Aaron’s last days in London flew past. Grace put in as little time in at the office as she could while still doing her job.
‘When do I get to meet this man?’ Lucy said. ‘He must be something special to have enticed you away from your desk for as many hours as he has.’
Grace paused packing up her laptop. ‘He flies home to Australia tomorrow, so it’ll be business as usual after that. I’m planning to work over the weekend to catch up.’
‘I can tell by your voice that you’ll miss him. Are you going to see him off?’
‘I will miss him, hugely, and he doesn’t want me to go to the airport with him. He said he’d rather say goodbye at home.’
‘And you’re okay with that?’
‘Yes, I think so. I didn’t know what to think when he first said it.’ Grace looked up and caught Lucy’s eye. ‘Never in a million years had I expected him to come and visit. We started off texting and emailing. He was a link with home without the family baggage. But now I don’t want him to leave. And I’m not talking about this anymore because I’ll cry.’
‘Okay,’ Lucy said. ‘I’ll take you out drinking after work tomorrow, and next weekend you can come down home with me and meet the folks.’
‘You’re on for a drink tomorrow night, and a weekend in Kent sounds wonderful. Thanks Lucy, you’re a good friend,’ Grace said, and finished packing up. Aaron was waiting for her in the lobby. The evening and night to come would be bittersweet, and she didn’t want to waste a moment of it.
Days later, when Aaron was gone and Grace only had her memories to keep her company, she’d settle on their walk—hand-in-hand down the Champs Élysées on Saturday night—as the highlight of their Paris weekend. The champagne, the crepes from a street vendor, the lights and music, the happy people everywhere, and Aaron by her side.
But the best, most special time of Aaron’s whole stay had been the evening after Tim had left. The evening they’d drunk champagne and made love for the very first time.
42
Sarah
‘I thought you might have talked Grace into coming home,’ I said.
Aaron half-heartedly shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t. And you knew I wouldn’t be able to, didn’t you?’
‘When it comes to affairs of the heart, I wouldn’t claim to know anything about how my eldest daughter might behave.’
He yawned, stretched and scratched his stomach. ‘Early days yet,’ he said. ‘We’ve talked twice already and I can tell she misses me. I’ll swear she’s homesick but she won’t admit it because she thinks she owes it to everyone to be successful. And that means doing what she’s doing.’
Any wonder I liked and respected this man.
‘Yes, I think sometimes parents unconsciously project their own personal expectations onto their children. I know I’ve always wanted her to have the opportunities I missed out on. And she is good at what she does.’
It was eight in the morning and I’d gotten Aaron out of bed. I’d given him twenty-four hours to recover from his jet lag before I went around to his place and handed over the few outstanding business matters. I’d checked the answering machine every few days, returning calls and taking messages.
‘Have you heard from Tim lately?’ he said, filling the electric kettle. Aaron looked tired, dragging himself around the kitchen. He hadn’t shaved and was barefoot.
‘Liam helped me set up a Facebook account so I could be friends with my own son. Bizarre,’ I said. ‘But it means I can keep up with where he is and what he’s doing. I suggested to him that he makes travel plans around spending Christmas with his sister in London.’
‘She’ll appreciate that,’ Aaron said, then he turned to face me, propping himself against the kitchen bench. ‘I’d be more than happy to have you as a mother-in-law, Sarah. I just have to convince your daughter.’
‘Good luck with that. I’ve learned that with Grace the best way is to let her work through things in her own time.’
‘And then she’ll think it was her idea all along, and that means she remains in control.’
‘Oh, dear,’ I said. ‘The poor girl doesn’t know what she’s up against.’
Aaron smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. I hoped it was only tiredness and not that he was already pining for my daughter.
‘Now, I left a list of things I needed to talk to you about in the office. I’ll get it.’
‘Tea or coffee?’ he said. ‘Have you had breakfast? And thanks for stocking up the fridge for when I got home.’
‘I’ve had breakfast but I’d love a coffee. The receipt for the groceries is on the clip on the desk.’
I fetched the list and sat down at the kitchen table. It was a sunny nook. The French doors opened out onto a small deck where the elusive cat preened itself in the sunshine.
Aaron put the coffee down in front of me and made himself toast. Starting at the top I went through the list. It was mainly client queries: new and existing clients. Most had rung enquiring when Aaron would return, and when he could start, or finish, their jobs. There were a couple of queries about building supplies.
‘It seems to me there’s enough work in this town for more than one handyman,’ I said.
‘There is. In the warmer months I knock back as much as I take on. The colder months aren’t as busy.’
The last item on the list was the cat. ‘Until now I’ve only seen the thing once, but the food always disappeared. And you forgot to tell me its name so I couldn’t call it.’
‘Didn’t know his name. He had a collar but no identification or microchip. About a year ago, when it appeared he was staying I started calling him Bob … You know, he bobbed up out of nowhere. Anyway, I had him desexed and microchipped of course.’
‘Does he answer to Bob?’
‘He comes, but it could be because he associates food with the sound of my voice.’
‘Fair enough.’ I finished the coffee and rinsed the mug, putting it to drain on the sink.
‘You’ve done a great job here, Sarah. You’ve gone above and beyond.’
‘My pleasure, and I enjoyed it. Thanks for the coffee,’ I said. ‘I’ll be back Thursday to do whatever needs doing.’
He stood up. ‘Thank you for everything. I brought you something,’ he said, and disappeared in the direction of the bedroom, returning with a small wrapped package. He handed it to me. ‘Open it when you get home. I hope you like it.’
‘Oh, what a lovely surprise,’ I said, delighted. ‘And I didn’t mind looking after things one bit.’
I’d made it as far as the front door when I remembered something and retraced my steps. Aaron was still standing by the kitchen table, hands in his pockets staring through the French doors.
‘Your mother rang, several times,’ I said. ‘Your dad isn’t very well. But I suppose you’ve contacted them since you’ve been back.’
He turned, a distraught look on his face. ‘Shit,’ he said. ‘I haven’t talked to them yet. Too busy catching up on my sleep, and moping.’ He rolled his eyes and reached for his mobile phone charging on the kitchen bench. ‘I’ll do it right now.’
I let myself out and walked home. The sky was blue and the birds were singing, the spring sunshine warm on my face. With a satisfied laugh, I celebrated the moment of contentment.
Grace, when she’d rung the day before, had sounded as low-spirited as Aaron. Knowing them both I trusted that they’d work out what they wanted and that it’d be sooner rather than later. In my heart I hoped Grace would come home.
From the following morning my child-minding services wouldn’t be required for a couple of weeks. Ben would be home. Faith was picking him up from Adelaide Airport, and Liam and Amelia were having the afternoon off school so they could go with her. They were excited about seeing their dad again.
‘Dad promised to come and watch me play when he’s home,’ Liam had said when I’d collected him from soccer practice the day before.
‘Does he play soccer with you at home?’
‘Yep, although he’s not very good,’ Liam had answered seriously. ‘He always says he’s better at cricket.’
‘I see,’ I’d said, with as much gravity as I could muster.
With only seven weeks to go until she was due, Faith was looking very pregnant. Her attitude to me had thawed somewhat, but it didn’t take much to bring on a refreeze.
Doug must have off-loaded to her about Tim’s departure because she’d interrogated me about it in her usual forthright manner. She was mollified, to a certain extent, when I said she’d get the equivalent amount of money I’d given Tim for his overseas trip. It saddened me to think that in the end a lot of things came down to money.
Imagine my astonishment when I arrived home from Aaron’s to find Doug’s ute in the driveway. On closer inspection, I could see an assortment of boxes and other household paraphernalia that had been dumped in the front yard. Doug was in the process of closing the tailgate of the ute.
‘What are you doing?’
He spun around. ‘The car’s in the garage,’ he accused.
‘That’s right, it is.’
‘I thought you were just pretending not to be home when you saw it was me.’
‘No, I’ve been out,’ I said. I walked over to the pile. ‘What’s all this?’
‘It’s anything and everything that belongs to you. And I want a bloody divorce, the sooner the better.’ Spittle collected in the corners of his mouth as he spoke. ‘You’ll not make a damn fool of me again,’ he said, his face pinched with anger.
‘Excuse me?’ My hands started to tremble and I suddenly felt queasy. ‘Come inside and we’ll talk,’ I said, conscious the woman across the road was taking an inordinate amount of time collecting her wheelie bin off the kerb. And if Syd, the old man next door came outside he’d take a keen interest as well.
Doug shook his head. ‘Whatever we have to say to each other can be said out here.’
‘In full view of the neighbours?’
He glanced over his shoulder and the woman had the gall, or sense of humour, to wave. Without another word he followed me inside. As soon as I’d put my keys and bag down I rounded on him and said, ‘Right, what’s brought this on?’
He folded his arms, and his top lip curled. ‘As if you don’t know.’
‘I don’t know. The last time we spoke we agreed I’d gradually collect my remaining belongings from the farm. And I’d ask the girls what china and glassware of your mother’s they wanted as keepsakes.’
He started tapping his foot. ‘Kaylene rang me.’
‘That’s nice that you keep in touch,’ I said.
Kaylene was Doug’s cousin. Married to Jerry Bretag, another farmer. Their land was north of Miners Ridge, and more marginal than Doug’s for any sort of cropping. They mainly ran sheep on the saltbush plains.
Kaylene was younger than me, more Carol’s vintage, and we’d never been close. Her eldest child would be around thirty, a bit younger than Luke would have been. Doug’s cousin was too much like Joylene for my liking, in looks and personality, and I’d always been nothing but a city girl in her eyes.
I racked my brains for the source of whatever mischief Kaylene was up to, but came up a blank. ‘You’ll have to give me more than that, because I still have no clue what you’re on about.’
Next thing I knew he was pushing past me to grab a weeks-old edition of the local newspaper sitting on a pile of old newspapers I’d stacked for the recycling bin. Perplexed, I watched as he fumbled through the newspaper until he found the page he was looking for and shoved it in my face.
The page was covered in photos and snippets about community activities around the region. When I didn’t react he jabbed a beefy finger at one of the photos, poking a hole in the paper.
It was a photo of Carol Claremont, Walt Bancroft and myself taken after the gallery AGM earlier that month. I was standing in the middle, Walt was looking down at me and we were all laughing. I remembered when it’d been taken but I couldn’t for the life of me recall what had been so funny. Doug obviously wasn’t amused.
‘I know you’ve never had any time for Carol Claremont, but she and I are on the gallery committee—’
‘Don’t give me any bullshit about the gallery committee,’ he said, cutting me off. ‘I know what you’re up to with that artist bloke.’
‘Ahhh,’ I said as the penny dropped. I nearly laughed out loud. ‘He’s a photographer; his wife was the artist.’ I slammed the paper at him. ‘I hate to tell you, Doug, but you don’t need my help to make a fool of yourself.’
Heart pounding, I stomped to the front door, wrenched it open, and gestured for Doug to leave.
‘So, is it true? Kaylene said you’re carrying on with him. How many other blokes have you been carrying on with?’
‘No, it is not true. I have not ever carried on with any man. However, if I was it’d be none of yours, or Kaylene’s, damned business. Up until that night, I’d never met Walter Bancroft. And don’t worry, I’ve already filed for a divorce. Now get out.’
I refused to let myself feel any pity for him, standing there, clutching the crumpled newspaper and looking pathetic. His cousin was a troublemaker, and if he had apologised, I would have accepted. But he didn’t. Without a word he walked out, and I closed the door.
43
When Carol knocked on the door half an hour later I was still rooted to the same spot on the sofa. I’d flopped down on it after Doug had left. Gradually my heart rate had returned to normal, my hands had stopped trembling, and I’d begun to contemplate what I was going to do with the goods and chattels he’d dumped in the front yard.
‘What on earth is all that stuff? You haven’t been here long enough to be having a clear out,’ Carol said when I opened the door.
She’d come directly from her cleaning job to drop off paperwork for the gallery meeting the following night. These days, by tacit agreement, Carol always came to my place.
When I’d finished recounting Doug’s surprise visit I was embarrassingly choked up. I was cross with Doug for being such an idiot, and annoyed with myself for letting it affect me the way it had. Up until his visit I’d been having a good day. And overall, things had been moving along nicely.
Carol put her arm around my shoulders and guided me back to where I’d been sitting on the sofa.
‘I’ll put the kettle on, love,’ she said. ‘Bit early for wine.’ Next thing I heard her rattling around in the kitchen.
‘What are you going to do?’ she said when she was back, perched on the edge of the armchair. From the kitchen the kettle hissed and gurgled on its way to the boil.
‘I can’t leave it out there overnight. There’s no rain forecast but the dew has been heavy the last couple of nights.’
‘I don’t mean the gear in the yard. I’ll help you carry that in after we’ve had a cuppa. I meant, what are you going to do about Doug?’
‘Maybe I didn’t think through all the implications of coming back here. I didn’t consider how it might be for him. I was only interested in myself, my children and my grandchildren.’
‘And what’s wrong with that? It seems to me Doug hasn’t ever given anyone except himself much thought,’ she said, the bitterness in her tone apparent.
Carol didn’t elaborate, but it struck me that his low opinion of her was fully reciprocated.
‘Doug still has family around the place. I don’t know what he told people when I left.’
Carol scratched her head, and when I looked at her enquiringly she wouldn’t meet my eye. ‘I’ll make the coffee,’ she said. I traipsed after her into the kitchen.
‘There are biscuits.’ I put the tin on the table. By now neither of us needed to ask how we took our coffee.
We sat down either side of the small pine table and I picked up where I’d left off. ‘I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving Miners Ridge, because I expected to be back. It must have seemed like I disappeared. Did you ever hear anything said?’
Carol took her time choosing a
biscuit. There were only three varieties to pick from.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’ve put you on the spot. It was unfair of me to ask. Please, forget that I did.’
‘No, not at all,’ she said, drawing in a long breath and finally meeting my gaze. ‘Basically, the people who’d gotten to know you over the years marvelled at how your marriage lasted as long as it did. We always thought you were much too nice for him. And everyone who knew Luke thought the world of him. The whole community grieved when he was killed. As a parent, I don’t know how you’d ever get over losing a child.’
‘You don’t ever get over it, Carol. A part of you dies with them. In a way it leaves you disabled, but with time you learn to manage it so no one on the outside ever knows. But you always know yourself.’
We sat in silence for several minutes. Carol broke up her biscuit, eating it crumb by crumb. ‘As you would expect, there were those who stuck by the Fairleys, and they always will,’ she said.
‘Doug has some scary relatives, I know. But he didn’t ever have many friends. He’s never been involved with the community, although he’s lived here all his life. And I don’t recall Joylene having any friends.’
‘She was a sour bitch, that one. When I was about fifteen, after school I used to stack the shelves at the supermarket. Mrs Fairley would swan in like she owned the joint. Mouth pinched up like a cat’s arse. Doug’s father, Will, was an all right sort of a bloke. Used to play bowls. I reckon not enough of Will and too much of Joylene rubbed off on Doug.’
‘I’ve heard people say what a nice man Doug’s father was. Maybe if he’d lived longer more of him might have rubbed off on Doug.’ I laughed, a bitter and humourless sound. ‘Doug could be very charming if he chose to be … But once the wooing was over and done with, it was back to business. The farm always came first.’
‘I can imagine,’ Carol said.
‘Having four children … Working … Helping out on the farm … There was never much energy left to put into our marriage.’
‘You wouldn’t be on your own there.’
‘No, I suppose not. And after Tim and Faith left home, Luke was still living there and he was a bit of a buffer between Doug and me. Nothing much fazed him and he appeared to understand his father in ways I never did.
When Grace Went Away Page 27