The Boy In the Olive Grove

by Fleur Beale

  I stood up, stumbling towards him. ‘Dad, he’s … I need to …’

  ‘It’s all right,’ the girl said. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll help you with Iris’s car, then you can go to the hospital.’ Nick took my arm. ‘Come on, Small Stuff. Let’s hit the road.’

  Between them, they steered me out of the building. The girl said, ‘I’m Lulu. Just so you don’t start to wonder halfway to Hamilton and drive off the road, Nick’s auntie is the nurse at the clinic.’

  ‘Oh. Thanks. Small towns.’ I felt surreal, outside myself and somewhere different from a clinic car park.

  Lulu chatted as we walked, a soothing, undemanding flow of words, but it was Nick’s quiet presence beside me that gave me hope. She spoke to him when we reached Iris’s car. ‘I’ll drive this. You go with Bess.’

  He took the keys from my hand. I got into the passenger seat. ‘You okay, kid?’

  Much better for seeing him. I no longer felt alone. ‘I’ll be all right. It’s been a shock, is all.’

  ‘Want us to come with you to the hospital?’

  I shook my head. ‘No. Thanks. I’ll be fine. Iris is there.’

  He didn’t argue, and I was grateful. He just drove in a silence that spoke of dependability, of a solid support all the stronger for being unspoken.

  As we turned into Iris’s street, I said, ‘You’re all grown up.’

  That got me a wry grin. ‘I was a horrible kid. Mega apologies, Bess. You were a fighter, though. If you’d run off bawling, the fun would have gone out of it.’

  He was a year older than Hadleigh and had led him into so much trouble when they were young. I’d tagged along, often getting into some sticky situations as a result. I hadn’t seen much of him since he finished school and left town.

  Lulu took over when we got to the house. ‘We need to lock the place up. Nick, can you close the windows and I’ll help Bess pack a few things for Iris and her dad.’ She did the packing. My brain — and hands — seemed frozen. ‘Something warm,’ she said. ‘Iris might want to stay the night.’

  ‘She’s got a wrap somewhere. It’s wool. Pinks and purples.’

  Lulu added it to the toilet bags, pyjamas for Dad, and the phone Nick found on the floor of Iris’s treatment room.

  I assumed he would drive us back to the clinic for their car, but he said, ‘You drive. I want to make sure you’re not too wobbly.’ He picked up my phone. ‘I’ll give you my number. Call any time if I can help. I reckon I owe you.’

  I got in the driver’s seat and sat for a moment.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Nick said. ‘Take your time.’

  Drive back to the clinic. Drop Nick and his girlfriend. Drive to the hospital. Find Dad.

  I started the engine and moved off. Lulu kept up a soothing flow of chat from the back seat. Nick sat beside me, relaxed but watchful. I must have done well enough for him to decide it was safe to let me go by myself to the hospital.

  After I left them at their car I caught a glimpse of them in the rear-view mirror as I turned out onto the road. They were standing with their arms around each other, watching my progress.

  Nick had a girlfriend and I wished he didn’t.

  IT FELT LIKE A MILLION miles to the hospital in Hamilton, and when I got there it was a mission finding a parking space. I ran all the way to the E.D., uncertain whether they’d know where Dad and Iris were, but not knowing where else to start. Dad, they told me, was in theatre.

  Iris was standing in a waiting room, staring out the window.

  ‘Iris?’

  ‘He’s still alive, Bess. He’s got a chance as long as he’s still alive.’ Her arms felt good around me. Strange, comforting, and free from nasty images.

  She let me go and snatched up the cape from the top of the bag. ‘Bless you! I’m so cold. Shock, I suppose.’

  I got her a cup of tea but left the sugar out. I knew her opinion of sugar. ‘Drink that. I’ll get us something to eat.’ I’d been with it enough to note the location of a snack machine on the way to find her.

  Me, looking out for Iris. Too many ironies there. I bought us a bar of chocolate each, and she ate hers without protest. We sat together but didn’t talk, tried not to think. People came and went from the room. Some of them cried. We looked up each time a new person appeared, hoping for news of Dad.

  Iris leaned back in her chair and, without looking at me, said, ‘We’ve never got close, have we, Bess? I’ve always been sorry about that.’

  A flurry of possible replies jostled in my brain, along with a memory of flames blazing. In the end I nodded, shook my head, then shrugged.

  She kept her gaze on the windows, and in a faraway voice said, ‘From what I’ve read, it seems that if you experience a strong emotion as you’re dying, then that same emotion can crop up in subsequent lives.’

  It was as if she’d stung me.

  ‘What are you saying, Iris? What the hell are you talking about?’

  She didn’t look at me. ‘For instance, if you’re being burned alive, you might hate the person you blame for putting you there.’

  I choked. ‘Stop! Shut up. Just shut it.’

  She ignored me. ‘You might call out I curse you to burn in hell. I will hate you for ever.’

  I bent over, my arms pressed into my stomach. Tears blobbed onto my knees. ‘You’re crazy, a raving witch. How …? I don’t want to think about …’

  She rubbed my back, and god help me I let her. It was soothing, comforting. I couldn’t think, couldn’t begin to process what she’d hit me with. How did she know the madness inside my head? Dying? Subsequent lives? My father might be dying at this very moment.

  I straightened up, shucking her hand away. ‘Why bring all this up right now? You sure do pick your moments.’

  ‘What moment should I have picked?’ She eyeballed me, right when I didn’t want her to. ‘When you came to dinner after you got back from school? No? Last night?’ Her eyes drilled me. ‘Well?’

  ‘And now is better? In a hospital waiting room, for chrissakes?’

  ‘Tragedy brings people closer,’ she said. ‘Takes down the normal barriers.’

  ‘This isn’t a tragedy. He’s going to come through. Don’t talk like he’s going to die.’

  I didn’t want to be near her, but when I tried to get up, she pulled me down again.

  ‘I didn’t mean that and you know it.’

  I sniffed, not willing to admit I did know it. I didn’t want to think about Dad, it was too frightening. Oh god, the rock and hard place again.

  I strove to collect my thoughts, but I was too furious — too confused — to be calm and reasoned. ‘Are you saying you always knew about … that? You always knew why I kept my distance from you? You had a handy little screening of you and me in some movie scenario, and wham — there’s your answer?’

  ‘No, Bess. I’m not saying that.’ Her eyes were spitting fury — I’d never seen her riled up before. She leaned in, almost hissing at me. ‘I’m not talking any more about it right now. You’re far too hostile. My husband’s on an operating table, fighting for his life. I do not want to deal with your negativity right now.’

  ‘Your husband. My father. Fine. Don’t talk.’

  We sat in silence, both of us with our arms folded.

  After a bit, she said, ‘You’ll be glad you had me burnt as a witch.’

  That surprised a laugh out of me. ‘It had crossed my mind.’

  She relaxed. ‘Let’s leave it for now. I’ll tell you everything. I promise. But it’ll be better when we’re not so on edge.’

  ‘Okay. I guess.’ I found I was too heartsick and too worried to stay angry, or to wrestle any more with her bombshell. Hostile. At least she wasn’t holding a grudge or sulking.

  ‘What happened?’ Iris asked. ‘Did he collapse at work?’

  I summarised the day for her, then said, ‘I signed the partnership deal. I guess that means I could take over till he gets well again.’

  She gasped. ‘Would you? It’ll mea
n the world to him if you would.’

  I shrugged. ‘I can try.’ But not if he dies. What would be the point? I wanted my father back in all his bulldozing glory. ‘The place is on its last legs. Did you know, Iris? Did he tell you it was in trouble?’

  ‘You know what he’s like. He’s the man, everything’s under control. He can provide for his family, and—’

  ‘What? What are you thinking you shouldn’t say?’

  She frowned for a moment. ‘Very well, I’ll tell you. I think money was a big part of the problems between him and your mother. She used her money to try to turn him into her view of what he should be. She bought their house without consulting him. It was her money, so why should she, was what she told him. There were other things too, but her having income she’d never had to work for was at the root of it.’

  ‘You’re kinder than I am. Who’d want to stay married to her? She harps on all day, nag nag nag.’ I pulled out my phone. ‘Still, I’d better tell her about Dad or I’ll never hear the end of it.’ I rang, but had to leave a message on the answer phone. Sometimes the universe smiles.

  At last a doctor came in. Iris sprang to her feet. ‘Mrs Grey.’ He came towards us, smiling. ‘Your husband’s come through the op. We’ve put stents in, and once he recovers he’ll be as good as new, providing he looks after himself.’

  My unflappable stepmother burst into tears and blubbed her thanks all over the poor guy. He patted her shoulder. ‘He’s in recovery now. You can visit him once he arrives on the ward.’

  Chapter Seven

  IT WAS LATE and dark when I got home. Mum was still up. Hostile. I bent over backwards not to be.

  I broke all habits by walking in and giving her a hug. ‘He’s going to be all right, Mum. They operated and …’

  She pulled away from me. ‘I’m not remotely interested in Charles Grey.’

  All the stress of the day crashed down on me. My voice rose in a screech of fury. ‘Well, you bloody ought to be interested. He’s my father and he’s Hadleigh’s father. You should care about him just because he’s the father of your kids.’ You cow.

  At least I had enough control not to yell that in her face.

  I went to bed howling my heart out. I’d never work her out, never be the daughter she wanted.

  I calmed down enough to Facebook Hadleigh with the bare facts of the day. I dithered over whether or not to tell him about Iris’s bombshell but decided against it. I finished with Love you, bro. Sorry again for being such an idiot at the airport. You were right to go. xxxxx

  The following morning, I rang Iris. Dad was doing well, she said, so would I be able to come and get her at some stage so she could collect her car.

  ‘Sure. This afternoon okay?’

  ‘Lovely. Thanks, Bess.’

  No drama. No undercurrents. No hostility on either side. Progress in my dealings with my step mother, despite the witchy element. Not so with my mother, who was choosing offendedness as her emotion of the day. She just gave me her cool, raised-eyebrow look and didn’t speak.

  I would have understood perfectly if I’d had her burnt as a witch.

  I took myself off to the factory, glad to concentrate on that instead of the workings of my head.

  The men had put in solid posts along the front, spaced too closely to let a car through. I let myself in via the squeaking door, and spent the morning dusting and photographing the tables before ringing Clint to ask what reserve to put on them.

  ‘Southey household. Nick speaking.’ For a split second I saw him as he was at thirteen, wild, scruffy and with the glint of the devil in his eyes.

  ‘Bess here, Nick. Thanks for yesterday. Dad’s going to be okay.’

  ‘Brilliant. I’ll tell Dad. He’ll be relieved.’ He was so grown up now, his voice deep and warm — and I’d better not forget he loved Lulu. I supposed he did, anyway. I dragged my mind back to where it should be. ‘I need to talk to Clint. Is he around?’

  ‘I’ll get him. Hang on. Dad! Bess on the phone.’ Then, ‘Hey, I never found out — how did you get down from that tree?’

  ‘Jumped.’

  ‘Shit, girl! That was one hell of a drop. What a tosser I was. You could have killed yourself.’

  I laughed. ‘You never did buy me that ice cream, though.’

  ‘Worse and worse. Here’s Dad.’

  I wanted to keep him talking, but I had a factory to save.

  Not that Clint was any help. He was as gloomy as always. ‘Those tables? You’ll be lucky to get fifty. Not worth worrying about now the factory’s closing down.’

  He was so different from Nick. Perhaps I’d have to shock him every day to make him stay positive. Yesterday’s optimism sure hadn’t lasted long.

  ‘Dad’s doing okay, Clint, but he’ll do a hell of a lot better if we keep the place ticking over. Why don’t you turn up for work at the usual time on Monday — that is, if you think your job’s worth fighting for.’ I hung up.

  Nick must have inherited his mother’s cheerful disposition. Don’t think about Nick. Keep your mind on the business.

  I rang each of the men, gave them the run-down on Dad, then asked about a reserve price for the tables.

  Alton said, ‘Jeepers, Bess. Not my department. No idea. Sorry.’

  Maurice said, ‘The boss always did the pricing. It’s not something that ever interested me.’

  Eddy said, ‘No idea. But how about I do some research? I’ll get back to you.’

  I let out a long breath. ‘Thanks, Eddy. You’re brilliant.’

  ‘Hey, no sweat. I’m glad Charlie’s going to be okay. What’s your mobile number? I’ll get some prices to you by the end of the day.’

  I locked the place up, feeling hopeful that we might be able to stay in business at least till Christmas. Eddy had the get-up-and-go that had leaked out of Dad.

  I took myself home to the icy land of silence where I greeted my mother and she didn’t greet me back. She put a quiche on the beautifully set table, sat down, cut a slice, laid it delicately on a plate and handed it to me, all without uttering a word.

  ‘Thanks, Mum. This smells divine. Is it a new recipe?’ I was starving but I held back, waiting till she’d served herself.

  She ignored that and we ate in chilly silence. At least I thought it was chilly, but when we’d finished she said, ‘Eighty-seven Epsilon Street is looking tidier. You’ve done well there, Bess.’

  That was the factory address. What had brought that compliment on? I never knew where I was with her. Maybe I always misinterpreted her silences. Perhaps she did love me in her own peculiar way.

  Hadleigh, come home. I need you. If only Nick wasn’t all loved up with Lulu I could talk to him, ask him to help me unravel the enigma of my mother. I could ring him, meet him in town somewhere. And Lulu would be hanging off his arm. No thanks.

  After the meal, I did the good daughter thing by clearing the table and stacking the dishwasher. I decided not to tell Mum I was going to the hospital. That could be stretching her good mood too far.

  ‘Mum, I’m off now. If I’m not going to be back in time for dinner I’ll ring you. Okay?’

  Who would know if it was or it wasn’t? She certainly gave no clue.

  It was freaky to think I was actually looking forward to seeing Iris. There’s a lot to be said for the type of conversation where the other person talks back to you. Who would have thought my stepmother would turn out to be a haven in my chaotic world? Hadleigh would laugh his socks off.

  I got in the car, but then raced back to check if he’d replied to my message. There was the usual big fat nothing from him, but my friends were all clamouring for an update. I changed my status to: Dad’s in hospital. Heart attack but getting better. Off to hosp now. More later.

  School seemed far away, and long ago — all of a week and a bit.

  I drove off thinking about Mum, Hadleigh, the business — and Nick, even though I tried not to. There was no future there for me with my handsome former tormenter.

/>   I wrestled with the problem of Bernie instead. I’d have to find something worthwhile for him to make on the lathe if I was going to keep Dad happy. But that line of thought morphed into the question of money — I’d need to broach factory finances with Dad as soon as he was up to it. Iris, with her witch-filled story waiting to blow my mind, I steadfastly kept out of my thoughts, and I resisted the temptation to sink into the happiness of the olive grove boy.

  Welcome to life in a small country town — peace and a gentle pace of living. Some other town, not my one.

  BLOODY HOSPITALS — you need a GPS to find anyone. It took me ages to track down Dad, who was in a different ward from the one they’d parked him in after the op.

  He was looking a zillion times better. I kissed him. ‘Nice of you not to turn up your toes, Father dearest.’

  ‘Howdy, partner,’ he said, a hint of anxiety in his voice. Iris, too, seemed tense.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I told them. ‘You’re looking at the Daughter part of Charlie Grey and Daughter.’

  Dad rubbed his hands together, even though one of them had a needle taped to it. ‘Good lass.’

  He closed his eyes and settled back on his heap of pillows.

  Iris stood up. ‘We’ll let you have a snooze, Charlie. I’ll be back later.’

  He smiled at her without opening his eyes.

  I gave him another kiss. ‘See you, Dad. You stick around for another century or two. Okay?’

  ‘Cheeky,’ he murmured.

  Although I hated bothering him with business, it looked like he could handle answering one important question. I kept it as casual as I could. ‘By the way, Dad, who do you deal with at the bank?’

  ‘Beverly Maketawa. She’s good. Local. Knows her stuff.’

  Iris took my arm and dragged me into the corridor.

  ‘He’s going to have to answer basic questions if I’m to have any chance of saving the business,’ I told her. ‘Get used to it. I’ll be careful, but I need info that only he’s got.’