Daughter of Mine

by Fiona Lowe

  Doug rose to his feet as if he’d sensed that Charlotte’s statement was portentous for Edwina and Primrose. ‘Excuse me, ladies. I’ve got to call a man about a 1951 Maserati convertible. I’ll leave you to chat.’

  Charlotte stood too. ‘I’ve got to study for a SAC, Auntie P, but Mardi will answer all your questions.’

  The usually unflappable Primrose—a stalwart woman who’d weathered droughts and bushfires and cared for veterans with PTSD—grappled for words. ‘I … that’s … well …’ She smiled. ‘Congratulations, Charlie.’

  Charlotte stilled and a tear spilled down her cheek. ‘Thanks.’ She hugged Primrose. ‘You’re the first person who’s said that to me.’

  Primrose patted Charlotte’s back and gave Edwina a concerned glance over the top of her head. ‘It won’t be easy, dear, but if you’re determined, that will carry you a long way.’

  Nothing more was said until Primrose and Edwina were alone and Edwina had poured fresh cups of tea.

  ‘Good heavens, Edwina. No wonder I haven’t seen you. I imagine all hell’s broken loose with Harriet.’

  ‘You could say that.’

  Primrose studied her with what Edwina called her analytical social worker gaze. ‘I have to say, part of me’s surprised Charlotte’s living here.’

  Old habits die hard and Edwina heard herself saying, ‘Living with James was hardly advisable and Xara’s flat out with her brood.’

  ‘That’s all true but none of it’s an automatic agreement for you to take Charlie in. In fact, if I’d been asked to bet on it, I’d have backed no as being more likely.’

  ‘Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think,’ Edwina said, knowing full well that Primrose only knew the side of herself she’d been prepared to share.

  Primrose sipped her tea. ‘If Richard were alive and Harriet had kicked Charlie out, you’d have asked me to take her in.’

  ‘That’s very true.’

  ‘Oh, Edwina.’ She shook her head slowly, smiling broadly all the while. ‘I’ve waited forty-odd years for the Edwina Mannering I knew as a kid to come back. You had such spark. You were so full of fun until you married Richard and decided to live your mother’s life. Now the real you is back with a vengeance and hooray for that. First you flout a lifetime of proprietary by openly cohabitating with Doug Pederson and now Charlie’s living here. The town’s already agog with you and Doug having a fling, not to mention James’s shenanigans. It will be positively apoplectic when news of Charlie’s pregnancy breaks.’

  ‘Do you want a gin and tonic?’ Edwina asked, thinking she could do with one.

  ‘At four in the afternoon?’

  ‘Why not? The sun’s well over the yardarm.’

  Primrose laughed. ‘Well, when you put it like that. I’ll go and pick a lemon.’

  By the time Primrose returned with the bright yellow fruit, Edwina had the drinks mixed and set on a tray alongside a blue bottle of gin and extra tonic. She deftly sliced the sun-warmed lemon and a sharp sting from the juice heralded an unknown cut on her finger. She sucked it until the pain subsided.

  ‘Let’s drink these outside.’

  When they were settled in the gazebo and Edwina had taken a fortifying slug from her drink, she said, ‘Rosie, there’s something I have to tell you. Remember the day I arrived at Irrewillipe in the white Volksie?’

  CHAPTER

  24

  ‘Oh, Edwina.’ Primrose’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘Part of me always envied you the Mannering wealth and style. But all that privilege came with suffocating duty and conditions, didn’t it?’

  Edwina stirred her second gin and tonic, relaxing into the relief that flowed through her now she’d told Primrose the truth about Doug, Richard and Michelle. She needed her friend’s counsel now more than ever. ‘As much as I hate all the Mannering pride and family duty, I’ve unwittingly inflicted some of it onto the girls. Harriet especially. She’s the one who’s embraced the family traditions.’

  ‘Hang on, Edwina. She had Richard encouraging her all the way. Harriet is his creation. He made her into what he valued the most. She’s a talented doctor like he was, a person of influence like both of you and a hostess with all of your grace and style. She wanted all of it and that’s okay.’

  ‘That may be, but she’s furious with me for the duplicity about Sus—Michelle and for supporting Charlie’s decision to keep her baby.’

  ‘Poor Harriet,’ Primrose said. ‘As well as inheriting the best traits of her parents, she also picked up the worst ones. But given everything you’ve been through, I understand your stance with Charlie.’

  ‘I don’t have a choice,’ Edwina said reflectively. ‘The loss of Michelle affected how I bonded with my girls. I love them, of course I love them, but when they were born it was different. As much as I tried to love them wholeheartedly, I held something back. I didn’t want to but I had no control. It was almost like I’d taken out heart protection insurance so that if I lost them, I still had something left. How crazy is that? If I’d lost any of them it would have destroyed me.’

  ‘You suffered a huge trauma, Edwina, and you had no support. Our brain tries to protect us from that pain and anguish ever happening again. Sadly that can come with nasty side effects.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve had all of those,’ Edwina said savagely. ‘My brain didn’t protect me. All it did was put distance between me and my daughters. Each time I gave birth, Richard was the one left holding the baby and picking up the pieces of me.’

  ‘He had help,’ Primrose said briskly. ‘He had a lot of help, if I remember rightly. Stop beating yourself up so much. Didn’t your mother go away for a few months after Ian was born? Everyone said it was a holiday but back then no one ever mentioned mental illness outside of the family. Even if you hadn’t been forced to give up your baby, you don’t know for sure that you wouldn’t have got PND when you had the girls.’

  ‘I’ve wondered the same thing, but all I know is that when I held my first baby everything was different. Despite the traumatic delivery and the fact she was going to be stolen from me, my whole body tingled with an overwhelming love for her that was so strong I couldn’t comprehend such a feeling existed. When I held Harriet, Xara and Georgie, all I ever felt was cold, hard dread. The love always came a lot later.’

  Her voice cracked and she sucked in a steadying breath. ‘Rosie, I still break out in a cold sweat whenever I see a newborn baby. It not only made me a poor mother, it made me a poor grandmother until the children were walking and talking. When Georgie lost Eliza, I should have been the one supporting her. Instead I fell back into the pit of despair that has claimed me too often over the years. It left Georgie floundering and relying on her sisters when she should have been depending on me.’ She fingered her pearls. ‘Now, Harriet’s risking cutting her only child and future grandchild out of her life. She doesn’t realise how much grief that course of action is going to cause her down the track. And none of it’s helped by James’s actions. Harriet’s spent her life being popular and now she’s dealing with the town turning on her.’

  ‘There’s a definite edge of tall poppy syndrome in the way the town’s reacting,’ Primrose said with a huff of frustration. ‘Sexism as well. If Harriet had been the one to commit the crime and defraud everyone, James would have been circled with concern and given hot dinners. Instead, the vultures came out and zeroed in on Harriet as if she’s carrion.’

  ‘It’s very unfair and it’s so hard to watch. I talked to Doug about going public about Michelle, thinking that if they were busy gossiping about me, it might take the heat off Harriet. He wisely pointed out that until we hear from Michelle it’s best not to tell anyone beyond the family.’

  ‘And me.’ Primrose raised her glass.

  ‘You’re family, Rosie. To be honest, you’re better than family because you make less emotional demands on me and you give me so much.’ She shifted in her seat and smoothed down her skirt. ‘Anyway, all of it’s left me aching for Harriet. Granted, m
y daughter’s forthright manner hasn’t always made her welcome everywhere in town. Remember last November when she was interviewed about the rural obesity epidemic? She said there were causal links between obesity and some cancers and people needed to take it seriously and lose weight.’ Edwina blew out a breath. ‘It didn’t go down well.’

  ‘It’s got nothing to do with the message and everything to do with Harriet being a rich, educated, successful and well-dressed woman.’ Indignation simmered on Primrose’s pink-veined cheeks. ‘David’s made a career out of being obstreperous and outspoken, and Richard was embroiled in his fair share of verbal stoushes. Your father was an old-style politician who called a spade a spade and didn’t suffer fools. And let’s not forget Billawarre’s long history of rich and bloody-minded businessmen and farmers who thought because they had the cash, they owned the town. All of them men and none of them have been treated like Harriet. I told Irene Bennerson exactly that the other day when she was mouthing off at the community centre. I said I was disappointed in her as a feminist and a citizen.’

  ‘Thank you, Rosie. I appreciate your support for Harriet but you do realise you probably just risked the future of your life skills course? Irene does the scheduling for the community centre.’

  ‘If she tries to bump out any of my groups she might just find herself experiencing some of what Harriet’s going through,’ Primrose exclaimed hotly. Then she sighed, her anger fading. ‘What I hate most is how people are behaving. At its core it’s just spiteful envy. They’re gleefully rejoicing in the struggles of one of Billawarre’s upstanding families and cheerfully ignoring Harriet’s innocence in the fraud. They’re totally overlooking how much she’s contributed to the community.’

  ‘And that’s why I love you,’ Edwina said gratefully. ‘You’re sensible and such a champion for women. I’m taking a leaf out of your book. As much as I love Harriet, I won’t allow Charlie’s life to be blighted by being forced to lose a baby she desperately wants. If my life is going to count for something, that pain must stop with me.’

  Primrose silently considered Edwina for a long moment. ‘Even if it means you and Harriet never reconcile?’

  The thought tore down deep, stealing her breath and shredding her soul. ‘Our current estrangement is an extension of the distance that’s always existed between us. Of course, I long for us to be closer, but in forty-five years I can count on one hand the moments when there was a narrowing of the gap. I’d get excited but then Richard would do something smarter, shinier and more interesting. And, puff, it was gone. Since his death, Harriet’s eulogised him and I can never win against that. I’m not prepared to sacrifice Charlie on a cause that’s already lost.’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’

  Edwina took a fortifying draught of her more-gin-and-less-tonic drink. ‘I’m going to have to act like a mother, slice open an artery and talk to Harriet.’

  * * *

  Hi, Georgie

  How are things? We’re pretty good here. It rained each day last week just in time for some grass to grow before winter so YAY! Twins LOVING their first footy season while I freak out on the sidelines about a kick to the kidneys or a boot to the head. We’ve had some teething problems with Tashie’s feeding tube but she’s gained weight.

  I’m now volunteering as a JP, witnessing documents on Thursday mornings at the police station. It’s basically a good gossip session although I’ve had to go into bat for Harry a few times I don’t get people a lot of the time, although I don’t have a problem agreeing with them when they say, ‘that bastard, James’. The respite care committee’s gone rogue on me and it’s taking all my mediation skills to hold it together. I’ve got an appointment at Spring Street in two weeks on May 11th to meet with a grant committee, so fingers crossed! It would be great if we could catch up that night. Perhaps you could take your country sister to the bright lights of Brunswick Street? I read a review in Epicure about an Afghani restaurant that sounded great. I hope the plans for 2C’s family food fun day are coming along. Looking forward to hearing all about it.

  Love Xara xx

  PS Have you spoken to Harry lately?

  As Xara reread her email she felt Steve’s hands on her shoulders gently massaging. She tilted her head back and read his expression. ‘What?’

  ‘It’s chatty.’

  ‘Of course it’s chatty,’ she said defensively. ‘What else is it supposed to be?’

  He shrugged. ‘My brothers and I wrestled. You could try that.’

  ‘Not helpful,’ she called to his retreating back. ‘Neither is standing next to your sibling silently drinking beer and staring out across the paddocks.’

  ‘Just call her. You know you want to.’ He disappeared out the door.

  I did call her. She’d called twice and both times she’d got an auto text in reply. Later Georgie had texted a real reply: Sorry! Flat out with school. Catch you later.

  A week had passed since she’d sent that. With a sigh, Xara picked up the phone, pressed the call button and waited impatiently as it rang in her ear.

  ‘Yes, Xara, what is it?’ Harriet’s clipped voice came down the line.

  Xara sighed, but what did she really expect? ‘I’m good, how are you?’

  ‘Busy.’

  She reminded herself that even before Easter, phone conversations with Harriet had never been chatty or confiding. They’d always been brief and to the point, usually ironing out details about Charlotte coming to the farm or organising the next family gathering or discussing concerns about Edwina. Only now Harriet refused to speak their mother’s name and her family wasn’t gathering at all.

  She got to the point. ‘Have you spoken to Georgie?’

  ‘Not since she was here. Why? Is something up?’

  I don’t know. My little sister’s not talking to me and she usually does. ‘Not that I know of. I thought that as the two of you have bonded over not speaking to Mum, you might be talking to each other.’

  ‘Oh for pity’s sake, Xara.’ Harriet’s exasperation burned down the line. ‘Georgie’s allowed to be pissed off. She’s not one of your feel-good projects. Surely you’ve got enough of those with Edwina, the kids and your advocacy work? And what were you thinking taking on the JP shift? I really don’t understand—’

  ‘Tashie’s screaming. I have to go.’ Xara cut the call feeling worse than before she’d made it. Everything about the conversation with Harriet only reinforced what she missed about Georgie.

  She stabbed the computer’s keyboard and sent the email. Please send a chatty reply, Georgie, so I know you’re okay.

  CHAPTER

  25

  Georgie had left the Ian Potter Centre and was crossing Federation Square when she thought she heard someone call her name. She paused, glancing around, and although there were people everywhere, she didn’t recognise anyone or notice someone waving at her.

  Quickly reminding herself she was in Melbourne not Billawarre, she kept walking. Although she couldn’t take ten steps down the main street of her hometown without meeting someone she knew, life in Melbourne was very different and it was unusual to bump into anyone familiar. The late Sunday afternoon crowds surged around her as football fans mixed with theatregoers, art lovers, cyclists and the café crowd; everyone out enjoying the crisp May weather.

  As she waited at the pedestrian lights for a tram to trundle past, her phone rang. She fished it out of her bag and when she saw the name on the screen, her heart lurched. Ben. Immune to the loud pealing of her ring tone, she stared in shock at the device.

  Answer it.

  No.

  You know you want to talk to him. Take the call.

  ‘You gonna answer that love or just deafen us with that bloody awful sound?’ asked a bemused man wearing a Collingwood scarf.

  ‘I … um …’ Her finger hovered over the accept button as she tried to muster calm. She didn’t want her voice to crack on hello.

  ‘Georgie!’

  Her chest cramped with
her intake of breath. This time there was no confusion. This time she recognised the voice and the urgency imbued in it. Turning slowly, she saw Ben walking quickly toward her, his phone pressed to his ear.

  The lights changed and suddenly people were pushing past her, buffeting her from both directions. One woman swore at her, telling her to move. Panic shot through her although she had no idea if it was because of Ben or the crowd. Then a hand was on her arm and she was being tugged forward against the tide of humanity. The lights changed again, the crowd thinned and she found herself standing face to face with Ben. His hand dropped from her arm.

  She steeled herself, waiting for the rush of recoil she’d experienced the last time she’d seen him. It didn’t come. All she felt was an acre of excruciating awkwardness separating them, complete with a flowering crop of embarrassment.

  Act normal. ‘Ha-he-llo, Ben.’ Oh, yeah. That was smooth.

  ‘Hello, Georgie.’ His expression was impassive and his normally wide and friendly mouth was a firm, straight line.

  The absence of his cheeky smile—the one she loved so much—struck her like a punch to the solar plexus. He looked different and it took her a moment to realise he wasn’t wearing casual sports gear. He was city-trendy in black leather shoes, navy chinos and a fire-engine red jumper that made his eyes an even richer caramel. The hint of a checked collared shirt peeked out around the opened zipper at the neck of the jumper and he had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of a navy woollen coat. He looked amazing.

  She was caught unawares by an aching need to lean into him, feel the tautness of his muscles under her fingers and inhale his woodsy scent. God, she’d missed him so much. She stiffened her body against the overwhelming urge to sway forward and drop her head to his chest. ‘You look good,’ she finally managed to say.

  His broad shoulders rose and fell and he ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’m glad I ran into you. I’ve got something I need to tell you before you hear it from anyone else. This saves me from making a phone call you probably wouldn’t answer.’