by Fiona Lowe
‘I continue living at Miligili rent free.’
No. No. No. Her gut cramped as she recoiled at the idea. The whole point of the plan was to get him out of her house and out of her life. But she wouldn’t have a house if he didn’t sign the papers.
‘I’ve seen the state of the house. How about you move in here, live rent free and I’ll pay for Nya to clean it.’ And spy for me.
‘Okay.’
‘Okay?’ Her amazement at his far-too-easy capitulation seeped into her voice, undoing all of her studied aloofness. She swiped the unlock screen on her phone and brought up her diary. ‘Shall we do this tomorrow?’
‘I want to see Charlie.’
Something in his tone made her look up as apprehension crawled in her veins. ‘That’s up to Charlotte.’
His expression said he didn’t agree. ‘Convince her to meet me for a real visit. I’m not talking five minutes at the door flanked by her grandmother and aunts. It has to be lunch or dinner. Do that and I’ll sign.’
Harriet’s mouth dried. She’d told her daughter in no uncertain terms that she was unwelcome in her home unless she terminated her pregnancy. This left her with no bargaining power to convince Charlotte that supporting her quest to save Miligili was the best thing for the both of them. And if she did try to cut a deal with Charlotte and force her to see James when her daughter clearly didn’t want to, didn’t that make her as morally bankrupt as him?
How is it different from insisting she have an abortion? The thought came out of nowhere and dug in despite her trying to shift it.
It’s totally different. I’m older, wiser and I’m her mother. I’m trying to prevent her from making the wrong decision. This baby will ruin her life.
She heard her mother’s voice in the back of her mind. Respect her decision.
And that was the crux of her dilemma. Some decisions, like Charlotte not wanting to see James, were easier to respect than others. Suddenly, the idea of getting her hands on one million dollars to secure Miligili seemed like the much easier option.
CHAPTER
23
Edwina was in Glenora’s library on the computer when she heard Doug’s and Charlotte’s voices drifting down the hall. Surprised, she jerked her gaze from the screen, immediately experiencing a sharp tug in her neck. She always forgot she could read the time on the computer but as she’d already looked up, she squinted at the antique pendulum clock nestled inside its glass dome. Four o’clock. How had half an hour vanished so quickly?
She wasn’t even supposed to be at the computer. She’d promised herself she’d only check her email twice a day—eight in the morning and eight in the evening—because otherwise the temptation to check it every ten minutes was not only overwhelming but a direct route to insanity. She couldn’t rule out with any certainty that she wasn’t already well down that path.
She and Doug had flown down to Hobart as soon as they’d returned from their trip to Mildura. The interview with Tim, the counsellor, and discovering their daughter’s adoptive name had been a walk in the park compared with meeting Doug’s family.
His daughters’ reactions to Edwina’s presence in their father’s life were as varied as her girls’ responses to Doug and yet different. Polite but wary most accurately summed up their reactions. There’d been none of Harriet’s narrow-eyed hostility or Georgie’s initial enthusiasm. Edwina and Doug had visited all three of his daughters’ homes and the unifying motif was the photos of Sophia, which hung on their walls and sat on side tables as a solid reminder of her role in their lives and of their love for her.
On an intellectual level, Edwina understood their reaction. She was the interloper—the unexpected person impinging on their lives and monopolising their father’s attention. However, knowing that hadn’t been enough to stop her from wishing for the pie-inthe-sky ideal that the Pederson girls would instantly warm to her. In reality, it was unlikely to ever happen. Any seeds of warmth that may have been sown at their first meeting had been trampled over by the shock news of their secret sister. On this topic their reactions had perfectly matched her daughters’: shocked surprise. The difference lay in the fact that it was easier for them to forgive their father, who, until recently, hadn’t known of the child’s existence, than it was for her daughters to forgive her for having kept the secret for so long.
Doug’s son, Ben, had been more forthright when they’d been forced to tell him at Glenora. Sitting next to a white-faced Georgie, he’d asked, ‘Are you going to try to find her?’
When they’d replied in the affirmative, he’d said, ‘Good luck.’ There was a lot of Doug in Ben and his words had been genuinely warm without a trace of sarcasm. Georgie’s reaction hadn’t been as charitable.
Edwina sighed at the memory. What a mess. She’d had no clue that Georgie was seeing anyone, let alone Doug’s son. The randomness of it still flabbergasted her and she really didn’t know much more about their relationship other than what she’d seen at Glenora—the two of them holding hands. She’d tried to discuss the situation with Georgie but her daughter had refused, joining Harriet in the not-talking-to-Edwina stakes. She’d asked Doug if he knew anything about Ben and Georgie but he had very little information other than they taught at the same school and they’d been dating a short time. Edwina had left messages, emailed and texted Georgie, but days had turned into weeks and there was still silence. Now it was May and she missed the regular phone calls from her youngest daughter, who’d always brightened her week with entertaining stories of the terrors of 2C.
Would she have any daughters left talking to her by the end of all of this? The question begged her to define ‘this’ and ‘end’. All she knew was that ‘this’ was her life and that her need to make peace with the past was currently shattering her present. She huffed out a breath and gave herself a shake. Her past had always shattered her present. The difference now was that she was taking control and living her life the way she wanted rather than having it dictated to her. It came with consequences but so did not taking any action, and she had a PhD in that. She loved her daughters dearly and if she had the power not to hurt them she would use it, but her pain was their pain and that had been the case for all of their lives. The legacy of the loss of her first-born daughter had always hovered over them, circling and impacting on her relationship with all three of them. Was there ever a good time to reveal a secret like a lost child?
Of course not, but she’d rationalised that as her daughters were all adult women with their own life experiences and with daughters of their own, they may be able to see things from her point of view. They hadn’t. Instead, two of them had reverted to being little girls again, unable to see past their own small worlds to view the bigger picture. She appreciated Xara’s unstinting support but at the same time she understood her middle daughter’s conflict regarding her sisters.
‘Eddy? I’m making tea,’ Doug called.
Shutting down her email account, she watched the screen fade to black against an inbox full of correspondence, none of it the email she craved. She may have been told that her baby had gone on to live her childhood years in Launceston as Michelle van Leeuwen but she yearned for more information. Yearned to meet her.
As soon as Tim had given them Michelle’s name, he’d checked the adoption information register. Miracle of miracles, Michelle was registered as wishing to make contact with her birth parents. Apparently, their daughter had applied for her adoption details two years ago. Edwina and Doug couldn’t believe their luck, especially as the bulk of the interview with Tim had been him cautioning them not to expect too much too soon—or anything at all. He’d emphasised that searches could take a very long time and sometimes the person was never found, or if they were, it was via a death certificate.
Edwina had binned caution, thrilled beyond her wildest dreams that her daughter wanted to find her. When Tim handed her the folder containing Michelle’s adoption details, she held it as reverently as if it was fragile lace that would disintegrate
under her touch. To be holding concrete evidence of her baby after decades in the wilderness validated the hazy memories of that tiny child with her dimpled fingers and chocolate lashes.
Tim had undertaken to mail Michelle a brief and standard letter informing her that her birth parents wished to make contact. Thanking Tim, they left the office floating on air and checked into their Georgian bed and breakfast, impervious to the magnificent sandstone façade, the Doric columns, the perfect period reproduction furniture and the luxuriously deep claw-foot bathtub with its large selection of spa products. They’d spent the rest of the day drafting a letter to Michelle, keen to have it ready to send to her the moment they got word from Tim that Michelle had made contact. They’d written multiple drafts of the letter before they were happy with it. Mentally exhausted but utterly elated, they’d gone out to dinner and celebrated their good fortune by drinking Tasmanian sparkling wine and dining on Tasmanian salmon.
That dinner had been three weeks ago and the much-revised letter lay languishing in her leather writing satchel, still waiting to be posted. Despite having registered for contact two years ago, Michelle was yet to respond to Tim’s letter. The disappointment crushed Edwina’s soul, a bruising blow on top of the grief she’d carried with her all her life but unlike in the past, this time she hadn’t tumbled into the dark abyss. This time she wasn’t alone with her grief and she clung to Doug like a limpet on a rock buffeted by stormy seas. He in turn drew strength from her as they tried to balance hope with impatience and despair with reason.
She walked into the kitchen to find Doug and Charlotte whipping up a batch of scones. At the moment, Doug was splitting his time seventy/thirty between Billawarre and Mildura. The workshop had a reliable manager and his classic car sales were mostly done online, giving him the freedom to be in Billawarre, for which she was grateful.
‘How was the driving lesson?’
Charlotte laughed. ‘The drive home from school took ten minutes but I only need another five hours and I’ll hit the magic one hundred and twenty. The rest of the time was car anatomy. I’ve learned how to check the tyre pressure, check the oil and I know where to add more windscreen cleaning fluid.’
‘Tomorrow, it’s coolant, keeping battery terminals clean and learning how to use jumper leads,’ Doug said, his expression serious. ‘Too many people drive cars and have no idea how to look after them.’
‘I don’t think Mum even knows where her battery is in the new Merc,’ Charlotte said and immediately winced.
She hadn’t mentioned Harriet for days and Edwina hoped that as she’d just spoken about her mother she might want to talk more about her. She took a seat at the table. ‘Your mother’s first car was a second-hand Corolla and your Gramps taught her all the things Doug’s teaching you.’
Edwina laughed, suddenly remembering Harriet regaling her and Richard with a story. ‘Harriet once impressed a group of young male doctors with her car battery knowledge. They were clustered around a car that wouldn’t start and she took off her very elegant high-heeled shoe and banged the battery terminals with it. You can imagine how they rolled their eyes but she had the last laugh when the car roared into life.’
‘I can see Mum doing that,’ Charlotte said almost wistfully before turning her attention to the tight lid of the jam jar. ‘I appreciate the lessons, Doug. But I’m not sure I can even afford to buy a secondhand car let alone run one.’
‘Don’t worry about that now,’ Edwina said. ‘We’ll sit down and work out a financial arrangement you can afford. Your job is to sit your test as soon as you turn eighteen. Having your licence will make life with a baby a lot easier.’
‘I’ve got the boys in the workshop keeping an eye out for a decent second-hand car for you,’ Doug said.
Charlotte hugged him and then kissed Edwina. ‘Thank you, Mardi. Any news from Michelle?’ She was completely au fait with the story and, unlike her aunts, she’d taken the news in her stride. Edwina wondered if it was to do with her youth or her current situation. Whatever the reason, she was just grateful for her granddaughter’s non-judgemental attitude and for the easy way she referred to Michelle by name.
Edwina caught Doug’s eye and saw the hopeful flash in their dark depths. She shook her head and watched the anticipation fade. ‘Nothing yet. Tim said he’d pass on our contact details when she emailed him so all we can do is be patient.’
‘Don’t you think it’s strange that two years ago Michelle wanted to contact you and now she doesn’t?’ Charlotte asked.
‘A lot can happen in two years,’ Doug said thoughtfully as he pulled the golden scones from the oven. ‘She might have moved and forgotten to update the register. Her situation may have changed. Perhaps her need to meet us changed with it. Life can change in a heartbeat, Charlie girl.’
Edwina smiled at his nickname for her. Doug had told them both about seeing the musical Charlie Girl on stage in Melbourne back in 1971, when John Farnham was known as Johnny.
‘I get it, Doug. My life changed in the amount of time it took for two pink lines to appear on a white stick.’ Charlotte set down a small bowl of jam and one of cream. ‘Now I’m at a new school, my mother’s not talking to me, I’m living here and trying to imagine my life with a baby.’
Edwina poured tea. ‘How’s school?’
She shrugged. ‘Different.’
‘The work?’
‘No, the subjects are fine. I’m on top of the study and the teachers are okay. It’s just a bit lonely. I’m used to everyone being at school twenty-four-seven and always having someone to talk to. It’s hard getting to know people when they leave the grounds if they don’t have classes.’
‘I always see a crowd of senior students at the Staff of Life café when I buy the bread,’ Doug said, slathering jam on a steaming scone. ‘You should go there to meet people.’
‘Mum would have a fit.’ Charlotte visibly sagged. ‘I guess I don’t have to worry about that any more.’
Edwina squeezed her hand. ‘I want to say Harriet will change her mind …’
‘Yeah, I know. But there’s a big chance she never will. On the flip side though, she did text me today.’
Surprise caused Edwina to blink. As far as she knew, it was the first time Harriet had contacted Charlotte. ‘What did she say?’
‘It’s a bit weird.’ Charlotte pulled out her phone, swiped the screen until she found the text and then read aloud, ‘“I told your father about the pregnancy. He wants to have lunch or dinner with you soon. Text him yes or no so he knows where he stands with you.”’
Edwina schooled her expression to neutral. She didn’t know what to make of the unexpected text either, but she didn’t disclose that to Charlotte. ‘Why do you think it’s odd?’
‘Because Mum always tells me what to do. What food to eat, which clothes to wear, what career to study, who to make friends with, to terminate my baby …’ She pressed a button on her phone with a jerk, the screen faded to black and she set it down with a sigh.
‘The night after your party she was emphatic that she didn’t want me to see Dad. I was angry and I said I wanted to see him. She huffed and eventually said I wasn’t to see him alone. Remember how she arrived for Easter Sunday lunch? She only came because she thought Dad would bribe me with chocolates and get me on my own. Now she’s basically saying it’s my choice whether I see him or not. My choice. That isn’t Mum at all.’
‘It could be a good sign,’ Doug said, wiping cream off his cheek. ‘She might be coming around.’
‘Ha! Ha! You don’t know my mother.’ Charlotte exchanged a glance with Edwina and then snagged her bottom lip with her teeth. ‘I think it’s more proof she’s cutting me out of her life.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘The fact she doesn’t care if I meet Dad or not is huge.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘About Dad? I don’t know. I just want to hide here at Glenora with you.’ Charlotte pressed her hands together under her nose. ‘Also, Hamish’s parents want to meet me i
n July when they’re visiting Melbourne from Qatar. Hamish said they’re seriously pissed at him. Should I go?’
‘They are the baby’s grandparents,’ Edwina said, thinking through all the logistics. ‘You already know the worst possible reaction because you’ve experienced it from your mother. The Langs might just surprise you.’
‘Yoo-hoo. Knock knock.’ Primrose walked in holding a huge multicoloured bouquet of chrysanthemums.
‘Rosie.’ Edwina jumped to her feet and hugged her friend with a combination of guilt and pleasure. ‘Are these your chrysies?’
Primrose grinned. ‘The garden’s a blaze of colour. After last year’s debacle, I read the riot act to David. I told him if any calves got into the home paddock I’d move to Melbourne.’
‘The threat obviously worked. They’re glorious.’ Edwina carried them into the kitchen. ‘We’ve just made afternoon tea. Join us.’
‘I will,’ Primrose said, seating herself at the table. ‘I know we’ve talked on the phone but I haven’t seen you since your party. That’s far too long. You’re looking good though. Sex obviously suits you.’
Doug threw his head back and roared laughing as Charlotte’s mouth fell open. ‘Auntie P!’ she finally managed to splutter, sounding a lot like her mother.
Edwina caught the gaze of her long-time friend and gave a rueful smile. ‘Primrose is cross with me, Charlie. She always behaves badly when she feels she’s missing out on things.’
‘Your grandmother and I have known each other since we were seven,’ Primrose replied with equanimity. ‘We can say anything to each other.’ She suddenly startled. ‘Hang on a minute. Why are you wearing Billawarre Secondary’s uniform?’
Charlotte’s shoulders straightened. ‘I go there now. This is my third week. I’m pregnant and living with Mardi.’
This time it was Primrose’s turn to gape.
A surge of pride washed through Edwina at Charlotte’s courage and at the same time it amplified her own deficits. If Charlotte was brave enough to tell people she was pregnant then it was time for Edwina to reverse the lie she’d lived under for so long. She owed Primrose the truth.