It wasn’t until they were sitting on the veranda, sun going down, a tray of cheese and crackers before them, beer in hand, that his father said, ‘Why are you here, Johnnie?’
John sighed. ‘I’ve been a complete nong, and botched the best thing that ever happened to me.’ He told the whole, sorry story of Gwen.
‘First, let me say I like the sound of this young lady. I think she’ll keep you on your toes and you need that. Your mother always said you were too smart and charming for your own good. Second, I’m glad that you recognised you’ve been an idiot. No relationship can be built on lies. Third, Alec is right—giving Gwen space is absolutely the right thing to do. But you do also need to let her know that you are still thinking of her, pining for her. Don’t let her believe you’ve already given up the fight.’
‘How do I do that?’
‘You do it in a way that will be special to her. You know what she is interested in, what drives her. Use that to send her the message that you still care, and when she is ready, you want to try to make things work again. Properly this time. No lies.’
‘Is there any point? Gwen is committed to her party, I am committed to mine.’
‘Why? Do you have to work for the party? Can’t you do good doing something else?’
John frowned. ‘I guess so. I just hadn’t thought of it. Once I found the party, it was what I wanted to do.’
‘Well, think about it. You know, leaving the party would do a lot to prove to this young lady that you are serious about her.’
‘What if she thinks it’s just a gag?’
‘John, you’re going to have to live with the fact that you have destroyed the young lady’s trust in you, and that you are going to have to work hard to earn it back.’
John didn’t sleep as well that night as he thought about his father’s words. By the time he left the next afternoon, he had a plan in place.
The next morning, he ordered flowers delivered to Gwen’s apartment. The message—‘Whether you forgive me or not, I will always regret my lies and will always love you’.
Then he began to research things that he could do that would serve the community and make life better for people and not involve the party.
Gwendolen
Gwen looked at the dress and sighed with satisfaction. ‘It’s perfect.’
‘I thought it only had one strap when I saw the calico version.’
Gwen looked over her shoulder at Cecily and grinned. ‘It does. This is the mother proof version. Then …’ She lifted her hands to the top left side of the bodice and grasped the bodice and strap and pulled. The Velcro separated and the strap disconnected. A couple of tugs and the back came away as well. ‘Voila. The sexy version.’
Cecily smiled. ‘It is sexy. It’s smashing. But it’s not that over the top. Are you sure that your mother will object?’
‘Oh, yes. Mightily.’ Gwen fiddled with putting the strap back in place. ‘I’m still trying to decide whether to take it off before I walk down the aisle and deal with her shit after, or just bear having the mumsy version for the church and take it off for the photos.’
‘Then put it on again for the reception?’
‘Until she’s had too much to drink to notice, yes.’
‘Will your mother really make that much trouble if she doesn’t like the dress?’
‘Yes. Yes, she will. My mother has a vision, for this day and all other days. If even the slightest little thing goes awry, we could have a full-blown tantrum. It’s easier to just bow to her wishes and have a happy day.’
‘You can’t live your whole life like that,’ Cecily said.
Gwen turned back to the mirror. ‘Hence the desire to remain in Canberra.’
‘It’s times like this I’m almost glad I don’t have to deal with other people’s expectations of me.’
Gwen nodded. ‘Knowing you helps me realise that there’s more to this than just me being frustrated and angered by Mum’s refusal to acknowledge there’s nothing wrong with how I want to live my life. Family is bigger than that.’
‘Does that mean you’re going to tell her you aren’t working for Barry Fisher anymore?’
That little dig deserved a response. ‘Got your revenge on Alec yet?’
Cecily held up her hands. ‘Play fair.’
‘You started it.’
‘I did. I am sorry. We are women in partnership, fighting all those who will oppress us, be they family, bosses or men.’
Gwen was trying to stay angry at John, and she was still decidedly pissed at his lies. But there was much too large a part of her that missed him, that still wanted him, that had received his flowers on Monday with glee. Two weeks and the traitorous thought was starting to arise that maybe she should listen to his explanation, see if maybe there was a way to forgive him.
She shook it away. He had lied from the very beginning of their relationship, allowed her to love him when he was telling her a clear falsehood. The fact that she really should have suspected he wouldn’t leave the party for her and had chosen to believe it when he said it did not mitigate what he had done. In fact, it had allowed him to get away with the lie for far too long.
Gwen wasn’t just angry with John. She was angry with herself. For believing him. For wanting him so much she’d made herself believe him. For still wanting him.
Come to think of it, now was probably a good time to tell her family about the change of employment. She was so angry with the entire world right now, she wouldn’t back down and would stand her ground and tell them where to go.
‘Come to my place for wine?’ she said. ‘I’ll need someone to debrief with after I talk to my mother.’
‘Absolutely,’ Cecily said. ‘Any time.’
Gwen had two glasses of wine before she gained the courage to dial her parents’ number. Her brother Tony answered.
‘Sis. Nice to hear from you. What is happening in exciting Canberra?’
Tony was her younger brother, and her favourite. He was the real black-sheep of the family, having eschewed everything to do with farming, mechanics and politics to go to university and study arts and philosophy. He was the only person she knew who was totally immune to what anyone else thought of him.
‘Not as much as what is happening in exciting Melbourne. What are you doing home?’
‘Hankered for a ride, so came up to spend the weekend with Caesar. One day, I will have the money to bring him down closer to home and then I can limit my visits here to birthdays and Christmas.’
‘Get married and you only have to do Christmas every second year.’
‘That right there is why you are my favourite sister.’
‘Apart from the fact I’m your only sister.’
‘I have no doubt that if we had twenty, you’d still be the favourite. Except for the goth sister, of course.’
‘We’d have a goth sister?’
‘Twenty sisters, we’d have one of every creed and faith. Goth. Nerd. Goody-two-shoes. Punk. Heavy metal. Conservative. Greenie.’
‘Oh, Mum and Dad would love that.’
‘Would liven up dinner a bit. I might even visit four times a year.’
Gwen laughed. ‘Thank you for ensuring this phone call started nicely. Don’t suppose you want to hang around to end it nicely as well?’
‘Depends. How bad will it get?’
Gwen thought about what she had to say. ‘Volcanic.’
‘Sorry, sis, but I’m clearing the house for this. Love ya. Here’s Mum.’
‘Gwen. How lovely of you to call.’
‘Hi, Mum. How are things?’
Then followed half an hour of her mother filling her in on everything happening with her brothers, the extended family and then the entire town. Cecily kept looking at her with a frown, waiting for her to talk. Gwen finished a third glass of wine.
Finally, her mother drew breath and Gwen could talk. ‘Actually Mum, I’ve called you with my own news.’
‘Yes?’ There was a tremor of expectation in
her mother’s voice. Gwen knew what she was hoping for and knew what she said next was going to kill that hope. That was the crux of the problem—Gwen was never going to give her mother what she hoped for, and her mother couldn’t accept that.
‘I have a new job,’ Gwen said. ‘I’ve left Barry, and Parliament House, and I’m working in the public service. Less stress and better hours. It’s good.’
The pause lasted one, two, three, four heartbeats. ‘You aren’t working for Mr Fisher anymore?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Why?’
She wasn’t going to confess the truth. ‘Something happened that made it impossible to stay. Don’t ask for details, Mum, I can’t give them. But it’s ended up for the best because this job is easier, and it pays just as much.’
‘If you’re not working for Mr Fisher, why didn’t you come home?’
And now it was time to really get things going. ‘I want to stay in Canberra, Mum.’
‘Why? The only reason your father and I let you go there was to work for the party. If you aren’t going to work for the party, why stay?’
‘I am going to work for the party, Mum. In fact, Canberra has their own elections coming up soon, and I’m going to volunteer to help. This job means I have more time to do that sort of thing, rather than just worrying about whether Barry had enough meat on the weekend.’
‘I don’t understand why you want to stay in Canberra when you don’t have your job with the party keeping you there. You can come back to Tybrim and volunteer for the party here.’
Her mother was going to make her say it out loud, wasn’t she? ‘I don’t want to live in Tybrim, Mum. I like Canberra. It’s a great place, it’s fun and I’ve made some great friends here.’
‘Have you got a boyfriend you haven’t told me about?’ Anger streamed down the phone line to Gwen.
‘No, but wait until you meet my friend Cecily, you’ll love her.’ Cecily held up her glass of wine in tribute.
‘Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You’re a lesbian!’
‘What?’ Gwen almost dropped the phone. ‘Where did you get that from?’
‘It makes sense. Why you don’t want to come back to Tybrim. Why you want to stay in Canberra. Your friend Cecily. The bad thing that made you have to leave Barry’s employ. You’re a lesbian, and you have faced discrimination.’
Of all the ridiculous things … ‘I am not a lesbian, Mum. In fact, I had sex with a guy just last weekend.’
‘What? You do have a boyfriend?’
‘No, he was just a guy I picked up to have sex with. Mum, I’m not lesbian.’
‘No, but that town has turned you into a prostitute.’
‘I am not a lesbian and I am not a prostitute.’ Gwen glared at Cecily, who was laughing so hard on the other side of the table she had choked on a mouthful of wine.
‘Gwendolen Maree Fairford, you are to come home at once. I will not stand for you staying in that place a moment longer. Come home, so we can save you.’
‘No, Mum. I am staying in Canberra. I will be home on Wednesday for Angie’s wedding, but when it’s done I will come back to Canberra. This is my home now.’
Her mother huffed. ‘We’ll see about that.’ Then the line went dead.
‘Still want a mother?’ Gwen asked Cecily as she put the phone down and refilled her glass.
‘A prostitute and a lesbian. You have been busy.’
‘You’re my lesbian lover, you know.’
‘Of course I am. I have excellent taste.’
Gwen smiled, then the phone rang. She looked at the display and sighed. ‘More yelling.’ She answered. ‘Hello?’
‘You get home right now, young lady. Do you have any idea how upset your mother is?’
Judging by the wideness of Cecily’s eyes, Gwen’s father had yelled loud enough for every word to be heard.
‘No.’
‘No? Are you saying no to your own father?’
‘I am.’
The phone went dead again. Gwen put it down with a sigh. ‘I think I’m staying at the pub when I go home.’
‘Will they forgive you?’
‘My first child should do the trick.’
‘Here, drink more.’ Cecily topped up the glass.
‘You know, John and I would have made beautiful babies.’
‘Maybe you’ve had too much to drink.’ Cecily reached for the glass but Gwen batted her hand away.
‘Stop that. I know it can never be. But they would have been. You and Alec would have had beautiful babies too.’
‘I know,’ Cecily sighed. ‘Browned haired and blazing blue eyes with dimples. Damn him for being the beast from hell.’
‘So, there’s our plan. Find men we can make beautiful babies with, but vet them much more satisfactorily beforehand so that they can’t break our hearts.’
‘Agreed.’ They clinked glasses.
‘In the meantime, at least I have my parents’ anger to keep me occupied,’ Gwen said.
Alec
Alec was astonished to find the PM waiting for him in the lobby of the Lodge.
‘Sir.’ Alec bobbed his head. He might violently disagree with the man’s politics, but after several meetings with Michael Bailey over the past few weeks, Alec had come to a position of deep respect for the man himself. There was no doubting his desire or work ethic in wanting to make Australia a better place. It was just his ideas were wrong.
‘Moncrieff. I wanted a quick word with you first. My wife is going to be telling you something today. I want you to swear to me you will handle it well.’
The other reason Alec had come to respect the PM so much was his love of and commitment to his wife was never-ending. ‘I have no wish at all to upset your wife. Whatever she has to tell me will be taken in the way it is intended.’
‘Thank you. Secondly, I need you to talk her out of it.’
‘Out of what?’
‘You’ll see,’ the PM said darkly and then led him into the drawing room where Lois and the event organiser sat.
‘Alec. How lovely to see you. Thank you for giving up your Sunday afternoon.’ Lois kissed his cheek.
‘Well, you did say you were serving scones,’ Alec said and Lois laughed.
‘Who knew that the great political strategist Alec Moncrieff could be won over with baking,’ she teased.
They sat, tea and the scones were served and some light conversation took place. They were supposed to be planning the final steps in a benefit on Tuesday night being held at the Great Hall at Parliament House, where the PM would announce the program. So what could Lois be planning to tell Alec today that would have the PM so worried?
‘Your speech,’ the organiser was saying to the PM. ‘I’ve been talking with your speech writer and—’
‘Actually, Michael won’t be giving the speech,’ Lois said. ‘I will be.’
The organiser didn’t skip a beat. ‘Wonderful. I’ll chat to Beatrice about it tomorrow.’ Beatrice being Lois’s chief of staff.
‘No need. I have already written it.’ Lois turned to Alec. ‘I will be telling my story.’
Alec noted the PM tense and realised this was what he had been referring to. ‘I’m sure people will appreciate hearing it directly from you, rather than what they have read.’
‘Actually, I’ll be telling a different story. I’ll be telling the truth about what happened to me.’
The PM’s eyes silently flashed the message to be cool. Alec smiled at Lois. ‘I am all ears.’
Lois took a deep breath and Alec saw that all this was a façade and she was desperately nervous. ‘It’s quite a story. One that will shock a lot of people. You see, Ryan wasn’t my first-born child, nor was his story my first encounter with PND.’
Well, that was a secret and a half. ‘Why didn’t you speak about that to the magazine?’
Lois’s eyes welled with tears. ‘Because it was too hard. I was too ashamed.’
‘Then mayb
e you shouldn’t speak about it now,’ Alec said. ‘You don’t need to cause yourself hurt to help the cause.’
‘No. No, I am determined. It is time the truth came out. People need to realise just how horrible PND can be if not recognised and treated appropriately. You see, Alec, because of me not knowing what was wrong with me, other people not seeing it and helping me, I lost our little girl.’ The last words were choked out, driven by an obviously broken heart.
Alec glanced at the PM, whose face showed a pain he’d never witnessed before.
Alec leant forward and put his hand on Lois’s. ‘Perhaps you should tell me everything.’
Lois nodded, although tears trickled from her eyes and down her cheeks. ‘Her name was Ernestine. Named after Michael’s father. She was called Tina. She was perfect. Such a happy, healthy baby. At least, that’s what everyone told me. But I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t see anything good in her at all. At first I felt nothing, then I felt annoyed that she was here, disrupting my life when I wanted everything to be normal and then I felt angry, at myself, at her, at the world for making me believe motherhood was this glorious orgy of love when it wasn’t.’
Alec squeezed her hand. He could imagine how awful this time had been for her, and for the tiny baby.
‘Six weeks after she was born, I decided to try and get back to my normal life. So I went shopping. Ernestine was so incredibly well behaved for a tiny baby, I was able to shop and lunch almost as if it was normal. At the train station to go home, though, something cracked. To this day, I cannot remember what happened. All I know is that when I got home, I didn’t have my baby with me anymore.’
Fuck. She’d just abandoned her baby. Left at six weeks old, defenceless little thing.
Alec looked into Lois’s eyes and saw alongside the pain, fear. Fear of his judgement. Fear that he would recoil from her for the terrible thing she had done. And for a moment, he wanted to.
Instead, he squeezed her hand. ‘You didn’t do that. The PND did that. Your terrible, mixed-up, unable-to-function brain did that. Not you.’
‘I know that,’ Lois said. ‘Intellectually. But in my heart, I will always be the mother who hated her baby so much that she just left her in a railway room to die.’
The Importance of Ernestine Page 19