by Margaret Way
Alicia looked sightlessly across the grounds. ‘Your father,’ she said.
‘You’re back!’ Bruce McNevin greeted his wife the moment she walked into the homestead. ‘I knew you’d come back. You’ve got nowhere else to go.’
‘I’m only here to do a little packing, Bruce,’ Alicia said. ‘I’m taking Carrie with me to Melbourne.’
He blocked her way as she walked to the stairs. ‘Just how long do you think you can stay with friends?’
‘I’ve almost lost touch with them, haven’t I, through you? Let me past, Bruce.’
‘Not until we have this out. I’m extremely unhappy with your behaviour, Alicia. You owe me. As for Carrie, she’s just going from bad to worse. I suppose she was with Cunningham?’
‘Why don’t you ask them?’ Alicia said. ‘They’re waiting for me in the driveway.’
‘They’re what?’ Bruce McNevin hurried to the front door, looking out. ‘How dare they!’
‘They don’t trust you to behave yourself, Bruce.’
‘Have I ever laid a finger on you?’ He strode back to her looking outraged.
‘If you had, I’d have found the guts to move on.’
Bruce McNevin shook his head, something like grief in his eyes. ‘I knew Leyland’s child would split us one day. You surely can’t be going to him? You have no place in his life.’
‘I know that, Bruce,’ Alicia said simply, ‘but Carrie does. There have been a lot of changes in society since I was a girl. People are more accepting. Carrie wants to meet her father. I’m going to arrange it. Neither of us intend to embarrass him though I know he’ll be deeply disturbed.’
‘And what about his sons? What are they going to think?’
Alicia spread her hands in an inherited gesture. ‘There are secret places in everyone’s life. Besides, they’re married men now. Or one is.’
‘Been checking up on them, have you?’ McNevin sneered.
‘They’re a prominent family, Bruce. The media like to report on prominent families.’
‘They’ll relish this scandal then, won’t they? The return of the prodigal ex-lover along with their lovechild. And what about your oh so proper mother? What the hell is she going to think?’
‘She’s a long way from here, Bruce. I can’t worry about her anymore. Or about you. I’m not the panic-stricken girl I once was.’
‘My God!’ McNevin breathed. ‘I love you, Alicia. Doesn’t that mean anything to you anymore?’
She met his eyes directly. ‘It would have meant a lot had you loved my daughter, too!’ Alicia went around him and mounted the stairs.
Clay and Carrie sat waiting for Alicia to reappear. ‘I think I should go in,’ Clay said. It was he who had insisted on accompanying them back to the homestead, concerned Bruce McNevin might react badly when faced with losing the woman he loved.
‘It’s all right, Mum’s coming out onto the verandah.’ Carrie breathed a great sigh of relief. ‘She’s ready for you to collect the luggage.’ They watched Alicia give them a signal then walk back into the house.
Clay restarted the engine. ‘I’ll drive up to the steps. He might come out, Carrie. Be prepared.’ For anything, Clay thought, glad he was with them. Even the mildest man could turn dangerous given enough provocation.
Clay was out of the Land Rover when Bruce McNevin strode out onto the front verandah, his manner highly confrontational. ‘Ah, it’s you, just as I thought. I want you off my land, Cunningham,’ he ordered.
Clay reacted calmly to the blustering authority. ‘I certainly don’t want to be here, sir. But Mrs McNevin needs a helping hand.’
‘Not from the likes of you,’ Bruce McNevin said, suddenly producing a whip.
‘I wouldn’t think of using that,’ Clay warned. ‘You’ll definitely come off second best. I understand you’re upset, Mr McNevin, but don’t push it. I’ll just collect what luggage Mrs McNevin needs then we’ll be on our way.’
‘Where, may I ask?’ Bruce McNevin said in his most pretentious voice.
‘There’s plenty of room at Jimboorie.’
‘That crumbling heap!’ McNevin scoffed.
‘You won’t know it in six months’ time,’ Clay assured him. ‘Jimboorie House will in time be restored to its former glory. Take it from me.’
‘You!’ McNevin asked with great sarcasm. ‘What, that wicked old bastard leave you a few bob, did he?’
‘Actually he did,’ Clay confirmed casually. ‘He was far from broke as you seem to think. What he was, was a miser. Heard of them?’
Bruce McNevin’s face was a study. ‘You’re not serious?’
Clay nodded. ‘Yes, I am. Excuse me, sir. I’ll just collect those bags.’
Clay entered the house without incident. Bruce McNevin waited a moment then stalked down the steps and over to the Land Rover.
Seeing him coming Carrie opened the passenger door and stepped out onto the gravel to confront him.
McNevin’s face was dark with anger. ‘I’ll never forgive you, Carrie, for what you’ve done.’
‘I haven’t done anything,’ she said. ‘It’s more what was done to me. I have to live with the fact my own mother lied to me all these years. I suppose she had to, to stay under your roof. Your precious reputation is very important to you, isn’t it? But she had to pay dearly. I was to be passed off as your child, but right from the beginning you never treated me as family, much less an adopted daughter. You mightn’t be able to see my scars. They’re not visible to the naked eye, but they’re there. Things might have been very different had you been a man of heart.’
Bruce McNevin flushed violently. ‘I know I fed you, clothed you, housed you, educated you. Don’t let’s forget all that, my girl. You never wanted for anything.’
‘Maybe so and for that I thank you, but I went wanting for a bit of affection,’ Carrie said quietly. ‘I know you couldn’t make it to love. You couldn’t love another man’s child.’
‘How many men do you think could?’ he asked with the greatest impatience. ‘All those cuckolded men, when they find out through DNA the child they’ve long parented isn’t theirs at all, doesn’t the love switch off? You bet it does. That bastard, that father of yours, raped your mother.’
For the first time in her life, Carrie literally saw red. Clouds of it swirled in front of her eyes, almost obscuring her vision. Even now he couldn’t leave well enough alone. He was impelled to cause more damage. Blindly she moved a step closer to the man who had treated her all her life with such contained severity and cried out. ‘That is absolutely unforgivable. And a blatant lie. Your miserable mean way of getting even? I demand an apology.’
‘Why, you arrogant little girl!’ Bruce McNevin exclaimed, quite shocked by her anger. ‘To think you can demand anything of me.’
Carrie’s heart was thudding violently in her chest. ‘It’s normal enough in parent-child interactions but then I’m not your child, am I? My poor mother is still in love with that man even today. There was no rape as well you know. No need when they were madly in love with each other.’
‘What a mess! What a bloody mess!’ Bruce McNevin groaned, burying his face in his hands.
‘A mess that has to be straightened out.’ Carrie swept her thick plait back over her shoulder. ‘I doubt if I’ll be seeing you again, Mr McNevin. So I’ll say my goodbyes. I feel sorry for you in a way. But I shouldn’t. I can only remember my life as your daughter as being loveless.’
Her mother and Clay were already out of the house and coming towards them. Now they joined her, Alicia standing close beside her daughter.
‘If you must do this, do it, Alicia,’ Bruce McNevin addressed his wife, ignoring Carrie and Clay. ‘No good will come of it, I warn you.’
‘Well it wouldn’t be you if you wished us luck,’ Alicia said in an ironic voice.
‘I don’t want you upset and embarrassed, Alicia,’ he said. ‘I repeat. I love you. I’ve stood by you no matter what. I’m not perfect. I didn’t have it in me to take to
another man’s child. I’m not proud of it but it’s understandable. The thing is I’ve always stood by you. Take all the time you want, but come back to me. Please! We have a good marriage.’
‘And you think we’ll have a better one without Carrie?’ Alicia asked.
‘I’m sure of it,’ he responded.
‘Please, Mamma, let it be,’ Carrie intervened, glad of Clay’s rock-solid support at her back.
‘I suppose you think this puts you in the picture, Cunningham?’ Bruce McNevin exploded, as he could see his whole life changing. ‘Scott’s out of the way, so you move in?’
‘I don’t see that that’s any of your business, Mr McNevin.’ Clay’s tone was perfectly even. It was evident he had no intention of being goaded. ‘I’ll say good day to you.’
‘And good riddance!’ Bruce McNevin shouted as Clay moved off. ‘Make sure you never come on to my land again.’
‘You should take it easy for a while, sir,’ Clay advised, half turning and looking over his shoulder. ‘You could have a stroke, heart attack, anything.’
‘Mind what he’s saying, Bruce,’ Alicia warned her husband. ‘The blood has mounted into your face.’
‘So why should I care?’ he cried in a distraught voice. ‘You’re leaving me, aren’t you?’
Alicia’s beautiful face looked incredibly sad. ‘There’s nothing left for us, Bruce. I should have done this a long time ago but I didn’t have the courage to start again. Our marriage never had a firm foundation. I take a lot of the blame. I’ll see a solicitor in Melbourne.’
‘To start divorce proceedings?’ He closed his eyes then looked up to heaven.
‘Of course.’
His expression entirely changed. ‘Then don’t think for one moment you’ll get your hooks into my money. You’re the guilty party. I’ll make sure everyone knows that. Mark my words, Alicia, you start this and I’ll fight you every inch of the way.’
‘Bruce. Goodbye,’ Alicia said.
Senator Leyland Richards was having a busy morning. He had flown in from Canberra, the seat of Federal Government, to Melbourne, his home town, the previous evening and he hadn’t had a moment to himself since.
Ah, well, this was the life he had wanted, wasn’t it?
Fame and fortune.
He sighed deeply, putting off a phone call he knew wouldn’t wait. Though his plans, as yet, weren’t in the public domain, it was his intention to quit politics after giving twenty-five years of his life to it. He had discussed the matter privately with the Prime Minister; they had agreed on the best time for the announcement and he had received a strong message he was a definite contender for the top diplomatic posting to Washington.
‘You’re just the man for the job, Leyland!’ The P.M. had assured him.
The thing was, though it was far from apparent to his family, his friends, his parliamentary colleagues and the P.M. he had lost the driving ambition that had set him on the high road to success. Son of a wealthy legal family—he had himself worked for a few years as a barrister in the prestigious law firm established by his grandfather—his entry into politics was put on the fast track when he married Annette Darlington, the only daughter of Sir Cecil Darlington, a senator at that time. It was in the way he had handled a tricky matter for the Senator that had really brought him to Darlington’s attention. From then on it had been plain sailing. He was given to understand Sir Cecil was very impressed with him and his style. Meetings were arranged to interest him in running for a blue ribbon seat he eventually won. Annette, so very sweet and earnest, fell in love with him. And that was that! It was a union of old money. A union of Establishment families. The beginning of a good marriage and highly successful career in politics.
It had been two years now since he had lost Annette to breast cancer, a great blow. Annette had made him a wonderful wife and had been a loving mother to their two sons. She had wanted nothing more than to serve him and the boys. Most men would have found that an enormous bonus but he had secretly wanted more from her. More of herself. He had always been regarded as the perfect husband and son-in-law. God knows he had always tried to be. Less than a year after the untimely death of Annette, the retired Sir Cecil who had adored his only daughter, had suffered a massive heart attack while they were out on his yacht, Lady Annette II. Leyland had had an ambulance waiting as they docked, but his father-in-law had died before they reached hospital. Two great blows in as many years.
He’d done his duty by everyone. Doing one’s duty was extremely important. Now he felt, despite the honours that apparently were yet in store for him, he desperately needed time to himself. Time to breathe. To sit in the sun. Take the boat out. He was fifty-three now. Surely it was time for a sea change? As it was he was at everyone’s beck and call. Only an hour ago his press secretary had popped her head around the door to remind him of a press interview she had lined up for the following morning.
He made the phone call to the Shadow Minister in the Opposition who he definitely didn’t admire, but as a natural diplomat he was able to get his message across to the extent a date was made for a round of golf at the weekend. At least the man was a fine golfer.
He was working diligently at some papers when his secretary buzzed him.
‘I know you didn’t want to be disturbed, Senator,’ she said in a low, confidential tone, ‘but there’s a lady here—she has no appointment—who thinks you might see her.’
A lady? What lady? There were no ladies in his life since he’d lost Annette, but plenty who’d like to replace her. ‘What’s her name, Susan?’ he asked. ‘What does she want?’ Dammit, he didn’t really have the time.
‘A Mrs. Alicia McNevin, Senator,’ Susan said in hushed tones. ‘She claims to be an old friend. She’s very beautiful.’
Leyland felt something like an electric shock go through him.
Alicia! My God! Would the memory of her ever fade?
‘Send her in, Susan,’ he said.
Carrie was so nervous she was almost ill. And she missed Clay terribly. He had become her rock and her refuge.
‘Are you sure he wants to see me?’ she begged her mother.
‘He sent the limousine for us, didn’t he?’ Alicia gently smiled and took hold of her daughter’s trembling hand. ‘We’re having dinner with him at his home, which he intends to hand over to his elder son and young family. Lee has bought a penthouse apartment with fantastic views of the city, Port Philip Bay and the Dandenongs. I understand it’s undergone a brilliant renovation. We’ll get to see it.’
‘You call him Lee?’
‘I always called him Lee,’ Alicia said.
‘And what am I going to call him?’ Carrie swallowed hard.
‘Just relax, darling,’ Alicia advised. ‘It will come. Lee is a most charming man. He will put you at ease.’
‘Will he now?’ Carrie said. ‘That remains to be seen. And he wasn’t angry you never told him about me?’ Her voice was quite shaky, but she so desperately needed reassurance.
Alicia glanced through the window of the moving Bentley, the uniformed chauffeur separated from them by a glass panel, which went up and down at the touch of a button on the console in front of them. ‘Well, you know, darling, it’s as I told you. He was extremely shocked and very upset. But he rallied.’
‘It’s a wonder he didn’t throw you out,’ Carrie murmured, imagining the scene.
‘That wouldn’t have been at all like him.’ Alicia shook her golden head.
Tonight she looked even more beautiful than usual in a sophisticated champagne coloured silk and lace blouse over a tight black skirt, her still small waist cinched with a wide black belt. She’d had her hair done and she radiated a womanly allure on a level her daughter had never seen before.
‘I’m sorry he lost his wife.’ Carrie’s mind was inevitably drawn to the wife. She wondered whether Annette Richards had known about her mother. She hoped not.
‘He loved her,’ Alicia said simply, though her heart twisted.
&nb
sp; ‘Does he know about you?’ Carrie asked. ‘Does he know you’re going to divorce Bruce?’
‘He knows everything!’ Alicia said.
Carrie’s mouth was so dry she didn’t know if she was going be able to speak. This was her father she was about to meet. Her real father, her own flesh and blood. Her mother, on the other hand, looked remarkably relaxed. Alicia was obviously looking forward to the evening. She had gone to some lengths to look marvellous. Carrie had never laid eyes on her outfit. What had gone on at that meeting? Carrie wondered for the umpteenth time.
Impressive wrought-iron gates led to the Richards mansion, a Tuscan style residence that had known functions and parties galore. The house was designed over four levels, drawing Carrie’s eye upwards. Impressive as it was, it lacked the sheer breadth, the size, the glamour of Jimboorie House, falling down or not. Garden beds lay to either side, clipped in the classical style. The gates were open in welcome and the chauffeur guided the Bentley into the huge garage to the right.
‘We’re here, darling,’ Alicia said, touching a hand to her hair. ‘You okay?’ She was clearly anxious. Carrie looked lovely but austere, like a little saint facing martyrdom.
‘I’m fine.’ Carrie tilted her chin, wishing Clay were there so she could hold his hand. ‘Lead on.’
They stood outside a magnificent front entrance door for barely a moment. It swung open revealing a stunning reception area with tall marble columns and a double staircase with beautiful black and gold balustrading leading to the mezzanine level. It usually stopped most people in their tracks but Carrie saw none of it. Her eyes were rivetted on the tall charismatic man who stood staring down at her, so deeply, so gravely. She had seen him many times on television and in the newspapers never dreaming there could be any possible connection, now she saw him in the flesh before her.
My father! My God!
The realisation didn’t come easily. He looked what he was: a powerful, brilliant person, but how would he react to her? Would he entertain her briefly then send her on her way? He had the sons he wanted. The life he wanted, albeit as a widower. Perhaps not for long. Would he swear her to secrecy? A man in his position would surely be desperate to avoid a scandal? Would this meeting even have been possible had his wife still been alive?