’re stubborn – just like him. But I’m glad you’ve been reasonable about this.”
Fiona was waiting in the driveway with Alex. Virginia glowed with happiness as she received the only spontaneous embrace Fiona had ever given her.
Keith and Fiona had got into the habit of staying up and talking or playing chess after everyone had gone to bed. He reluctantly felt attracted to her in spite of her being sophisticated, spending too long under the shower and refusing to go anywhere without putting on make-up. At night when they talked, his daytime irritation with her vanished.
Keith took the chess set out to the verandah and put it on the table. After he had turned on the outside light and lit a mosquito coil he went back to the kitchen where Fiona was making them iced chocolate. He watched her filling the glass with milk. “I could get addicted to this,” he said as she put scoops of ice cream on top and dusted them with cocoa powder.
“Did you check for snakes?”
He nodded. “There’s only a death adder. Don’t fret, it’s at the end of the verandah.”
She shuddered. “You are joking?”
“Yes, of course, Townie,” he said with a grin.
“Townie nothing! They don’t give you a playful nip, they sink their fangs into you and inject as much venom as they can,” she retorted, handing him a glass. “And if you don’t get to hospital in time you die an excruciating death.”
He sipped the chocolate. “Yum. You can stay forever.”
“Funny you should say that,” she said as they walked onto the verandah.
“Why?” he asked, as he sat down.
“I’m going to ask Ansett for a transfer to Brisbane.”
Her news didn’t surprise him. Fiona had moved more often than anyone he knew. “I’d love to see more of you. Gabby would too,” he said, moving his white pawn.
She advanced one of her central pawns two squares. “I can rent a flat in Brisbane and stay there during the week. I could buy a house near here for weekends and holidays. Or just stay with you or Gabby.”
He moved his bishop. “The way you cook I’d pay you to stay weekends.”
“Mum taught me.”
It was rare to hear Fiona praise Virginia. “She must have been a good teacher.”
“She was. It’s the only thing we enjoyed doing together.”
“Won’t you miss the high life of the city?”
“No. I’ll miss Aunty Ruth. I won’t miss going to Kingower.”
“Is Margot that bad?”
“It’s not just her,” she said, moving her knight. “I’m left out because I can’t ride. My uncle and cousins go off riding all day and I’m left alone with Mum and Aunty Ruth. Even Aunty Margot rides and she’s seventy-two.”
“You can learn.”
Fiona shook her head. “They tried to teach me when I was five. I was so terrified I screamed and the horse almost bolted. Uncle David was furious with me, and he and Mum had a terrible argument. She accused him of being a useless teacher.”
“If you were that frightened it sounds as if he was.” He studied the board.
“Catriona and Kim are clever. They look down on me because I haven’t got a degree and don’t have ambitions. I just want to find somewhere I feel I belong. Every time I come up here I feel at home ... maybe it’s because I was born here.”
“Were you? I thought you were born in Sydney.”
“No, Queensland.”
“Whereabouts?”
Her cheeks reddened. “I’m not sure ... somewhere round here.” Her next move left her open to checkmate.
“Fiona! Do you really want to do that?”
“No. Thanks.” Her hand hovered over her queen. “Ah, no not fair. I never warn you when you do something silly. You win. We’ll start another game.” Fiona put her pieces on their squares. “Listen. You know you were telling me that Acacia’s in a bad way? Do you think that you, me and Gabby might be able to afford to buy it together one day?” she asked.
He felt a stirring of excitement. “Even if I did make a success of a gardening business it would be years before I’d be able to afford Acacia or a property like it. Fiona, are you serious?”
“Yes. I love the country, but I’m left out at Kingower. They despise me because I’m a coward.”
�
��What? Just because you can’t ride?”
“I’m scared of horses.”
“So? That doesn’t make you a coward.”
“They think I’m like Uncle Johnny.”
Keith stared at her. “He wasn’t a coward.”
“But he didn’t fight in the war.”
“He wasn’t allowed to. He was needed on the land – some men had to stay behind. Who told you he was a coward?”
“Catriona and Kim – my cousins. Aunty Margot told them.”
“But – a coward? You must know how he died?”
She nodded. “His house caught fire.”
“Not his house. It was the house belonging to one of his neighbours in Brisbane. Uncle Johnny rushed in and got a little boy out and went back for the mother and a baby, but the roof collapsed and they all died.”
Fiona looked baffled. “He didn’t live in Brisbane.”
“He did. He went there when our grandfather cut him out of the will. He rented a house and worked for the Department of Agriculture.”
“Oh, God. Are you sure?”
“Yes. Dad told me. How come your mum didn’t tell you?”
She shook her head. “Talking about him upsets her. Now I know why.”
CHAPTER 5
At the beginning of March, Fiona flew up to Sydney for Virginia’s birthday. Normally she dreaded these dutiful visits, but this time she was looking forward to it. She decided to stay for three days instead of flying back to Melbourne the next morning. Since returning from Queensland she rang her parents more often and found that, instead of Virginia reproaching her, they were able to have sensible conversations. The night she arrived in Sydney she wrote in her journal.
I’ve been selfish. I used to resent Mum’s questions, but maybe she wasn’t being nosy; just interested. After all she is my mother – not my real mother, but my mother in every other sense. She loved me and sent me to the best school in Sydney. To make up for my ingratitude I’ve bought her a pearl brooch for her birthday.
Eumeralla - Secrets, Tragedy and Love Page 6