Daughter of Mine

by Fiona Lowe

  Georgie xxx

  * * *

  Edwina sat at the breakfast table sipping coffee and jotting down a list of things she needed to do for the day. At the same time, she kept an ear out for sounds of movement from Charlotte, who was yet to appear for breakfast. Doug had been in Mildura for the last three days and was expected back tonight. It was the winter solstice and the weather in Billawarre was at its bone-chilling best. Every time Doug returned from Mildura he waxed lyrical about the warmth of the Sunraysia, so to ease his transition, she’d planned comfort food for dinner and had beef cheeks bathing in red wine in the slow cooker. She wrote Kipfler potatoes and green beans on her shopping list so she could serve fluffy mash.

  She checked her to-do list and knew she needed to add call Harriet. It had been weeks since she’d told Primrose she’d talk to Harriet and despite her numerous attempts to set up a meeting, she was yet to have the tough but necessary conversation. Each week when she texted or called, Harriet always had an excuse as to why meeting up was impossible. Edwina recognised the work-related excuses as legitimate. Others reasons were a lot more flimsy and far more transparent. It was obvious Harriet didn’t want to see her and Edwina was loath to have such a serious conversation over the phone. Not wanting to push Harriet even further offside, she’d acquiesced to her excuses, ever hopeful that when she tried again the next week, Harriet would oblige. Harriet had not.

  Edwina blew out a breath and wrote, call Harriet @ 9.00. The familiar sounds of ‘Majestic Fanfare’ blared from the radio, heralding the morning news, and she realised Charlotte still hadn’t made it to breakfast. Her granddaughter had told her the night before that she was going to school early for a jazz rehearsal. The moment the school discovered she played the saxophone, she’d been snapped up by a music group. Had she forgotten to change her alarm?

  Edwina made her way down the hall to Charlotte’s room. She found her granddaughter dressed in her school uniform but curled up on her bed, sobbing. Edwina’s stomach lurched at the sight and for a brief moment, she closed her eyes. She knew how easily eviscerating grief and sadness could well up out of the blue. Part of her had been waiting for this to happen to Charlotte and another part of her had deluded herself that Charlotte would be fine. Given all the recent changes in her granddaughter’s life, she’d been remarkably stoic. She attended school, diligently studied and even took care of her own washing and ironing, which was more than Harriet had ever done at the same age. She’d asked Edwina to teach her some quick and easy meals and had taken to cooking on Thursdays when she finished classes by lunchtime. Despite, or perhaps because of, her pregnancy, she carried herself with regal grace—spine straight, shoulders squared and chin slightly tilted upward—what Edwina recognised as the Mannering shield. Was it learned or in their DNA?

  Now Charlotte was free of her earlier nausea and fatigue she glowed with rude health. Edwina noticed that boys and men turned when she walked past but if Charlotte knew of her impact on them, she didn’t mention it. On the odd occasion Charlotte had invited some of her peers to Glenora, they always came and went in a group. Although Charlotte appeared to be part of that group, Edwina recognised in her granddaughter some of her own reticence that pain and stress had instilled in her throughout the years. The carefree, bubbly girl was a fast-maturing woman with far more to worry about than the just the next SAC or which dress to wear to the formal.

  Of course, just as it was with her own daughters, the moment Edwina dared to relax and believe that all seemed calm and Charlotte was coping with all the massive changes in her life, her stoicism tumbled. Edwina sat on the bed. ‘What’s the matter?’

  Charlotte handed her a crumpled and slightly tear-dampened form. Edwina instantly recognised the hospital’s logo.

  ‘You have an ultrasound appointment this morning?’

  Charlie nodded, giving a giant sniff. ‘At eleven.’

  Edwina automatically handed her a hankie and bit down on the tempting desire to say, Don’t sniff dear. ‘And?’

  She blew her nose. ‘I texted Mum. I asked her to come with me. I thought if she saw the baby and heard the heartbeat …’ Fresh tears flowed down her high cheeks and she snorted then hiccoughed before wiping her beautiful but troubled eyes.

  Oh, Harriet. You foolish girl. Despair mingled with anger, settling as a large and heavy weight in Edwina’s chest.

  ‘I’m twenty weeks pregnant, Mardi. Halfway. This baby is real now. I feel it kicking. It’s her grandchild and—’ A strangled sob broke through her fragile control. ‘I th-th-thought she’d have c-c-come around by now. I’ve done everything to show her I’m responsible. She’s not even loo-looking. Auntie Xara t-tells her but she …’ She swiped a fresh batch of tears away with the back of her hand. ‘I just want my mum, Mardi. I miss her so much.’

  Edwina’s heart broke. She gathered her part-child, part-adult granddaughter into her arms, holding her tightly and wishing she could absorb all her anguish and pain. When she’d been the same age as Charlotte, the last person in the world she’d have wanted to be with her was her emotionally moribund and disapproving mother. But for all of Harriet’s faults, right up until Charlotte’s pregnancy, she’d been a loving and caring mother—albeit slightly controlling—who’d have done just about anything to protect her daughter. Now, she was cutting her nose off to spite her face.

  ‘I know you do, sweetheart.’ She stroked her hair and made a decision. ‘I’ll talk to her.’

  Charlotte pulled back, her vivid sky-blue eyes awash with tears but lit with a flash of hope. ‘Do you think she’ll listen?’

  Edwina was long past lying about anything. ‘She’s never taken much notice of my advice before.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘But that’s no reason not to try.’

  With less than three hours until the appointment, Edwina jettisoned the idea of telephoning Harriet and instead drove to the clinic, mentally preparing herself to stay strong when she spoke with her. She got a park outside the building and, taking that as a good sign, she gripped her handbag and strode to the door. Her hand paused on the chrome handle as she read and absorbed the blue Sorry, we’re closed sign. Alongside it was another notice announcing the new—reduced—opening hours.

  Shock reverberated through her at the knowledge that Harriet was only seeing private patients twice a week now and the rest of the time she was working at the hospital. Of course, she’d gleaned things were bad, but not this bad, and Harriet hadn’t told her otherwise. But then again, Harriet was barely speaking to her.

  Faced with the unwanted news, she was forced to cross the road and walk into the hospital. Back in the days when Richard was alive, Karen, the receptionist, had always greeted her as if she was a VIP, which made her feel slightly uncomfortable. Today she faced a stranger and she was grateful for the associated anonymity. It took a moment for the young woman to raise her head.

  ‘Could you please direct me to Ms Chirnwell?’

  The receptionist consulted a list. ‘She’s in outpatients this morning.’ She wafted a hand in the direction of a long corridor. ‘Follow the signs.’

  Before Edwina could thank her, the woman’s gaze returned to her computer screen. She followed the signs, noting with satisfaction the newly completed renovations. All of the faded 1980s décor, along with the rabbit warren feel had vanished and instead a sense of space and light suffused the area, enhanced by strong, clean lines. Fortunately, Primrose’s middle daughter, Kate, was on duty and Edwina didn’t have to say who she was or why she was here without an appointment. The last thing she needed on top of everything else was an obstreperous staff member.

  ‘Auntie Edwina.’ Kate greeted her with a welcome hug. ‘Are you after Harriet? I’ll let her know you’re here.’

  Edwina thanked her then took a seat in the only vacant plastic chair. She gave a polite smile and nod to the patients who were waiting.

  A tired-looking woman, whose lined face told of a difficult life, glanced at Edwina’s tailored woollen coat. ‘You in the r
ight place, love?’

  ‘If this is outpatients, then yes, I am.’

  ‘I hope you brought a book with ya then,’ she said, throwing down a shabby magazine. ‘Mind you, if you want to relive the birth of Prince William, you’ll be set.’

  ‘Heavens,’ Edwina commented, glancing at a photo of a bonnie blond-haired toddler in a blue romper. ‘He’s a father now himself. Did they find a stash of old magazines during the renovations?’

  ‘Who knows, love,’ the woman said with a laugh before nodding toward another woman reading a recently released magazine. ‘All I know is that I recognise all of them celebrities in the old mags and none of them ones in the new. You been on the waiting list long?’ Fortunately, the woman didn’t pause for a reply. ‘I’m from Camperdown. Two years I’ve been waitin’ and I was stoked when I got the letter but …’ She leaned forward, a conspiratorial look on her face and dropped her voice to match it. ‘Apparently, this surgeon’s husband was the mayor. He stole half the town’s money.’

  ‘As well as a lot of hers,’ Edwina said firmly, the lioness of motherhood rising to defend her daughter. She may wish to knock some sense into Harriet over this situation with Charlotte but she’d defend Harriet every time against scandalmongering.

  The woman’s eyes lit up at the new titbit. ‘Bastard.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Edwina gripped her handbag on her lap. ‘The important thing is she’s a very talented surgeon. You’re in good hands.’

  ‘Did you hear that?’ the woman said to the other three patients. ‘We’re in good hands.’

  ‘If we ever bloody get to see her,’ grumbled a man, checking his watch.

  Kate reappeared at that moment, beckoning to Edwina. She rose and slipped her handbag onto her shoulder.

  Surprise and chagrin whipped across the other woman’s face. ‘You’re lucky,’ she said tersely. ‘I’ve been waiting forty-five minutes.’

  ‘I do apologise,’ Edwina said self-consciously. ‘I promise I won’t keep my daughter long.’

  ‘Your daughter?’ The woman’s face immediately softened. ‘That’s different then. You take all the time you need.’

  As Edwina walked into the consulting room she heard the woman say to someone, ‘My Tiffany might not be a lah-de-dah surgeon but I don’t have to make no appointment to see her.’ Edwina would have laughed if it hadn’t have been so glaring and achingly true.

  ‘Edwina?’ Underneath Harriet’s surprise and irritation, she had the grace to look slightly concerned at her mother’s unannounced arrival. ‘Is everything all right?’

  Edwina sat in the patient’s chair while Harriet avoided the vacant one next to her and took a seat behind the desk. The action placed a wide, wooden barrier between them.

  ‘That depends on your definition of all right. Charlotte is devastated by your refusal to accompany her to her ultrasound appointment.’

  Every part of Harriet stiffened, matching her starched white coat. ‘I’ve made my stance very clear from the start. She knows how I feel about the choice she’s making. She can hardly be surprised by my not attending the scan.’

  ‘This baby,’ Edwina started and then amended, ‘your grandchild is going to be a reality in twenty weeks or less. Your daughter wants you involved. Isn’t it time for you to rethink your choice?’

  Harriet’s lips thinned. ‘I don’t think so. Charlotte knew what I expected of her and this is so far removed from that, it doesn’t bear thinking about.’

  ‘Oh, Harriet. No one’s child does what their parents expect.’

  ‘I did.’

  Edwina shook her head and said softly, ‘You did what your father expected.’

  ‘Yes.’ Harriet’s blue eyes darkened to navy and bored into her. ‘Of course I did. And why wouldn’t I? After all, he was the one parent in my life who was there for me. He encouraged me and supported me.’

  The need to defend herself rose up and broke over Edwina in a hot sweat. ‘I wasn’t entirely absent, Harriet.’

  ‘That’s not how I remember it. You were never fully there for any of us and now we know why. To be frank, the reason doesn’t help. You gave away one daughter and then you failed three more. It’s not a good track record, Edwina, so don’t come here telling me how to deal with my daughter.’

  The words slashed her, their truth aligning in part with her own beliefs. She dug deep and drew on a kernel of truth she’d spent her life trying to shield from the ravages of doubt. Despite her shortcomings, she knew she hadn’t been a total failure as a mother. Yes, she hadn’t been a great mother but she hadn’t been a total disaster either. She’d got some things right.

  Struggling against the tentacles of self-loathing that threatened to pull her hard and fast back into the black pit of despair she’d been avoiding for weeks, she linked her fingers tightly on her lap. ‘My track record may be patchy but I’ve learned things along the way. Things you need to listen to.’

  Harriet made a derisive huffing sound.

  Edwina ignored it. ‘If you keep shutting Charlie out she’ll stop inviting you in and …’ She thought about her barely there relationship with Harriet and the silence from Michelle. ‘Believe me, that’s soul destroying. I know Charlie becoming a mother at eighteen is less than ideal but it’s not the utter catastrophe you’re making it out to be. Today’s an opportunity to heal the rift while she wants it healed. Take this chance. Go to the ultrasound.’

  ‘There’s enough talk about me in town already without me turning up at radiology.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake. You sound just like my mother and that’s not a compliment,’ Edwina said dryly. ‘The people you love matter far more than the opinions of the town. You’re strong enough to withstand gossip, Harriet. What’s far more important here is that in a few months’ time, Charlotte’s going to have a child of her own. When she holds her baby and that rush of overwhelming love hits her, she’ll get angry with you. She won’t understand how you could have ever left her.’

  ‘Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?’ Harriet shot to her feet, her palms pressed against the desk. ‘Xara tells me that despite getting the letter requesting contact, your missing daughter Michelle hasn’t made any.’

  The attack was swift and it burned with the shocking intensity of acid eating through skin. It didn’t help that on one level Edwina knew Harriet was lashing out at her to mask her own pain.

  ‘That’s exactly my point,’ she managed in an almost even voice. ‘I’ve lost a lot and I don’t want you to experience that same loss.’ She leaned forward. ‘I’m trying to protect you, Harriet. Mothers do that. Please don’t let Mannering pride and Chirnwell arrogance get in the way of ruining what could be a great and unexpected gift.’

  ‘I don’t have time for this, Edwina. I have patients stacking up.’ She strode to the door and opened it with a jerk. ‘Goodbye.’

  Before Edwina could say anything, Harriet was calling out, ‘Mrs Rutherford,’ and Edwina was summarily dismissed with heavier heartache than when she’d arrived.

  * * *

  That night, hours after Edwina had shared the wondrous moment with Charlotte—seeing the awe-inspiring grainy image of a tiny baby sucking its thumb and hearing her great-grandchild’s whooshing and galloping heartbeat—she turned the conversation with Harriet over and over in her mind. How had it gone pear-shaped so fast? Then again, what had she expected? Ambushing Harriet at work hadn’t come close to creating the ideal conditions for a serious conversation nor had it got to the nub of the real issue; Charlotte’s pregnancy was white noise compared with that. It troubled her that even in death, Richard managed to insert himself so quickly and deftly between her and Harriet in every conversation that mattered. Even in ones that didn’t. Alive, he’d been Harriet’s hero. Dead, he was her saint, and Edwina was her constant disappointment.

  ‘Have you considered telling Harriet the full story?’ Doug offered up after Charlotte had gone to bed. They were in the library as was their habit now each night around ten. T
hey’d fallen into a routine of sipping a small glass of port before checking their email. As weeks turned into two months they’d slowly drawn out the drinking of the port, neither of them in a rush to get to the computer and deal with the inevitable disappointment.

  ‘I doubt she’d hear it. If she did she wouldn’t believe me.’ She sighed. ‘How are your girls doing?’

  Sadness seemed to flatten his curls. ‘Josie’s mad as hell with us for upsetting the status quo of her life. Flis was doing okay but now she says she’s devastated for Michelle. She wants to meet her so it all feels real and she got pissed off with me when I explained Michelle might decide never to contact us. Carla’s still acting as if nothing’s happened and sent me home with cake.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Why?’ He gave her a wink. ‘It’s great cake.’

  ‘Doug, I need you to be serious,’ she snapped, the day’s events catching up with her. ‘I’m sorry I’ve brought so much dissention into our families.’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ he said gruffly. ‘Neither of us wanted Michelle to be a secret and our kids are doing what the counsellor said would happen. Hell, they’re a textbook example. They’re mad, they’re sad and they’re unsettled. Well, all except Ben.’

  ‘Thank goodness for Ben. Why do you think he’s less affected?’

  ‘No idea.’ He refilled their glasses. ‘Perhaps the fact that he’s a bloke is the difference. Maybe if Michelle had been a Michael, he’d be the one in a tailspin and the girls would be doing okay.’

  She grimaced. ‘I can’t help wondering if we’ve done the right thing. I mean, we’ve unsettled everyone and for what? I’ve given up on Michelle ever wanting to meet us and I really don’t blame her. I’m the mother who gave her up. Even if I got the chance to tell her why, how do we bridge forty-eight years? We’re her parents but we’re not. To her we’re just two old strangers.’