Thornwood House

by Anna Romer

  ‘Bronwyn’s grandmother,’ I said wonderingly. ‘Where is she now? Does she live locally? And what about Glenda? She’s Bronwyn’s aunt. I can hardly believe it. Bronwyn’s going to be over the moon to learn she’s got family up here.’

  Corey tore her eyes off me and stared through the window at the sky. ‘Glenda died twenty years ago.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘In a rockslide accident at the gully.’

  ‘The gully?’

  ‘You know that waterway running through your property? A few miles north, it deepens into a gorge. Locals call it the gully, but that’s a rather humble name for such a spectacular piece of geography. It’s a deadly place, too. There’s been a few accidents there over the years.’

  The music surged around us, an ocean of thunderous sound.

  ‘And Luella . . . is she alive?’

  Corey nodded. ‘She lives here in Magpie Creek, quite close to the airfield. Out past the turnoff, on William Road. But she might as well be dead as far as any of us are concerned.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  Corey was hunched forward on the edge of the chair, her face tilted away from me. She seemed smaller, as though she’d shed her protective adult shell and now sat childishly vulnerable.

  ‘Luella Jarman hasn’t spoken to anyone since Glenda’s death. She was . . . oh hell – Luella was the one who found Glenda’s body.’

  ‘God. How awful.’

  ‘She refuses to see any of her old friends, won’t even open the door to the pastor. I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve popped in to visit and been disappointed. I’ve heard she travels up to Brisbane every month to do her shopping, but apart from that she rarely leaves the house. And now that Tony . . . Well, now he’s gone too, I can’t help worrying that Luella has burrowed even deeper into her shell.’

  ‘Surely she’d want to meet her granddaughter?’

  Corey’s face was bleak. ‘Luella’s been through so much – and she’s been alone so long – that I can’t even guess at her mental condition. She lost everyone, you see. Everyone who mattered. Even if you did take Bronwyn to meet her, there’s no guarantee that Luella would even open the door.’

  I nodded. Corey was right. I knew how loss could hollow a person, cause them to lose touch with the outside world. My rational mind said to concede defeat, turn back now . . . But my heart refused to listen. Suddenly it was racing hard, pumping a wild tempo of hope through my veins. All I could think of was how much it would mean to Bronwyn to meet her grandmother.

  ‘I’d like to try.’

  Corey’s broad face was full of pity. ‘Oh, Audrey, I understand why you’d want to, I really do. But you must forget about Luella. It’s not worth the heartache – not for you, and certainly not for Bronwyn. Luella was always a timid sort of person at the best of times. She had a rough trot as a kid, from what I can gather, and I don’t think she’d be in any state of mind to cope.’

  At my questioning look, she added, ‘Samuel was her father. She was just a little girl when all that business happened with her mother. It was terribly sad.’

  ‘And you’re worried that now, with Tony’s death so recent, another shock might send her over the brink?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  I filed this information away for later, not wanting to lose the thread we were on. I knew Corey was right, and I knew Luella must still be grieving for Tony. But I couldn’t find it in myself to give up. Not yet.

  ‘I came across a news article,’ I said. ‘A man’s remains were dredged from a dam near here. Am I wrong in thinking it was Tony’s father?’

  Corey sighed. ‘I was wondering if you’d heard about that. It’s a complicated story. Why don’t I start at the beginning?’

  I nodded.

  She hugged herself, shrinking deeper into her chair. ‘The day of Glenda’s funeral, Tony ran away from home. Some people speculated that running away was his reaction to grief; others said that guilt drove him away . . . that he’d been there when his sister fell, that an argument got out of hand and Tony pushed her – ’

  ‘Why would they say that?’

  ‘It was common knowledge that Glenda knew that gully like the back of her hand. She’d grown up nearby, spent a lot of time exploring the property and was aware of the danger zones – the gravel traps and unstable embankments. Everyone knew she was good in the bush, not prone to taking risks . . . to some, it seemed more likely that she’d been pushed.’

  ‘You knew her well, then?’

  ‘We were best friends. I was gutted when she died. I’ll never forget the awful moment Mum sat me down and told me. October 1986, the day before my sixteenth birthday.’

  Something in Corey’s face, a rawness, made my heart go out to her. ‘Tony would never have hurt her,’ I said gently.

  Corey slouched deeper into her chair. ‘You and I both know that, Audrey . . . but people need explanations, clear-cut answers. When none are forthcoming, they simply make them up.’

  The baritone continued to wail, and its ponderous libretto vibrated through me. I inched forward on my chair, suddenly reluctant to yell over the noise.

  ‘It’s all really sad – but lots of families experience tragedy, and most pull through. Why do you think Tony didn’t cope?’

  Corey tugged the tips of her hair, as if trying to tear the strands from their roots. ‘Maybe he blamed himself . . . for not being there when Glenda most needed him.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘The night Glenda died, their parents had a terrible row. Luella told Cleve she wanted a divorce, and asked him to leave. Things got nasty and Cleve walked out. Glenda must have overheard them and run off, intending to hide at her grandfather’s until it all calmed down. She would have been devastated by the row, she adored her father – and in that state of mind, all it took was one careless step . . .’

  ‘Why did Luella want a divorce?’

  ‘There were rumours that Cleve was seeing another woman. After he disappeared, we all assumed the rumours were true.’

  I remembered the Courier-Mail article. ‘Until recently.’

  Corey nodded. ‘A group of agricultural scientists found a vehicle half-buried in the mud at Lake Brigalow Dam. Inside was a human skeleton. It turned out that the car was Cleve Jarman’s, and the skeleton matched his build. The police won’t confirm anything until the forensic tests are finalised . . . which could take years, because the tests are expensive and the car was submerged for so long – but there’s no doubt in my mind it was Cleve.’

  ‘Was Tony close to his father?’

  Corey’s face brightened. ‘Yes, very. They were a tight-knit family. Great people, all of them. Danny and I loved visiting; the Jarmans always made a fuss over us. Luella would bring out homemade scones and jam, or sandwiches, and the most marvellous cakes – she’d done a pastry chef’s course in Brisbane and really knew how to bake up a storm.’

  ‘What about Cleve?’

  ‘He was lovely. A real comedian, too. He’d tell funny stories, he even knew magic tricks. He had a little dog he’d trained to howl along whenever the telephone rang, it was hilarious. Cleve had been scalded on the face as a kid, he had these white patches on his cheeks – I used to wonder if that’s why he went out of his way to charm everyone, so people wouldn’t focus on his scars. He needn’t have bothered, we would have adored him whatever he looked like.’

  I was growing more confused as Corey’s story unfolded. ‘If the Jarmans were so wonderful, why do you think Tony never spoke about them? Why would he have kept his past a secret . . . especially from his own daughter? And why did he . . . ?’ I couldn’t finish that particular sentence, but when Corey met my gaze I knew she’d been thinking the same thing. Why did Tony kill himself?

  Collecting her baseball cap from the floor, Corey jammed it on her head. ‘To tell the truth, Audrey, I’m as baffled about it all as you are.’

  I sensed our conversation had burnt itself out. I certainly felt drained and empty. A
s I joined Corey at her desk, I saw the paleness of her face and guessed she felt the same. We had reached a sort of bottleneck – without real answers, there was only so much mileage to be had from guesswork and speculation.

  Corey slipped the gramophone needle off the old record, cutting short the moaning baritone. ‘Come on,’ she said, nudging my arm and heading for the door. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m parched. Fancy a quick beer?’

  ‘Another time. School gets out soon, Bronwyn’ll be anxious if I’m late.’

  I followed her outside, waiting while she locked the office door. A gust of dry wind lifted her hair, brushing its tips against my bare arm. As we trod along the concrete gangway to the car park, I wondered if I’d ever smell diesel fumes again and not think of her.

  ‘Oh well,’ she said with a sigh, ‘I’ve still got oil to change and a cracked cylinder to deal with. I guess I can wait ’til Saturday to see you again.’

  The mention of our impending barbecue cheered me. ‘It’ll be fun – the girls can run wild in the garden while we put our feet up and enjoy a bottle or two of Crown. Have you ever seen the sunset from the verandah?’

  ‘If memory serves me correctly, it’s pretty spectacular. We could set ourselves up on a couple of deck chairs like Glenda and I used to do as kids. Bitch about Tony, make a night of it.’

  ‘Sounds riveting.’

  Corey beamed. ‘You’re on, kiddo. See you then.’

  In the quarter-hour that it took me to drive back to town, the sun slipped behind the clouds and the sky turned overcast. The roadside trees were soon swarming with shadows and by the time I pulled up outside the school gate, lightning spikes were jabbing the horizon.

  I hurried across the schoolyard, scanning the few remaining figures that milled in the quadrangle, seeking my daughter’s blonde head. She was easy to spot: taller than most of the other kids, she was slouched against the admin block wall in a patch of dappled shadows. To my surprise, she wasn’t alone.

  A man was with her, a teacher I assumed. He was describing something with his hands while Bronwyn and another girl watched intently. As I drew nearer I recognised him. His hair was combed – sort of – and he wore a clean T-shirt and jeans; but there was still the same aura of wildness about him that I’d discerned that morning in Hobe Miller’s front yard.

  Two pairs of eyes swivelled towards me as I approached – Bronwyn’s sapphire ones, and the dark, almost black gaze of her young companion. It took the deaf man a second longer to register my presence, and as he spun to face me I prepared myself for the irate scowl he’d presented that morning.

  When he saw me, though, his face lit up and his smile left me dazzled. I couldn’t even return the nicety; I felt my features settle into a look of dismay.

  Bronwyn sprang forward. ‘Mum, this is Jade and her dad, Danny. They’re teaching me sign language. Cool, huh?’

  ‘Er . . . yes.’

  ‘Hi, Ms Kepler,’ the dark-haired girl said, and flashed me a grin almost as glorious as her father’s. She was Bronwyn’s height, with a perfect oval face and almond-shaped eyes. She was lankier than Bronwyn, but equally as pretty. The two girls made an arresting pair.

  Danny shook my hand in greeting, his palm cool and dry despite the heat, his calloused fingers gentle around mine. Then he looked at Jade and made a series of swift gestures.

  I remembered Corey telling me about her brother and his daughter Jade. Danny was a vet, called out early that morning to attend an emergency.

  Jade sighed. ‘Dad’s got something to tell you. I’ll translate, is that okay?’

  ‘Oh . . . sure.’

  She watched her father’s fast-moving hands. ‘He says you caught him at a bad time this morning . . . Mr Miller’s dog had just had puppies and had accidentally rolled on two of them and that everyone was upset. He says he doesn’t usually take his clothes off in public – ’ Here, Jade rolled her eyes sideways at Bronwyn, who giggled, then went on, ‘But poor Alma – she’s the Millers’ dog – was terribly distressed, and Dad and the two Mr Millers got covered in blood trying to restrain her.’

  ‘Gross,’ Bronwyn said, with a wary look at me. She shifted her weight, moving fractionally closer to Jade. ‘How many puppies?’

  Danny signed swiftly, and Jade translated, ‘Six, including the two that died. The remaining four are healthy.’ Jade glanced back at me as her father’s fingers continued to move. ‘He says he’s sorry if he alarmed you.’

  I shifted my features into a mask of composure. Inwardly, I cringed. The explanation behind my uneasy visit to the Miller property had turned out to be benign. Corey’s brother, the vet. Alma and her puppies. Hobe’s abrupt behaviour due to worry about his dog.

  ‘I wasn’t alarmed at all,’ I told Danny, recalling that he could read my lips. I knew I was speaking too loudly, but I felt self-conscious again. ‘I guessed it was something like that – I mean, it’s not as if I thought you were a serial killer or some kind of maniac on the loose just because you were covered in all that blood – ’ I managed to stop babbling when Danny’s expression grew confused.

  He frowned at Jade, who signed swiftly back at him. He turned back to me and grinned wickedly, his fingers flying once more.

  Jade snickered. ‘He says you took him by surprise, too. He was probably more startled than you were.’

  Thunder rumbled and the first drops of rain began to spit onto the pavement around us. Looking across the shadowy schoolyard, I saw that the sky had darkened further and now bulged with purple clouds. I looked back to find Danny observing my face, his expression unreadable.

  ‘Well, it was nice to meet you,’ I told him briskly, then found a genuine smile for his daughter. ‘You too, Jade.’

  Jade smiled, her almond eyes tilting at the corners. ‘Aunty Corey told me that we’re coming over on the weekend. I guess I’ll see you then.’

  ‘Can’t wait. You and Corey will be the first visitors that Thornwood’s had in a long time.’

  Jade looked pleased. ‘I don’t suppose Aunty Corey remembered to tell you that we’re vegetarians?’

  ‘No, she didn’t mention it, but I haven’t shopped yet . . . What can I get you?’

  ‘Oh, don’t go to any trouble, we’ll bring tofu snags and lentil burgers, that’s what we normally do. Besides, Aunty Corey says it’s rude to turn up empty-handed.’

  ‘It won’t matter to me if you’re empty-handed,’ I told Jade, and this time my smile came easily. ‘As long as you show up.’

  I snuck a look at Danny. He was watching me hopefully.

  ‘Why don’t you join us?’ I said as casually as I could.

  Danny nodded, keeping his gaze on my lips. He didn’t bother signing, Jade wasn’t watching anyway. Her head was bent close to Bronwyn’s – they were talking quietly, no doubt saying hurried goodbyes and making plans for the next school day.

  I attempted a smile, squirming under Danny’s close scrutiny. I took advantage of the uncomfortable lull to berate myself: why hadn’t I thought to wear my good jeans instead of this old patched pair I’d thrown on . . . and what had possessed me to wear such a daggy T-shirt?

  Danny made a lazy sign, knowing full well I couldn’t read it. His hands were large and lightly freckled, graceful. I looked up and met his gaze, and a jolt of awareness went through me. He was unsettlingly gorgeous, but it was more than that. Maybe his silence, his intensity of focus; or maybe the intimate way he searched my face as if trying to see under the skin. Whatever it was, it was making me edgy.

  I tapped Bronwyn’s arm, and started backing away.

  ‘See you Saturday,’ I called to no one in particular, and made a hasty beeline for the car.

  ‘You like him.’ Bronwyn’s long fingers drummed the dashboard. ‘And Jade thinks he likes you.’

  I snorted, glad to be inside the familiar cocoon of my Celica and out of the rain. My brain was throbbing – not with pain, but with a tangled knot of thoughts that would take some serious unravelling to get in order.
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  ‘I barely spoke two words to the man.’

  ‘Mum, you babbled.’

  ‘And that’s a crime, is it?’

  ‘Not a crime . . . just a dead giveaway. You like him.’

  ‘I was only trying to be polite because he’s deaf.’

  ‘Jade said he was looking at you a bit gooey-eyed.’

  I snorted again, trying to sound incredulous. ‘Which makes me think that Jade’s imagination is as equally out of control as yours.’

  Rain pounded the roof. The cloud-bellies came alive with threads of flickering light.

  Bronwyn looked at me. ‘Did you know Jade’s mum died?’

  ‘Yeah . . . Corey told me.’

  ‘She was deaf, like Jade’s dad. It was really sad, she got caught in a thunderstorm and a big heavy tree branch fell on her.’

  I looked at Bronwyn, aghast. ‘That’s awful.’

  ‘Jade said her dad never got over it. He and Jade’s mum got married young. They met at a peace rally in Brisbane, love at first sight, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Oh. I see.’

  ‘Jade thinks it’s time he met someone.’ She looked pointedly at me. ‘You know. Moved on.’

  ‘Hmmm.’

  ‘What about you, Mum? Jade thinks you’d be perfect, and her dad’s obviously keen.’

  I blinked at the glossy blacktop unrolling ahead of us, willing the rain to fall harder, willing the sky to crack open and flood the road – anything to create a diversion from the current conversation topic. When the sky failed to respond to my internal command, I sighed. ‘And you had time to discuss all this, did you? In the few seconds before we said goodbye? I didn’t realise that speed-gossip was now part of school curriculum.’

  ‘It’s not. I’m just getting good at reading the signs,’ Bronwyn said mysteriously.

  ‘Oh? After ten minutes of lessons?’

  ‘Signs are not just about hand signals, Mum. Jade says that because her father’s deaf he’s good at reading a person’s face and the way they move their body. He’s sensitive to shadows and temperature, too, even the feel of movement in the air. Jade says that a deaf person’s other senses grow keener to make up for the one that’s missing.’